#oguma

BeastRebels Ch4 Pg 1-17

“𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐘𝐎𝐔” 𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐀

Imagine Oguma overseeing a photoshoot for the Horns Conglomerate..

Oguma attending a photoshoot wasn’t unusual in itself.

He was known for being meticulous, and when it came to the image of the Horns Conglomerate, he didn’t delegate blindly.

If something carried his name, his brand, his legacy..he needed to see it himself.

Every detail mattered.

Lighting, composition, posture, expression.

Nothing escaped his attention.

The entire studio felt it the moment he walked in.

Conversations lowered.

Movements became sharper, more intentional.

Even the photographer, someone with years of experience had straightened slightly, suddenly more aware of every adjustment being made.

Because Oguma didn’t speak often.

But when he did, it was precise.

And usually..corrective.

He stood off to the side at first.

Hands behind his back, posture straight, gaze scanning everything with quiet scrutiny.

Assistants moved faster.

Stylists double-checked their work.

No one wanted to be the one detail he found lacking.

And then there was you.

You were already on set when he arrived.

Mid-shoot, under the lights, completely in your element.

Calm.

Composed.

Effortless in a way that didn’t feel forced or rehearsed.

You weren’t trying to impress anyone.

You were just..good.

Oguma noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

He notices everything.

The way you held yourself.

The way you adjusted your posture without needing direction.

The way your expressions shifted naturally with each shot, never stiff, never overdone.

You understood the camera

More importantly,

you understood control.

That was what caught his attention.

Not beauty.

Not at first.

Control.

Most models needed guidance.

Correction.

Repetition.

But you?

You listened once.

Adjusted once.

And it was right.

Oguma found himself watching longer than intended.

“Angle your chin slightly” the photographer instructed.

You did.

Perfectly.

“Hold that—”

Click

Click

Click

No wasted motion.

No hesitation.

Oguma’s gaze narrowed slightly.

Not in disapproval.

In focus.

Interesting.

He stepped closer without announcing it.

Not enough to interrupt.

Just enough to observe more clearly.

You didn’t falter.

Even with him there.

Even with that quiet pressure his presence carried.

Most people reacted when he got close.

They stiffened.

Overthought.

Made mistakes.

You didn’t.

If anything, you seemed even more grounded.

The shoot paused briefly for adjustments.

You stepped off set, reaching for a glass of water without looking around too much.

Calm.

Unbothered.

That’s when he spoke.

“You adapt quickly.”

His voice cut cleanly through the space.

Not loud.

But impossible to ignore.

You turned.

Meeting his gaze without hesitation.

“I try to.”

Simple answer.

No flattery.

No nervousness.

That alone was..unexpected.

Most people either tried too hard with him.

Or avoided him entirely.

You did neither.

Oguma studied you for a moment.

“You require minimal direction.”

You shrugged slightly, taking another sip of water.

“It makes things easier for everyone.”

Practical.

Efficient.

His kind of answer.

There was a pause.

Not awkward.

Just..measured.

“You represent the brand well.” he added.

From anyone else, it might’ve sounded like a casual compliment.

From him?

It carried weight.

You tilted your head slightly.

“Glad to hear it.”

Still not overreacting.

Still not trying to impress him.

That..intrigued him.

More than it should have.

The shoot resumed.

And this time,

Oguma didn’t move back.

He stayed closer.

Watching more carefully.

Not just your performance.

But you.

The small details.

The way you reset between shots.

The way you listened.

The way you didn’t seek approval, but accepted direction when necessary.

There was something about it.

Something..controlled, yet natural.

It didn’t fit neatly into any category he was used to.

And Oguma disliked things he couldn’t categorize.

Yet he didn’t look away.

By the end of the shoot, everything had gone..flawlessly.

Better than expected.

More efficient than most sessions.

But that wasn’t what lingered with him.

It was you.

You gathering your things.

Thanking the staff.

Moving through the space without drawing unnecessary attention.

No lingering.

No trying to stay seen.

As if the work itself had been enough.

Oguma watched you for a moment longer than necessary.

Again.

That unfamiliar feeling returned.

Subtle.

Controlled.

But there.

Not distraction.

Not impulse.

Interest.

Unexpected.

Uninvited.

But..not unwelcome.

He turned slightly to one of his assistants.

“Ensure they are considered for future campaigns.”

A pause.

Then, after the slightest hesitation..

“And inform me directly when they are scheduled.”

The assistant nodded quickly.

Of course they did.

Because Oguma never repeated instructions.

And yet..

As he left the studio.

His thoughts remained..elsewhere.

On the way you moved.

The way you spoke.

The way you didn’t try to be anything more than what you already were.

It didn’t make sense.

But it didn’t need to.

Not yet.

All he knew was this,

He would be attending the next shoot as well.

And this time.

It wouldn’t just be for the brand.

The second time he arrives, the room changes faster.

Not louder. Not more chaotic.

Sharper.

There is a distinct difference between expectation and confirmation. And this time, the staff already know what his presence means. Adjustments are made before they’re needed, instructions carried out before they’re spoken. The photographer checks his lens twice, the stylists smooth fabrics that were already perfect, assistants move with a quiet urgency that borders on reverence.

And Oguma notices it all.

He always does.

Yet his attention does not linger on them for long.

It moves, inevitably, almost instinctively..toward you.

You are already under the lights again, positioned against a carefully constructed set that mirrors the brand’s image: refined, powerful, effortless. The fabric draped over you falls like it was designed for your form alone, and once again, there is no hesitation in the way you carry it. You do not ask for guidance. You receive it, process it, and execute it with a precision that would have impressed him even if he had not been expecting it this time.

But he was.

And still, it holds his attention.

There is something deeply unsettling about that.

Oguma is not a man easily caught off guard. He anticipates outcomes, predicts behaviors, and adjusts accordingly. That is how he built everything he owns. That is how he maintains control.

And yet, watching you again, there is a quiet disruption to that order.

Not enough to show.

Never enough to show.

But enough to linger.

He steps closer this time without pretense, his presence folding into the rhythm of the shoot rather than interrupting it. The photographer glances at him once, briefly, seeking silent approval. Oguma gives none. He does not interfere when something functions as it should.

And you are functioning..exceptionally.

“Hold.”

The word comes from the photographer, but it is Oguma’s gaze that keeps you still.

There is a pause, a suspended moment where everything aligns. Your posture, the lighting, the composition. It is exact. Controlled.

Perfect.

The camera clicks.

Again.

Again.

Oguma exhales slowly through his nose, a quiet acknowledgment of efficiency well executed.

But his gaze does not leave you.

Not even when the shot ends.

The shoot breaks for a brief reset.

You step away from the set, the lights dimming slightly as assistants move in to adjust the background. There is a faint hum of activity, but it fades when he approaches.

Not because he commands it.

But because people instinctively give him space.

You notice him before he speaks this time.

Of course you do.

There is a presence to him that is difficult to ignore, even when he says nothing.

You turn slightly, meeting his gaze with the same composure as before.

No tension.

No overcorrection.

Just acknowledgment.

“You’ve returned” you say, voice even, neither surprised nor overly familiar.

Oguma inclines his head just slightly.

“This campaign requires consistency.”

It is a logical answer.

Expected.

And yet, there is something beneath it that he does not elaborate on.

Your lips curve faintly, as if you recognize that, but choose not to press.

“Then I’ll make sure not to disappoint.”

“You did not the first time.”

The correction is immediate.

Precise.

You pause, just for a second.

Not thrown off, but registering it.

“High standards” you reply lightly.

“Necessary ones.”

There is no room for argument in his tone.

But neither is there dismissal.

Only expectation.

The shoot resumes, and this time, there is a subtle shift.

You are aware of him now, not distracted, but conscious.

And Oguma, for all his control, does not attempt to disguise his observation.

He watches more closely.

Not just your performance.

But the way you exist within it.

The quiet confidence.

The lack of pretense.

The absence of need for validation.

It is..rare.

And rarity, to Oguma, is value.

By the time the final shot is taken, the room exhales.

Another successful session.

Another flawless execution.

But again, that is not what occupies him.

You thank the crew as before, gathering your things with that same unassuming ease. There is no lingering for attention, no effort to remain in the center of the room once your role is complete.

You simply..step out of it.

And that is precisely when he speaks.

“I would like to speak with you further.”

The words are directed at you alone.

The room stills, subtly, but noticeably.

Because Oguma does not make requests without purpose.

You glance at him, studying him just long enough to measure the intent behind the statement.

“About the campaign?” you ask.

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then, with the slightest shift in tone..

“And your continued involvement in it.”

There it is.

A reason.

Structured.

Appropriate.

You consider it for a moment, then nod once.

“Alright.”

The arrangement is made with quiet efficiency.

Time. Location. Already decided before you even leave the building.

Of course they are.

Oguma does not leave details unresolved.

The restaurant he chooses is not one that appears in public listings.

It exists behind discretion, behind reputation.

A place where conversations remain private, and the presence of influential figures is acknowledged without spectacle.

When you arrive, he is already there.

Seated.

Waiting.

This time, when you approach, his gaze lifts immediately.

And for a moment,

it lingers.

Longer than necessary.

Longer than it did before.

“You came.”

“You asked.”

A simple exchange.

But something about it feels..deliberate.

You take your seat across from him, the table already set.

No menus.

No need.

“I assume this is where you thank me for ‘doing the company justice’” you say lightly, a hint of amusement threading through your tone.

For a moment, Oguma says nothing.

Then..

“Yes.”

The answer is direct.

Uncomplicated.

And yet,

his gaze does not shift away from yours.

“But I suspect..” you continue, resting your chin lightly against your hand “there’s more to it than that.”

Silence settles between you.

Measured.

Controlled.

Oguma studies you.

Carefully.

As if weighing something not easily quantified.

Then, finally.

“There is.”

The admission is quiet.

But it carries weight.

He sets his glass down with precise care, fingers releasing it without sound.

“I do not involve myself repeatedly without reason.”

You hold his gaze.

“And I’m the reason?”

A pause.

Longer this time.

“Yes.”

No elaboration.

No softening.

Just truth.

Something in the air shifts.

Not dramatically.

But undeniably.

You lean back slightly, watching him with renewed interest now.

“That sounds like more than just business.”

Oguma’s expression remains composed.

But there is a subtle tightening in his posture, barely perceptible, but present.

“I have not yet determined the full extent of it.”

Honest.

Again.

Unexpectedly so.

And that, more than anything, intrigues you.

Because a man like Oguma,

a man who calculates everything..

admitting uncertainty?

That is rare.

And perhaps that is why, as the evening continues, the conversation deepens, not quickly, not dramatically, but steadily.

Measured exchanges.

Careful observations.

A quiet unfolding of interest neither of you fully names.

And across the table, beneath soft lighting and unspoken understanding..

Oguma finds himself confronted with something he did not anticipate.

Not distraction.

Not inconvenience.

But curiosity.

And the distinct, unfamiliar inclination..

to pursue it.

It becomes a pattern before either of you name it. Not announced. Not formalized. Simply..repeated.

A shoot ends, the studio settles, the final approvals are given, and somewhere between the closing remarks and the quiet dispersal of staff, Oguma turns to you and says “I’ll have a car arranged.”

The first few times, it is framed as continuation of business. Efficiency. Discussion. Evaluation. The Horns Conglomerate values consistency. He values consistency. And you, by now, understand exactly how deliberate that word is when it comes from him.

So you accept. Again. And again.

The restaurants change, but the structure does not. Private rooms. Soft lighting. Carefully curated menus chosen before you arrive. No interruptions. No variables. Every detail accounted for.

At first, the conversations remain within bounds. Campaign direction. Brand alignment. Market perception. He asks precise questions. You give precise answers. It is smooth. Effective. Controlled.

But repetition does something subtle. It erodes distance. Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just enough.

You begin to notice the shifts. The way his gaze lingers a second longer than necessary when you enter. The way he already knows what you’ll reach for before you do. The way the conversations, while still structured, begin to stray.

“You adjust quickly under pressure.” he says one evening, after watching you navigate a particularly demanding shoot earlier that day.

You glance up from your glass, faintly amused. “You’ve said that before.”

“I am aware.”

“Then why repeat it?”

A pause. Then, calmly “Because it remains true.”

Another time, the discussion drifts further. Not about the campaign. About you.

“You don’t seem particularly concerned with attention.” he notes, watching the way you sit..composed, unbothered by the environment that would make most people self-conscious.

You shrug lightly “I do the work. That’s enough.”

“For most, it isn’t.”

“For me, it is.”

He studies that answer. Stores it. Returns to it later.

The pattern continues. Dinner after dinner. Conversation after conversation. And somewhere within that repetition, something changes, not in behavior, but in awareness.

Oguma is not a man who confuses his own thoughts. He does not mistake interest for obligation. He does not blur intention with coincidence.

So when he realizes, he realizes fully.

It happens on an evening no different from the others. Same structure. Same controlled environment. You arrive. He observes. You sit. Dinner begins. Everything unfolds exactly as it has before.

And yet, his attention does not divide. It remains on you. Entirely.

You’re speaking, something about the shoot, something about a minor adjustment the photographer insisted on, and Oguma is listening. He always listens. But this time, he notices something else.

Not just the content of your words, but the cadence of your voice. The way your expression shifts when you’re explaining something you find mildly ridiculous. The way your fingers move subtly as you speak.

Details. Unnecessary details. Details that serve no function.

And yet, he does not dismiss them.

That is when it becomes clear. Not gradual. Not uncertain. Clear.

This is no longer about efficiency. Or consistency. Or even the campaign.

His interest in you exists independently of all of it.

He sets his glass down. Precisely.

You notice the shift immediately “Something wrong?”

“No.” The answer comes quickly. Too quickly.

You study him for a moment. Then, quieter: “You’re thinking.”

A pause “Yes.”

You lean back slightly, giving him space, but not withdrawing “About?”

Silence settles. Not uncomfortable. But deliberate.

Oguma looks at you, not through you, not past you, but at you in a way that feels more focused than before. Measured. Intentional.

“I have allowed this to continue without defining it.”

Your brows lift slightly “That sounds very unlike you.”

“It is.”

Honest. Again.

You tilt your head, watching him more carefully now “And now you want to define it?”

“Yes.”

There is no hesitation. That, more than anything, stills the moment.

You set your glass down, mirroring his earlier precision “Alright.” A pause “Then define it.”

Oguma does not rush. He never does.

“I do not engage in repeated actions without purpose.” he begins, voice steady, controlled as ever “You are aware of that.”

“I am.” you reply quietly.

“And yet, my continued involvement here,” his gaze holds yours “is no longer solely tied to the campaign.”

There it is. Plain. Undeniable.

You don’t interrupt.

“I have determined,” he continues, “that my interest in you extends beyond professional necessity.”

No embellishment. No softening. Just truth.

You hold his gaze, searching for anything uncertain in it. You find none.

“And what exactly does that mean?” you ask.

A pause.

“It means I intend to continue seeing you.”

Simple. Direct.

“That’s already been happening.”

“Yes.” A slight shift “Now it is intentional.”

That lands.

You lean forward slightly, resting your arms against the table “And if I say no?”

Oguma’s expression does not change. But his answer comes without delay.

“Then it ends.”

No pressure. No insistence. Just a boundary.

“And if I say yes?”

A quieter pause this time.

“Then it continues,” he says “with clarity.”

Clarity. Defined. Chosen.

You study him for a long moment. The man across from you who has calculated every variable in his life, and has now, very deliberately, chosen to include you in it.

Not by accident. Not by convenience. But by decision.

Slowly, your lips curve into something softer. Not teasing. Not distant. Interested.

“You really had to turn this into a formal declaration, didn’t you?”

A faint shift in his gaze, almost, almost something lighter.

“Yes.”

Of course he did.

You sit back again, exhaling quietly “Alright.”

The word is simple. But it settles everything.

And for the first time since this pattern began, Oguma allows himself to acknowledge something unfamiliar, yet certain.

Not uncertainty. Not calculation. But choice.

And the quiet understanding that this time, it isn’t just strategic.

It’s personal.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

YANDERE POLY OGUMA AND GOHIN X READER

🐼 gohin will defend you till the end quite literally.

🦌so will oguma but he gets other people to do it preferring for others to get there hands dirty.

🐼gohin will offer you a chance of a simple life of protection and love.

🦌oguma will offer you a comfortable life one where all your needs are met .

🐼🦌 both will compete for you one tries to hide you and the other one will find you it becomes a never ending cycle.

🐼🦌both are very dominant with you but gohin is more likely to punish you then oguma.

🐼🦌both willing to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

🐼🦌will compete against each other until a new rival appears we’re they both team up.

🐼🦌most likely oguma offered gohin a deal one that gohin could agree too.

🐼🦌 once teamed up your wants and needs are taken care of.

🐼🦌they would want kids with you still but there most likely yours and gohins since oguma can’t have children . He still treats them like there his though.

🐼🦌you all get MARRIED a private marriage ceremony of course to hide the scandal of marrying both of them.

🐼🦌they will never admit it but they nearly DIED fighting each other for you.

🐼🦌you CANNOT escape them like literally of ones not with you the other one is …

🐼🦌as for in the bedroom there are occasions we’re they share . However they would prefer not too and have private time with you.

🐼🦌scary ,devoted, possessive and obsessive yanderes…

🐼🦌honestly good luck if you get these two .

Author's note: I writted this one-shot two times bcs the first time I HATE how I did it soooooooo here we go.

Little lion in Rebellion Yandere! Oguma x Lion! Reader

You Think I Won't Do It?

Artist: ktandoku on Twitter

Source: https://twitter.com/ktandoku/status/1359761212460781570/photo/1

I do not own any rights of the fanart. If you are the artist and want this post to be removed, please message me and I will remove it immediately.