The so-called dumping pool of one HiddenSunny, also known as NymboDerp on fanfiction.net This is a fanfiction/drabble-centric blog. Requests are accepted, as are prompts.
Karin was a part of Japan’s strongest team as their regular quarterback, meaning that she had to have the most accurate passes, the best eyes and the best mind to control the flow of the game, but when she was faced with Sena’s doe-eyes, she found that her butterfingers made her drop everything in her hands, and her eyes would be constantly averted and flickering away from their target, and her mind would stutter and stop whenever he was around.
She didn’t know what to do about these feelings she had, but she could deduce exactly what it was that she was feeling.
It didn’t mean that she could pretend it didn’t exist, however.
62. Irregular Orbit
Sena wasn’t really the kind of guy that people would want to orbit around and get to know, but Karin couldn’t deny that her boyfriend certainly had a strange charisma about him that made him special.
63. Cold Embrace
She couldn’t hold back her shriek of surprise when Yamato threw her into the pool, instantly soaking her (and her clothes) from head to toe, before throwing Sena in after her.
“Have fun, kids!” Yamato all but cackled, a grin on his face as he promptly locked them inside of the swimming pool with an ominous click!, making Sena and Karin look at each other nervously.
Despite how warm his words were, they could feel a shiver running down their spin, as if something cold had just embraced them and chilled them to the bone.
64. Frost
Sena never liked the cold, but having Karin next to him, her scarf wrapped hazardously around the two of them in a futile attempt to ward off the winter chill, was something he wouldn’t ever want to change.
Even if his toes felt like they were frostbitten, and his nose was going to freeze off of his face.
65. A Moment in Time
It was the moments when Sena and Karin were alone and quiet that they were most relaxed, not having to play up to anyone’s expectations but their own—and even then, they just had to be just Sena and just Karin, because that was all they had ever wanted to be.
[Haven't posted this up yet, and it's still in the works. This is going to be fun!]
Luna Lovegood had just turned seventeen when she decided that she had to leave Great Britain.
She had to live somewhere without so much death, where the blood of her friends and family no longer clung to the soles of her shoes as she walked (and oh, the spirits around her would grieve those that had passed away, lost in the violence and to never cross into the Undying Lands), where she could no longer feel the ambiance of jubilation and loss that pervaded the air and clung to her skin like a cloud blanketing the sky.
She knew her friends wouldn’t begrudge her escaping the mournful magic that had carved its way into the very rocks Hogwarts had been built upon. The battle had taken its toll upon the history of the school, and she knew that the wounds of 1998 would never be forgotten by anyone, nevertheless by those who had fought in the battle.
Wounds, after all, would heal, but scars remained until the very end.
Luna also knew for a fact that Harry Potter wouldn’t tell her to stay: he had been the one to tell her to leave Britain in fact.
Harry Potter, the first to choose her as a first and not a last option, had urged her to seek her Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and to capture one of Fudge’s hidden Heliopaths; to explore the world and to find life elsewhere from Britain. Luna had laughed at him, telling him not to be silly: Heliopaths wouldn’t have stayed now that Fudge wasn’t in position!
He’d smiled oddly at her, fondly and wistfully, before walking away. Each step filled him up with more and more courage, and she could see the Nargles surrounding him slowly drop off one by one, freeing him of any earthly burden he carried with him as he joined three figures off in the distance.
Even as the last Nargle fell away silently, she knew that they had to be Ronald Weasley, James and Lily Potter.
The four of them were so beautiful together, faces clear of all tenseness and pain and hurt, and she wouldn’t help but smile widely at them.
Ronald had given her a small wave, and mouthed to Luna an apology for his baby sister and family. James and Lily Potter had smiled back at her with gratitude in their eyes, telling her to live so that when she finally joined them, she would’ve lived enough for not only herself, but for all those who had died in the battle.
She’d waved at them as they disappeared, smiling as resolved finally settled in her heart. She’d left to tell her father that she would leave his home to travel to Europe, to Asia, to America, to find herself again. She would return, but she didn’t know when. Would he be willing to wait for her to come back?
Xenophilius, eyes misty and lacking sight from his time under the Death Eaters, had pulled her into a hug, crying tears into her hair like moonlight. But he’d let her go, giving her his blessing and a gentle kiss on her forehead. The last time he’d kissed her that way had been the night before her mother had passed away.
Gently turning away from her father and the hovering spirit of Pandora Lovegood, she had left Ottery St. Catchpole for Diagon Alley. There she had found at Gringotts’ something left to her from Harry Potter.
The Peverell vault once belonging to Ignotus Peverell had been left for her. In it, no money was to be found. Instead, a lonely Grimoire, accompanied by a dusty monocle and several black diamond beads, were lain out, waiting for her to take them.
The Wrackspurts had fallen silent for the first time when her fingertips touched the vellum that covered the Grimoire. Human skin, she noticed belatedly, stretched over de-scaled dragon pelt. However, the skin had none of the regrets or pain or memories that magic usually etched into the dying, and instead had felt like—home.
Carefully prying the book open, her fingers had ghosted over ancient parchment, stirring magic that had stagnated over the centuries of being untouched. Under her fingers, it had awoken much like a cat would from a long nap, fur bristling and back arching under the unfamiliar touch.
She had breathed life back into the book as she flipped through from front to back, moon-silver eyes focusing on the unknown words that were scrawled across each page. Upon closer inspection, she had noticed that each letter inscribed onto the ancient parchment was composed of smaller, archaic, runes, all written in a blood-saturated ink.
But it hadn’t mattered to her that she couldn’t read the Grimoire, nor decipher the runes. She would merely have to learn whatever she needed to learn to understand what Harry Potter had bestowed upon her in his deathbed.
It would merely be the first of the numerous things she would need to learn to live like James and Lily Potter had charged her to.
Placing the book into her pouch, the monocle was settled over her eye, where it hovered without assistance or support. The beads were threaded into her messy hair, braided and tangled until they were lost under her blond locks, settling against the back of her left ear like a reassuring weight. It was Harry Potter’s last gift to her, and she would treasure them no matter what.
The monocle and the beads had thrummed excitedly in unison as she left the Peverell vault, left Gringotts, left Britain for the last time in a long time.
Luna Lovegood had just turned seventeen when she decided that she had to leave Great Britain.
She wouldn’t return for another century and a half, when her hair had paled from a dusky blonde into a moonlight-silver to match her timeless features, ever youthful despite her age, her hair beaded and threaded with numerous trinkets, and runes etched into her wrinkled skin.
[I'm still working on this. Slowly but eventually.]
Wherever Kisaragi went, Gaou wasn’t too far behind. It wasn’t that Gaou had any form of attachment for his longhaired teammate – other than the ties of friendship that had been a result of playing in the same team – but rather, he found it easier to occupy his time outside of training whenever he was around Kisaragi.
So when Kisaragi had suddenly left his side without explanation, Gaou had instantly followed after him rather thoughtlessly. It wasn’t as if Kisaragi had anything to hide from him after all, right?
Gaou was a few hundred metres behind of Kisaragi when he saw the other enter a small café. Frowning ever so slightly, he moved to follow him, his lumbering pace hastening.
For someone so obsessed with his physical beauty, Kisaragi would normally avoid going to cafés such as these… so there had to be something of significance going on. And Gaou was a curious man.
So he barged into the store the moment he reached the door, making his way towards Kisaragi.
He belatedly noticed the strangely tense Shin Seijurou sitting opposite of his teammate, and a tiny, almost scrawny man beside him. The tiny man looked familiar, but Gaou pushed the thought of out his mind.
“Kisaragi. Weren’t we going to meet up with Marco?” Gaou growled out, his voice gravely and low.
“Yes, yes, we did,” Kisaragi replied with a whimsical flick of his hand, dismissing Gaou’s subtle suggestion that they had to leave. “I was just catching up with Sena-sensei! Especially since he was so rude to just leave the practice match without saying goodbye to anyone… and especially to me!”
Gaou frowned at Kisaragi’s rather fake pout. He was more than aware of the terse smile on the smaller man’s face, and the stony expression on Shin’s. But really, the presence of the scrawny man didn’t mean much to him, other than a disruption in the usual routine. Had he been the reason why people were battling in the hallway?
… Well, Gaou didn’t particularly care for an answer.
It didn’t matter to him: Marco was waiting for them, and Gaou was an impatient man.
I couldn't help but think that... just maybe, my ability to copy things wasn't so bad after all. Because watching you scream and writhe in pleasure beneath me really is a beautiful thing to watch.
I use my tongue like a seasoned porn star, bringing you closer and closer to your limit, but denying you your release. Sucking lewdly, your moans accompany the wet slurps, and you're all too aware of how slutty you sound.
Reddened face, watery eyes, you're just begging me for more, aren't you?
I lick my lips, relishing in your unique taste. You're dripping wet, eager for my touch, though you keep denying it with your breathy rebukes.
Don't tempt me so much, ne? I'm a teenaged boy after all - and it's hard enough for me to stop myself from wanting to fuck you until I've imprinted the shape of my dick inside of your body.
But you keep begging me to stop, to let you recover... and I can't have that. Not just yet.
I pull my lips away from your drooling body, kissing you with lips that were stained with your own juices.
Mm... you like that, don't you? Being able to taste yourself on my lips and tongue?
Despite the fact that I haven't asked anything, your body replies for me. You dig nails into my back, as if demanding me to carry on.
And I do.
It doesn't take long for me to wrap a condom around my dick, and begin easing it into your hot, tight body.
"Fuck..."
I'm not the type of person to swear, but fuck. My mind comes to a complete standstill at the way you grip around me, and the only words that come out of my mouth are cusses, and your name. The rest are jumbled moans and sighs, pure mockery of my apparent genius mind and body.
The bed creaks beneath us, protesting how hard we rut against each other. But we ignore it.
All I want, is to make you go crazy from pleasure...
[Have free reign with your imagination here.]
Slumping against your body, I close my eyes. Having cum into your body, all my energy had been drained from my body, leaving me lax and pliant against you. I could've gone on for longer, pleasure you until you're about to climax, then bring you down from your high, over and over again, until you're a crying and blushing mess...
But having you in my arms is more than enough to satisfy me.
I smile against your neck, hearing and feeling you sigh beneath me. "-cchi... let's have some more fun later, alright?"
Warning: A non sequitur. Perhaps an introspective look into Haruka's views upon water. Or it could just be a pervert trying to force her mind into his, in order to create something meaninglessly meaningful to herself.
[... this was fun.]
The water caressed him like a lover.
It hadn't been too long ago, when he'd thought of it like a sibling, or even a mother. Caring in its own way, and raising him when his parents could not.
Water had always been there for him, waiting. It never judged. It was... a constant in his life.
As mercurial as it could be, water had never failed Haruka. Even as he cut through the water, propelling himself forward with effortless strokes and kicks, it had never once rejected him. Always accepting his every touch.
And it caressed him. Like a lover, as if to return every touch he gave it. His fervent, almost reverent, touch was reciprocated with the feeling of water swirling around his body, lovingly pushing him forward.
It was... beautiful. A symbiotic relationship built upon Haruka's love of the freedom water gave him, and the way it accepted him holistically. He gave his everything to the water, and the water gave everything he needed in return.
Haruka had never been the religious type of person, but he could say quite firmly... the water was the singular deity he knew that would always answer his call.
He had no need for--relationships, when he could get everything he needed from water.
Words were meaningless after all, when your head was ducked under and you were transported into a world of clear, thick 'air'; the only sound in your ears the rushing of bubbles and waves, the only sight in your eyes the endless beauty of light dancing through dust and water.
Communication was effortless, because all you needed were the limbs of your body, and a heart that was free from everything.
Warning(s): Smut... Haizaki swearing. Lots of cursing.
[A less fiction-like drabble... I don't know how to describe it. And I'm horrified by my shameless abuse of horrible words. But I'm happy about this one. Please enjoy!]
[The alternate title for this was: The only reason why I'm sleeping with him is because my dick doesn't go limp when I see him, a story of Haizaki and Kise.]
Though he made a pathetic sight, Kise's lithe and frailer body was arousing to him. The lack of tits and supple hips were supposed to turn him off, but fuck, Haizaki couldn't deny himself the fact that his body turned him on. He wanted to curse and force his cock to stop stiffening up whenever the blond crawled up towards him, fingers and lips cock-hungry, but he couldn't stop it from happening unless he wanted to, say, castrate himself. And he wanted to avoid that at all costs. His balls were too precious to be cut off after all.
But that wasn't all.
He was attracted to women. Women, with their big-ass tits, and their drooling cunts. Their long hair, and soft bodies. Everything Kise didn't have. He couldn't even imagine the other with tits to make up for the humiliation of getting hard to the thought of another man. It was impossible, not matter how hard he tried
After all, whenever he tried to reach out to grab his desired breasts, all his hands were met with were the smooth yet hard planes of his chest; and whenever he reached down to force his fingers into a waiting pussy, he was confronted with a second dick to handle. Those should've been enough to make his cock go flaccid. Haizaki wasn't gay, but apparently, his dick was. And it was something that pissed the fuck out of him.
But what pissed him off even more as the fact that he was constantly having to deal with Kise's whinging and whining. That was the only trait he shared with women. Maybe that was why he could stand fucking him day in and day out.
Maybe being the keyword.
"W-wait..." Kise gasped out, trembling against his body. He was a pathetic sight to see; round amber eyes teary from whatever the fuck he was feeling, and lips slick with drool. He supposed it should have been fulfilling to see him so unhinged due to his own hands, but it wasn't. It was Kise after all.
Haizaki let out a soft hiss however, eyes dark as he glowered at Kise. "What is it now, huh?" He demanded, his voice tense with both halted desire and annoyance. He'd just sunk himself into his tight ass, and he'd been waiting to fuck him until he came, and then some. He hadn't been expecting to have to deal with his-- with all of his shit.
"I... Wait," Kise mumbled, panting as he moved his hands.
Haizaki indulged him for a moment, watching as he began to touch his chest with shaky fingers, a bemused (albeit frustrated) look appearing on his face. Was he trying to get himself off with his own touch?
Kise's lips curled into a smile as his fingers rested against his abdomen, looking strangely happy for someone being impaled by another man's dick.
"I can feel you inside... it's so strange," he mumbled, voice weak and breathy. "It's so hard..."
Haizaki stilled for a moment at his words, eyes narrowing on the other. Was he fucking serious? Stopping him just to tell him how hard he was? He didn't need to be told something as obvious as that... Couldn't he have told from the way he practically shoved himself into his hole, not even the slightest bit soft? He snorted, before grabbing Kise's leg.
"If you're trying to be sexy, you're failing at that. Try dirty talking, idiot." He stated brusquely.
Kise let out a gasp when Haizaki suddenly thrust into him, making him wriggle, fingers moving from his abdomen to the bedsheets. "N-nngh... I'm not trying to be sexy," he protested, though the glint in his eyes turned coy. "But I can be if you want..."
Haizaki smirked. "Do it," he challenged. Nothing like a bit of friendly competition to get his mood up, and erection less likely to blow at an unwanted moment.
"Don't blame me if you end up embarr-ah!-ssing yourself!" Kise warned, a flush spread across his features. He looked so unattractive like that, Haizaki couldn't help but think. Red suited his features better than pink...
Haizaki's eyes gleamed however. "Let's see you try, slut."
Warning: Haizaki being an asshole like usual. Kise-abuse...?
[trying to get back into writing again... it's been a while.]
Each night would end with him feeling more violated than the last. It was like... rape. Rape of his rational thought, rape of his body, rape of everything that made up who he was. Though he supposed, that he deserved it. Since he kept chasing after him nonetheless, clinging to his shadow and demanding him to give him exactly what he wanted; his attention.
However, his attention hurt. Nothing was without its price, after all. His pride would be ripped to shreds like his clothing, though his body and mind were pierced with his sharp gaze, burning hot like fire. He liked it that way.
Kise was the type to rise up to a challenge, after all. He would continue to survive, thrive, and eventually counter everything Haizaki could and would throw at him.
And since Haizaki didn't like to lose, not matter what... It was a win-win situation.
Warning(s): yaoi, OOC, AU... Haizaki being Haizaki. Lots of swearing. Very short. A bad attempt at humour.
[An attempt to get back into Kise and Haizaki's mindsets.]
"Fuck you."
"Already did. What else is new?"
Haizaki had a smirk on his face as he reached out, grabbing Kise by his hair and dragging him back onto his lap. "Since when did you have such a silver tongue, Kise?" He drawled, lips brushing against Kise's.
The blond parted his lips almost by reflex when a warm tongue slid across his lips, slicking them up. "I've always had-- ow!" Kise let out a loud yelp when his lower lip was bitten viciously, unable to jerk away.
"You better put it to good use, hm?" Haizaki grinned almost ferally. His eyes were gleaming playfully.
"Fuck you!" Kise exclaimed, pulling away from him and standing far, far away from him, cradling his mouth. At least it wasn't bleeding- he had a photo shoot that day to go to.
Warning: yaoi, OOC, AU, all that jazz. Kise is much younger than Aomine. Almost non-con? Abuse. Ambiguous ending~
[need to get back into the swing of drabbles. Might branch out into the KHR fandom once more. Idek. It's been a while since i wrote for it, rather than RP'd it.]
[by the way: happy birthday you idiotic blond! <33333333 June 18 almost passed me by lol]
Ragged breaths puffed across sweaty skin, muscles trembling from exertion. They were interlocked in a complicated embrace, limbs tangled and hands roaming almost shamelessly.
It would have been a picture of sensual love, had the tanned man not open his mouth.
“This would’ve been a lot easier if you had boobs.” His voice was gravely and hoarse, words panted out.
Kise’s breath hitched despite the harshness of his spat out sentence, tanned hands moved over his body to squeeze his chest as if to punctuate his sentence. Amber eyes were half-lidded in almost-pleasure as Aomine brought their hips together roughly, grinding down against his arousal.
“Nngh…” Kise let out a soft moan, moving back against the other. His arms moved to wrap around his neck.
Aomine’s face twisted into a sneer as he grabbed Kise’s wrists before he could bring them even closer, pinning them down onto the mattress. “I wouldn’t be so disgusted with you if you were a girl.” He continued, voice husky with need and revulsion.
“A-Aominecchi…” Kise mumbled out, a glint of hurt appearing in his eyes. He let out a soft yelp when Aomine pushed his legs apart, moving in between them without regard for Kise’s comfort. “Hey-!”
The tanned man sneered at Kise, reaching down to align his member with Kise’s entrance. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “You’re the one who asked for it.”
The blond let out a soft gasp of discomfort as Aomine began pressing into him, face twisting as he was penetrated roughly.
When Kise had first met the man - five years his senior, muscles ripped and sweaty from a long day at the gym on his day off -, he'd never thought that things would have progressed like this. At first, he hadn't even considered him someone he would let into his bed: he'd just been a college student, fresh out of high school, barely old enough to legally drink, not even sure of his future let alone his sexuality.
But he supposed that even then, in that first meeting, there had been a hint of attraction between them. Aomine's face had been what interested him at first: those striking features, permanently set in a mocking expression, eyebrows angled and narrow eyes. A face that would have been handsome if not twisted in perpetual anger.
He'd approached because of that face, wondering why he hadn't seen him before in his life. He often came to that gym after all, so he found it weird that he'd never seen this man before--especially since he'd remember such a unique face.
But soon, one thing came after the other - phone numbers exchanged, a bemused smirk on the other's face when he mentioned he used to be in the basketball team; dates arranged for a one-on-one match; hours merging afternoons to nights, dinners together...
And Kise found himself flat on Aomine's bed, pinned down by rough hands as he was taken almost brutally. Gasps left him as he was thrust into, over and over again, finding himself hard and twitching despite the brutality of his thrusts.
It wasn't pleasurable in the slightest, but the sensuality of the situation - the fact that he was being fucked into the mattress by Aomine, a man who he admired (hell, loved) - made him almost choke.
Teeth clamped down on his shoulder, making him gasp out, arching despite himself. "A-ah! It hurts!" His voice was barely louder than a whimper, hoarse from his cries and moaning. "A-Aominecchi!"
"Shut up," Aomine groused out around his skin, only biting down harder- enough to break skin. He pulled away, looking disgusted. "I don't want to hear you."
Kise could feel tears prickling in his eyes. Whether from the pain, or from his words, the source was ambiguous- but what was sure was that it was Aomine's fault.
"D-don't mark me," he panted out, wincing when the man ground deeper into him, fists clenching as he was filled even more. "I still have work--"
He was cut off as fingers grabbed his hair, forcing his face into the mattress, preventing him from speaking. And from breathing.
Kise thrashed in surprise, his startled screams muffled as Aomine continued to stare down at him, eyes dispassionate even in their lust. "Tch... I told you to shut up," he muttered, gripping his hip with his spare hand. "Such a disgusting brat..."
[a little something I've been working on. It's not KnB for once. It might not be finished. This chapter itself isn't complete hahaha...]
Pairing: Kaito x Shinichi
Rating: Gen
Warning(s): part of a series (story-esque), cyberpunk, rambling, shameless use of Hong Kong
Kudo Shinichi – or Gongtong Sunyat, as he was known in Neo-Hong Kong – was an ordinary guy. While he was a foreigner in the place he was living in, he wasn’t all that different.
He was intelligent enough to be accepted into Hong Kong University for a degree in the exclusive and newly established subject of Intramental Psychology and Health, handsome enough to be pleasing to the eye, and rich enough to be living alone in an apartment in Causeway Bay despite being a student.
… Well, he was rich enough to be living alone, until he lost his job at the local hospital.
So, he was down on his luck at that moment, but it didn’t bother him too much. After all, he was still eligible to apply for a dormitory near the university, and he was studying at the university on a scholarship, so he wasn’t going to be forced to go back to Japan and witness the disappointment written on Ran’s face at his dropping out of school. He doubted that he’d be able to face her for the next few months, especially after they’d decided to break up just a week ago.
They had both agreed that their long distance relationship just wasn’t working out, and Ran had informed him that she’d been developing feelings for another. Shinichi hadn’t begrudged her for that – he understood that not seeing her boyfriend for a few years would lessen her affection for him –, but it still felt like a slap to the face at the realisation that she’d moved on from him so quickly, and without any agonising.
But that just made him somewhat of a hypocrite. Once he reflected on his feelings, he’d realised that all his feelings towards her had tamed from a fiery passion, into a duller, but warm affection. She wasn’t meant to be his one-and-only, but she was certainly one of the most important women in his life.
He remembered with a quirk of his lips at her face when he’d admitted that.
“What about Ai-chan?” She’d asked when he’d called her, looking flustered as she avoided eye contact. “Or your mother? W-what about Kazuha-chan?”
He had replied with a simple, “You know me best, right? You’d know why I said that,” making her fall silent with a dark red blush on her face. While blushes were an uncommon feature on her face, he couldn’t help but comment with a smirk that she’d look really cute like that, and that it was too bad that Eisuke-kun couldn’t see her like that. Shinichi had flinched when she threw her heels at the camera, half-expecting that the heel would’ve gone through the ‘com’ and into his face.
Ah, the wonders of high-tech cameras and 3D holographic calls. And it was only a few years back that they’d only had so-called smartphones. Technology could almost think for itself nowadays.
Shinichi smirked faintly to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he came out of the campus, sighing softly as he looked up into the surprisingly clear skies. It was a nice day- something that wasn’t common in Hong Kong.
The skies were blue for once, and it wasn’t all that hot and humid… (Though saying that, he could vaguely remember the statistics for the weather that day was 95% humidity, and 23 degrees Celsius. It was still pretty damn hot, especially for the autumn. At least there wasn’t monsoon season anymore – that would’ve been horrible.)
“Hey! Gongtong!”
Shinichi’s smirk faded into a faint scowl. It seemed that the ‘nice day’ was over now. Exactly how did his perfectly respectable surname turn into something that made him want to claw his ears off?
“What do you want now?” He nearly spat, turning to glower at Hattori, who had a shit-eating grin on his face. Oh, the Kansai boy knew exactly how much Shinichi hated the way the Chinese had screwed with his name.
One day, Hattori was going to find a fist planted in his cheek, and his body strewn out at the bottom of the harbour if he kept this up…
[Below the cut is a whole load of drabbles that never made it. Yeah.]
HaiKise; regarding parents and elder siblings
Mura is a babe
HaiKise; Haizaki knows exactly what kind of game Kise is playing
AoKi; Kise is disgusting to him
KiKuro; love hurts (and quite literally!)
1. HaiKise
It was only when Kise had been taken to Haizaki's home, that he realised just how much of a mother's boy he was. The blond had to stifle a laugh when he watched the other's mother being fussed over him.
"Shou-chan, you really need to stop being such a slob! It's a wonder that Ryou-chan even puts up with your mess!" Kimiko-kaa-chan - she insisted that Kise call her that - ranted as she continued to attack Haizaki's hair with a comb, ignoring the way her elder son was laughing over his sibling's obvious misery. "And Tsu-kun, stop laughing! That's disrespectful! Besides, when are you going to bring your girlfriend home? I've been asking you to bring her home for months now!"
As Ritsu - Haizaki's elder brother - began to stammer out his excuses, looking startled by the sudden questioning, Kise had to hide his smirk as Haizaki began to glare daggers at him for his obvious amusement. It wasn't every day that you saw Haizaki cowering under someone's rage and fussing after all.
"Ne, Kimiko-kaa-chan?" Kise suddenly chirped, smiling charmingly at the woman. "Do you think I can steal Shou-chan away for a moment?"
Kimiko tittered with girlish giggles, quickly taking the comb out of Haizaki's hair and pushing him towards Kise. "Oh, you can take him!" She giggled again, eyes gleaming. "Don't mind me- or Tsu-kun. Neither of us are going to disturb you... in fact, we'll be going outside!" Kimiko straightened up, grabbing Ritsu and her wallet. "Make sure you stay for dinner, alright? We're going to be getting some groceries while you and Shou-chan... make nice with each other, alright? We should be back in a few hours!"
Within moments, the door slammed shut, leaving Haizaki looking disgusted by his mother's unsubtle innuendos and Kise nearly in tears from how hard he wanted to laugh.
"Fucking hell. Why the fuck is she my mother?"
---
2. Mura is a babe
Murasakibara had always had a hard time no matter which school she went to, as her height had left her alienated from everyone, and her addiction to sweets had made people eye her and her flat stomach warily. However, nothing made her more rejected by the other students – though mainly female – than her complete lack of regard for her own body.
“Kurokocchin…” She whined, draping herself over his back, unwittingly sandwiching the back of his head between her breasts. “I want to buy sweets.”
Kuroko sighed softly, adjusting his wristbands. Sadly, he was too used to this- though the glares of those around him still made shivers go down his spine. “Murasakibara-kun, we have to wait for practice to end. Then we can go out to buy snacks.”
Her petulant groan, and following slump, caused her breasts to go from either side of his head, to resting on both of his shoulders. He resisted the urge to roll his shoulders.
Murasakibara rested her chin on the top of Kuroko’s head, pouting. “But that’s not until ages,” she whined. “Akacchin won’t let me get my snacks until I do fifty suicides.”
“… Then you should do them.” Kuroko stated dispassionately. “Then you can eat your umaibo.”
The purple-haired girl gave Kuroko a betrayed look, before unlatching from his back to orbit towards Aomine. She was certain he had some sweets on him. He always gave her chocolate after all, whenever she came around to bother him about how mean Akacchin could be. Besides, he always agreed with her...
---
3. HaiKise; Haizaki knows exactly what kind of game Kise is playing
“Stupid, stupid Ryouta,” Haizaki all but purred into his ear, fingers tracing light circles against his skin. “Are you really that arrogant to think that no one understands you?” His nails scraped long, white lines into that pale skin, and Haizaki let out a bark of harsh laughter when Kise shuddered ever so delicately.
Kise tensed up slowly.
“Did you really think that I wouldn’t know how you feel? I know exactly how you think: everything is ever so boring for golden boy Kise, right?” Haizaki let out a cackle. “Because you’re so very good at everything- you’ve never had to work yourself to the bone, yearning so fucking hard to even scrape the surface of what you want.” His eyes were condemning as his nails began to dig in deeper. “You don’t even know how hard it is to claw your way to the fucking top. Because all you know is how to copy others.”
Kise stiffened at the pinpricks of pain, eyes flashing dangerously. “That’s not how I am- not at all. You don’t know me, Shougo. I’m not like that, not at all—” He let out a gasp as Haizaki’s nails broke skin, blood welling up and staining the sheets.
“You’re so full of shit, Ryouta: always trying to be normal when you… fucking… aren’t.” Haizaki’s grin was feral, and bloodthirsty. “You’re such an ice block- you don’t understand what people feel, do you? Two-faced, pretending to understand the reason why someone’s sobbing their fucking heart out, pretending to know how your body becomes lead inch by inch because someone’s just betrayed you and shot you in the back.
“… You know, apathy suits you, Ryouta. It suits you much better than that idiotic smile of yours; that smile that clings onto your face like a leech. It makes me fucking sick, what with how fake you are.” Haizaki sneered, pulling his hand away from his back and licking the blood off his nails. “Despair’s a prettier expression on your face, than a million-watt smile that’s as expensive as dirt.”
Kise’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, managing to ignore the stinging pain on his back. “What makes you so sure that that’s how I really am?” He asked mutely, voice unusually subdued as he sat up, staring down at Haizaki. “You can’t possibly know how I really feel- you’re you, and I’m me. How can you be so sure that what you say is true?"
--
4. AoKi; Kise is disgusting to him
“This would’ve been a lot easier if you had boobs.”
Despite the harshness of the other’s words, Kise’s breath hitched as tanned hands moved over his body, squeezing his chest to punctuate his sentence. Amber eyes were half-lidded in almost-pleasure as Aomine brought their hips together roughly, grinding down against his arousal.
“Nngh…” Kise let out a soft moan, moving back against the other. His arms moved to wrap around his neck.
Aomine’s face twisted into a sneer as he grabbed Kise’s wrists before he could bring them even closer, pinning them down onto the mattress. “I wouldn’t be so disgusted with you if you were a girl.” He continued, voice husky with need and revulsion.
“A-Aominecchi…” Kise mumbled out, a glint of hurt appearing in his eyes. He let out a soft yelp when Aomine pushed his legs apart, moving in between them without regard for Kise’s comfort. “Hey-!”
The tanned man sneered at Kise, reaching down to align his member with Kise’s entrance. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. “You’re the one who asked for it.”
The blond let out a soft gasp of discomfort as Aomine began pressing into him, face twisting as he was penetrated.
--
5. KiKuro; love hurts (and quite literally!)
Now that he thought about it, Kise wondered exactly how the hell he had ended up with Kuroko at his side.
After all, their first meeting involved the other punching him directly in the face, leaving his eye bruised and his nose almost broken. His model career had almost been ruined, but Kise swore that the moment that fist hit his face, he'd fallen in love.
... Maybe that was why Aomine always commented that he was a masochist.
Warnings: gen, OOC, AU, angst of an author's nature
[I was angsting out on this. Please forgive me for it.]
Sometimes, all Kise wanted was someone to love him: just one person who would be the one to embrace him, and to hold onto him, and to whisper into his ear that everything would turn out right. He just wanted that one person in his life, that one person who would look at him in the eye and just smile. Be happy that he was there. Be happy that Kise was alive.
And then he remembered that everyone he knew wasn’t meant for him. He was alone in his lonely pedestal, high above the others, low beneath the others.
He was caught between two worlds: he was too- too strong to be of the weak, yet too weak to be of the strong. He could never reach the height the other Kiseki were at, yet he would never be able to grasp the hands of his friends—of Kasamatsu’s, or of Moriyama’s, or of anyone else’s. It was a lonely existence.
He often contemplated disappearing, and just running away from everything. No one would care for him, no one would mind; they wouldn’t spare him a single thought. Besides, they'd get over the loss of him easily enough, humans were adaptable that way, being able to move on from things that may have seemed important but actually ended up not being significant or life changing.
He wondered if it were selfish to want something like a friend who would be by his side for all of time. He wanted someone who he could confidently call his own, and he wouldn't have to share them with anyone because their existence was his, just as his existence was there's.
It was all too easy to pretend that he didn't yearn for something like this, but in the end, a mask was just a mask, and he had to take it off one way or another. He had to reveal those bleeding gashes that symbolised his lust for attention, bare the most shameful parts of his soul to the world, a world that he knew was cruel, selfish, and painful.
If only one person could look at him, see him, and love him; Kise would be content.
Warnings: swearing, OOC, introspective, lots of rambling. Not cohesive. Probably not canon.
[because I saw a picture on tumblr that sparked my muse.]
You know, it fucking hurts to be kicked out and rejected. To be the one that everyone forgets about. To be the one that people whisper about in the shadows, pointing and calling out names when you pass by. To be the one that everyone just looks at in pity, because you know what?
You’re a no one now, just like the rest of us.
It’s a horrible feeling. You just feel so… lonely, despite what you want others to see, what you want to project.
The people you’ve relied on, even the ones that you despised, aren’t there anymore for you to abuse and to shout out. They’d just look at every memory, every photo they have of you, and rip your face out. Carefully, so that everything else is preserved. Just not you. Because you’re nothing, and insignificant, now just a mere shade of what you were once, in a time long ago.
No one wants to see your face anymore, not unless you rise to become to villain. And you just can’t help but become it. How else will you get others to see you? I…
I just need to be seen again. To be acknowledged.
I don’t regret a single thing that I’ve done. Those lives I’ve violated and ruined? I don’t give a flying damn about everything that I did to them. I was proud when I did it, and I still am. I like doing those things, seducing them away from what is right for them, and letting them get a taste of the forbidden, and eventually tossing them aside because I don’t want them anymore.
It’s just that… I don’t like this sudden silence in my life.
Kiseki no Sedai? I don’t need to be a part of that. It’s stupid anyway, having a title such as Miracle. But it’s just- they seem to be having so much fucking fun with their stupid little lives, and little old Haizaki Shougo here’s not a part of it. No one wants him into their lives, because who would want that little reject messing up their cushy lives?
Tch… but I digress.
I’m not bitter about the fact that Kise’s got my spot in the team. Hell, he’s fucking welcome to it. Why would I want to be under Akashi’s command more than I’ve already been subjected to? Besides, the Perfect Copy will never amount to anything eventually. Because copies will only stay like that: a copy of an original. Fake.
Eventually, something better’s going to rise up, and no one will want the copy. It’s sort of like commercialism: why would you want a, I don’t fucking know, a fake PSP-2 when you can get a PSP-3 for free?
Yeah, I left the group while I was still of use, because fuck Akashi, and fuck everyone. Fuck everyone on the team. I don’t need them, and I certainly don’t want any sympathy from them. That loneliness was only a product of being used to the attention that came with being a Teikou basketball player. I’ll get over it soon enough. It’s not like it’s useful to me anyway.
Warning: genderbent Kise, smut, uh... stuff. Yeah. A crappy ending!
[uh... somewhat rushed one-shot. Sorry for the lack of quality here ;A; threesomes are hard to write!]
Sex with Takao had always been passionate. It would start out slow: lingering touches on her hip, a sly kiss on the neck, the dancing of his pulse against her back. It would lead to open-mouthed kisses, fingers hurriedly shredding clothes off skin. Normally, Kise would find herself forced down onto the nearest flat surface, a head buried between her legs, teeth and tongue and mouth used to send her ecstasy and back; followed by long hours dragged out with slow and sensuous movements. Takao was much more adventurous than Midorima: she’d often found herself being accosted in public areas, allowing them to try more… daring positions.
Sex with Midorima, however, was more… tranquil, and predictable. He was more traditional: he’d take her by the hand; kiss her palm, the inside of her wrist, up her arm. He’d worship her entire body, inch by inch, not stopping until he’d explored every part of her body with his lips, never sullying the bandages on his hands. Then he’d slowly unwrap said bandages, green eyes fixed on her body, as if contemplating what to do with it. He’d touch her lightly with his fingers, explore her curves with a soft and curious touch. It was normally then, that Takao, impatient with need, would take over.
But between the two, it was never boring. Because they always ended up tag teaming on her.
And while that was somewhat unfair, Kise couldn’t complain. (After all, the sex was good, and Takao normally made up for it by helping her prank Midorima – it was hilarious seeing the usually composed man flail about when he found out all of his lucky items had somehow been turned a lurid neon pink.) Also, it wasn’t often that you could peg another guy with a strap-on at a regular basis. On said guy’s boyfriend’s insistence.
Yeah, her life was going great: regular sex, two – extremely attractive, basketball-loving – partners, and a well-paying job that didn’t require her to get naked. Well, most of the time.
But that was beside the point: at that moment, she was naked, spread flat against the alabaster-white wall of the corridor, and being fucked senseless by a smirking Takao.
Kise gasped softly as she clawed at his back with manicured nails, rocking her hips against Takao’s as he gyrated into her, thrusting in and out as he forced her back against the wall. Her skin was rubbed raw as she wrapped her legs around his waist, moaning as his lips began to attack her neck. She could feel one of his hands settling on her ass, supporting her securely despite his groping fingers.
She smiled lewdly at him as she reached down, fingers rubbing her own clit as he continued to slip in and out of her tight heat. She could feel the lustful weight of his gaze landing on her fingers. “Takacchi,” she moaned out, knowing how much her voice and actions would affect him. (Really, it wasn’t hard to find out one’s cues after more than a few years of living with them.)
Takao’s lips found hers a heartbeat later, crushing her even harder against the wall. His tongue tangled with hers, fighting her for dominance as his fingers buried into her hair, tugging roughly. However, his lips left hers all too soon.
“Do you have to start up so early in the morning? Some people still need their sleep, nanodayo.” Midorima’s dry voice was heard to Kise’s left. She glanced over to their green-haired lover, smirking when she saw how his fingers were gripping Takao’s head—and the growing tent in his pants.
“Ne, Shin-chan! I couldn’t help it! Ryou-chan’s so soft and warm~” Takao chirped, grinning as he continued to move against Kise. She moaned softly, burying her face into his neck. However, when her face was hidden, she smirked at the other’s manipulation of her former teammate. Takao was so insatiable.
She could imagine the twitch in Midorima’s eyebrow as he replied with an even dryer, “I can imagine. You might as well use the bed now that I’m not sleeping.” She then felt Takao’s arms going around her, pulling away from the wall.
Kise couldn’t hold back the soft chuckle when she noticed Midorima following them into the bedroom, eyes gleaming as she was soon sandwiched between the two men.
“Naughty Takacchi,” she cooed into his ear as Midorima’s hands moved to cup her backside, fingers slipping into her with a deft movement. Moaning softly, she then murmured a sly, “You knew that Shincchi would join us-ssu.”
Takao merely winked as her as he pulled Midorima into a messy kiss, ignoring the other’s grumble of annoyance. “Shin-chan’s just as much of a pervert as you are.” He cooed, once he pulled away with reddened lips.
Kise let out a pleasured sound when Midorima’s fingers were replaced with something thicker, eyes half-lidded as she looked over her shoulder at him. She could see the slight glaze in his green eyes, and she smirked faintly, gyrating her hips slowly. “You only like me for my ass,” she accused, wriggling slightly when Takao’s hands settled on her waist.
“… That is not true, nanodayo.”
Takao laughed at his words, nuzzling Kise’s cheek. “You just don’t want her to get pregnant, right? Since you don’t like condoms,” he then added, winking at Midorima, who turned a strange red. He was probably remembering those times when he and Takao had first started to experiment. (Ah, those times… Midorima had been so cute, then, all red and unsure of himself…) Kise let out another sound when Midorima shifted, pressing deeper into her.
“Don’t speak of things you don’t know about, Takao.” He then said, quickly moving inside of Kise. Takao and Kise moaned simultaneously, the other’s rough movement causing Takao to slip deeper into her slick heat.
Kise panted softly, eyes dark. “Mm… so full,” she purred, fingers burying into Takao’s hair as she rocked her hips in between them. As she moved back into Midorima, she heard his breath hitch. She grinned, sending him another coy stare, watching as he turned a bright red.
Ah, Midorima was ever so proper.
It just made it that much more satisfying when she got to make him lose control in the middle of their fucks.
Hey there everyone... I just wanted to say that I want to thank every single one of my followers for, well, following me! All 17 of you, whether male or female (though I doubt I have any men following me...) :) I may not know most of you well, or even talk to you, but the fact that you all showed that you like my writing is really, really encouraging. I hope you all have a great day, and thank you so much for brightening up my life every time I pop onto my account!
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