Bleach Drabble (463-464)
It may be crap, but either way I'm finished with part of what I Set out to do today. And right now, that's all that really matters to me. XD
463.
Title: Kinks
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: IkkakuxKira, mentions of ShuuxYumi
Word Count: 742
Warning/s: Stupidity and randomness, but no spoilers.
Summary: A required overnight stay at the eleventh division barracks and…well, sex.
Dedication: sw_inku- I MISS YOU. ;_;
A/N: So, just trying to warm up the rusty Bleach writing mindset to work on Shuu’s birthday fic later-this is just kind of random weirdness for my own amusement I guess. See where I stand with the Bleach lately, as it seems I’m more motivated to write other things after a series of events in the last few months that kind of killed Bleach for me a little bit. XD I’m slowly trying to rebuild though!
Kira likes being talked dirty to.
Which is a wondrously fortuitous thing in that Ikkaku has a notoriously filthy mouth.
“Fuck,” Ikkaku likes to say, and sit back with a broad, predatory grin.
Kira may flush, may blush red around the cheeks and about the corners of his ears, may turn his gaze downward or sideways to avoid the other man’s eyes, but in the end his fingers still curl around the hem of Ikkaku’s sleeve or bunch the front of the third seat’s gi, his throat still arches up into those sloppy but considerably enthusiastic kisses, his legs still wrap shyly around a familiar, sturdy waist.
“Hey,” Ikkaku says around a genuinely happy smile, and rips the stitching on the blond’s pants trying to get them off, “Fuck… you think we can… I mean, I bet you could bend just right and I could…haha you think you’d wanna try that, baby? Betcha they’d hear you scream all the way back at the seventh from here, whadya think?”
Dirty, filthy, bold, shameless-Kira flushes happily and bites down hard on a thick, corded neck in response, knowing that if he’s the one who’s turned on by talk then Ikkaku’s the one who gets worked up by violence.
“Shit,” Madarame hisses, and hums happily when he feels that cute little tongue of Izuru’s start lapping up at the trickle of blood he’d drawn. “You little…god I’m gonna get you…”
“Get him quieter if you please, Ikkaku,” Yumichika’s voice calls through the wall suddenly, and both inhabitants of the third chair’s room freeze momentarily.
“Er…Yumi, you uh… you got stay-over tonight too?” Ikkaku starts, and blinks in the direction of the wall separating their rooms in the division barracks.
“Yup! Shuuhei’s here too!” the fifth seat calls back happily, and a low groan of embarrassment from somewhere in the pretty shinigami’s room after that confirms the fact that he’s not alone. “And just so you know, Shuu has quite the imagination and listening to you two isn’t helping! I took care of him less than an hour ago, you know.”
Ikkaku makes a face and thinks he never, ever wanted to know Hisagi’s kink well…ever.
Kira falls off to the side laughing at that though, skin still flushed and clothes only half off of him-a brilliant contrast of white and pink and black all in a rumpled mess in the middle of Madarame’s bed.
His cock curses and screams at him to hurry up and do something with that pretty little showcase, and eyeing the wall between them, Ikkaku takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself a little. “Hey,” he murmurs quietly, and lies down slowly, covering the other man’s smaller frame with his bulky one, “…er… how do you feel about gags?”
Kira blinks up at him in half surprise. “You mean…” his whisper trails off and he makes a motion across his mouth with his hand instead.
Ikkaku nods, though is fully willing to screw the idea if Kira isn’t willing to…
But before he can finish the thought he’s suddenly on his back looking up and the vice-captain’s hand is firmly clamped over his mouth. “I like it,” Izuru mouths to the third chair silently, and his eyes are practically sparkling down at Ikkaku with anticipation.
Ikkaku’s too dumbfounded to say anything in response right then, but after Kira starts moving his hips a little he finds that he’s really damn grateful for the fact that he can’t make a sound.
And so Ikkaku learns that while Kira loves being talked dirty to, the man is not just about the words after all.
He likes doing dirty to, too, and Zaraki always told Madarame that actions speak louder than words anyway.
He’s-the little minx-- just like a natural born eleventh divisioner then, and Ikkaku thinks that he might just be even more in love than he’d thought he was before.
Come morning, when he’s admiring the long series of red scratches up and down his back in the mirror before breakfast, Ikkaku supposes it’s not always such a bad thing to have his enforced barracks stay-overs scheduled at the same time as Yumi’s if this is gonna be the result.
Even if that means constantly facing the bastard’s smart-ass, know-it-all smirks from across the table at commissary breakfast.
Ikkaku just ignores the bastard the best he can and hopes he wears the bruises on his wrists well.
END
464.
Title: Squishy Happy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuxYumi, Rangiku, Iba, Ikkaku, Renji, Akon, Mayuri, vague hints of Iba+Ran, but nothing out of the ordinary)
Word Count: 871
Warning/s: Crack and OOC? Haha whatever. XD;;
Summary: Shuuhei’s birthday celebrations make lots of people happy.
Dedication: chibify and electify- keeping my love alive. XD
A/N: This is so retarded but I really couldn’t think of anything like, deep and moving for Shuuhei’s birthday or anything. I like him as a dork, what can I say? Plus it’s hard to write Bleach still, try as I might. *rolls* Especially when all I want to write is Air Gear. XD
No one saw Shuuhei on his birthday.
There wasn’t a word or a peep, not a single sighting of him. It was like he disappeared off the face of Soul Society for one day, and his friends and coworkers and various well wishers had to settle for belated congratulations, had to treat him to drinks and food and other gifts a day after the fact.
And they would have asked about it too, they surmised. They would have thwapped him (in a friendly manner) upside the head or shoved him a bit and demanded where the hell he’d been, what the hell he’d been doing that was more important than seeing his buddies on his number one most special day.
Except his goofy, extremely self-satisfied grin clued most of them in, a sort of, “Oh… Oooooh,” kind of reaction that swept through the ranks when they saw him.
And for those who didn’t get it even then, Ikkaku would cough uncomfortably and suggest that they hadn’t seen Yumichika around all day that day either.
Everyone got it then, and in the end, they supposed they couldn’t hold it against him for vanishing. Though none of them outside of Shuuhei, Yumichika, and (oddly enough) Akon from the twelfth division knew the specific details of what happened.
“Boobs,” Shuuhei murmured mysteriously whenever he got asked about it after a round of drinks on the askers. “There were glorious, glorious boobs.”
Matsumoto was incredulous. “He bought you a stripper? Were her boobs better than mine?” she demanded in an indignant (drunken) stupor.
Shuuhei, red-faced from his own drinks, just grinned. “A little smaller, I guess,” he admitted. “But still…best boobs in the world.”
Iba spit all over the counter. “Better’n Ran’s?” he stared at her chest like he was trying to imagine such a feat (until she punched him). “I don’t believe it,” he declared, and asked for ice to nurse his swollen jaw.
Shuuhei smiled smarmily and drifted off into fantasy-replay land in his head. His hand made vague squeezing motions on the bar top as he did.
“I don’ get it,” Renji slurred, and pointed accusatorily at Ikkaku. “You said Yumichika was gone too.”
Ikkaku blinked blearily. “He was. Don’t mean I know what happened, fucker.”
“Fucker yerself!” Renji shot back, and the two started a stupefied, half-hearted brawl that involved the flicking of many peanuts and pretzels at each other’s foreheads.
Matsumoto in the meantime, examined her chest critically. “Smaller…but better? I don’t believe it!” she shouted, and Iba agreed so heartily that he got another sock to the jaw for his troubles.
Shuuhei sighed dreamily and downed another mug of booze. “I love boobs.”
“The hell is Yumichika anyway?” Ikkaku posed after he and Renji had run out of peanuts and pretzels. Then he forgot about it altogether and ordered more sake.
Meanwhile, at the twelfth division headquarters, Yumichika was, as specified by their contractual agreement, working off the large debt he owed Akon for building that wildly out of proportion gigai (really, D-cups at his size were completely unwieldy!) for him at the last minute.
“Who are you? I’ll kill you! Leave the premises immediately!” Mayuri shouted, and tried to shake off the annoying growth that had suddenly latched onto his arm when he’d entered the building and wouldn’t let go.
Yumichika simply sparkled back up at the twelfth division captain. “Ne, Mayu-tan… Akon-san has really been wanting that two weeks paid vacation for a while now and I think you should give it to him…”
“ARGH LET GO.”
Yumichika was even unfazed when the taller man’s arm popped right off and he tried to make a run for it down the dark corridor. He simply beamed, skipped after the scientist, and jumped gleefully onto his back. “Ne, Mayu-tan, wouldn’t it be nice of you to let Akon-san have that vacation after all the hard work he’s done for you? He hasn’t had a vacation in years after all, and you’re such a nice man I’m sure it wouldn’t even be a problem!”
“NO. And don’t call me that.”
“Mayu-chan? Ma-chan? Yuri-chin? Mari-pon? Mayuchi?”
“… if I give him a week will you shut up and let go?”
“A week and a half and I’ll even give you back your arm.” Yumichika smiled dazzlingly, and there was something frighteningly threatening about it.
Mayuri slumped. “Very well. A week and a half. Please get off of me now.”
“Alright!”
Yumichika hopped off the masked captain cheerfully, and Mayuri breathed in long-suffering relief.
He headed back to his office.
Yumichika followed him.
“Um. What are you doing?”
“I’ll stop following you for another half week off…”
“FINE. JUST GO.”
“Mayuchi is so nice!” Yumi chirruped happily, the fifth seat bowing graciously to the superior officer before turning around and… prancing was probably the best word for it… out of the twelfth division.
After that, everyone was happy, just like Yumichika liked.
Akon enjoyed his first vacation in three years, Mayuri got his arm back, and most importantly of all, on certain very special occasions, Shuuhei got to bury his face in a perfect set of tits without having to worry about cheating to do it.
It was the best birthday ever.
END
463.
Title: Kinks
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: IkkakuxKira, mentions of ShuuxYumi
Word Count: 742
Warning/s: Stupidity and randomness, but no spoilers.
Summary: A required overnight stay at the eleventh division barracks and…well, sex.
Dedication: sw_inku- I MISS YOU. ;_;
A/N: So, just trying to warm up the rusty Bleach writing mindset to work on Shuu’s birthday fic later-this is just kind of random weirdness for my own amusement I guess. See where I stand with the Bleach lately, as it seems I’m more motivated to write other things after a series of events in the last few months that kind of killed Bleach for me a little bit. XD I’m slowly trying to rebuild though!
Kira likes being talked dirty to.
Which is a wondrously fortuitous thing in that Ikkaku has a notoriously filthy mouth.
“Fuck,” Ikkaku likes to say, and sit back with a broad, predatory grin.
Kira may flush, may blush red around the cheeks and about the corners of his ears, may turn his gaze downward or sideways to avoid the other man’s eyes, but in the end his fingers still curl around the hem of Ikkaku’s sleeve or bunch the front of the third seat’s gi, his throat still arches up into those sloppy but considerably enthusiastic kisses, his legs still wrap shyly around a familiar, sturdy waist.
“Hey,” Ikkaku says around a genuinely happy smile, and rips the stitching on the blond’s pants trying to get them off, “Fuck… you think we can… I mean, I bet you could bend just right and I could…haha you think you’d wanna try that, baby? Betcha they’d hear you scream all the way back at the seventh from here, whadya think?”
Dirty, filthy, bold, shameless-Kira flushes happily and bites down hard on a thick, corded neck in response, knowing that if he’s the one who’s turned on by talk then Ikkaku’s the one who gets worked up by violence.
“Shit,” Madarame hisses, and hums happily when he feels that cute little tongue of Izuru’s start lapping up at the trickle of blood he’d drawn. “You little…god I’m gonna get you…”
“Get him quieter if you please, Ikkaku,” Yumichika’s voice calls through the wall suddenly, and both inhabitants of the third chair’s room freeze momentarily.
“Er…Yumi, you uh… you got stay-over tonight too?” Ikkaku starts, and blinks in the direction of the wall separating their rooms in the division barracks.
“Yup! Shuuhei’s here too!” the fifth seat calls back happily, and a low groan of embarrassment from somewhere in the pretty shinigami’s room after that confirms the fact that he’s not alone. “And just so you know, Shuu has quite the imagination and listening to you two isn’t helping! I took care of him less than an hour ago, you know.”
Ikkaku makes a face and thinks he never, ever wanted to know Hisagi’s kink well…ever.
Kira falls off to the side laughing at that though, skin still flushed and clothes only half off of him-a brilliant contrast of white and pink and black all in a rumpled mess in the middle of Madarame’s bed.
His cock curses and screams at him to hurry up and do something with that pretty little showcase, and eyeing the wall between them, Ikkaku takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself a little. “Hey,” he murmurs quietly, and lies down slowly, covering the other man’s smaller frame with his bulky one, “…er… how do you feel about gags?”
Kira blinks up at him in half surprise. “You mean…” his whisper trails off and he makes a motion across his mouth with his hand instead.
Ikkaku nods, though is fully willing to screw the idea if Kira isn’t willing to…
But before he can finish the thought he’s suddenly on his back looking up and the vice-captain’s hand is firmly clamped over his mouth. “I like it,” Izuru mouths to the third chair silently, and his eyes are practically sparkling down at Ikkaku with anticipation.
Ikkaku’s too dumbfounded to say anything in response right then, but after Kira starts moving his hips a little he finds that he’s really damn grateful for the fact that he can’t make a sound.
And so Ikkaku learns that while Kira loves being talked dirty to, the man is not just about the words after all.
He likes doing dirty to, too, and Zaraki always told Madarame that actions speak louder than words anyway.
He’s-the little minx-- just like a natural born eleventh divisioner then, and Ikkaku thinks that he might just be even more in love than he’d thought he was before.
Come morning, when he’s admiring the long series of red scratches up and down his back in the mirror before breakfast, Ikkaku supposes it’s not always such a bad thing to have his enforced barracks stay-overs scheduled at the same time as Yumi’s if this is gonna be the result.
Even if that means constantly facing the bastard’s smart-ass, know-it-all smirks from across the table at commissary breakfast.
Ikkaku just ignores the bastard the best he can and hopes he wears the bruises on his wrists well.
END
464.
Title: Squishy Happy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Character/s: ShuuxYumi, Rangiku, Iba, Ikkaku, Renji, Akon, Mayuri, vague hints of Iba+Ran, but nothing out of the ordinary)
Word Count: 871
Warning/s: Crack and OOC? Haha whatever. XD;;
Summary: Shuuhei’s birthday celebrations make lots of people happy.
Dedication: chibify and electify- keeping my love alive. XD
A/N: This is so retarded but I really couldn’t think of anything like, deep and moving for Shuuhei’s birthday or anything. I like him as a dork, what can I say? Plus it’s hard to write Bleach still, try as I might. *rolls* Especially when all I want to write is Air Gear. XD
No one saw Shuuhei on his birthday.
There wasn’t a word or a peep, not a single sighting of him. It was like he disappeared off the face of Soul Society for one day, and his friends and coworkers and various well wishers had to settle for belated congratulations, had to treat him to drinks and food and other gifts a day after the fact.
And they would have asked about it too, they surmised. They would have thwapped him (in a friendly manner) upside the head or shoved him a bit and demanded where the hell he’d been, what the hell he’d been doing that was more important than seeing his buddies on his number one most special day.
Except his goofy, extremely self-satisfied grin clued most of them in, a sort of, “Oh… Oooooh,” kind of reaction that swept through the ranks when they saw him.
And for those who didn’t get it even then, Ikkaku would cough uncomfortably and suggest that they hadn’t seen Yumichika around all day that day either.
Everyone got it then, and in the end, they supposed they couldn’t hold it against him for vanishing. Though none of them outside of Shuuhei, Yumichika, and (oddly enough) Akon from the twelfth division knew the specific details of what happened.
“Boobs,” Shuuhei murmured mysteriously whenever he got asked about it after a round of drinks on the askers. “There were glorious, glorious boobs.”
Matsumoto was incredulous. “He bought you a stripper? Were her boobs better than mine?” she demanded in an indignant (drunken) stupor.
Shuuhei, red-faced from his own drinks, just grinned. “A little smaller, I guess,” he admitted. “But still…best boobs in the world.”
Iba spit all over the counter. “Better’n Ran’s?” he stared at her chest like he was trying to imagine such a feat (until she punched him). “I don’t believe it,” he declared, and asked for ice to nurse his swollen jaw.
Shuuhei smiled smarmily and drifted off into fantasy-replay land in his head. His hand made vague squeezing motions on the bar top as he did.
“I don’ get it,” Renji slurred, and pointed accusatorily at Ikkaku. “You said Yumichika was gone too.”
Ikkaku blinked blearily. “He was. Don’t mean I know what happened, fucker.”
“Fucker yerself!” Renji shot back, and the two started a stupefied, half-hearted brawl that involved the flicking of many peanuts and pretzels at each other’s foreheads.
Matsumoto in the meantime, examined her chest critically. “Smaller…but better? I don’t believe it!” she shouted, and Iba agreed so heartily that he got another sock to the jaw for his troubles.
Shuuhei sighed dreamily and downed another mug of booze. “I love boobs.”
“The hell is Yumichika anyway?” Ikkaku posed after he and Renji had run out of peanuts and pretzels. Then he forgot about it altogether and ordered more sake.
Meanwhile, at the twelfth division headquarters, Yumichika was, as specified by their contractual agreement, working off the large debt he owed Akon for building that wildly out of proportion gigai (really, D-cups at his size were completely unwieldy!) for him at the last minute.
“Who are you? I’ll kill you! Leave the premises immediately!” Mayuri shouted, and tried to shake off the annoying growth that had suddenly latched onto his arm when he’d entered the building and wouldn’t let go.
Yumichika simply sparkled back up at the twelfth division captain. “Ne, Mayu-tan… Akon-san has really been wanting that two weeks paid vacation for a while now and I think you should give it to him…”
“ARGH LET GO.”
Yumichika was even unfazed when the taller man’s arm popped right off and he tried to make a run for it down the dark corridor. He simply beamed, skipped after the scientist, and jumped gleefully onto his back. “Ne, Mayu-tan, wouldn’t it be nice of you to let Akon-san have that vacation after all the hard work he’s done for you? He hasn’t had a vacation in years after all, and you’re such a nice man I’m sure it wouldn’t even be a problem!”
“NO. And don’t call me that.”
“Mayu-chan? Ma-chan? Yuri-chin? Mari-pon? Mayuchi?”
“… if I give him a week will you shut up and let go?”
“A week and a half and I’ll even give you back your arm.” Yumichika smiled dazzlingly, and there was something frighteningly threatening about it.
Mayuri slumped. “Very well. A week and a half. Please get off of me now.”
“Alright!”
Yumichika hopped off the masked captain cheerfully, and Mayuri breathed in long-suffering relief.
He headed back to his office.
Yumichika followed him.
“Um. What are you doing?”
“I’ll stop following you for another half week off…”
“FINE. JUST GO.”
“Mayuchi is so nice!” Yumi chirruped happily, the fifth seat bowing graciously to the superior officer before turning around and… prancing was probably the best word for it… out of the twelfth division.
After that, everyone was happy, just like Yumichika liked.
Akon enjoyed his first vacation in three years, Mayuri got his arm back, and most importantly of all, on certain very special occasions, Shuuhei got to bury his face in a perfect set of tits without having to worry about cheating to do it.
It was the best birthday ever.
END