Categories > Anime/Manga > Ouran High School Host Club
access denied // an ouran high school host club one-shot
optional summary: a harmless game turns personal.
Ouran High School’s Host Club deserves every amount of praise it receives. Its creation bought peace and a sense of excitement among the notorious female student body—not to mention countless thoughts and acts of perversion. These feelings of lust and longing helped our school progress. In fact, it’s safe to assume that, in turn, the Host Club gained recognition, too, for such reasons. But let’s play pretend and say every single member it in—including myself—have actually HAD lust and longing.
It’s upsetting, really—borderline heartbreaking.
Mischievous, crude, dominating, cool—that’s how I’ve been described…or at least that’s the part I’ve been playing in this game of ours. The first three words are slightly accurate, when it comes to me personally. “Cool”? You couldn’t choose a word in the Japanese language that relates to me less than that.
Regardless, this is how I’m supposed to act—not supposed to (if I say it like that, it sounds forced), just how I need to be to pull everything off.
And when I say that, I’m referring to the game.
“Kyouya!” Tamaki calls. He’s always yelling. I don’t even grace him with a reply, but he runs over with that stupid smile on his face anyway. We’re in the music room—all of us—like we usually are every afternoon. I look up and notice everyone’s gathered around a table.
Tamaki jumps right up in front of my gaze. “Mom—!! C’mon! Play with us!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Play what?”
He’s bouncing on his heels now. “Truth or Dare!”
I can guess where he learnt of the game, but I ask anyway. “What is it?”
“A common folk game!” Tamaki’s pride is glowing. “Haruhi told us about it! You have to go around the room and ask anyone to choose between a dare—which is most likely something very random and unnecessary—or to answer truthfully to absolutely ANY question! Amazing premise, don’t you think?!!”
My blank stare was probably enough of a response.
“Come ONNNNN!” Tamaki whines. “PleasepleasePLEASE play with us!”
His voice is extremely piercing. I cringe, but decide to submit. Tamaki beams, and leads me to the table. I take a seat, keeping my clipboard on my lap (not good etiquette, but who in there was I out to impress?). Haruhi looks like he wants to strangle herself—she understood exactly what she had gotten herself into. Mori is clearly not interested. Tamaki, Hikaru, Kaoru, and Hunny are practically jumping in their seats.
It began.
I wasn’t really listening, since I had my clipboard with me and work to do. If anything, I was observing.
Most of the questions were directed toward Haruhi, who chose Truth for everything, most likely out of fear and disturbance. Tamaki and Hikaru’s questions were daft, while Hunny’s were downright insane. Kaoru’s benefited his brother in at least one way or another. Mori didn’t participate, or maybe no one realized they were skipping over him. Haruhi herself stuck to subtle questions (everyone kept to Truth as if following her example), such as “Is that blue you’re wearing?” or “Do you attend Ouran?” This earned frequent whines and pouts, but she just winced—she REALLY knew what she had gotten herself into. I don’t give her enough credit, it seems.
I’m writing things down, and I hear my name among the chaos. Everyone is hushed and I lift my head. Hikaru smirks in my direction. I look back down.
Scribble, scribble, scribble…
“Truth or Dare?”
I resume my note-taking.
Scribble…
“Truth.”
Scribble…
“Are you a virgin?”
Scrib—
“What a vulgar question,” Haruhi sighs. Everyone else remains silent.
How unexpected. That question caught me off-guard. But I quickly regain composure—my infamous “cool” demeanor—and do what the rules say (—ble, scribble…): tell the truth.
“Yes.”
It takes me a moment to realize the room is as still as it was before. The only sound is the pen scratching my clipboard’s wooden form from against the paper attached. Possibly the only thing more irritating than the group making noise is them not.
So I raise my head again—their eyes are on me…most of their jaws dropped.
My eyebrow arches. “Are you done playing?”
“N-no…” Tamaki gulps. Always the first to speak—as it should be. “It’s just…”
“…you’re a VIRGIN?” Hikaru blurts out.
“I chose Truth,” I answer. “So, naturally, I’d answer honestly. Aren’t those the dynamics of the game?”
“Yeah, but…”
“We didn’t know Kyou-kun was…!” Hunny-senpai begins. He stops himself and squeaks, “…you know—”
“Why does it MATTER?” I butt in. One of my forefingers are tapping against the table now. My temper is slowly elevating.
“We kind of assumed…” Tamaki attempts to explain as he scratches the back of his head. “Seeing how you can get any girl you wanted…and that we…uh…” His eyes lock onto mine. He stares at me, as though trying to make me understand without having to say anything else. Then, it hits me—hits me like a ton of bricks.
This is news.
I’m speechless. “They” weren’t virgins. Every single one of “them.” All the male members of the Host Club AREN’T—except for me.
I don’t say a word for the rest of the day.
When I get home, I just sit there and before I know it, it’s midnight, so I crawl into bed. I can’t sleep. Something’s boiling deep inside me. There’s something I know it true and I’d never admit it, and I pray to God no one else does, either. My teeth are clenched shut. I want to scream.
It doesn’t make any sense. At all. I promise myself to never, ever, ever admit it to them.
The actual idea of their lack of virginities is overwhelming, in itself. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Tamaki plays the part of the hero and maybe the twins AREN’T playing. But Hunny and Mori…? A strange thought. Then I remember times where I’d just see them alone, looking out one of the music room windows, and Hunny would smile and Mori would smile and they’d be content. Always full of surprises, those two, so maybe…
Sex itself doesn’t sound appealing in the LEAST. Haruhi and I share one trait: apathy. It’s quite amazing how much I really don’t care. It’s gotten to the point where it even surprises me. But, nonetheless, sex is garish and unnatural. If the world has as much money as it says it does, breeding should be done in a less repulsive way. Maybe I’m strange for thinking this way…
…or maybe I’m just smart.
-------------------------------
The day sails by and I’m back where the problem started. It’s driving me insane, because now, there’s only me and Tamaki. No one else has arrived. I’m standing up, writing things down and facing the largest window in the room. None of the lights are on and the outside Sun brightens everything up. Tamaki walks up behind me, and I can tell he’s smiling and I know what he’s thinking about. I roll my eyes but he can’t see.
Tamaki is silent for a moment, then he says, “What’re you up to, Mom?”
“The usual,” I answer. I’m grimacing but he can’t see.
“You know…” He always goes straight to the point. “I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday—about our Truth or Dare session. And I’ve been struck with a certain thought that won’t quite disappear…” He drags it out. I see where he’s headed with this. I brace myself but he can’t see.
“Oh?” comes my reply. He’s actually considerate enough to not get into details. Typical Tamaki.
I hear his clothes ruffle. He’s obviously crossing his arms—probably grinning, too. And then he says what I don’t want him to say:
“We have something over you now.”
My expression is hard. My mouth is a line. A familiar feeling is brewing in the pit of my stomach. It’s took late but I figure out it’s rage. The response I give him is simple:
“So it seems.”
I hear him trail off. I see my reflection. My eyes are sharp and burning, my face not a pleasant one. My fingers are red and sore from grasping the board and pencil too long and hard. Tamaki is oblivious.
I’m furious and he can’t see.
I contemplate from there, for a few minutes or so. No one seems to be coming anytime soon. It’s perfect and the room is still. With a glance to the side, Tamaki is visible on a couch; he doesn’t seem to be doing anything. I just smirk because it’s all too perfect.
Then, I walk over.
Tamaki looks up at me and smiles. I don’t even try to hide my smug look, but he doesn’t notice since he’s too busy smiling. I place my clipboard on the coffee table and he doesn’t know what’s going through my head.
I want to rip that smile off your face.
I know for a fact the smile is gone when I crush my lips against his.
Tamaki’s a “gentlemen” so he doesn’t push away. His open hands move to my shoulders and apply pressure as thought trying to get me to break the kiss. But I don’t. I break it a few more seconds in, and I’m staring straight at him. His eyes are wide.
“K…Kyouya…!” he manages to choke. He acts like it’s all over but it’s not, because I kiss him again. He gasps into my mouth and I pry his lips open with my tongue. Soon enough, those hands trying to push me away moments before are grasping my shoulders and that boy is submitting. I decide to progress.
He’s spread across the couch now, breathing heavily. His chest is heaving and I do him a favor and button that stuffy blazer and dress shirt, tossing them on the floor. My fingers graze over his neck, his torso, his stomach…He shivers.
“What are you…?” he breathes. I don’t answer.
I’m over him now and I ravage his mouth again. He doesn’t seem to want to move anytime soon. He is getting kissed by a “gorgeous” man. And I can pretty much assure that when he lost It, he wasn’t writhing this much, groaning this much, moaning this much. Why he’s succumbing so easily is beyond me; maybe he’s as simple-minded as he acts.
Now HE pursues ME, hands running up my hips. He clings to my neck. I try not to smile myself because if I did, it’d ruin everything. I touch his hair and he seems to like that, nuzzling closer and giving my lips a playful nip.
It’s extremely hard for me not to burst out laughing. He’s looking too much into this because he’s a toy and I’m just toying with him. It’s as if he thinks that I think I’m coming to my senses—that we’re on the same page and that we’ve always felt this way about each other and that we’re finally coming to our senses.
Prepare to be disappointed.
I move down to his neck, and he sighs in relief. His skin is soft and I can’t help but inhale his scent. He sighs again. Damn, maybe he IS really in love with me. My classmates have been telling me that for years. Naturally, I didn’t listen to a word that came out of their mouths.
It’s getting good. He’s fiddling with my blazer so I act quickly. Scooping him up in my arms, I give him one final grimace until dropping him onto the carpet like I did his clothes. He shrieks, looking up at me. I stay on the couch, sitting myself down and crossing my legs. My glasses are kind of foggy, so I’m sure to wipe them off. I reach over for my clipboard.
Tamaki’s breathing hard. It’s the only sound in the room. For once in his life, he’s speechless. His hair is disheveled in a whorish fashion, his eyes clouded over. He just LOOKS at me, until he finally says, “Kyou…ya…Wh-what was…why?”
I look at him placidly, and then I turn my attention to the paperwork on my lap.
“I think it’s pretty clear who’s on top here.”
Something tells me today’s customers will be extremely pleased.
The End.
optional summary: a harmless game turns personal.
Ouran High School’s Host Club deserves every amount of praise it receives. Its creation bought peace and a sense of excitement among the notorious female student body—not to mention countless thoughts and acts of perversion. These feelings of lust and longing helped our school progress. In fact, it’s safe to assume that, in turn, the Host Club gained recognition, too, for such reasons. But let’s play pretend and say every single member it in—including myself—have actually HAD lust and longing.
It’s upsetting, really—borderline heartbreaking.
Mischievous, crude, dominating, cool—that’s how I’ve been described…or at least that’s the part I’ve been playing in this game of ours. The first three words are slightly accurate, when it comes to me personally. “Cool”? You couldn’t choose a word in the Japanese language that relates to me less than that.
Regardless, this is how I’m supposed to act—not supposed to (if I say it like that, it sounds forced), just how I need to be to pull everything off.
And when I say that, I’m referring to the game.
“Kyouya!” Tamaki calls. He’s always yelling. I don’t even grace him with a reply, but he runs over with that stupid smile on his face anyway. We’re in the music room—all of us—like we usually are every afternoon. I look up and notice everyone’s gathered around a table.
Tamaki jumps right up in front of my gaze. “Mom—!! C’mon! Play with us!”
I raise an eyebrow. “Play what?”
He’s bouncing on his heels now. “Truth or Dare!”
I can guess where he learnt of the game, but I ask anyway. “What is it?”
“A common folk game!” Tamaki’s pride is glowing. “Haruhi told us about it! You have to go around the room and ask anyone to choose between a dare—which is most likely something very random and unnecessary—or to answer truthfully to absolutely ANY question! Amazing premise, don’t you think?!!”
My blank stare was probably enough of a response.
“Come ONNNNN!” Tamaki whines. “PleasepleasePLEASE play with us!”
His voice is extremely piercing. I cringe, but decide to submit. Tamaki beams, and leads me to the table. I take a seat, keeping my clipboard on my lap (not good etiquette, but who in there was I out to impress?). Haruhi looks like he wants to strangle herself—she understood exactly what she had gotten herself into. Mori is clearly not interested. Tamaki, Hikaru, Kaoru, and Hunny are practically jumping in their seats.
It began.
I wasn’t really listening, since I had my clipboard with me and work to do. If anything, I was observing.
Most of the questions were directed toward Haruhi, who chose Truth for everything, most likely out of fear and disturbance. Tamaki and Hikaru’s questions were daft, while Hunny’s were downright insane. Kaoru’s benefited his brother in at least one way or another. Mori didn’t participate, or maybe no one realized they were skipping over him. Haruhi herself stuck to subtle questions (everyone kept to Truth as if following her example), such as “Is that blue you’re wearing?” or “Do you attend Ouran?” This earned frequent whines and pouts, but she just winced—she REALLY knew what she had gotten herself into. I don’t give her enough credit, it seems.
I’m writing things down, and I hear my name among the chaos. Everyone is hushed and I lift my head. Hikaru smirks in my direction. I look back down.
Scribble, scribble, scribble…
“Truth or Dare?”
I resume my note-taking.
Scribble…
“Truth.”
Scribble…
“Are you a virgin?”
Scrib—
“What a vulgar question,” Haruhi sighs. Everyone else remains silent.
How unexpected. That question caught me off-guard. But I quickly regain composure—my infamous “cool” demeanor—and do what the rules say (—ble, scribble…): tell the truth.
“Yes.”
It takes me a moment to realize the room is as still as it was before. The only sound is the pen scratching my clipboard’s wooden form from against the paper attached. Possibly the only thing more irritating than the group making noise is them not.
So I raise my head again—their eyes are on me…most of their jaws dropped.
My eyebrow arches. “Are you done playing?”
“N-no…” Tamaki gulps. Always the first to speak—as it should be. “It’s just…”
“…you’re a VIRGIN?” Hikaru blurts out.
“I chose Truth,” I answer. “So, naturally, I’d answer honestly. Aren’t those the dynamics of the game?”
“Yeah, but…”
“We didn’t know Kyou-kun was…!” Hunny-senpai begins. He stops himself and squeaks, “…you know—”
“Why does it MATTER?” I butt in. One of my forefingers are tapping against the table now. My temper is slowly elevating.
“We kind of assumed…” Tamaki attempts to explain as he scratches the back of his head. “Seeing how you can get any girl you wanted…and that we…uh…” His eyes lock onto mine. He stares at me, as though trying to make me understand without having to say anything else. Then, it hits me—hits me like a ton of bricks.
This is news.
I’m speechless. “They” weren’t virgins. Every single one of “them.” All the male members of the Host Club AREN’T—except for me.
I don’t say a word for the rest of the day.
When I get home, I just sit there and before I know it, it’s midnight, so I crawl into bed. I can’t sleep. Something’s boiling deep inside me. There’s something I know it true and I’d never admit it, and I pray to God no one else does, either. My teeth are clenched shut. I want to scream.
It doesn’t make any sense. At all. I promise myself to never, ever, ever admit it to them.
The actual idea of their lack of virginities is overwhelming, in itself. But the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Tamaki plays the part of the hero and maybe the twins AREN’T playing. But Hunny and Mori…? A strange thought. Then I remember times where I’d just see them alone, looking out one of the music room windows, and Hunny would smile and Mori would smile and they’d be content. Always full of surprises, those two, so maybe…
Sex itself doesn’t sound appealing in the LEAST. Haruhi and I share one trait: apathy. It’s quite amazing how much I really don’t care. It’s gotten to the point where it even surprises me. But, nonetheless, sex is garish and unnatural. If the world has as much money as it says it does, breeding should be done in a less repulsive way. Maybe I’m strange for thinking this way…
…or maybe I’m just smart.
-------------------------------
The day sails by and I’m back where the problem started. It’s driving me insane, because now, there’s only me and Tamaki. No one else has arrived. I’m standing up, writing things down and facing the largest window in the room. None of the lights are on and the outside Sun brightens everything up. Tamaki walks up behind me, and I can tell he’s smiling and I know what he’s thinking about. I roll my eyes but he can’t see.
Tamaki is silent for a moment, then he says, “What’re you up to, Mom?”
“The usual,” I answer. I’m grimacing but he can’t see.
“You know…” He always goes straight to the point. “I’ve been thinking a lot about yesterday—about our Truth or Dare session. And I’ve been struck with a certain thought that won’t quite disappear…” He drags it out. I see where he’s headed with this. I brace myself but he can’t see.
“Oh?” comes my reply. He’s actually considerate enough to not get into details. Typical Tamaki.
I hear his clothes ruffle. He’s obviously crossing his arms—probably grinning, too. And then he says what I don’t want him to say:
“We have something over you now.”
My expression is hard. My mouth is a line. A familiar feeling is brewing in the pit of my stomach. It’s took late but I figure out it’s rage. The response I give him is simple:
“So it seems.”
I hear him trail off. I see my reflection. My eyes are sharp and burning, my face not a pleasant one. My fingers are red and sore from grasping the board and pencil too long and hard. Tamaki is oblivious.
I’m furious and he can’t see.
I contemplate from there, for a few minutes or so. No one seems to be coming anytime soon. It’s perfect and the room is still. With a glance to the side, Tamaki is visible on a couch; he doesn’t seem to be doing anything. I just smirk because it’s all too perfect.
Then, I walk over.
Tamaki looks up at me and smiles. I don’t even try to hide my smug look, but he doesn’t notice since he’s too busy smiling. I place my clipboard on the coffee table and he doesn’t know what’s going through my head.
I want to rip that smile off your face.
I know for a fact the smile is gone when I crush my lips against his.
Tamaki’s a “gentlemen” so he doesn’t push away. His open hands move to my shoulders and apply pressure as thought trying to get me to break the kiss. But I don’t. I break it a few more seconds in, and I’m staring straight at him. His eyes are wide.
“K…Kyouya…!” he manages to choke. He acts like it’s all over but it’s not, because I kiss him again. He gasps into my mouth and I pry his lips open with my tongue. Soon enough, those hands trying to push me away moments before are grasping my shoulders and that boy is submitting. I decide to progress.
He’s spread across the couch now, breathing heavily. His chest is heaving and I do him a favor and button that stuffy blazer and dress shirt, tossing them on the floor. My fingers graze over his neck, his torso, his stomach…He shivers.
“What are you…?” he breathes. I don’t answer.
I’m over him now and I ravage his mouth again. He doesn’t seem to want to move anytime soon. He is getting kissed by a “gorgeous” man. And I can pretty much assure that when he lost It, he wasn’t writhing this much, groaning this much, moaning this much. Why he’s succumbing so easily is beyond me; maybe he’s as simple-minded as he acts.
Now HE pursues ME, hands running up my hips. He clings to my neck. I try not to smile myself because if I did, it’d ruin everything. I touch his hair and he seems to like that, nuzzling closer and giving my lips a playful nip.
It’s extremely hard for me not to burst out laughing. He’s looking too much into this because he’s a toy and I’m just toying with him. It’s as if he thinks that I think I’m coming to my senses—that we’re on the same page and that we’ve always felt this way about each other and that we’re finally coming to our senses.
Prepare to be disappointed.
I move down to his neck, and he sighs in relief. His skin is soft and I can’t help but inhale his scent. He sighs again. Damn, maybe he IS really in love with me. My classmates have been telling me that for years. Naturally, I didn’t listen to a word that came out of their mouths.
It’s getting good. He’s fiddling with my blazer so I act quickly. Scooping him up in my arms, I give him one final grimace until dropping him onto the carpet like I did his clothes. He shrieks, looking up at me. I stay on the couch, sitting myself down and crossing my legs. My glasses are kind of foggy, so I’m sure to wipe them off. I reach over for my clipboard.
Tamaki’s breathing hard. It’s the only sound in the room. For once in his life, he’s speechless. His hair is disheveled in a whorish fashion, his eyes clouded over. He just LOOKS at me, until he finally says, “Kyou…ya…Wh-what was…why?”
I look at him placidly, and then I turn my attention to the paperwork on my lap.
“I think it’s pretty clear who’s on top here.”
Something tells me today’s customers will be extremely pleased.
The End.
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