Bleach Drabble (381-382)
I OBVIOUSLY don't want to work on ANYTHING productive this weekend.
Ahem.
381.
Title: Every Lesson Learned
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Eleventh Division
Word Count: 996
Warning/s: Possible look into the future, but no spoilers I can think of.
Summary: The eleventh division prepares you for life.
Dedication: idiosyn and meallanmouse- thanks for your help on the photo project!!
A/N: Why yes, I am in a family mood today. Probably ‘cuz I talked to my bro last night and it was kind of a strange, more grown-up type conversation than I’m used to having with the um, former runt. XD
She learned how to make a man choke on his own vomit from Yumichika, because the pretty shinigami knew that young girls all had to grow up some time, and that there would always be dirty rotten perverts out there who needed to choke on their own fluids before they tried to make any one else choke on them first.
She never quite understood what he’d meant by that last part, but it was still cool to know how to do something like that. Sure, she would have eventually figured out on her own that if you kick a guy in the balls hard enough twice, he’ll vomit, but she never would have imagined that if you time it just right you can collapse a person’s windpipe as the stuff is coming up.
Ikkaku taught her how to dance, because luck is a skill too and something that has to be mastered just like swordsmanship. She learned a little bit of both from him, and thankfully, as Yumichika put it, she’s got more rhythm than the bald idiot and just as much enthusiasm. They both think she dances beautifully.
She’s learned from life in the eleventh division that size doesn’t matter, that you can be small and have the strength of men ten times bigger. But you can be small and weak too, and sparring with the rest of the members in the dojo day in and day out has taught her that there are moments when someone, anyone, can get lucky if you’re overconfident or not paying attention. She’s had her head shoved into a mat every now and again, but the important thing is that it’s never been down for the same reason twice.
They never let her education stay one-sided either. It felt like everyone was always looking out for her in one way or another, that if someone didn’t know one thing she needed to learn, someone else always did.
Kuroki-kun down in the kitchens had taught her how to sneak pastries from the commissary without being caught when she wanted them, and several lower seats showed her how to play poker and dice and to bet on the right bird when there was a cockfight in town. They taught her odds and chances and to never let some punk-ass scumbag keep from paying up after he lost.
Kuwabara-kun from the eleventh division accounting corps showed her what cigarettes tasted like and that candy was much yummier, so she should always choose that instead. He also taught her how to doctor the finance reports so they could have that kegger next Friday and not have to pay out of their own pockets for it. It had something to do with Spirituality or something, she can’t remember all the details exactly.
Yumichika taught her to read, to write, to crunch numbers, to analyze words and strategy and body language, taught her to think fast, think hard, stay on top of the game and make them think you’re not.
Ikkaku showed her how to be brave, to charge, to believe in herself and never look back once.
And Kenpachi, Kenpachi taught her most everything else. Taught her what a name was, what things were. He let her be small but he never let her be weak. He cuffed her on the back of the head when she made a mistake and never coddled her for her errors, never held back even when she was bloody and had tears in her eyes and couldn’t see straight because it hurt too much.
He always cleaned her up and fed her afterwards, sometimes even read to her if she needed the distraction, but he never let her forget that it hurt, that she’d done something stupid to deserve whatever fool injury she’d gotten and that she’d better figure out a way--and fast-- to make it so it didn’t happen again.
He made her eat her vegetables and drink her milk and bought her crayons and paper and ribbons because even though she was a fighter she was still a damned kid too, and he never wanted her to just be thought of as one thing alone when he knew she was a whole bunch of important things, when she could be whatever she wanted in any combination or number.
He’d changed her diapers when she’d needed them and bathed her and brushed her hair when it was necessary. He’d grit his teeth and done what had to be done and he told her she’d better damn well do it too, that she’d better not back out of things that needed doing just because she thought it didn’t suit her or looked too hard or too easy.
And even though she’s bigger now, she still has all of these things with her like she did when she was small. She remembers all her lessons and knows that she could take on the world if she had to, that she could fight it one-on-one and come out on top because she knows her shit, learned it good.
Everyone else, they look at her funny because of the way she was raised, whisper about her and what a shame it was, for such a pretty young girl to have been surrounded only by death and violence and cruelty growing up.
They would have done something about it, if they could’ve, they’d say. They’d have saved her from Zaraki and his thugs and put her somewhere a young lady belonged, where she could’ve grown up normal and gotten everything a sweet little girl should’ve gotten out of life.
They don’t know that she really feels sorry for them.
They don’t understand anything at all.
But that’s their loss, she supposes. She doesn’t have time to deal with idiots-another thing Zaraki Kenpachi taught her-because she’s something different from them altogether.
She’s a captain of the Gotei-13 and she’s got business to take care of.
Monsters to kill.
Asses to kick.
END
382.
Title: Last Throw
Rating: R (maybe even NC-17?)
Pairing/Character/s: some GinxKira, and something that’s supposed to be kind of a surprise. ^^;; Er, ???xKira, I guess?
Word Count: 827
Warning/s: Spoilers for the SS arc in a vague kind of way.
Summary: Kira likes the pain.
Dedication: para- LOOK WHAT YOUR SEX FACE PICTURE DID!
A/N: I never thought I’d use some of the words in a story that I used here. Well, in the order I put them in, anyway. O.o Avert your eyes, young ones! Except for para, I suppose. XD Er, anyway, inspired by a drawing of Kira’s sexy crying uber-uke face, and thus, I am um, responding in like.
He cries out more from surprise than pain, his shout muffled by the pillow his face is buried against as he fists the bed sheets and feels his eyes watering at the sensation of being filled so suddenly. He holds back another cry at the first thrust, manages to quell it into a breathless “Nnngh…” as he bites down on the pillow and quivers helplessly beneath the larger body pinning him down.
His hips work reflexively, pumping into the mattress in search of friction, and soon after, he feels arms coming around his waist, lifting him up so that he’s half on his knees and a rough hand can wrap around him, stroking him hard and as he lies there trying to breathe without dying at each shuddering exhale.
Kira never imagined that it would come to this between them, that he would be thrown onto the bed so angrily and with such menace. But deep down he knows the blame can only be placed on himself for his predicament, for the simultaneous pain and arousal he feels at being rendered so completely helpless like this. He’d just as well asked for it just now, begged for it with his eyes.
This is his own fault. His own filthy desires haunt him day in and day out and what else could have resulted but this?
He feels his hips bruise under the assault of calloused fingers, feels a strain in his back and the muscles in his thighs as the rhythm increases, as the sound of his partner’s shallow breathing and angry grunts grow steadily, impossibly louder than the blood pounding in Izuru’s ears.
The hand around him squeezes mercilessly and he feels himself arching back despite the throbbing ache in his legs, feels himself moving back towards that other body and crying out full wail this time, face no longer hidden as he shouts in half-terror and half-ecstasy, fingers clenched so tightly in the sheets that he can feel his own fingernails digging into his palms despite the fabric twisted between. He comes screaming, and can barely recognize the voice as his own.
Panting and breathless, he feels the body behind him shudder moments later, eventually feels the warm splatter of liquid inside and the steady slackening of muscles as his lover curses dumbly, a “Holy fuckin’ shit,” right in his ear as the weight of the other death god collapses, exhausted, atop Izuru.
The blonde’s voice is hoarse, and upon uncurling his hand from the sheets and touching own face, he discovers that his eyes are still wet.
Renji rolls off of him not long after, and they both tremble as he pulls out, much gentler now than he’d been moments before.
“I’m sorry,” Kira breathes, feeling suddenly very cold.
Renji sighs and lies on his back next to the blonde for a moment, looking both pissed off and resigned before he pulls Kira into his arms and rests the other vice-captain’s head on his chest. “You better’ve savored that, you masochistic idiot,” Abarai says, voice gravelly in Izuru’s ear. He is annoyed and too damned tired to put up with whatever issues Kira has, at least for the moment. “You better have taken that fast, hard fuck and enjoyed every goddamned minute of it ‘cuz no matter how much you think you want stupid shit like that, I ain’t ever doin’ that to you again, you hear me?”
Kira nods, and with vague horror, feels his eyes begin to water some more.
“You may think that’s the only thing that’ll get you goin’, but it’s just ‘cuz you don’t know any better, you stupid asshole,” Renji continues, sounding a little sad himself now. “Think it’s the only way to make you scream, I bet. That what Ichimaru make you believe after all this time?”
Tears start to fall then, and before Kira can swipe at them with his hand, he feels the pad of Renji’s thumb drag over his eyes, wiping them clean.
“Che. You better’ve fuckin’ savored every bit of that,” Abarai declares again, closing his eyes and grunting. “’Cuz it was your last damn time. Next time I’m gonna be so damn sweet to you you’ll be cryin’ for other reasons, got it?”
Kira manages to blink away his tears at the statement this time, manages to hold them back and be a little bit less pathetic. “Sorry,” he murmurs, not knowing what else to say.
Renji snorts. “Apologize to my back muscles in the morning, dumbass. Go to sleep.”
Izuru wants to respond, to say something to explain himself, but before he can, Renji’s arm is curling tighter around him and all he can hear is the redhead’s rhythmic snoring beside his ear.
Feeling something pang deep in his heart as he lies in Renji’s embrace, Kira reaches up to touch the other vice-captain’s face before planting a small kiss along Abarai’s jaw. “Good night.”
He closes his eyes and sleeps.
END
God, edits so needed. I couldn't even reread that second one myself. haha.
Ahem.
381.
Title: Every Lesson Learned
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: Eleventh Division
Word Count: 996
Warning/s: Possible look into the future, but no spoilers I can think of.
Summary: The eleventh division prepares you for life.
Dedication: idiosyn and meallanmouse- thanks for your help on the photo project!!
A/N: Why yes, I am in a family mood today. Probably ‘cuz I talked to my bro last night and it was kind of a strange, more grown-up type conversation than I’m used to having with the um, former runt. XD
She learned how to make a man choke on his own vomit from Yumichika, because the pretty shinigami knew that young girls all had to grow up some time, and that there would always be dirty rotten perverts out there who needed to choke on their own fluids before they tried to make any one else choke on them first.
She never quite understood what he’d meant by that last part, but it was still cool to know how to do something like that. Sure, she would have eventually figured out on her own that if you kick a guy in the balls hard enough twice, he’ll vomit, but she never would have imagined that if you time it just right you can collapse a person’s windpipe as the stuff is coming up.
Ikkaku taught her how to dance, because luck is a skill too and something that has to be mastered just like swordsmanship. She learned a little bit of both from him, and thankfully, as Yumichika put it, she’s got more rhythm than the bald idiot and just as much enthusiasm. They both think she dances beautifully.
She’s learned from life in the eleventh division that size doesn’t matter, that you can be small and have the strength of men ten times bigger. But you can be small and weak too, and sparring with the rest of the members in the dojo day in and day out has taught her that there are moments when someone, anyone, can get lucky if you’re overconfident or not paying attention. She’s had her head shoved into a mat every now and again, but the important thing is that it’s never been down for the same reason twice.
They never let her education stay one-sided either. It felt like everyone was always looking out for her in one way or another, that if someone didn’t know one thing she needed to learn, someone else always did.
Kuroki-kun down in the kitchens had taught her how to sneak pastries from the commissary without being caught when she wanted them, and several lower seats showed her how to play poker and dice and to bet on the right bird when there was a cockfight in town. They taught her odds and chances and to never let some punk-ass scumbag keep from paying up after he lost.
Kuwabara-kun from the eleventh division accounting corps showed her what cigarettes tasted like and that candy was much yummier, so she should always choose that instead. He also taught her how to doctor the finance reports so they could have that kegger next Friday and not have to pay out of their own pockets for it. It had something to do with Spirituality or something, she can’t remember all the details exactly.
Yumichika taught her to read, to write, to crunch numbers, to analyze words and strategy and body language, taught her to think fast, think hard, stay on top of the game and make them think you’re not.
Ikkaku showed her how to be brave, to charge, to believe in herself and never look back once.
And Kenpachi, Kenpachi taught her most everything else. Taught her what a name was, what things were. He let her be small but he never let her be weak. He cuffed her on the back of the head when she made a mistake and never coddled her for her errors, never held back even when she was bloody and had tears in her eyes and couldn’t see straight because it hurt too much.
He always cleaned her up and fed her afterwards, sometimes even read to her if she needed the distraction, but he never let her forget that it hurt, that she’d done something stupid to deserve whatever fool injury she’d gotten and that she’d better figure out a way--and fast-- to make it so it didn’t happen again.
He made her eat her vegetables and drink her milk and bought her crayons and paper and ribbons because even though she was a fighter she was still a damned kid too, and he never wanted her to just be thought of as one thing alone when he knew she was a whole bunch of important things, when she could be whatever she wanted in any combination or number.
He’d changed her diapers when she’d needed them and bathed her and brushed her hair when it was necessary. He’d grit his teeth and done what had to be done and he told her she’d better damn well do it too, that she’d better not back out of things that needed doing just because she thought it didn’t suit her or looked too hard or too easy.
And even though she’s bigger now, she still has all of these things with her like she did when she was small. She remembers all her lessons and knows that she could take on the world if she had to, that she could fight it one-on-one and come out on top because she knows her shit, learned it good.
Everyone else, they look at her funny because of the way she was raised, whisper about her and what a shame it was, for such a pretty young girl to have been surrounded only by death and violence and cruelty growing up.
They would have done something about it, if they could’ve, they’d say. They’d have saved her from Zaraki and his thugs and put her somewhere a young lady belonged, where she could’ve grown up normal and gotten everything a sweet little girl should’ve gotten out of life.
They don’t know that she really feels sorry for them.
They don’t understand anything at all.
But that’s their loss, she supposes. She doesn’t have time to deal with idiots-another thing Zaraki Kenpachi taught her-because she’s something different from them altogether.
She’s a captain of the Gotei-13 and she’s got business to take care of.
Monsters to kill.
Asses to kick.
END
382.
Title: Last Throw
Rating: R (maybe even NC-17?)
Pairing/Character/s: some GinxKira, and something that’s supposed to be kind of a surprise. ^^;; Er, ???xKira, I guess?
Word Count: 827
Warning/s: Spoilers for the SS arc in a vague kind of way.
Summary: Kira likes the pain.
Dedication: para- LOOK WHAT YOUR SEX FACE PICTURE DID!
A/N: I never thought I’d use some of the words in a story that I used here. Well, in the order I put them in, anyway. O.o Avert your eyes, young ones! Except for para, I suppose. XD Er, anyway, inspired by a drawing of Kira’s sexy crying uber-uke face, and thus, I am um, responding in like.
He cries out more from surprise than pain, his shout muffled by the pillow his face is buried against as he fists the bed sheets and feels his eyes watering at the sensation of being filled so suddenly. He holds back another cry at the first thrust, manages to quell it into a breathless “Nnngh…” as he bites down on the pillow and quivers helplessly beneath the larger body pinning him down.
His hips work reflexively, pumping into the mattress in search of friction, and soon after, he feels arms coming around his waist, lifting him up so that he’s half on his knees and a rough hand can wrap around him, stroking him hard and as he lies there trying to breathe without dying at each shuddering exhale.
Kira never imagined that it would come to this between them, that he would be thrown onto the bed so angrily and with such menace. But deep down he knows the blame can only be placed on himself for his predicament, for the simultaneous pain and arousal he feels at being rendered so completely helpless like this. He’d just as well asked for it just now, begged for it with his eyes.
This is his own fault. His own filthy desires haunt him day in and day out and what else could have resulted but this?
He feels his hips bruise under the assault of calloused fingers, feels a strain in his back and the muscles in his thighs as the rhythm increases, as the sound of his partner’s shallow breathing and angry grunts grow steadily, impossibly louder than the blood pounding in Izuru’s ears.
The hand around him squeezes mercilessly and he feels himself arching back despite the throbbing ache in his legs, feels himself moving back towards that other body and crying out full wail this time, face no longer hidden as he shouts in half-terror and half-ecstasy, fingers clenched so tightly in the sheets that he can feel his own fingernails digging into his palms despite the fabric twisted between. He comes screaming, and can barely recognize the voice as his own.
Panting and breathless, he feels the body behind him shudder moments later, eventually feels the warm splatter of liquid inside and the steady slackening of muscles as his lover curses dumbly, a “Holy fuckin’ shit,” right in his ear as the weight of the other death god collapses, exhausted, atop Izuru.
The blonde’s voice is hoarse, and upon uncurling his hand from the sheets and touching own face, he discovers that his eyes are still wet.
Renji rolls off of him not long after, and they both tremble as he pulls out, much gentler now than he’d been moments before.
“I’m sorry,” Kira breathes, feeling suddenly very cold.
Renji sighs and lies on his back next to the blonde for a moment, looking both pissed off and resigned before he pulls Kira into his arms and rests the other vice-captain’s head on his chest. “You better’ve savored that, you masochistic idiot,” Abarai says, voice gravelly in Izuru’s ear. He is annoyed and too damned tired to put up with whatever issues Kira has, at least for the moment. “You better have taken that fast, hard fuck and enjoyed every goddamned minute of it ‘cuz no matter how much you think you want stupid shit like that, I ain’t ever doin’ that to you again, you hear me?”
Kira nods, and with vague horror, feels his eyes begin to water some more.
“You may think that’s the only thing that’ll get you goin’, but it’s just ‘cuz you don’t know any better, you stupid asshole,” Renji continues, sounding a little sad himself now. “Think it’s the only way to make you scream, I bet. That what Ichimaru make you believe after all this time?”
Tears start to fall then, and before Kira can swipe at them with his hand, he feels the pad of Renji’s thumb drag over his eyes, wiping them clean.
“Che. You better’ve fuckin’ savored every bit of that,” Abarai declares again, closing his eyes and grunting. “’Cuz it was your last damn time. Next time I’m gonna be so damn sweet to you you’ll be cryin’ for other reasons, got it?”
Kira manages to blink away his tears at the statement this time, manages to hold them back and be a little bit less pathetic. “Sorry,” he murmurs, not knowing what else to say.
Renji snorts. “Apologize to my back muscles in the morning, dumbass. Go to sleep.”
Izuru wants to respond, to say something to explain himself, but before he can, Renji’s arm is curling tighter around him and all he can hear is the redhead’s rhythmic snoring beside his ear.
Feeling something pang deep in his heart as he lies in Renji’s embrace, Kira reaches up to touch the other vice-captain’s face before planting a small kiss along Abarai’s jaw. “Good night.”
He closes his eyes and sleeps.
END
God, edits so needed. I couldn't even reread that second one myself. haha.