[Bleach] Ficlets
Dec. 12th, 2011 07:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22a/n: Once upon a time I was trying to write Bleach oneshots. My muses gave up on me. But they left nice little ficlets behind, perfectly readable but forever unfinished. A bit longer than a flash fiction but shorter than a true oneshot. I thought you'd like to read them. Here are a few. Enjoy!
Pairing: Ichigo+Aizen
Series: Seireitei Monogatari, prequel to I Surrender, sequel to Is This Seat Taken?
Warnings: None
Title: Submission
Pairings: KisukexKensei
For mandalee1013, who wanted to see something naughty with these boys
Warnings for slash, bondage, light D&s
Pairing : IchigoxShirosaki
Warning: intent to slash, vague references to canon, foul language
Pairing: Ichigo+Aizen
Series: Seireitei Monogatari, prequel to I Surrender, sequel to Is This Seat Taken?
Warnings: None
Ichigo was sleeping.
Or to be more precise, he was napping. Saving the world, or attempting to, more times than once, not to mention constantly training, taking down Hollows, dealing with Keigo on a regular basis... all of it was very tiring. Therefore, when the opportunity arose for him to simply crash on his bed and conk out for a few hours, he took it without argument.
Rukia was gone. Kon was hiding from Yuzu again, though Ichigo couldn't fathom why. Even Goat-Face had found something better to amuse himself with, leaving Ichigo free to nap without interruption.
It was absolutely peaceful and perfect. He rolled over on the bed, buried his face in his pillow and enjoyed comfort.
Then the doorbell rang.
Ichigo ignored it. He was pretty certain it wasn't going to be for him. Besides, he had better things to do.
Footsteps came up the stairs. A small fist knocked lightly on his door. “Ichi-nii, there's someone here to see you.” He easily identified Yuzu.
“Tell Keigo I'm sleeping,” he called back, attempting to find his peace again and drift off into sleep.
There was a pause. “It's someone else. He says you made arrangements for today.”
Apparently, he couldn't just ignore this visitor. If it were Renji or Rukia or any of the other Shinigami, he would have sensed them. Probably. Or they would have come through the ceiling or his window. They never bothered with doors. And Urahara preferred big, sticky explosions to announce himself.
He had no choice but to get up. He couldn't let some stranger scare his sisters or anything. Otherwise what kind of older brother would he be?
Ichigo heaved a sigh and dragged himself from the bed with a faint creak of the mattress. “I'm coming,” he responded, raking a hand over his hair and fighting back a yawn.
“Okay. He's waiting in the living room,” Yuzu chirped, and he heard the patter of her feet as she disappeared down the hall.
Ichigo patted his side, confirming that he still had the Shinigami badge before opening his door and heading downstairs. He heard Yuzu humming to herself as she mixed something in the kitchen. Karin was probably out playing soccer or something with her friends. Wondering who his visitor could possibly be, Ichigo strolled into his living room.
Only to stop and stare, feeling as if he had suddenly walked into the twilight zone.
“Aizen?” he exclaimed in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”
His number one enemy – who happened to enjoy Egg's Benedict his conscience sought to remind him – simply smiled as he greeted Ichigo. He was dressed in normal clothes, well-fitted slacks and a button down shirt with the first two buttons undone. There wasn't a hint of threat in his expression, and the package in his hands didn't look dangerous but Ichigo wasn't about to immediately assume it was non-lethal.
The traitor lifted one brow. “I hope you haven't forgotten our date,” he said pleasantly, stepping across the room to stand before Ichigo. Aizen pushed the small box towards him.
Ichigo looked at it warily before taking it in hand. “Date?” he repeated in confusion. His senses were still poised, waiting for an attack.
“Yes. A date,” Aizen repeated, still ever so agreeably. “Do you not remember the breakfast?”
The substitute Shinigami absently tapped his fingers against the side of the box as he strained his memories. Dimly he recalled stumbling upon the three traitors in the midst of meal one exhausting morning. He remembered being... fondled, for lack of a better word, and many innuendos coloring the conversation. And then he recalled the brief mention of a date, which he had completely taken for a joke.
And boy, was he wrong.
Color stained Ichigo's cheeks as he looked from the box to Aizen and back to the box again. He tentatively shook it and something both rustled and tapped within. Was Aizen serious?
He peered at the former captain. “Did you forget the part where we're enemies?”
Brown eyes glinted. “Now, Ichigo, when has that ever stopped something like romance?”
“Romance. Che.” He snorted sarcastically, but still shook the box again. Wondered what was inside. Candy maybe.
“My invitation stands,” Aizen continued, ever smooth, ever patient.
Ichigo shook the box one more time, convinced it was chocolate. He liked chocolate. What did he have to lose anyway?
“Sure. Whatever.” Ichigo shrugged. Besides, he could always take Aizen out if he needed. He wasn't completely helpless.
Or to be more precise, he was napping. Saving the world, or attempting to, more times than once, not to mention constantly training, taking down Hollows, dealing with Keigo on a regular basis... all of it was very tiring. Therefore, when the opportunity arose for him to simply crash on his bed and conk out for a few hours, he took it without argument.
Rukia was gone. Kon was hiding from Yuzu again, though Ichigo couldn't fathom why. Even Goat-Face had found something better to amuse himself with, leaving Ichigo free to nap without interruption.
It was absolutely peaceful and perfect. He rolled over on the bed, buried his face in his pillow and enjoyed comfort.
Then the doorbell rang.
Ichigo ignored it. He was pretty certain it wasn't going to be for him. Besides, he had better things to do.
Footsteps came up the stairs. A small fist knocked lightly on his door. “Ichi-nii, there's someone here to see you.” He easily identified Yuzu.
“Tell Keigo I'm sleeping,” he called back, attempting to find his peace again and drift off into sleep.
There was a pause. “It's someone else. He says you made arrangements for today.”
Apparently, he couldn't just ignore this visitor. If it were Renji or Rukia or any of the other Shinigami, he would have sensed them. Probably. Or they would have come through the ceiling or his window. They never bothered with doors. And Urahara preferred big, sticky explosions to announce himself.
He had no choice but to get up. He couldn't let some stranger scare his sisters or anything. Otherwise what kind of older brother would he be?
Ichigo heaved a sigh and dragged himself from the bed with a faint creak of the mattress. “I'm coming,” he responded, raking a hand over his hair and fighting back a yawn.
“Okay. He's waiting in the living room,” Yuzu chirped, and he heard the patter of her feet as she disappeared down the hall.
Ichigo patted his side, confirming that he still had the Shinigami badge before opening his door and heading downstairs. He heard Yuzu humming to herself as she mixed something in the kitchen. Karin was probably out playing soccer or something with her friends. Wondering who his visitor could possibly be, Ichigo strolled into his living room.
Only to stop and stare, feeling as if he had suddenly walked into the twilight zone.
“Aizen?” he exclaimed in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”
His number one enemy – who happened to enjoy Egg's Benedict his conscience sought to remind him – simply smiled as he greeted Ichigo. He was dressed in normal clothes, well-fitted slacks and a button down shirt with the first two buttons undone. There wasn't a hint of threat in his expression, and the package in his hands didn't look dangerous but Ichigo wasn't about to immediately assume it was non-lethal.
The traitor lifted one brow. “I hope you haven't forgotten our date,” he said pleasantly, stepping across the room to stand before Ichigo. Aizen pushed the small box towards him.
Ichigo looked at it warily before taking it in hand. “Date?” he repeated in confusion. His senses were still poised, waiting for an attack.
“Yes. A date,” Aizen repeated, still ever so agreeably. “Do you not remember the breakfast?”
The substitute Shinigami absently tapped his fingers against the side of the box as he strained his memories. Dimly he recalled stumbling upon the three traitors in the midst of meal one exhausting morning. He remembered being... fondled, for lack of a better word, and many innuendos coloring the conversation. And then he recalled the brief mention of a date, which he had completely taken for a joke.
And boy, was he wrong.
Color stained Ichigo's cheeks as he looked from the box to Aizen and back to the box again. He tentatively shook it and something both rustled and tapped within. Was Aizen serious?
He peered at the former captain. “Did you forget the part where we're enemies?”
Brown eyes glinted. “Now, Ichigo, when has that ever stopped something like romance?”
“Romance. Che.” He snorted sarcastically, but still shook the box again. Wondered what was inside. Candy maybe.
“My invitation stands,” Aizen continued, ever smooth, ever patient.
Ichigo shook the box one more time, convinced it was chocolate. He liked chocolate. What did he have to lose anyway?
“Sure. Whatever.” Ichigo shrugged. Besides, he could always take Aizen out if he needed. He wasn't completely helpless.
Title: Submission
Pairings: KisukexKensei
For mandalee1013, who wanted to see something naughty with these boys
Warnings for slash, bondage, light D&s
“Do you trust me?”
His lover’s voice fills the anticipatory silence with a low and steady thrum, pouring into Kisuke’s ears like auditory sex.
Kisuke licks his lips nervously, eyelashes fluttering against the bandanna that sits over his eyes, concealing his sight. It’s tight enough that he can’t hope to try and rub the covering off his face, but then, Kisuke doesn’t want to. Already, a slow and lazy heat is curling in his body, already his heart beats a faster pace.
Fingers cup Kisuke’s face gently and Kisuke turns his head, pressing a kiss to his lover’s palm.
“You know that I do,” Kisuke says, his voice strangely quiet. Unsure. But still conveying what he means to convey.
Fingers, still calloused by years of swordwork despite the lack of recent violence, stroke down the side of Kisuke’s face. “You’re beautiful like this, you know,” Kensei says. “I promise, you’ll enjoy this.”
A shudder ripples down Kisuke’s spine at the resolve in Kensei’s tone. “I enjoy everything you do,” he says.
“Sap,” Kensei teases, but it’s affectionate.
He drags the pad of his thumb across Kisuke’s cheek one last time before dropping his hand and Kisuke hears the sound of Kensei stepping back. Leaving him untouched and seemingly alone, wearing nothing but a cock ring and a blindfold, his arms tethered to a hook in the ceiling above Kisuke’s head.
“What’s the safe word?” Kensei asks, his voice low and echoing in the otherwise silence. Sexy as it vibrates in Kisuke’s ears and tingles across his skin.
Kisuke tests his wrists against his bonds, not because he wants to escape, but because he wants to know how firmly he is trapped. “Honey to slow down. Jam to stop,” he recites, their earlier discussions ringing loudly in the back of his mind. The words are silly, but unlikely to be mistaken in the midst of play.
“Good,” Kensei purrs, and Kisuke feels hands ghost down his sides, just a bare touch, but it’s enough to make his skin prickle.
He drags his lower lip into his mouth, gnawing on it. This is going to hurt so good. He’ll be hard and begging for it by the end, like always. Anticipation curls in Kisuke’s belly, making his cock rise and strain within the confines of the ring. His breath quickens, his heartrate increases, and he waits, anxious, for Kensei’s next touch.
A hand drags down his back, tracing the length of his spine before teasing at the crest of his buttocks. The touch is faint, but present, and Kisuke arches toward it, wanting more. Of course, to mock his want, the hand withdraws and Kensei moves around him, silent as a member of the second division. But Kisuke actually used to be one of those so-called ninja, and he can feel the subtle shift in air, the sense of a presence moving.
Warm air ghosts over Kisuke’s nipples, which immediately harden under the gentle assault. He can practically feel Kensei’s smirk as fingers flick over the pebbled nubs, touching nothing else, making a low moan build in the back of Kisuke’s throat. He licks his lips, wrists rattling in the chains.
“Are you going to tease me?” he asks, surprised himself by how ragged his voice is. They’ve only just begun. But then, anticipation is doing all the work for Kensei.
His lover chuckles, quiet and sultry. “Just enough for you to beg.”
His lover’s voice fills the anticipatory silence with a low and steady thrum, pouring into Kisuke’s ears like auditory sex.
Kisuke licks his lips nervously, eyelashes fluttering against the bandanna that sits over his eyes, concealing his sight. It’s tight enough that he can’t hope to try and rub the covering off his face, but then, Kisuke doesn’t want to. Already, a slow and lazy heat is curling in his body, already his heart beats a faster pace.
Fingers cup Kisuke’s face gently and Kisuke turns his head, pressing a kiss to his lover’s palm.
“You know that I do,” Kisuke says, his voice strangely quiet. Unsure. But still conveying what he means to convey.
Fingers, still calloused by years of swordwork despite the lack of recent violence, stroke down the side of Kisuke’s face. “You’re beautiful like this, you know,” Kensei says. “I promise, you’ll enjoy this.”
A shudder ripples down Kisuke’s spine at the resolve in Kensei’s tone. “I enjoy everything you do,” he says.
“Sap,” Kensei teases, but it’s affectionate.
He drags the pad of his thumb across Kisuke’s cheek one last time before dropping his hand and Kisuke hears the sound of Kensei stepping back. Leaving him untouched and seemingly alone, wearing nothing but a cock ring and a blindfold, his arms tethered to a hook in the ceiling above Kisuke’s head.
“What’s the safe word?” Kensei asks, his voice low and echoing in the otherwise silence. Sexy as it vibrates in Kisuke’s ears and tingles across his skin.
Kisuke tests his wrists against his bonds, not because he wants to escape, but because he wants to know how firmly he is trapped. “Honey to slow down. Jam to stop,” he recites, their earlier discussions ringing loudly in the back of his mind. The words are silly, but unlikely to be mistaken in the midst of play.
“Good,” Kensei purrs, and Kisuke feels hands ghost down his sides, just a bare touch, but it’s enough to make his skin prickle.
He drags his lower lip into his mouth, gnawing on it. This is going to hurt so good. He’ll be hard and begging for it by the end, like always. Anticipation curls in Kisuke’s belly, making his cock rise and strain within the confines of the ring. His breath quickens, his heartrate increases, and he waits, anxious, for Kensei’s next touch.
A hand drags down his back, tracing the length of his spine before teasing at the crest of his buttocks. The touch is faint, but present, and Kisuke arches toward it, wanting more. Of course, to mock his want, the hand withdraws and Kensei moves around him, silent as a member of the second division. But Kisuke actually used to be one of those so-called ninja, and he can feel the subtle shift in air, the sense of a presence moving.
Warm air ghosts over Kisuke’s nipples, which immediately harden under the gentle assault. He can practically feel Kensei’s smirk as fingers flick over the pebbled nubs, touching nothing else, making a low moan build in the back of Kisuke’s throat. He licks his lips, wrists rattling in the chains.
“Are you going to tease me?” he asks, surprised himself by how ragged his voice is. They’ve only just begun. But then, anticipation is doing all the work for Kensei.
His lover chuckles, quiet and sultry. “Just enough for you to beg.”
Pairing : IchigoxShirosaki
Warning: intent to slash, vague references to canon, foul language
He's having that dream again. He must be sleeping. Or maybe, he's awake and trapped within his own mind. These days, Ichigo can't be sure of anything.
He knows this place: the sideways buildings, the blue sky, the bright sun. He's standing on a window and it doesn't crackle beneath his weight. It holds firm. Strong. Unyielding.
Like Ichigo ought to be but isn't because he's so indecisive. Tapdancing on a dangerous edge.
“Ya get maudlin when yer lonely, don't ya?”
Ichigo whips around, already knowing who's behind him. “Is mocking me your only entertainment?”
His Hollow – dubbed Shirosaki – laughs as he casually examines black-tipped fingernails. “Nah. Sometimes I plot yer untimely demise. Or I try to bait the old man inta sparring.”
He pauses, looking at Ichigo with a wicked gleam of gold eyes. “And sometimes, I fantasize about havin' ya beneath me, squirmin' and moanin' an' beggin' for more.”
Ichigo flushes to the roots of his hair. “You're disgusting,” he says, whirling around, hands fisted at his sides. He can't, however, do anything about the surge of heat Shirosaki's words have borne within him.
Shirosaki cackles and suddenly appears in front of Ichigo, arms crossed. “Oh, I am?” he drawls and leans closer, reaching up and tapping his forehead. “And yet, I'm ya. All the secret things ya won't admit ya want. Interestin' how that works, isn't it?”
Ichigo stares at him. “I've never thought about having sex with you.”
“Why not? I'm a fine piece of ass. I know that tattooed freak wouldn't mind lettin' me bend him over.” He smirks, snapping his fingers. “In fact, give 'em a call. The three of us can have some fun.”
Images pop up in Ichigo's mind before he can form a denial. Images that make him stutter. Images of Renji, those dark tattoos, that blood-red hair, those large hands.
He swallows thickly.
Shirosaki cackles. “Thinkin' about it now, aren't ya?”
“Shut up!” Ichigo says, cutting his eyes at the Hollow. “You don't know anything!”
“Don't I?” Shirosaki challenges, and something flashes in his eyes, something full of heat and hunger.
Ichigo takes an unconscious step backward, half-expecting an attack. It comes, to no surprise, but not with slashing swords or vicious intent. Instead, Shirosaki tackles him to the ground, dropping Ichigo backward, where he slams into the cool glass of the window, ridiculously solid beneath him.
a/n: I've got a few more lingering fics to share. Feedback isn't necessary. I just hope they entertained.He knows this place: the sideways buildings, the blue sky, the bright sun. He's standing on a window and it doesn't crackle beneath his weight. It holds firm. Strong. Unyielding.
Like Ichigo ought to be but isn't because he's so indecisive. Tapdancing on a dangerous edge.
“Ya get maudlin when yer lonely, don't ya?”
Ichigo whips around, already knowing who's behind him. “Is mocking me your only entertainment?”
His Hollow – dubbed Shirosaki – laughs as he casually examines black-tipped fingernails. “Nah. Sometimes I plot yer untimely demise. Or I try to bait the old man inta sparring.”
He pauses, looking at Ichigo with a wicked gleam of gold eyes. “And sometimes, I fantasize about havin' ya beneath me, squirmin' and moanin' an' beggin' for more.”
Ichigo flushes to the roots of his hair. “You're disgusting,” he says, whirling around, hands fisted at his sides. He can't, however, do anything about the surge of heat Shirosaki's words have borne within him.
Shirosaki cackles and suddenly appears in front of Ichigo, arms crossed. “Oh, I am?” he drawls and leans closer, reaching up and tapping his forehead. “And yet, I'm ya. All the secret things ya won't admit ya want. Interestin' how that works, isn't it?”
Ichigo stares at him. “I've never thought about having sex with you.”
“Why not? I'm a fine piece of ass. I know that tattooed freak wouldn't mind lettin' me bend him over.” He smirks, snapping his fingers. “In fact, give 'em a call. The three of us can have some fun.”
Images pop up in Ichigo's mind before he can form a denial. Images that make him stutter. Images of Renji, those dark tattoos, that blood-red hair, those large hands.
He swallows thickly.
Shirosaki cackles. “Thinkin' about it now, aren't ya?”
“Shut up!” Ichigo says, cutting his eyes at the Hollow. “You don't know anything!”
“Don't I?” Shirosaki challenges, and something flashes in his eyes, something full of heat and hunger.
Ichigo takes an unconscious step backward, half-expecting an attack. It comes, to no surprise, but not with slashing swords or vicious intent. Instead, Shirosaki tackles him to the ground, dropping Ichigo backward, where he slams into the cool glass of the window, ridiculously solid beneath him.
