[FIC] Crushing the Flower (Bleach - Ichimaru Gin/Yamada Hanatarou - angst)
Title: Crushing the Flower
Author: vain_flower
Characters & Fandom: Bleach: Ichimaru Gin/Yamada Hanatarou
Word count: ~ 2400
Today's prompt: May 23 - angst
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, rimming, sex in a semi-public place
A/N: I signed up for this challenge at IJ as well, where my prompt was kink, so I sort of combined the two. Hope that's okay. :DDD
Disclaimer: Bleach is (c) Tite Kubo, and I am not, in any way, making profits from this story.
Sorry I'm a few hours late. :/ Something came up and I was kept from my computer.
Yamada Hanatarou laid the back of his hand gently on Kira’s forehead, frowning as the blonde’s brow furrowed in his sleep, twisting to get away from the cool hands that brushed the bangs back from his face.
Vice Captain Kira was sleeping fitfully on a futon separated from the rest of the fourth division’s infirmary by a thin white screen. It was a comparatively slow day for the fourth, so Kira could rest mostly in peace, interrupted only by the drift of quiet conversation.
Peeking around the edge of the screen, Hanatarou sighed, wondering how long the lull would last. No one from the tenth had been in for awhile; in fact the whole division had been pretty quiet for the past week, which was enough to worry any healer. Calm before the storm and such.
The dark haired Shinigami turned his attention back on Kira, who, for the moment, had settled. The third division’s Vice Captain’s skin was hot to the touch, his face and chest flushed a splotchy red. Hanatarou wasn’t entirely sure what exactly was plaguing the man, but it didn’t seem to be anything a little quiet and a few days of rest wouldn’t patch right up. It was probably just brought on by overworking; it’s amazing the changes a few hours of missed sleep just a couple of nights in a row can cause.
Hanatarou resolved to have a word with Captain Unohana. Kira always seemed to be a little tired, face wan and shoulders strained, arms full of papers and on some errand or another for his fox-faced captain, Ichimaru. Adversely, Ichimaru always appeared to be in good spirits, probably, Hanatarou mused darkly, due largely in part to his Vice Captain assuming the captain’s responsibilities in addition to his own.
What was worse, no one seemed willing to take Ichimaru to task for his actions. It didn’t make sense; Kira never seemed to have anything unkind to say about anyone and it wasn’t like Ichimaru made it a secret of how he took advantage of the blonde.
Wrapped up in his thoughts, Hanatarou didn’t notice the approaching shadow cast across the screen. He reached out to push back the blonde’s hair again, but a long fingered hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, his fingertips just millimeters away from the golden strands.
Hanatarou’s blood pressure shot through the roof, and he almost fell backwards with a yelp, but then another hand was reaching around him to cover his mouth and his back collided with a broad chest.
“Now, now,” said a frighteningly familiar voice, “you mustn’t be touchin’ my little Izuru like that. I get awful jealous when people touch things that are mine.” To emphasize his point, the man squeezed Hanatarou’s wrist where his long fingers still were. Hanatarou let loose a muffled whimper, stifled by the hand pressed to his mouth; it hurt and he knew that he’d have finger shaped bruises the next day.
“I’m sorry, Captain Ichimaru” Hanatarou said, lips brushing against the sword calloused palm that still held him, heart thudding nearly too loudly to hear himself.
“Is that right?” Ichimaru asked, and his proximity terrified Hanatarou, who wondered if there was anyone else left in the room, or if they could feel the third’s captain’s reiatsu and were staying away out of a sense of self preservation. “Then… you’d be willing to make it up to me, wouldn’t you, little flower?”
Wrenching his head away, Hanatarou protested, “But I haven’t done anyth-” But Ichimaru cut off his protest by sticking two of his long fingers into Hanatarou’s mouth, stroking the younger Shinigami’s tongue.
Hanatarou wanted to bite, to struggle, but fear held him fast. And the worst part, Hanatarou thought, wanting to cry out in embarrassment, was that he was getting hard, the fingers of one hand thrusting into his mouth and other arm moving to wrap around his chest, pinning him fast.
It wasn’t his fault, he tried to reason with himself, he was still young, much younger than the other seated officers of the fourth, and Captain Ichimaru was handsome in a frightening, serial killer sort of way.
He heard Ichimaru’s breathy laugh in his ear, and his cock got even stiffer as the warm breath fluttered over his skin, and he prayed that no one would come in to find him like this.
“I think Hana likes this more than he lets on~,” Ichimaru said softly, in a sing-song voice, and Hanatarou whimpered around the fingers in his mouth, face heating up. “But Hana-kun should use his tongue a little more.”
Not being able to stop himself, Hanatarou wrapped his tongue around Ichimaru’s fingers at the man’s urging and starting gently suckling on them, earning another laugh from the silver haired man.
“Yes, little Hana certainly seems to be enjoying himself,” Ichimaru crooned, his unoccupied hand sliding into the folds of Hanatarou’s kimono. Those long fingers plucked at a nipple, and Hanatarou tried to gasp around the fingers still in his mouth, feeling dizzy.
The attention Ichimaru lavished on him was certainly painful, those sharp nails leaving bright red marks along his pale skin, but Hanatarou wouldn’t have stopped the captain for the world. It was nearly too much-and at the same time, not nearly enough. When Gin moved his hand down to cup him through the thick fabric of his hakama, he nearly shrieked, thrusting up desperately into that large, warm hand.
“Shhh,” Ichimaru hissed in his ear, and Hanatarou could feel the captain hiding his reiatsu, and tried to wrap his brain about what was going on. If only he could concentrate around what Gin was doing to his body-
Hanatarou froze when he heard voices outside the door, trying not to whimper. Of course, he and Captain Ichimaru were hidden by the screen, but they were still easily discoverable, especially if they made any noise, no matter how slight.
“Now Hana-kun must be very quiet,” Ichimaru whispered, pulling his fingers from the boy’s mouth.
“Let me go- we shouldn’t-” Hanatarou murmured back, struggling a little in Ichimaru’s arms.
“It wouldn’t be very nice of me to leave little Hana like this, would it? All aching and needy. No, no, it wouldn’t be nice at all,” Ichimaru said quietly, amusement evident in his voice.
Hanatarou could hear voices in the room now, voices he recognized, and couldn’t bring himself to move. He probably looked debauched, and emerging from behind a screen with red scratch marks on chest and Ichimaru Gin following behind could hardly be good for him. So he did as he was told, and remained quiet and still.
He sucked in a sharp breath when Ichimaru’s hands went to the sash tied around his waist. What could the man possibly be thinking, undressing him when there were other people not ten paces away?
The only sound between them was that of their breathing, and the soft rustle of cloth falling as his sash came free. Hanatarou looked behind him when Gin grabbed both of his arms and held them together behind his back, meeting the man’s eyes for the first time since the captain had entered the room. Ichimaru’s eyes were closed, but Hanatarou nevertheless got the disconcerting feeling that Ichimaru’s shuttered gaze would split him open and burn him alive.
Turning his head, Hanatarou blinked to clear his mind from the image of Ichimaru staring at him so intensely, hissing a little in pain as the fox-faced captain tied the sash around his arms a bit too tightly.
He thought desperately to any previous experience he might have that could help him out of this, but all he could think of was that cute no seat from the sixth, with whom he had gotten together for more than a few grope sessions, but it was always awkward, careful, nothing like the sureness with which Captain Ichimaru touched him, maneuvered him. It was like a slow poison; you could blink once and then have Ichimaru Gin pulsing in your veins, suffocating you before you even had time to scream.
Hanatarou wondered if Ichimaru touched Kira like this, made the kind vice-captain whimper and wail under sharp nails and sharper teeth. Closing his eyes, he tried no to think about Kira, who could wake at any moment to find Hanatarou bent over, his captain plastered to the boy’s back, fisting his cock.
And that’s just what Ichimaru was working on, insistently pushing the boy forward, pushing the kimono up over his waist and palming his ass.
“S-stop,” Hanatarou pleaded, face pressed to the floor. But Ichimaru didn’t stop, one of those long fingers circling his hole before a fingertip pressed in. It was gone a second later, back to stroking his entrance and Hanatarou shuddered; he hadn’t known he was so sensitive there-it felt, oh crap, so good.
It took all of his willpower not to shout when he felt that finger being replaced by warm breath and a wet tongue. He wiggled, trying to escape from the wet muscle worming its way inside of him, but Ichimaru held his hips with a bruising grip. Hanatarou panted as the captain speared him with two fingers that held him open to let that tongue invade him even deeper.
When Ichimaru added a third finger, Hanatarou almost howled. The stretch hurt, and he knew that three fingers wouldn’t even be the worst of it. His nails bit red crescent marks into his hands as Gin withdrew his fingers and pressed up against him. Hearing the whisper of cloth, the younger shinigami braced himself.
“If Hana-kun tenses up,” Ichimaru hissed, sounding amused, “it will just hurt him more.”
Hanatarou didn’t think he could relax if his life depended on it, but he tried anyway, and Ichimaru’s hand moving to grip his cock distracted him long enough for the man to push right in. The dark haired Shinigami barely managed to bite back a wail, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back tears. He couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped, however, and the voices from the other side of the room suddenly ceased. For a few terrifying moments, Hanatarou thought that maybe Ichimaru would let the others see him like this, bent over with Ichimaru thrusting into him smoothly, the healer’s eyes filled with tears and his shoulders peppered in mouth shaped welts.
“I’m fine,” came the calm, soothing voice of Kira Izuru when the footsteps drew nearer. “Captain Ichimaru is with me. Please, leave us.”
“Of course, Vice Captain Kira,” one of them said, and Hanatarou nearly sobbed with relief when he heard them leave, the screen door sliding shut behind them. It was almost more than he could bear to turn his head and peek through his hair at the blonde vice captain, but Kira’s eyes were soft with understanding.
“Captain-” Kira began, sounding a little uncertain when Ichimaru continued to thrust into Hanatarou without faltering.
“Izuru needs his rest or else I would let him play with Hana-kun, too,” Ichimaru said pleasantly, reaching down to grasp the young Shinigami’s cock again, which had softened slightly due to the pain of Ichimaru’s entrance and the fear of being discovered.
The captain suddenly changed the angle of his thrusts and hit something inside of Hanatarou, causing his cock to swell back to full hardness while he sobbed at the sudden pleasure. When Kira reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, Hanatarou turned his face into the gentle caress like it was the only thing holding the last shreds of his sanity together.
Hanatarou’s orgasm slammed into him, ripping through him like Shinsou’s blade as he shouted himself hoarse. He heard Ichimaru’s sharp intake of breath and felt his thrusts become erratic before the man stilled, pressed in deep, moaning quietly in Hanatarou’s ear as he came.
Kira brushed away the tears that squeezed out of the younger Shinigami’s closed eyes when Ichimaru pulled out of him and then sat up, removing his fingers from Hanatarou’s face and kneeling to help Ichimaru sort out his rumpled uniform. When Kira finished retying the sash around Ichimaru’s waist, the captain gripped Kira’s face in one hand to hold him still for a kiss, a sated smile on his face. When he was done, Kira’s face was flushed pink, his lips a little swollen and the captain left without sparing a glance for Hanatarou.
Once his reiatsu faded into the distance, Kira turned to the healer with gentle hands and gentler eyes.
“I-I’m so sorry-” Hanatarou babbled, not sure what exactly he was apologizing for, but nevertheless feeling it was necessary. When Kira untied his numb hands, Hanatarou wasn’t sure what to do with them, so he held them close to his chest, trying to nurse feeling back into them.
“Yamada-san, please, calm down. You’re not responsible for my captain’s actions.”
Hanatarou hid his face behind the curtain of his dark hair, face red. “H-how long were you, were you watching?”
Kira looked away, hesitating. “I woke while he was undressing you,” he finally admitted. “I’m sorry that I didn’t-when Ichimaru sets his sights on something-I should have… I wish I could say that I don’t believe he will continue to pursue you, but…”
Hanatarou looked up at Kira, who refused to meet his eyes, a lump forming in his throat and something that was part fear and part something he didn’t want to examine too closely making his stomach clench.
Kira finally looked up after him, the sound of their breathing harsh in the stillness. Hanatarou recognized the look that must have been mirrored on his own face, a look that spoke of hoping never to have to face the pale-haired captain again while at the same time secretly yearning for the press of the fox’s teeth against his neck.
~~
A note about Japanese dress: Apparently, hakama are worn in conjunction with kimono, which is rolled up above the knees to allow for freedom of movement when hakama are put on overtop of it. So the “shirt” half of the Shinigami uniform is the exposed kimono. Well, at least according to this extensive book on traditional Japanese garb, so that’s what I’m going to go with.
My eternal thanks to Jonokai, who helped me out so much with this story!
Author: vain_flower
Characters & Fandom: Bleach: Ichimaru Gin/Yamada Hanatarou
Word count: ~ 2400
Today's prompt: May 23 - angst
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bondage, rimming, sex in a semi-public place
A/N: I signed up for this challenge at IJ as well, where my prompt was kink, so I sort of combined the two. Hope that's okay. :DDD
Disclaimer: Bleach is (c) Tite Kubo, and I am not, in any way, making profits from this story.
Sorry I'm a few hours late. :/ Something came up and I was kept from my computer.
Yamada Hanatarou laid the back of his hand gently on Kira’s forehead, frowning as the blonde’s brow furrowed in his sleep, twisting to get away from the cool hands that brushed the bangs back from his face.
Vice Captain Kira was sleeping fitfully on a futon separated from the rest of the fourth division’s infirmary by a thin white screen. It was a comparatively slow day for the fourth, so Kira could rest mostly in peace, interrupted only by the drift of quiet conversation.
Peeking around the edge of the screen, Hanatarou sighed, wondering how long the lull would last. No one from the tenth had been in for awhile; in fact the whole division had been pretty quiet for the past week, which was enough to worry any healer. Calm before the storm and such.
The dark haired Shinigami turned his attention back on Kira, who, for the moment, had settled. The third division’s Vice Captain’s skin was hot to the touch, his face and chest flushed a splotchy red. Hanatarou wasn’t entirely sure what exactly was plaguing the man, but it didn’t seem to be anything a little quiet and a few days of rest wouldn’t patch right up. It was probably just brought on by overworking; it’s amazing the changes a few hours of missed sleep just a couple of nights in a row can cause.
Hanatarou resolved to have a word with Captain Unohana. Kira always seemed to be a little tired, face wan and shoulders strained, arms full of papers and on some errand or another for his fox-faced captain, Ichimaru. Adversely, Ichimaru always appeared to be in good spirits, probably, Hanatarou mused darkly, due largely in part to his Vice Captain assuming the captain’s responsibilities in addition to his own.
What was worse, no one seemed willing to take Ichimaru to task for his actions. It didn’t make sense; Kira never seemed to have anything unkind to say about anyone and it wasn’t like Ichimaru made it a secret of how he took advantage of the blonde.
Wrapped up in his thoughts, Hanatarou didn’t notice the approaching shadow cast across the screen. He reached out to push back the blonde’s hair again, but a long fingered hand shot out and wrapped around his wrist, his fingertips just millimeters away from the golden strands.
Hanatarou’s blood pressure shot through the roof, and he almost fell backwards with a yelp, but then another hand was reaching around him to cover his mouth and his back collided with a broad chest.
“Now, now,” said a frighteningly familiar voice, “you mustn’t be touchin’ my little Izuru like that. I get awful jealous when people touch things that are mine.” To emphasize his point, the man squeezed Hanatarou’s wrist where his long fingers still were. Hanatarou let loose a muffled whimper, stifled by the hand pressed to his mouth; it hurt and he knew that he’d have finger shaped bruises the next day.
“I’m sorry, Captain Ichimaru” Hanatarou said, lips brushing against the sword calloused palm that still held him, heart thudding nearly too loudly to hear himself.
“Is that right?” Ichimaru asked, and his proximity terrified Hanatarou, who wondered if there was anyone else left in the room, or if they could feel the third’s captain’s reiatsu and were staying away out of a sense of self preservation. “Then… you’d be willing to make it up to me, wouldn’t you, little flower?”
Wrenching his head away, Hanatarou protested, “But I haven’t done anyth-” But Ichimaru cut off his protest by sticking two of his long fingers into Hanatarou’s mouth, stroking the younger Shinigami’s tongue.
Hanatarou wanted to bite, to struggle, but fear held him fast. And the worst part, Hanatarou thought, wanting to cry out in embarrassment, was that he was getting hard, the fingers of one hand thrusting into his mouth and other arm moving to wrap around his chest, pinning him fast.
It wasn’t his fault, he tried to reason with himself, he was still young, much younger than the other seated officers of the fourth, and Captain Ichimaru was handsome in a frightening, serial killer sort of way.
He heard Ichimaru’s breathy laugh in his ear, and his cock got even stiffer as the warm breath fluttered over his skin, and he prayed that no one would come in to find him like this.
“I think Hana likes this more than he lets on~,” Ichimaru said softly, in a sing-song voice, and Hanatarou whimpered around the fingers in his mouth, face heating up. “But Hana-kun should use his tongue a little more.”
Not being able to stop himself, Hanatarou wrapped his tongue around Ichimaru’s fingers at the man’s urging and starting gently suckling on them, earning another laugh from the silver haired man.
“Yes, little Hana certainly seems to be enjoying himself,” Ichimaru crooned, his unoccupied hand sliding into the folds of Hanatarou’s kimono. Those long fingers plucked at a nipple, and Hanatarou tried to gasp around the fingers still in his mouth, feeling dizzy.
The attention Ichimaru lavished on him was certainly painful, those sharp nails leaving bright red marks along his pale skin, but Hanatarou wouldn’t have stopped the captain for the world. It was nearly too much-and at the same time, not nearly enough. When Gin moved his hand down to cup him through the thick fabric of his hakama, he nearly shrieked, thrusting up desperately into that large, warm hand.
“Shhh,” Ichimaru hissed in his ear, and Hanatarou could feel the captain hiding his reiatsu, and tried to wrap his brain about what was going on. If only he could concentrate around what Gin was doing to his body-
Hanatarou froze when he heard voices outside the door, trying not to whimper. Of course, he and Captain Ichimaru were hidden by the screen, but they were still easily discoverable, especially if they made any noise, no matter how slight.
“Now Hana-kun must be very quiet,” Ichimaru whispered, pulling his fingers from the boy’s mouth.
“Let me go- we shouldn’t-” Hanatarou murmured back, struggling a little in Ichimaru’s arms.
“It wouldn’t be very nice of me to leave little Hana like this, would it? All aching and needy. No, no, it wouldn’t be nice at all,” Ichimaru said quietly, amusement evident in his voice.
Hanatarou could hear voices in the room now, voices he recognized, and couldn’t bring himself to move. He probably looked debauched, and emerging from behind a screen with red scratch marks on chest and Ichimaru Gin following behind could hardly be good for him. So he did as he was told, and remained quiet and still.
He sucked in a sharp breath when Ichimaru’s hands went to the sash tied around his waist. What could the man possibly be thinking, undressing him when there were other people not ten paces away?
The only sound between them was that of their breathing, and the soft rustle of cloth falling as his sash came free. Hanatarou looked behind him when Gin grabbed both of his arms and held them together behind his back, meeting the man’s eyes for the first time since the captain had entered the room. Ichimaru’s eyes were closed, but Hanatarou nevertheless got the disconcerting feeling that Ichimaru’s shuttered gaze would split him open and burn him alive.
Turning his head, Hanatarou blinked to clear his mind from the image of Ichimaru staring at him so intensely, hissing a little in pain as the fox-faced captain tied the sash around his arms a bit too tightly.
He thought desperately to any previous experience he might have that could help him out of this, but all he could think of was that cute no seat from the sixth, with whom he had gotten together for more than a few grope sessions, but it was always awkward, careful, nothing like the sureness with which Captain Ichimaru touched him, maneuvered him. It was like a slow poison; you could blink once and then have Ichimaru Gin pulsing in your veins, suffocating you before you even had time to scream.
Hanatarou wondered if Ichimaru touched Kira like this, made the kind vice-captain whimper and wail under sharp nails and sharper teeth. Closing his eyes, he tried no to think about Kira, who could wake at any moment to find Hanatarou bent over, his captain plastered to the boy’s back, fisting his cock.
And that’s just what Ichimaru was working on, insistently pushing the boy forward, pushing the kimono up over his waist and palming his ass.
“S-stop,” Hanatarou pleaded, face pressed to the floor. But Ichimaru didn’t stop, one of those long fingers circling his hole before a fingertip pressed in. It was gone a second later, back to stroking his entrance and Hanatarou shuddered; he hadn’t known he was so sensitive there-it felt, oh crap, so good.
It took all of his willpower not to shout when he felt that finger being replaced by warm breath and a wet tongue. He wiggled, trying to escape from the wet muscle worming its way inside of him, but Ichimaru held his hips with a bruising grip. Hanatarou panted as the captain speared him with two fingers that held him open to let that tongue invade him even deeper.
When Ichimaru added a third finger, Hanatarou almost howled. The stretch hurt, and he knew that three fingers wouldn’t even be the worst of it. His nails bit red crescent marks into his hands as Gin withdrew his fingers and pressed up against him. Hearing the whisper of cloth, the younger shinigami braced himself.
“If Hana-kun tenses up,” Ichimaru hissed, sounding amused, “it will just hurt him more.”
Hanatarou didn’t think he could relax if his life depended on it, but he tried anyway, and Ichimaru’s hand moving to grip his cock distracted him long enough for the man to push right in. The dark haired Shinigami barely managed to bite back a wail, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back tears. He couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped, however, and the voices from the other side of the room suddenly ceased. For a few terrifying moments, Hanatarou thought that maybe Ichimaru would let the others see him like this, bent over with Ichimaru thrusting into him smoothly, the healer’s eyes filled with tears and his shoulders peppered in mouth shaped welts.
“I’m fine,” came the calm, soothing voice of Kira Izuru when the footsteps drew nearer. “Captain Ichimaru is with me. Please, leave us.”
“Of course, Vice Captain Kira,” one of them said, and Hanatarou nearly sobbed with relief when he heard them leave, the screen door sliding shut behind them. It was almost more than he could bear to turn his head and peek through his hair at the blonde vice captain, but Kira’s eyes were soft with understanding.
“Captain-” Kira began, sounding a little uncertain when Ichimaru continued to thrust into Hanatarou without faltering.
“Izuru needs his rest or else I would let him play with Hana-kun, too,” Ichimaru said pleasantly, reaching down to grasp the young Shinigami’s cock again, which had softened slightly due to the pain of Ichimaru’s entrance and the fear of being discovered.
The captain suddenly changed the angle of his thrusts and hit something inside of Hanatarou, causing his cock to swell back to full hardness while he sobbed at the sudden pleasure. When Kira reached out a hand to stroke his cheek, Hanatarou turned his face into the gentle caress like it was the only thing holding the last shreds of his sanity together.
Hanatarou’s orgasm slammed into him, ripping through him like Shinsou’s blade as he shouted himself hoarse. He heard Ichimaru’s sharp intake of breath and felt his thrusts become erratic before the man stilled, pressed in deep, moaning quietly in Hanatarou’s ear as he came.
Kira brushed away the tears that squeezed out of the younger Shinigami’s closed eyes when Ichimaru pulled out of him and then sat up, removing his fingers from Hanatarou’s face and kneeling to help Ichimaru sort out his rumpled uniform. When Kira finished retying the sash around Ichimaru’s waist, the captain gripped Kira’s face in one hand to hold him still for a kiss, a sated smile on his face. When he was done, Kira’s face was flushed pink, his lips a little swollen and the captain left without sparing a glance for Hanatarou.
Once his reiatsu faded into the distance, Kira turned to the healer with gentle hands and gentler eyes.
“I-I’m so sorry-” Hanatarou babbled, not sure what exactly he was apologizing for, but nevertheless feeling it was necessary. When Kira untied his numb hands, Hanatarou wasn’t sure what to do with them, so he held them close to his chest, trying to nurse feeling back into them.
“Yamada-san, please, calm down. You’re not responsible for my captain’s actions.”
Hanatarou hid his face behind the curtain of his dark hair, face red. “H-how long were you, were you watching?”
Kira looked away, hesitating. “I woke while he was undressing you,” he finally admitted. “I’m sorry that I didn’t-when Ichimaru sets his sights on something-I should have… I wish I could say that I don’t believe he will continue to pursue you, but…”
Hanatarou looked up at Kira, who refused to meet his eyes, a lump forming in his throat and something that was part fear and part something he didn’t want to examine too closely making his stomach clench.
Kira finally looked up after him, the sound of their breathing harsh in the stillness. Hanatarou recognized the look that must have been mirrored on his own face, a look that spoke of hoping never to have to face the pale-haired captain again while at the same time secretly yearning for the press of the fox’s teeth against his neck.
~~
A note about Japanese dress: Apparently, hakama are worn in conjunction with kimono, which is rolled up above the knees to allow for freedom of movement when hakama are put on overtop of it. So the “shirt” half of the Shinigami uniform is the exposed kimono. Well, at least according to this extensive book on traditional Japanese garb, so that’s what I’m going to go with.
My eternal thanks to Jonokai, who helped me out so much with this story!