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Hirako Shinji Quickies
By : debbiechan
Category: Bleach > Het - Male/Female
Views: 3433 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. - Chapter List
- 1
Hirako Shinji Quickies
by debbiechan
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach; Kubo Tite created Bleach. (Quaedam spends more time with Hirako Shinji than Kubo Tite, though).
Warnings: Sex stuff, kinky innuendo, Hirako Shinji.
These drabbles were written for the LJ Community http://community.livejournal.com/bleach_quickies/
Challenge issued for the week of: July 30th - August 5th
Character: Hirako Shinji
Prompts: laundry, return, demon, beer, blue- Laundry
- Return
- Demon
- Beer
- Blue
Hirako changed outfits according to the breeze.
"It’s not fair," argued Lisa, "that Mr. Dapper owns five times as many clothes as the rest of us combined, and yet we have to take laundry duty in rotation."
"Hutch has the biggest clothes," Kensei mumbled, "but he hardly ever changes them. Let Shinji do the wash all the time."
And so the Visored subcommittee on domestic chores (Hutch) decreed that Hirako Shinji, and only Hirako Shinji, would do all the loading, sorting, and stacking.
Fine with Hirako. "Your laundry," he told them all, "is not dirty enough for me."
Oh but it was.
Hiyori’s fragrant panties, Mashiro sweaty underthings, and the mere erotic fact of Lisa’s skirt pleats delighted Hirako for a few weeks, but eventually the thrill diminished. What Hirako continued to enjoy was television time. Stupid chores like cooking or cleaning would not have allowed him the luxury of watching the Classic Porno Channel.
He would fold each and every one of his boxers veeeeery slowly. Flesh Gordon was mild compared to Lisa’s manga, but Hirako’s imagination knew no artistic bounds.
After fantasizing about his fellow Visored (All of them! Wearing nothing but spray-on silver lacquer and orgying in a bundle that flashed like a disco ball!), Hirako would return to the image of Orihime-chan, all sweetness and light.
The pretty thing. One would assume that she would be a delicate flower between the sheets, but Hirako had seen the oomph in her eyes when she demanded to know "What do you want with Kurosaki-kun?" Ho ho ho, a little too over-protective, if you asked Hirako. And all flush-cheeked too….
He had wanted to ask her: What do YOU want with Ichigo, my dear?
Orihime-chan would be the type to top a guy. Definitely. To chew your hair while bouncing on your lap. To poke your eyes out with big aroused nipples and to squeak sweet nothings in your ear. Stupid Ichigo. He didn’t deserve any of that. What’s worse, he didn’t act like he wanted any of that.
Hirako spray-painted Ichigo in his imagination and threw the nude, lanky and aluminum-colored bastard on the floor.
No, Ichigo deserved to have the paint spanked right off his sullen, stupid-boy ass.
Whenever Hiyori tore into a room, Hirako thought bat out of hell, demon rising from the pit, and other similar phrases. Why did she always have to make such dramatic entrances and why was she giving him that look like she’d caught him doing something wrong?
"Shinji!" She snorted. "What the HELL are you watching that for?"
Hirako pressed the steam iron over his corduroy trousers. "It’s e-ro-ti-ca, Dummy, and everybody watches it."
"You’re supposed to be doing laundry duty and you’re SLACKING. You’ve been in here all day long."
"I’m hardly slacking." Hirako stood the iron up and gingerly folded his trousers. "I happen to be a multi-tasker, and I can--"
"Yeah, yeah, Shinji can do everything." Hiyori dropped on the floor next to a pile of folded clothes. "Anything you can do I do better. Including slacking off."
"I’m still officially at my post. Can you find ways to engage your artistic imagination while continuing to be a productive member of the household maintenance team?"
"I can get out of cleaning duty. I told everyone I was going to catch a slacker."
"I’d call that sneaking, not being creatively engaged."
Hiyori leaned an elbow against the clothes pile. "I can do that too. Being creatively whatever."
"Do you think you can do that?" Hirako pointed his chin at the television screen.
"Yuck." Hiyori could not believe what that woman was doing with her throat.
"I mean, do you think you would be capable of performing such a feat with … say, me?"
Hiyori blinked. He’d never asked before. She felt her stomach drop to her shoes.
"Just curious," said Hirako, folding another pair of slacks into a tidy square. "You’ve got the biggest mouth of anybody I know, so I was just wondering…"
Hirako was batting his eyelashes; the sonofabitch was actually batting his lashes at her.
"Fine," she said. "But if you pull anything stupid, I’m going to chew you up and spit you out! And this is just because I’m bored and being creative, Shinji, not because you asked me or anything!"
It took a beer bottle to get Hiyori to cooperate. Not that she had to actually drink the beer in order to engage in sexual activity with the Visored of her affections, but she had to be convinced that she could stick the whole length of a tall import into her throat without gagging.
"It’s easy," Hirako said. "Relax and don’t stick your tongue out. Just let the bottle sit on your tongue and--"
"How come you know so much about this stuff?" Hiyori asked.
"Because I’m naturally in touch with my body’s reactions," Hirako said. "Being a master of controlling my Hollow mask and all."
"It’s not that you go around swallowing beer bottles for fun."
"Of course not."
Sex with Hiyori among the toppled laundry piles seemed to happen out of the blue, but in another sense, both felt that this particular communion had been a long time coming.
Hirako had always wanted more than just a kick in the head from the bad-tempered little Visored. He had known her longer than anyone else, and it just seemed like an appropriate extension of intimacy to get a blow job from your oldest friend.
Hiyori was crazy-mad-bonkers-insane infatuated with Hirako. Why else would she kick him in the head so much?
The way he wiggled his hips under her hands and made little breathy noises satisfied Hiyori to no end. I got you now, Mr. All That.
His fingers in her thatchy hair felt like sweet rain on sore muscles after a long work-out.
- 1
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