Title: Get What You Ask For [Jin, Koki/Fujigaya]
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 for Kisumai being classier than one of Jin's hos.
Summary: Jin wanted the random girls, after all, it's not Koki's fault.
AN: Written for myxstorie, who wanted Jin/Kis-My-Ft2.
Get What You Ask For
"How come you get them and I get random girls?" Jin complained at Koki during the dress rehearsal for their Dome cons. Kis-My-Ft2 were debating their placement at the start of Koki's solo, their costumes swirls of gold and silver as they shoved and repositioned each other, in constant motion.
"You wanted random girls," Koki reminded as he watched their not-so-kouhai kouhai with an air of paternal smugness. "You demanded them, as I recall."
"I didn't know they'd be hotter than the girls!" Jin snapped, and scowled harder when Koki only commented mildly that he hadn't been looking very hard then.
"Koki~!" Fujigaya called, interrupting. "I think we got it! Come over so we can try the first couple 8-counts again?"
"Sure, Taipi," Koki called back. Fujigaya preened cutely at Koki using his nickname, and Koki turned to give Jin a leer over his shoulder.
Jin wasn't anymore amused when he got a big eyeful of just how close Koki was to his favorite kouhai when Jin opened the door to KAT-TUN's dressing room without knocking.
"THAT'S NOT HYGENIC!" Jin shouted as he slammed the door shut. He turned to stomp off and found himself face to face with Senga and Nikaido, both looking interested. "You don’t want to go in there," he informed them.
Nikaido smirked and Senga's eyebrows raised in interest as a moan of Fujigaya's given name came through the door.
"Taipi really likes working with KAT-TUN-senpai," Senga commented.
"No shit," Jin snorted. Nikaido and Senga were still looking at him. "What?"
"We like it too," Nikaido finally commented, wrapping an arm around Senga's shoulders possessively. He leaned close enough that his breath was against Senga's ear, making Senga's eyes darken as he leaned into Nikaido. "And we've got a dressing room too."
By the time lunch break was over, Jin vowed that if Kis-My-Ft2 were still juniors long enough to back their next tour, he definitely wouldn't be demanding any more random girls for his solo.
Title: 24-Hour Conbini [Yokoo/Kis-My-Ft2]
Rating/Warnings: G for KKKity nostalgia.
Summary: It's petty, Yokoo knows, but he can't help it.
AN: For imifumei who wanted something with Yokoo in.
Deep down, Yokoo doesn't really look forward to the months when NEWS is the guest on Shounen Club filmings. It's petty, he knows, and he certainly doesn't mention it to anybody, but he can't help the small sting of it when Shige can holler across the stage and bring Koyama running from anyplace in the building, when Koyama beams like his face might break when he gets to show off his unit on his show. And it's not even that Koyama and Shige got picked out when Yokoo didn't, not anymore really, or even that it's easier to miss Kusano when the three of them are close enough to touch.
It's…well. Koyama got to keep his best friend, didn't he?
It's stupid, Yokoo knows, so petty, and so he doesn't say anything about it when Yamapi calls good morning to his members and Shige shoots Yokoo a fake long-suffering smile as Koyama drags him off by the arm.
"Geez, still jealous?" Fujigaya demands when Yokoo glides back over to his real unit, dragging his front stop to brake, and Yokoo chuckles at the sharpness of how easily Fujigaya sees right through him. "You should be thankful we saved you from that bunch of losers."
"The children are listening, Taipi," Yokoo reminds, sparing a glance at Ft2, who are sprawled all over each other on the floor, on a thin pretense of stretching. "Set a good example, hm?"
"Like good examples are gonna help Nika or Ken-chan," Fujigaya snorts, but he lowers his voice a little. "Seriously, Watta, forget them, yeah? You're better off with us, you know?"
"Forget what?" Yokoo asks mildly, keeping his eyes on the floor and his cute honorary little brothers, two of whom are ganging up on Tamamori to tickle him until he cries, the third watching happily. "Who?"
"Watta," Fujigaya rolls his eyes. "I have eyes, stupid. They wouldn't have used you right anyway, and three to one says they'd have lost you, careless idiots, and wouldn't you rather be in a group that can sing more than two of your songs live?"
"Easy, easy, Taipi," Yokoo finally looks up at Fujigaya, letting him have a good look in his eyes if he wants it so bad. "It's fine, yo. I'm Kisumai's Y, aren't I? No need to get jealous."
"Who's even jealous," Fujigaya snorts, but the fierce possession in his eyes banks to a steady glow. "Just don't get any stupid ideas, is all. We need you."
"For hair gel and tissues?" Yokoo teases, but he doesn't mind as much when hears Koyama whoop across the room. "Ah, I got it. You can count on me."
"How about for contact solution?" Nikaido asks from the floor. "Cause we just knocked one of Tama's out."
Title: Target Audience [Sanada/Nozawa]
Summary: Sanada wants to know why Nozawa does it, since he doesn't like it.
AN: Written for shimizumiki, who wanted Sanazawa.
"Why do you do it then?" Sanada asks, tilting his head. "If you don't like it?"
"Don't like what?" Nozawa tries to focus on changing out of his costume and not so much on how Sanada just distracted himself and forgot what he was doing halfway through.
Sanada reached up to scratch his bare chest. "You know, the fans and stuff. You don't care about it, right? You barely look at them, so what's the point?"
Behind them, Sakuma and Miyadate are whooping about something, Watanabe complaining loudly that someone stole his water bottle again. Nozawa reaches down to wrap his fingers around Sanada's wrist, halting his scratching.
"I like to focus on one thing at a time," he tells Sanada. "Quit scratching, you'll give yourself a rash."
Sanada's pulse thrums a half-dozen times or so against Nozawa's fingertips before Nozawa can see the realization dawn over his face. "Oooooh. Oh! Oh." He frowns. "But you can look at me all the time?"
"So I should want to look at random girls more than you?" Nozawa lets go of Sanada's wrist to flick his forehead. "Idiot. Take of your pants so we can shower already, you smell."
"INDIRECT KISS~!" Fukusawa crows, and Nozawa just hardens his resolve to only focus on one of these morons at a time.
And since Sanada follows his orders so well, Nozawa thinks he'll stick with him for a while yet.
Title: Gekokujou [Sanada/Nozawa]
Rating/Warnings: R for Nozawa's endurance.
Summary: There's lots of reasons Nozawa prefers sleeping at Sanada's house, and Sanada doesn't want to roleplay.
AN: For snowqueenofhoth who also wanted Sanazawa
Nozawa is used to sleeping in the same room as the rest of his family, used to his father snoring and his brother kicking him, used to his sister waking him up in the middle of the night crawling over him to get to the bathroom.
In comparison, Sanada's snoring is kind of cute. But Nozawa could still do without the kicking.
"Sorry," Sanada mumbles when Nozawa shoves at him, rolling away from being curled around Nozawa, onto his back. Nozawa frowns, because that hadn't exactly been his plan. He rolls over himself hitching himself up onto his elbow so that he can loom over Sanada.
It's dark, but he can still tell when Sanada opens his eyes and tilts his head up at Nozawa.
"Wha?" Sanada wants to know, voice thick with sleep, before Nozawa covers Sanada's mouth with his own.
Nozawa's never felt particularly embarrassed or anything that his family isn't rich, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate the privacy of Sanada having his own room, having his own bed, and so now when they manage to jam a sleepover into their increasingly Tackey-heavy schedules, Nozawa likes to make as much use of the fact as he can.
"Again?" Sanada mumbles against Nozawa's mouth. He doesn't sound opposed to the idea exactly, just sleepy and confused. Nozawa pulls back enough to draw a breath and Sanada asks, "Can you even do it again?"
Rolling his eyes, even though Sanada can't see it in the dark, Nozawa slides over so he's fully on top of Sanada and rolls their hips together. He's not fully hard, but he's interested, and Sanada hums as his hands come up to Nozawa's waist.
"Impressive," Sanada comments, then yawns.
"We only went twice, you baby," Nozawa retorts. "I heard Tama-chan-senpai tell Senga-kun that he managed five once. You don't want to lose to the senpai, right?"
"We have to dance tomorrow," Sanada reminds, although his hands drift down to cover the curve of Nozawa's ass. Nozawa hums as the heat of Sanada's palms as it sinks into his skin. "So let's roleplay some other time, 'kay?"
"You mean like you pretending to be the voice of reason?" Nozawa lowers his head to nose at Sanada's cheek. "You just don't want to do any of the work, right?"
Sanada snorts, stirring Nozawa's hair. "And you do? I did work the first two times, thanks. Can't we just jerk off next to each other like we used to? I miss when you used to be all shy and innocent."
Nozawa has to bury his face in Sanada's shoulder so that his laughter doesn't wake up the whole house. It's one of the most ridiculous things Sanada has said in quite a while, and the list is long. When Nozawa does pick up his head, still catching his breath, he reaches over Sanada to flip on the bedside lamp, and then he has to suppress some more laughter at Sanada's pinched expression.
"Yuuuuki," he whines, but he subsides when Nozawa gives him a quick kiss.
"You wanna jerk off, that's fine with me," Nozawa grins, "but I'd rather watch you. I can imagine what it looks like all on my own."
They roll onto their sides facing each other, Sanada's blankets pushed out of the way. Sanada's eyes flutter once he's got a hand wrapped around himself, but Nozawa's are wide open. He wants to see everything, so much like when really didn't dare do anything more than get off next to each other in the dark, but so different to have Sanada's eyes on him, to see Sanada's strong fingers slide up over his skin now that he knows what they feel like on his own skin.
"Yuuki," Sanada says again, hushed and breath catching, and the pink spreading over his nose, yeah, Nozawa likes the look of that an awful lot too.
"You do it when I can't stay over, right?" Nozawa wants to know. He isn't sure where the urge to talk like this came from, but Sanada likes it if the way his chest is heaving is any indication. "You think about me?"
"S-sure," Sanada agrees.
"Yeah?" Nozawa pushes, hand on his own cock speeding up. "What about?"
"I…" Sanada's blush darkens. "Fuck, come on…"
"Tell me," Nozawa orders, eyes flicking up from Sanada's hand to his face and then back down again. "Tell me what you think about, Yuuma."
"If," Sanada swallows hard, "if you're doing it too. I think about you touching yourself, the same time as me, maybe even c-coming the same…"
Sanada cuts off with a muffled, desperate whine as Nozawa slides over suddenly, close enough that his cock slides against Sanada's, and Nozawa can take both of them in his hand at once. Sanada catches on quick enough, pressing his forehead against Nozawa's as he wraps his hand around both of them as well, their fists bumping as they pant in each other's air.
It only lasts a minute after that, and Nozawa isn't sure which of them lets go first, shuddering with aftershocks as he thrusts into their suddenly slick fists. When he slumps against the pillow and peels his eyes back open, Sanada is watching him, eyes dark and low-lidded.
"You think about it too," Sanada's tongue licks at his lower lip, "right?"
Nozawa grins and tugs Sanada's hand off their cocks to lace their sticky fingers together. "I don't have to think about it," he answers, "when I can watch it instead. You don't really miss when I used to be all shy and innocent, right?"
"Like you were ever innocent," Sanada rolls over and reaches back to tug Nozawa tight against his back. "And who the hell taught you to dirty talk?"
Nozawa chuckles against Sanada's shoulder. "ONE of us has to not lose to the senpai…"
Title: Crossed Wires
Rating/Warnings: PG for cross-dressing
Summary: Kame meets Yuuko...and Hiromi.
AN: For peroxidepest17, who wanted Yamanade dressing room crossdressing antics.
Kame's sitting peacefully in the dressing room, reading his script, when the dressing room door swings open. He nearly chokes on his tea when Tegoshi Yuuko bounces in, cute skirt and wig all exactly as alluring he'd been warned they were.
Kame isn't particularly allured. "Teogoshi-kun?"
"Yuuko," Tegoshi corrects, tugging off his stylish, puffy coat, pink of course, and fluffing his curls out where they've been crushed by the hood.
"What exactly are you doing here," Kame pauses for the barest fraction of a second, "like that?"
"They told me I could pick anybody for my friendship role," Tegoshi leans forward, closer to the mirror to inspect his bangs. "So I picked Yuuko."
"You picked yourself?" Kame asks, wondering if maybe Jin's been right about Tegoshi this whole time.
"No, I picked Yuuko," Tegoshi examines his teeth for lipstick. "She's a lot different from Yuya. Yuuko's an exploration of my feminine side and gets a lot different response from everybody, which makes her act different as well, operating within an opposite set of stereotypes, which makes everybody else act different too, so it's a infinite feedback loop. The brain's pretty easy to trick, right? And if everybody treats you like a different person, you eventually kind of become one, don't you? So she's really like a whole other person, ne, and not like Yuya at all."
Kame chews on that for a second or two. "Your group really buys it when you say shit like that, huh?"
Tegoshi spares a glance over his shoulder to flash a glossy smile at Kame and a perfectly mascaraed wink. "Believe."
When the dressing room door bursts open a second time and Uchi clatters inside in a minidress and spike heels, Kame is ready to start beating his head on his makeup table.
But at least he can finish reading his script in peace while Yuuko and Hiromi are busy doing each other's hair.
Title: Surprise Confession [Jin/Yamapi]
Rating/Warnings: R for non-aircon.
Summary: Jin says it's too hot, and Yamapi makes him reverse his position.
AN: For ryogrande, who wanted Pin.
The apartment was dark and still, lit only by a few stray candles. The windows were open, but no breeze stirred the curtains, and no lights broke the shadows.
Sticking his head around the doorway and spotting his prey on the couch, helpless and in nothing but boxers, Yamashita Tomohisa rubbed his hands together and prepared to make his move.
He crept down the hallway and into the living room on the pads of his feet, silent like a sleek and powerful jungle cat, only with sexier hips, up to the back of the couch. He waited until his prey's attention was occupied, one finger twirling one of the curls of hair slipping out of his ponytail, then at the perfect moment, he pounced!
"This is very sudden," Yamapi hollered, vaulting the back of the couch and landing on his knees on the cushion right next to his victim, "but I like you a lot!"
"Get lost, Pi," Akanishi Jin grumbled, lifting a leg to plant his foot right in the middle of Yamapi's chest and shoving him backwards. "It's too hot!"
"Aw, it's not that hot," Yamapi protested, slumping against the opposite armrest and pouting at Jin. "Too hot for surprise confessions?"
Jin gave Yamapi a baleful look, limp tendrils of hair stuck to the side of his face and a sheen of sweat covering his chest. He lifted an arm, and his skin peeled away from the leather of the couch with a sound that made Yamapi wince.
"Okay, it's hot," Yamapi conceded. "But what do you expect, it's Tokyo in mid-August."
"I expect air conditioning!" Jin whined, letting his head fall back against the couch and pouting. "I expect climate control!"
"So does everyone else." Yamapi gave Jin a lop-sided grin. "Hence the blackout."
"I'm too pretty to be this hot," Jin said, slouching down further, and Yamapi agreed to that happily. At least until it became apparent that Jin really meant it was too hot to make out.
"Maybe your place will be better?" Yamapi offered from the floor, where he had slid down after his completely plausible advances had been rejected. At least on the floor his skin wasn't gluing itself to anything with its own sweat.
"It's a blackout, Pi, my apartment will be just the same." Jin raked a hand through his hair, trying to push it away from his face. "Besides, then I'll have to put on pants."
"We should certainly avoid that," Pi said sagely. "Can't we make out just a little?"
"I'd kick you some more," Jin said without any heat, "but I might die from the exertion."
If Jin wasn't going to do anything about it, Yamapi finally decided, then he wasn't terribly opposed to taking matters into his own hands. Jin made a good enough picture to look at anyway, he thought as he slid his hand into his sweats to palm his cock casually, even when he wasn't sweaty, hair stuck to his neck in humidity curls, fanning himself with a lazy, long-fingered hand…
…glaring at Yamapi from above.
"So you're just gonna stare at me and jerk off?" Jin demanded.
"Uh-huh," Yamapi agreed, getting a little more serious about the jerking off now that Jin's dark eyes and pouty scowl were fixed directly upon him. He let go of his cock just long enough to shove his sweats down farther, far enough for Jin to see exactly what was happening, and then went back to work, toes curling a little at the heat of Jin's glare along his bared skin.
"What the hell!" Jin scrunched around on the couch, his reaction to Yamapi's show obvious. He really only succeeded in making himself more disgruntled and sweaty, both of which Yamapi found highly appealing.
"You could always, mmm," Yamapi interrupted himself with a soft groan as he thumbed his tip, "come down here and help?"
He'd expected Jin to put up a more lengthy resistance, since he was well-versed in the ways of Jin's sloth, and so it was a surprise when Jin peeled himself off the couch as if disengaging Velcro, and dropped to the floor. Yamapi spread his legs to accommodate him, and Jin pushed his hand away impatiently, bending down.
"Oi," he paused, his breath warming the damp tip of Yamapi's cock, making Yamapi whine impatiently, "you'd better return the favor."
Agreeing before Jin's done even saying the words, Yamapi worked hands into Jin's hair, tugging it loose from its ponytail so he could bury his fingers in the damp curls. His fingers tightened when Jin swallowed the first couple inches of his cock, but Jin just moaned around him in response and took him a little deeper.
Everything was a blaze of wet heat after that, fire licking at Yamapi's skin and trickling thick in his veins, all of his nerves focusing on the drag of Jin over his length until his control snapped like an over-used hair elastic. Yamapi's back arched off the floor as he spilled across Jin's tongue, and his muscles held taut long enough with the pleasure of it that the floor felt cool against his shoulder blades when he slumped back against it.
When he opened his eyes, Jin was hovering over him, sweaty and even more disgruntled, his cock digging into Yamapi's thigh. "Well?" he demanded, voice rough.
"This is very sudden, but I like you a lot," Yamampi hummed, letting his eyes slip shut again. He kept them that way even when the growl Jin gave made the hairs on his arms rise.
Jin eventually forgave him, though, for suggesting that they try round two in the cool of the bathtub.