Tamaki Amajiki oneshots

Photographs

WC: 1,330

"How am I supposed to watch you walk down the aisle tomorrow without thinking of these?"

Summary: On the night before your wedding, you gift Tamaki a box of boudoir photographs.

Includes: nsfw/fluff

established relationship, F/M, Fem!readerXTamaki, aged-up,

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sit on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the black box in your hands. Inside it are maybe two dozen photos of you. Sensual images, bare skin covered in silk and satin. A boudoir photoshoot for your personal enjoyment and for Tamaki's visual pleasure.

Maybe if he would just hurry up. You slide the cover on the soft box on and off over and over again, trying not to bite your nails that had been done so beautifully for your wedding the next day. Tomorrow. The thought hits you like a truck. Your wedding is tomorrow.

The door clicks open. Tamaki steps in wearing pajama pants and no top. He shuts the door quietly behind him, courteous because it's late, as he pads into the room. His eyes immediately settle on you. Your hair is falling in gentle waves around your face, and you sit with your legs tucked beside you, wearing a white, silky nightgown. Tamaki can't believe he's about to marry you. Can't even fathom how lucky he is.

"Aren't we- like not supposed to see each other"? His voice is a whisper even as he comes closer. You smile at him gently, watching the way his eyes rake over you.

"Well, I have a gift for you", you explain, shifting more towards him as he sits down. His eyes meet yours before sliding to the box in your hands.

"Oh". It's all he says. Like he's processing if he should've gotten you a gift too. Or like he's just too flattered to say much else. And he doesn't even know what's in the box yet.

You exhale softly. "Don't look so worried, baby". You hand it to him, and he takes it carefully.

"What is it"? He asks, looking at you again. You shrug.

"A gift. Just open it". You pick at your fingernails, wanting him to hurry it up. His slender fingers slide the top of the box off slowly, and you realize you're holding your breath.

His skin is smooth and slightly flushed in front of you. You want to reach out and touch. To sit on top of him and run your hands over the expanse of his torso. But you're not supposed to. Not even supposed to see each other before the wedding, and yet here he is seeing you in more ways than one.

His breathing stutters as his eyes fall on the first one. You in your veil and very little else. Makeup done bold, lips a stunning red. You don a white lace lingerie set—a delicate bralette with scalloped edges, sheer panties, and soft thigh-highs with satin bows that make you look angelic.

You're lying on white sheets, back arched slightly, head turned to the side, looking over your shoulder with a dreamy, innocent expression into the camera. At him. One hand rests at your mouth like you're biting your fingertip. Tamaki looks at it, eyes dilating, and then at you. His face is red with emotion.

"Y/n", he exhales. "Y-you look stunning". He looks at the picture again, eyes skimming every detail. The way your legs are bent, the way your hair falls over your shoulders. He swallows.

"Well, there's plenty more", you whisper, gesturing to the box. Your excitement is barely contained. He likes the first one. That's a good sign. You bite your lip, observing his reaction as he picks up the next one. He even glances at the one underneath as if he can't get enough.

"When did you take these"? He murmurs, smiling as he looks at the second one. You just giggle a little, endeared by the way he looked at the pictures in awe.

"Fuck", he breathes, looking at one of you crawling towards the camera. You thought it was a bit silly when you took it, but it seems to be having the intended effect. "You're perfect, bunny". He feels his blood rushing. "Are you trying to kill me"? You laugh at that, covering your mouth as you lean closer to him.

He looks at the next one, face aflame.

"I won't be able to sleep tonight", you reply. "I didn't want you to be able to either". You smirk. His eyes flick up to yours, his hand reaching out to rest on your thigh. He rubs the skin, squeezing it as he admires the photo before him. In it, you're wearing his shirt, oversized on you, and unbuttoned down the front. You're wearing these fuzzy wrist cuffs that Tamaki recognizes right away. The worst thing isn't even that you're wearing his shirt. It's the fact that you're on your knees, wrists in front of you, resting on your thighs. It's the fact that the shirt is open just enough for a tease but not a taste. He can see almost everything.

"This is so– sexy". His voice is low as he files the pictures away in his memory, already reaching for the next one. His pants are suddenly feeling very tight. Your face is red too as you watch his every reaction, giggling a little every time he makes a noise or a comment.

"This is- all f-for me"? He asks, incredulous almost, as he looks at one of you in a deep red bodysuit, sheer in the midsection with structured cups. The suit is unzipped halfway down your chest as you straddle a chair with your knees apart. Oh, how he wishes the chair were him.

You're facing the camera directly, hands gripping the back of the chair, chin tilted slightly down, while your eyes burn into the lens. Tamaki's not sure he'll survive this one. You bite your lip and watch him.

"How am I supposed to watch you walk down the aisle tomorrow without thinking of these"? He thumbs to the next one.

"You're not", you whisper back. Peeking over the next one. You giggle a little cause you're proud of this one.

You're sitting on the edge of a vanity, knees together, robe slipping down, head tilted, lips parted slightly like you'd been caught mid-thought, your finger tracing the rim of a wine glass, which reads Tamaki and Y/n– one of your wedding favours. So these are recent, Tamaki thinks. What he says is more like:

"Jesus Christ—" He pauses and looks at you in the eyes. "Y/n– I-" He can't formulate words. That's a good sign. You press a kiss to his lips, and his hand subconsciously grips your thigh tighter. You pull away with a smirk, and he chases you, common sense slipping from his mind.

"Nuh uh", you push a hand against his chest, stopping him. He looks betrayed— he looks needy.

He lets out a short laugh, head falling onto your shoulder in defeat.

"Y/n", he murmurs. "Y/n... Y/n", he says your name twice, voice muffled. You simply grin, tousling his hair with your hand like you didn't just destroy him with some glossy photographs.

You glance at the clock. 1 am.

"Fuck, Tamaki. It's late", you mutter. He lifts his head from your shoulder, eyes unfocused. He blinks. Twice.

"Y-yeah– I should...go". He gets up. You hand him the box, and his eyebrows shoot up like he's surprised he gets to keep them.

"For your viewing pleasure, Amajiki... I think you'll really like the next one". You wink. Tamaki fights the urge to look at 'the next one' right now. He's fighting a lot of urges at the moment. He just nods stiffly.
"See you tomorrow", he musters, gait awkward, as he closes the door behind him. Seconds later, he sticks his head back in.
"Fuck. Sorry– I love you. Love you so much, Y/n". He pauses. "I can't wait to marry you, baby". You grin, bouncing off the bed and running over to him. You kiss him. With tongue. He all but passes out in the doorway.

"Goodnight, Tama", you say, voice dripping with something suggestive. He stumbles back to his room.