Kis-My-Ft2, Seven by Seven

Title: Seven by Seven
Unit for Points: Tackey & Tsubasa
Word Count: 7 x 100
Characters/Pairings: various combis of Kis-My-Ft2
Author’s Notes: I just wanted an excuse to write a lot of crazy Kisumai pairings. Also, who can figure out the number scheme?

Seven By Seven


Senga likes shopping with Fujigaya best. Not that the others aren’t fun, but Fujigaya knows the newest places and can always be counted on to treat afterwards.

“Dressing room!” he calls over his shoulder as he trots off with an armful of things, listening for Fujigaya’s “mm.”

He’s just set his things down when he hears the curtain swish. Arms slide around his waist.

“Need some help?” Fujigaya murmurs in his ear, thumb sliding under Senga’s T-shirt to stroke at his belly.

Grinning, Senga leans back into Fujigaya, lets him do as he will. Shopping with Fujigaya is definitely best.


“If you’re gonna be a frontman,” was all Kitayama had to say by way of explanation, and that’s how Tamamori finds himself with his wrists pinned, chest bared and Fujigaya working busily on the rest.

“Um–” Tamamori starts, but cuts off as Kitayama rolls his hips, erection digging into Tamamori’s thigh, and then Fujigaya drops to his knees.

“Let him have his way,” Kitayama advises, and Tamamori whimpers as Fujigaya noses at his zipper, “or he pouts.”

“Okay,” Tamamori says, breathless. Fujigaya looks up into Tamamori’s eyes and licks his lips.

Kitayama chuckles, making the hair on Tamamori’s neck raise.


“Me?” Miyata asks, then laughs because, out of everyone, what would they want with him?

Tamamori isn’t laughing when he cups Miyata’s face and leans down to brush their mouths together. “Ne,” he murmurs, “play with us, Miyacchi?”

“Really?” he can’t help but ask when Tamamori pulls away, but a glance shows Yokoo stretched across the hotel bed already, smiling encouragement.

“Miyacchi got hot,” Tamamori murmurs, brushing their noses together. “Plus, you know…” Tamamori brushes fingers over Miyata’s fly, feather-light.

“Tama-chan,” Miyata breathes, happiness and want softening his voice.

“GODDAMMIT,” Nikaido blurts, interrupting, “will you just fucking get over here?!”


“You’re too young~,” Kitayama smirks, then snaps his phone shut.

“Nika again?” Yokoo sips his drink, rolling his eyes when Kitayama orders another shot, apparently planning to drink for three. Yokoo wishes him luck; Fujigaya’s already tried and failed.

Miyata appears, dishevelled from the dance floor (Yokoo hopes), and Yokoo steps aside, since Miyata looks to need a drink. He finds himself nose-to-nose with Tamamori, all damp hair, bare arms, and eyes glinting with club lighting.

“Dance with me, Watta?” Tamamori asks. By the time Yokoo’s pressed close, his hands on Tamamori’s waist, he can’t think of any reason to protest.


“Fujigaya’s going to kill us,” Yokoo says, but he doesn’t unlock the door.

“Serves him right for going out with ABC rather than us,” Nikaido says before Kitayama yanks his head back down. Senga and Tamamori are already in a tangle, probably about to roll off the bed. Yokoo sits down next to Miyata, the last one unoccupied. He’s pleasantly surprised when Miyata leans over to kiss his cheek.

“I’ll do anything you want,” Miyata offers, cheerful and easy as always, “so long as it doesn’t block my view.”

Yokoo flashes him a little yaiba. “I can work with that.”


Finally,” Senga sighs at midnight. that’s the last word he gets out before Kitayama shoves him down and gives his mouth something better to do.

It’s hard to keep track; Senga thinks it’s Miyata and Tamamori taking turns licking at his cock and Yokoo’s guitar-strong fingers inside of him, and it’s definitely Fujigaya pulling Senga mouth off Kitayama and onto himself.

Someone’s missing, but as soon as he thinks it, the others pull back, and his eyes flutter open to find Nikaido stretched over him.

“Congratulations.” Nikaido grins; Senga tugs him down for a birthday kiss as Nikaido pushes inside.


“Wait, stop,” Fujigaya sits up suddenly, shoving Kitayama off and slapping at Senga’s hand. “There’s too many hands!”

“What do you expect?” Nikaido leans on one elbow, rolling his eyes. “There’s seven of us! That’s fourteen hands!”

“Fifteen?” Miyata finishes counting with a frown.

“Sixteen,” Kitayama confirms, reaching into the knot to pull its owner up by the wrist.

“Honorary member?” Kawai grins hopefully.

Five seconds later he’s in the hallway, clothes bunched in his arms, the door slamming against his bare ass.

Kawai just shrugs and saunters down the hall. Dollars to donuts his unit’s doing something better anyway.

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