Damned American
folder
Gravitation › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
1,430
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Gravitation › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
7
Views:
1,430
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Gravitation, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Damned American
Damned American and Touma’s bad day
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation, Maki Murakami is the sole owner…lucky lady. WAAAAAAAAAA.
Rating: M to NC-17
Pairings: random weirdness..
Satus: Completed
Genera: comedy
Warnings: Language, drugs, sexual scenarios, mature themes, cross dressing, shonen-ai, some shouta, lime.
Summary: K-san gets back at the shenanigans that Bad Luck deems necessary to scheme. Insanity ensues when he decides to pull one of his own.
~flashbacks~
‘inner thoughts’
“Spoken word”
***Break in P.O.V.***
The blond maniac manager just sat back in the corner of the main office of the NG building, rubbing his large hands together grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Every few seconds or so an unsuppressed chuckle escaped the tight control he held of the laughter boiling just below the surface.
“K-san, are you well?” the president of NG, one Seguchi Touma, asks quietly while tending to the mountainous amounts of paper work on his desk.
“Very,” the blond literally purrs with delight, “Why do you ask?” Keen blue eyes narrow levelly with teal ones, as Touma looks up from behind a rather large stack.
“You are practically vibrating with energy, not to mention you are giggling,” he replies, raising an elegantly groomed eyebrow at the flushed face of K. ’Flushed?’ the keyboardist idly wondered, ’now that’s interesting.’
“I am not giggling, Touma, school girls giggle, I am merely enjoying a funny running around in my head,” K told him, attempting not to bust. ’This is going to be great, so friggin’ great,’ the long haired blond laughed to himself.
Why you may ask is K so excited? Well, ladies and gentlemen, he is about to get the much deserved retribution. You see, the Bad Luck band staged a revolt against the crazy gun toting psycho path. When faced down with a crazy singer, a genius guitarist, and a direct descendant of the scheming Seguchi Touma, one doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance. Even our K-san didn‘t.
“Well, K-san, there was that one time with Hiro…” the blond president laughed. Stopping immediately once he saw the murder brewing behind sky blue eyes. One, even of Touma’s standards in evil genius, does well not to provoke K-san.
“Stuff it pretty boy, that was business and you know it,” came the teeth grinding retort. “Besides, I’d rather dress as a school girl than wear a French Maid’s outfit,” K bite back, allowing a few burst of laughter to escape.
Crimson flushed, and clearly flustered, Touma purses his lips. “I don’t know how you found out about that, but one day you will tell me. Then heads will roll all day long,” the seething younger blond hissed.
What K-san’s not telling him is that there are a few candid shot from a digital camera on this interesting web page. He happened to come across it while digging up stats on Nittle Grasper’s famed run three years back, and BOOM there it was! A large, clear, shot of Seguchi Touma wearing nothing but a Maid’s costume. The short skirt barely covered the round ass cheeks that were peeking from below the hem, long shapely shaven legs were spread in a delectable fashion, while his back arched nicely bent over dusting a very familiar cherry wood desk. The scenario was complete with a fluffy feather duster and black stiletto heels that tightened the muscle of those calves so beautifully; the whole thing was sexy as hell and highly entertaining.
The long haired man spent several nights replaying that picture over and over in his mind while jacking off to it. It’s not that K was in love with the president, nor did he really lust after him, he was just an opportunist. And, by the bulge that crowded his pants opportunity arose.
Still to this day no one knew how the picture ended up on the internet, nor who was the mastermind behind the shot, but K was willing to pay big bucks on the bet that it had something to do with Bad Luck. The band’s made it their personal crusade to torture anyone that happens to have the ’bad luck’ of coming into contact with them. Not to mention every time one of them sees the keyboardist they fall silent until he is gone, then erupt in a cascade of giggle fits.
“I don’t know what to tell you, perhaps next time where fishnet?” K told him, unable to stop the statement before it came falling out of his mouth. Sometimes the truth doesn’t set you free, just makes an ass out of you. Case and point stated above.
“What?” Touma wonder bewilderedly at what just came out of K’s mouth. As deranged as it sounded, Touma could see fishnets working.
“Oh, nothing Mr. President,” K told him sweetly, well as sweetly as possible for him.
Staring at the ‘innocent’ looking manager sitting in his office, now going on thirty minutes, he wonders aloud, “Why are you here K?” Not that the young blond minded having a similar criminal mastermind keeping him company, he was just wary. After the compromising picture, Seguchi Touma has learned to cover his track more carefully.
“Come now Touma, can’t a guy keep his buddy company?” K states, hugging him chest feigning hurt.
Shrugging at his friends antics, Touma tells him,” Yes, that’s fine, if not for the fact that you have been staring at the clock the whole time you’ve sat there.” Aqua marine eyes bore into the man sitting across from him. Tone leveling, he inquires, “Something’s up K, care to tell me what it is?”
The phone rang before the manager had to come up with a buyable excuse. The other blond reaching over to answer it frowning avidly at the broad smile on the other’s face.
“Moshi-Moshi, Seguchi Touma,” he speaks with a faked happy tone, never letting his gaze fall from K’s. “Ah, I see, very well I will inform him,” he says, the frown deepening. Placing the receiver down with forced gentleness, Seguchi states, “It appears you have a package waiting for you at the front desk.”
Standing up, grin still firmly in place, he says with genuine amusement, “Hot damn, FedEx wasn’t lying.” Winking at the seated blond, K literally bolts for the door.
“FedEx? K! FEDEX? What the hells are you up too?” he yells at the cloud of dust that once was a man. With eyebrow raised, the president looks about the office. ‘Blinds shut, door closed, no one here. Good,’ he thinks to himself. Getting up from the comfortable leather chair, opening the bottom drawer of the desk pulling out a little feather duster, he begins his ‘work’. Someone should inform the man that there is a Closet Cross dresser’s Anonymous, just ask Shindou. He is the club’s most valued member!
Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation, Maki Murakami is the sole owner…lucky lady. WAAAAAAAAAA.
Rating: M to NC-17
Pairings: random weirdness..
Satus: Completed
Genera: comedy
Warnings: Language, drugs, sexual scenarios, mature themes, cross dressing, shonen-ai, some shouta, lime.
Summary: K-san gets back at the shenanigans that Bad Luck deems necessary to scheme. Insanity ensues when he decides to pull one of his own.
~flashbacks~
‘inner thoughts’
“Spoken word”
***Break in P.O.V.***
The blond maniac manager just sat back in the corner of the main office of the NG building, rubbing his large hands together grinning like the cat that ate the canary. Every few seconds or so an unsuppressed chuckle escaped the tight control he held of the laughter boiling just below the surface.
“K-san, are you well?” the president of NG, one Seguchi Touma, asks quietly while tending to the mountainous amounts of paper work on his desk.
“Very,” the blond literally purrs with delight, “Why do you ask?” Keen blue eyes narrow levelly with teal ones, as Touma looks up from behind a rather large stack.
“You are practically vibrating with energy, not to mention you are giggling,” he replies, raising an elegantly groomed eyebrow at the flushed face of K. ’Flushed?’ the keyboardist idly wondered, ’now that’s interesting.’
“I am not giggling, Touma, school girls giggle, I am merely enjoying a funny running around in my head,” K told him, attempting not to bust. ’This is going to be great, so friggin’ great,’ the long haired blond laughed to himself.
Why you may ask is K so excited? Well, ladies and gentlemen, he is about to get the much deserved retribution. You see, the Bad Luck band staged a revolt against the crazy gun toting psycho path. When faced down with a crazy singer, a genius guitarist, and a direct descendant of the scheming Seguchi Touma, one doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance. Even our K-san didn‘t.
“Well, K-san, there was that one time with Hiro…” the blond president laughed. Stopping immediately once he saw the murder brewing behind sky blue eyes. One, even of Touma’s standards in evil genius, does well not to provoke K-san.
“Stuff it pretty boy, that was business and you know it,” came the teeth grinding retort. “Besides, I’d rather dress as a school girl than wear a French Maid’s outfit,” K bite back, allowing a few burst of laughter to escape.
Crimson flushed, and clearly flustered, Touma purses his lips. “I don’t know how you found out about that, but one day you will tell me. Then heads will roll all day long,” the seething younger blond hissed.
What K-san’s not telling him is that there are a few candid shot from a digital camera on this interesting web page. He happened to come across it while digging up stats on Nittle Grasper’s famed run three years back, and BOOM there it was! A large, clear, shot of Seguchi Touma wearing nothing but a Maid’s costume. The short skirt barely covered the round ass cheeks that were peeking from below the hem, long shapely shaven legs were spread in a delectable fashion, while his back arched nicely bent over dusting a very familiar cherry wood desk. The scenario was complete with a fluffy feather duster and black stiletto heels that tightened the muscle of those calves so beautifully; the whole thing was sexy as hell and highly entertaining.
The long haired man spent several nights replaying that picture over and over in his mind while jacking off to it. It’s not that K was in love with the president, nor did he really lust after him, he was just an opportunist. And, by the bulge that crowded his pants opportunity arose.
Still to this day no one knew how the picture ended up on the internet, nor who was the mastermind behind the shot, but K was willing to pay big bucks on the bet that it had something to do with Bad Luck. The band’s made it their personal crusade to torture anyone that happens to have the ’bad luck’ of coming into contact with them. Not to mention every time one of them sees the keyboardist they fall silent until he is gone, then erupt in a cascade of giggle fits.
“I don’t know what to tell you, perhaps next time where fishnet?” K told him, unable to stop the statement before it came falling out of his mouth. Sometimes the truth doesn’t set you free, just makes an ass out of you. Case and point stated above.
“What?” Touma wonder bewilderedly at what just came out of K’s mouth. As deranged as it sounded, Touma could see fishnets working.
“Oh, nothing Mr. President,” K told him sweetly, well as sweetly as possible for him.
Staring at the ‘innocent’ looking manager sitting in his office, now going on thirty minutes, he wonders aloud, “Why are you here K?” Not that the young blond minded having a similar criminal mastermind keeping him company, he was just wary. After the compromising picture, Seguchi Touma has learned to cover his track more carefully.
“Come now Touma, can’t a guy keep his buddy company?” K states, hugging him chest feigning hurt.
Shrugging at his friends antics, Touma tells him,” Yes, that’s fine, if not for the fact that you have been staring at the clock the whole time you’ve sat there.” Aqua marine eyes bore into the man sitting across from him. Tone leveling, he inquires, “Something’s up K, care to tell me what it is?”
The phone rang before the manager had to come up with a buyable excuse. The other blond reaching over to answer it frowning avidly at the broad smile on the other’s face.
“Moshi-Moshi, Seguchi Touma,” he speaks with a faked happy tone, never letting his gaze fall from K’s. “Ah, I see, very well I will inform him,” he says, the frown deepening. Placing the receiver down with forced gentleness, Seguchi states, “It appears you have a package waiting for you at the front desk.”
Standing up, grin still firmly in place, he says with genuine amusement, “Hot damn, FedEx wasn’t lying.” Winking at the seated blond, K literally bolts for the door.
“FedEx? K! FEDEX? What the hells are you up too?” he yells at the cloud of dust that once was a man. With eyebrow raised, the president looks about the office. ‘Blinds shut, door closed, no one here. Good,’ he thinks to himself. Getting up from the comfortable leather chair, opening the bottom drawer of the desk pulling out a little feather duster, he begins his ‘work’. Someone should inform the man that there is a Closet Cross dresser’s Anonymous, just ask Shindou. He is the club’s most valued member!