drabbles; (ichihime) THE THOUGHT.
fff man, i am such a bitch. i just leave all you guys without so much as a word, but please realise that i don't forget you or anything... just work is extremely busy at this point and well, yeah.
anyway, i've been writing heaps and heaps lately - and a lot of it has been R-RATED hell yeah >D but this one is mostly just implied stuff, but hell - i've got two in the works at the moment, i might give you guys a snippet at the end 8D one of them is dedicated to an amazing bff of mine.
so yeah, this is just a LONG, un-beta'd drabble.
enjoy...!
TITLE: The Thought.
AUTHOR: lovely_zombie
PAIRING: Ichigo and Orihime.
RATING: M (for sexual implications)
WORD COUNT: 348 words.
SUMMARY: To be frank, Ichigo had been thinking about “it” for a long time.
NOTES: Because i love IchiHime (implied)pron. :D
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Kubo Tite's Bleach and I sincerely doubt I ever will.
In fact, if Ichigo was brutally honest, he had entertained the thought often - sometimes with an innocent curiosity or, like a few occasions (a few too many some might say), with a passionately fierce yearning that nearly brought him to his knees.
Sometimes, the thought appeared sparsely wrapped in lace or draped in the same robe he would sport on the battlefield. Sometimes the thought would be sprawled out on his bed or sitting upon his kitchen bench.
But no matter if the thought swam intriguingly through his mind or was pushed and required, Ichigo would find himself alone and swallowing hard, his appendages taut and his light breaths breaking.
Silence would be the dominant factor for a short while, until Ichigo’s resolve, his breathing would break completely and grating pants would burst into the air. The rhythmic sound of friction between him and himself would be building slowly, slowly as the thought danced or arched in his mind...
And then suddenly, a strangled groan would explode into the atmosphere, and be gone as quick as it had come.
It was at these times that he nearly threw up, as a wave of guilt always followed and mingled with the explosive gratification that had tossed him into euphoric realms, if only for a few seconds.
Moments later, his eyes would snap open, his body trembling weakly and every limb; every muscle; every cell tingled with excitement and then loosened with relief. Beads of sweat would crawl and slip across the curve of his forehead, the dip in his nose, the knot in his free hand. He would hear nothing but sound of his own short and wild breaths, the blood rushing to and fro his veins.
Yes, the guilt would eat at him soon after, nearly drive him to insanity...
But he’d sleep well each time.
And the next day, when that “thought” bounced past, her long auburn hair dancing as she smiled and greeted him, Ichigo Kurosaki, the temporary shinigami, the guy with the permanent scowl, would blush, if only for a second.
*
and that's that. i hope you enjoyed it, or whatever
sorry it suuucks
oh, yeah. here's a snippet of what i am currently calling Oh What A Night.
Dedicated to chocoshins because i love you miss.
*
Ichigo’s eyes flickered across her face frantically, darting across her wrinkled nose, her eyes squeezed-shut and he felt a guilt-driven knot tighten in his throat.
“I-Inoue...”
His voice was barely a breath, almost too afraid it might crack under the strain. The tense and warm sensation that smothered his pelvic region was driving him wild and the urge to heave his hips downward was almost unbearable.
“Are you alright...?”
A moment passed and then she nodded faintly and only once as her hand slid across his damp cheek and curled itself in his hair, bringing his face down to press against hers. He heard her swallow and felt her lips brush softly against ear, the faint sound of her affirmation echoing through his mind.
But before he could act upon it, Orihime gently rocked her hips against his, inducing a low groan from deep within Ichigo’s throat. Impulsively, Ichigo’s hips bucked roughly to meet with her and Orihime gasped. The sensation was indescribable - an amalgamation of pain and pleasure that was filling and overflowing in her mind and body; it was like hot and cold, sweet and sour, and as much as she wanted it to stop, she never wanted it to end.
*
/sleeps
anyway, i've been writing heaps and heaps lately - and a lot of it has been R-RATED hell yeah >D but this one is mostly just implied stuff, but hell - i've got two in the works at the moment, i might give you guys a snippet at the end 8D one of them is dedicated to an amazing bff of mine.
so yeah, this is just a LONG, un-beta'd drabble.
enjoy...!
TITLE: The Thought.
AUTHOR: lovely_zombie
PAIRING: Ichigo and Orihime.
RATING: M (for sexual implications)
WORD COUNT: 348 words.
SUMMARY: To be frank, Ichigo had been thinking about “it” for a long time.
NOTES: Because i love IchiHime (implied)pron. :D
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Kubo Tite's Bleach and I sincerely doubt I ever will.
In fact, if Ichigo was brutally honest, he had entertained the thought often - sometimes with an innocent curiosity or, like a few occasions (a few too many some might say), with a passionately fierce yearning that nearly brought him to his knees.
Sometimes, the thought appeared sparsely wrapped in lace or draped in the same robe he would sport on the battlefield. Sometimes the thought would be sprawled out on his bed or sitting upon his kitchen bench.
But no matter if the thought swam intriguingly through his mind or was pushed and required, Ichigo would find himself alone and swallowing hard, his appendages taut and his light breaths breaking.
Silence would be the dominant factor for a short while, until Ichigo’s resolve, his breathing would break completely and grating pants would burst into the air. The rhythmic sound of friction between him and himself would be building slowly, slowly as the thought danced or arched in his mind...
And then suddenly, a strangled groan would explode into the atmosphere, and be gone as quick as it had come.
It was at these times that he nearly threw up, as a wave of guilt always followed and mingled with the explosive gratification that had tossed him into euphoric realms, if only for a few seconds.
Moments later, his eyes would snap open, his body trembling weakly and every limb; every muscle; every cell tingled with excitement and then loosened with relief. Beads of sweat would crawl and slip across the curve of his forehead, the dip in his nose, the knot in his free hand. He would hear nothing but sound of his own short and wild breaths, the blood rushing to and fro his veins.
Yes, the guilt would eat at him soon after, nearly drive him to insanity...
But he’d sleep well each time.
And the next day, when that “thought” bounced past, her long auburn hair dancing as she smiled and greeted him, Ichigo Kurosaki, the temporary shinigami, the guy with the permanent scowl, would blush, if only for a second.
*
and that's that. i hope you enjoyed it, or whatever
sorry it suuucks
oh, yeah. here's a snippet of what i am currently calling Oh What A Night.
Dedicated to chocoshins because i love you miss.
*
Ichigo’s eyes flickered across her face frantically, darting across her wrinkled nose, her eyes squeezed-shut and he felt a guilt-driven knot tighten in his throat.
“I-Inoue...”
His voice was barely a breath, almost too afraid it might crack under the strain. The tense and warm sensation that smothered his pelvic region was driving him wild and the urge to heave his hips downward was almost unbearable.
“Are you alright...?”
A moment passed and then she nodded faintly and only once as her hand slid across his damp cheek and curled itself in his hair, bringing his face down to press against hers. He heard her swallow and felt her lips brush softly against ear, the faint sound of her affirmation echoing through his mind.
But before he could act upon it, Orihime gently rocked her hips against his, inducing a low groan from deep within Ichigo’s throat. Impulsively, Ichigo’s hips bucked roughly to meet with her and Orihime gasped. The sensation was indescribable - an amalgamation of pain and pleasure that was filling and overflowing in her mind and body; it was like hot and cold, sweet and sour, and as much as she wanted it to stop, she never wanted it to end.
*
/sleeps