So naotodayo keeps drawing awesome fanart for this fic I teased at, so I should actually, you know, start it?
Plot: In which Naoto Shirogane is a male pop-star with a secret no one sees coming, and Kanji Tatsumi is isn’t a big fan of him.
Warnings: Overall – AU (but the same “finding your true self” theme will apply, completely with dungeons and shadows)For this chapter – one sided Kanji/Naoto, NSFW, masturbation, fantasizing.
Notes: For the purposes of this fic Naoto is referred to as a male for a good portion of it. Also, it might not go through the entire game, but I at least plan on making it to Naoto’s shadow. It starts with Kanji’s arc and progresses from there.
***
He’s heard the name before.
Naoto Shirogane.
Some idol or superstar or whatever the hell it is that people call celebrities these days.
Not like he cares.
Kanji Tatsumi walks down the halls of Yasogami High, mentally berating himself for actually bothering to show up. Leave it to his Ma to guilt trip him into going to the last place he wants to be. It ain’t like anyone actually wants him to be at school anyway, maybe Amagi-san, but that’s only because of childhood memories that neither really acknowledge these days.
It’s here where he hears the name.
Naoto Shirogane.
Of course, hearing is an understatement. It feels like he’s walked into some sort of sermon, the female population of Yasogami praising this Naoto person like some sort of holy teenage entity. Apparently, Naoto is hot and sexy and all sorts of words that apply to him being physically attractive. It takes a while for Kanji to figure out that he’s a singer, the girls gushing over his looks so much that he almost thinks that he’s a male dancer.
It’s not like he goes home to actual look for pictures of Naoto Shirogane. No. Nothing like that. Kanji Tatsumi isn’t some hormonal teenage girl nor is he like that – that meaning into teenage male idols or males in general.Tall, pierced with a fresh wave of bleached hair, it’s not that he’s purposely looking for pictures, it’s just that those dumb girls have talked about this kid so much that the back of his mind is curious. The very, very far back of his mind, the part that’s barely worth paying attention to.
That is, until, he finds his first picture.
Kanji’s not quite sure what the theme of the picture is, hand clutching onto the mouse of his computer. Is there a theme? Maybe it’s something like caught in the rain or raindrop fantasies, whatever excuse there is to have the young man sitting on his knees as water falls around him. Short strands of blue hair cling to his forehead, water droplets gently caressing barely closed eyelids. His lips are parted, the rain seductively pressed against them in the sort of kiss that makes Kanji’s breath catch in his throat. He’s wearing a baby blue shirt and tight pants, but it’s the bright yellow tie that Kanji’s eyes are focused on. It’s such a random color choice, he thinks, to compliment the blue, but it rests against his chest in a bold declaration of sex appeal and desire.
No wonder why the girls can’t stop talking about him.
And no wonder why Kanji’s pants suddenly feel-
No.
No no.
Kanji tells himself to close the picture, to click the little X on the corner of his screen.
Instead, he does the exact opposite.
The next image is of Naoto in the same outfit, only it’s dry – unfortunately. Unfortunately?
No.
No no.
No!
He’s on a third image. A fourth. A fifth. Soon he’s saving them to his computer – six, seven, eight. By the time he gets to the twentieth picture he realizes that he actually hasn’t seen any of Naoto’s videos let alone heard him sing.
He should probably do that, right?
No!
Naoto Shirogane is walking through a crowd of eager fans in a club. Kanji can’t even begin to count the number of hands that reach out towards him, sliding across his shirt, breezing against his hips, his back.
And then he opens his mouth and starts singing.
There’s words to the song, lyrics to be heard, but Kanji only can pick out a few bits here and there. He’s too focused on the way Naoto moves through the crowd, the way his voice teases everyone around him. Kanji can get the gist of the song, something sultry and hinting towards a bedroom and the removal of clothes.
It’s not that he’s imagining such a scenario with Naoto.
That’s for girls.
Or boy who are like that, which Kanji is not!
Except when he goes to bed that evening, that’s exactly what he dreams about.
There’s nothing wrong with dreaming, right?
If he wants to dream of some pop star slipping into his room, he can.
If he wants to dream of said pop star loosening his tie, a sly little smirk on his face, he can.
If he wants to dream of Naoto Shirogane moving his hips – left to right, right to left – he can.
If Naoto Shirogane says his name Kanji in the same way he sings his songs, Kanji’s not going to object – in his dream, his dream!
It’s just a dream, honest. Just a dream he’s having where his hand wanders in between his legs. It’s not happening, not in real life. In real life he’s just sleeping, dreaming – because there’s nothing wrong with dreaming. If he wants to dream of Naoto’s hand in between his legs, sliding over his boxers, that voice still whispering his name Kanji, oh Kanji-
He’s not touching himself, he’s not!
It’s not his hand that pushes his boxers down to his knees. Not his hand that wraps around his hard penis. It’s not his hand that moves up and down, trying to move as enticingly as Naoto’s hips but getting a touch big too eager. It’s just a dream, just Naoto’s hand Kanji Kanji just, it’s just-
Fuck.
Fuck!
Kanji’s other hand grips onto the covers, nails digging deep into the fabric. He’s fueled by those pictures and that video, the playful purr of Naoto’s voice as it caresses the beat of the music. Kanji’s other hand is moving too quickly – no no no not his hand no no no! – and he has to turn his head and bite into his pillow to attempt to stay quiet. It works, sort of, his cries making the pillowcase damp. It works well enough for his Ma not to hear, works well enough for his orgasmic cry to melt into the pillow, no one else a guilty party except for his trembling hand.
His hand feels wet and gross afterwards, Kanji’s face flushed as he tries to catch his breath. There’s too many things that run through his mind and none of them make him feel good. He supposes he can try and work through them.
Or he can get up, go back to his computer, and look for another video.
***
To be continued
Notes: I don’t expect every chapter to be NSFW… I think?