Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Casual Friends ❯ Imaginations Gone Wild ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any Bleach affiliates.

 

(A/N: Hello peoples, just saying hi again, also thanking people for actually reminding me that I needed to continue this fic. See, I have a bad habit of starting stories, getting really into writing them, thinking of another idea for a story, and stopping story #1 in order to write story #2. It's the most annoying thing in the world but it's the way my brain likes to work… sigh. Well, that, and I had about 5 people email me and ask me when a new chapter was coming out, so… HERE YOU GO!!! I hope everyone enjoy it. I sure as hell enjoyed writing it… it's fun to try and get inside of their heads—it's a challenge.

Anyway, please remember to REVIEW and ENJOY!!!)

 

 

 

 

Casual Friends

 

3.

 

Rukia

 

Computers were fun to destroy… I mean play with.

 

Ichigo had tried to show me how to use a computer back when I first came into the living world. He showed me the monitor, the keyboard, and then told me about the mouse you were supposed to grab with your hands and fiddle with to get where you wanted to go.

 

I remember kicking him upside the head and screaming that I would rather die—again—than have him force me to touch and fiddle with an actual mouse!

 

He must have been trying to say something while I was physically abusing him, but I actually didn't care all that much. To think he wanted me to play with a mouse, what had the poor creature ever done to me? Why should I be the one to poke and prod it just so it would—what had he said it would do?—give me information?

 

However, it was only after I had given him two black eyes, fourteen bruises, and three consecutive nosebleeds did he grab me by the arm (he actually twisted it behind my back so I would stop beating on him) drag me downstairs, and show me what he was actually talking about.

 

Hence my focus turned to the computer and away from Ichigo… who commenced screaming at me to apologize for all of his injuries.

 

Which I never did, of course.

 

But I had been in awe. Complete awe really. It was the type of awe I felt when I had first seen Nii-sama's bankai, or when my Zanpakuto had finally decided to step out of “boring level” and go into “interesting level”—as I liked to call them anyway, I was still pretty far away from “I'm-so-powerful-I-can-kill-you-in-one-swing-level”… but I'm working on it.

 

Anyway, I had been in such awe that I had immediately dove at the thing and started clicking buttons everywhere. Ichigo yelled at me to stop but I wasn't even listening to him. Who has the time to listen to what Ichigo has to say anymore? So I simply commenced clicking more and more buttons until the brightly lit screen went black and little electric shocks started to come out of the keyboard.

 

So what if I caused the hard drive to crash? It was all for the sake of curiosity anyway… and curiosity was what killed the cat, as my captain once told me. Not any cat that I knew, but still, maybe it was the captain's cat… if he ever had a cat… that was actually a very strange saying.

 

Moving on:

 

I mean sure, I knew how to use an official Soul Society issued Spirit Wave Super-Delux Telephone, that one was no problem, but a computer! Seriously, he should have known how excited I was and restrained me accordingly.

 

That's why it's so great that he doesn't know how to use kido spells yet.

 

Ah but it was fun to make Ichigo suffer for my mistakes. If I leave a towel on the bathroom floor—the family blames Ichigo. If I forget to do my laundry—the family blames Ichigo. If I break the computer so completely that no one could ever repair it properly—Ichigo takes the rap… again.

 

Yes, like was good living in the Kurosaki household. The saintly Rukia Kuchiki never made a mistake in her life—everything that went wrong must have been the devilish Ichigo's fault.

 

Oh, if only they knew of my particularly devilish thoughts right now and Ichigo's saintly intentions. Saintly, yeah right… Ichigo hadn't been particularly saintly the night he licked his way up from my toes to my mouth—including absolutely everything in between.

 

So, with the computer idea gone bust (it had been hilarious to watch Isshin chew Ichigo out over the technological device. There had been punches, kicks, and a couple of times when the fetal position had been necessary) I had needed a different way to figure out this thing that was now going on between Ichigo and me.

 

So I ended up going to the library.

 

Nii-sama had a library at his house—not that I had been there much to see lots of it—but it was filled with crumbling pieces of dead lamb skin, I believe its called vellum—ick, who would use dead skin to write on? That's just disgusting—and molding pieces of leather. So basically he wouldn't let me touch anything in his library for fear that it would crumble underneath my fingers—I mean, come on, I'm not that much of a klutz—and I would destroy thousands of years of public record and Kuchiki history.

 

Yeah, well, it's not like the family is that interesting anyway… until I came along, that is.

 

Hehehee… yeah, anyway… I ended up going to the library. The minute I walked into that large establishment I felt at peace… sort of. Karakura Town actually has lots and lots of public libraries; the one nearest to Ichigo's house was of moderate size. Not that I had lots to compare it to, but Nii-sama's library was easily fourteen times larger than this one.

 

Oh would you look at that, one more reason why I should be proud of my brother. Maybe I should start making another list: “Reasons Why I Hate My Brother” along with “Reasons Why I Am Proud of My Brother.” I couldn't really have a column that said “Why I Love My Brother” because… honestly… I didn't really like him all that much.

 

I mean sure, he was strong and stubborn and proper and stuff… which actually kind of made him more of an asshole than I previously would have mentioned… but he did protect me against lots of evil people. I mean, he did take a stab from Shinso for me… and he did get that crazy Bounto bitch off of me… ugh, thinking of that lady still gives me the shivers… to think that she almost pulled my shihakusho away with her sword. Now that's some lesbian S&M that I don't want to even THINK about.

 

Well, I don't know… S&M might not be too bad… at least with the right person anyway.

 

I grinned when I thought of it… me, dressed in a skimpy, black leather outfit. Maybe a bodice that pushed my near-nonexistent breasts up enough so I could look busty without the addition of tissues. I'd wear fishnets of course; I liked the idea of the sexy garment, it was stitched together so widely that it would be easy for someone's hand to come and touch me through them.

 

Oh… oh… oh… and a whip. Yes, I'd have a whip… oh my spine tingles at the very thought. A whip to keep some bad, bad, bad little boy in line. I could just see myself, holding a cat-o-nine-tails in my fist, swinging it around my wrist and making it wrap around my exposed skin. His amber eyes would be watching me, of course, as I continued to flick the leather torture device very close to his exposed body.

 

Well, depending on whom you talked to it could be used as a pleasure device…

 

Maybe I'd even ask Orihime or Matsumoto to teach me how to put on makeup. Maybe then I'd be able to splash my lips with a ruby shade of red and put black lining around my eyes—making them smirk like old Egyptian paintings. I'd even paint my nails a glossy shade of deep purple… that way, when they ran down Ichigo's firm chest, marking them with a line of red skin, he would be able to see the dim lights reflecting off of each one.

 

Of course, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it, the pain or the pleasure I mean… seeing as how I would have already chained him to his bedposts. Oh sure, he could break through the fuzzy handcuffs if he wanted to, but he wouldn't want to… no… he'd want me to stand over him, call him a naughty boy, slap him across the face until his cheeks stung, stroke his cock until he begged me to let him inside.

 

I would still tease him though, hehehee, I would keep teasing him until I leaned down his body and took him into my mouth.

 

My lipstick would smear onto his cock as he jerked underneath me. Is it unfair that I would be the one on top—not to mention still dressed—while he was stripped naked and beneath me? Or was it common for couples to—

 

Wait… were we even a couple?

 

I snorted and made a face. Because it was “nothing,” right Ichigo?

 

Oh well, I'm enjoying myself right now… not thinking about Ichigo's inane mouth… only his ever-so-ready cock…

 

Hmm, but I would suck him so well. I mean, I've never done it before—maybe I could practice on something… a banana? Would that work? Never mind… I wonder if he would go off in my mouth? Would I let him? Or would I want him to do it like last time, completely inside of me, liquid heat rushing into every intimate part of my body as I moaned and panted?

 

Oh… fuck, I'm doing it again.

 

Casually, I look down at my shirt and see my erect nipples poking through the top of my dress. I swallow and cross my arms against my chest.

 

What? I hated wearing those “bra” things that they wore these days, besides I wasn't like Orihime, who needed to wear those over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders.

 

I pouted for a moment and looked down at my own chest.

 

I didn't have any boulders.

 

Not my fault! Not my fault! NOT MY FAULT!

 

Oh great… now my inner child was out…

 

…My sexually charged inner child, that is.

 

Wow… that sounds disgusting… really, really, really disgusting. I sighed and rolled my eyes, even my brain knows I sound like a pedophile…

 

Wait… what had I been talking about? My brother? Whoa… going from my brother to S&M sex all in the same train of thought.

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

I blink twice and think I might convulse.

 

“He must never know.” I tell myself, shuddering slightly as I kept my arms crossed atop my still-aroused breasts.

 

I jogged up the steps to the library and went in. I had been here before, Ichigo had taken me to once so he could show me their rather large collection of naughty manga (he was tired of me stealing money from him to buy them). He had even gotten me my own library card. I patted my pocket—still keeping one of my arms securely fasted around my tell-tale breasts—and felt the hard plastic resting against my thigh.

 

It was nice, being inside a library where no one was keeping constant watch over you to make sure you didn't destroy thousands of years of knowledge in one fell swoop. Nope, here I was able to run up and down the stacks of books and run my hands over every single one.

 

Well, at least until the librarians stop me and send me to the children's corner. I try to tell them I want to go to the adult section but they just pat my head and shove me against story-book plushies.

 

I mean come on people, I'm not that short!

 

Ah well, not my fault my parents—whoever they were—passed down only the short genes to me. Sometimes I even get jealous of Renji, Chad, Nii-sama, and Ichigo—stupid boys with their stupid tall-genes.

 

Stupid tall people… everybody liked the tall people…

 

The leggy, sultry, smiling… tall people. Ruefully, I looked down at my feet and wondered why I couldn't have been born just a bit taller. I mean, if I had been taller maybe my breasts would be a more appropriate proportion, maybe my combat skills would be better, and maybe… maybe Ichigo wouldn't have such a hard time with his back when he was kissing me.

 

Well, if he actually was kissing me, which he wasn't… because I don't want him to… at all.

 

Humming lightly—whilst I was trying to stop the mental images of me on stilts from filtering into my brain—I kept walking down past multiple bookshelves.

 

There was the fiction section first. I sighed heavily. Yeah, if those people wanted to see real “fiction” they just had to wait until they died, then they'd see all the monsters, wicked witches, and evil sorcerers the wanted.

 

After the fiction I saw the non-fiction and rolled my eyes. Seriously, who wants to read about the real life “hardships” of the heiress to a multi-billion dollar empire? I mean come on, get a life.

 

There was self-help, cooking, children's literature, music, books on tape, blah, blah, blah, pre-natal—oh, God… so that's what a fetus looks like, keep moving keep moving—ah! Here I am…

 

I smiled and planted myself in the section I needed to examine today.

 

The Sex Stacks.

 

Ichigo

 

So far today I have killed twenty seven hollows, performed eighty two konso's, polished Zangetsu, helped Yuzu in the kitchen, played a soccer game with Karin, beat my father to a bloody pulp, cleaned my room, finished all of my homework, and hung out with Keigo…

 

And that was just this morning.

 

“Christ,” I moaned, pounding my head against the soft pillow on my bed, “Why, why, why!”

 

I needed a hobby; desperately I needed a hobby, something for me to do while she wasn't talking to me. Maybe I could learn another language, I could take up a musical instrument, or Ishida could teach me how to sew or—

 

Nope, I'm stopping there. Just the thought of asking Ishida to teach me to sew was enough to make me want to throw up… again.

 

I had been doing that a lot lately. Throwing up that is, I wasn't exactly sure why, I just knew that whenever I thought of Rukia—and what I had done to her… and how she must hate me by now for—for saying what I said to her… damn, my stomach just starts to churn and whatever meager food I had wolfed down previously comes back up.

 

Yeah, I desperately needed a hobby.

 

A hobby that didn't involve me grabbing my own cock and pumping myself while thinking of Rukia. Oh and Christ did I do a lot of that now.

 

I mean sure, we had barely seen each other for a week and were not on any actual speaking terms but oh did I see her everyday in my sick, perverted brain.

 

I mean honestly, I know teenage boys are horny and all but I didn't think that they jacked on in the shower practically every night.

 

Okay, definitely not practically, I would have to say absolutely.

 

Fuck.

 

And let me tell you, it's no fun getting myself off in the fucking shower while only imagining Rukia doing those things to me. If she had been in the shower with me I'd have a whole different story to tell, but since she wasn't it was just me.

 

Just me.

 

Damn it all to hell! It had already been one week. It was one, whole, fucking week of dead silence. It was quieter than a funeral home. It was more hushed than a complaining child at a wedding. It was stonier than her brother's face when he watched his sister get almost-executed. It was… it was… well, it was the opposite of a really, really loud… something.

 

It was just quiet.

 

I mean, I am used not used to quiet, not at all anymore. I mean, sure, before my Soul Reaping days I liked sitting in random parks and just sit around and listen to all of the birds, the bees, and the occasional snippets of conversation from trolling passers-by. I would always see couples of all ages walking hand in hand along the trails—sure they might have thought I was creepy because I was just looking at them as they went by but I didn't really care. I would just sit and enjoy the quiet. It was nice…

 

And then Rukia came and my life went from the occasional alternative rock band blasting through my headphones to shrieking Hollows, shouting curses, screams of pain, and forever shouting “Bankai! Bankai! Bankai god damn it!”

 

So yeah, my life hadn't been quiet for the longest time. There was always someone to yell at or someone to punch or someone to mess around with just for the hell of it, and usually that person was Rukia.

 

But not that I messed around with her… not very much at least.

 

It was only sex.

 

It. Was. Only. Sex.

 

I mean, it's not like the both of us spend our days thinking about how we royally screwed each other… Okay, so maybe I do, but that doesn't mean she does. I'll bet that her days are still filled with fuzzy bunny rabbits, juvenile drawings, and rummaging around my sisters' closet for new clothes she could wear. Selfish bitch. She probably had no idea the type of pain I was in.

 

Because seriously, having an erection almost all day hurts. Sure it feels good at first but after a while—when you realize you can't just go jacking off right in your pants—it starts to fucking hurt. Especially if I'm sitting at my desk in school. My leg starts to jiggle when her face shows in my brain and then the rest of my body starts reacting. Oh Jesus, but not just her face but her entire body. Her naked body to be exact.

 

But lately, my dreams have been getting a bit more… extreme. But I really don't mind that my X-Rated fantasies are now so far gone that they most likely carried a -ZZZ rating for impropriety and general kinkiness. That's how I liked them… loved them in fact.

 

Especially the one where Rukia is pinned to the wall, her arms supported by a coil length of wire hung precariously from the ceiling. She can't move her hands and her legs don't even touch the ground. She is suspended, naked, and completely vulnerable.

 

Hehehee… but that is where I come in. I pick her up by her tight ass and wrap her legs around my neck so her exposed pussy is directly in front of my face—she loves it when I eat her like the sexually starved man that I am, I remember how she whined when I licked her inner walls and made her come simply by sucking on her clit.

 

But I don't feast on her center just yet… oh no, first I tease her legs, run my nails along the softness of her skin—because it was so soft, it was softer than anything I had ever felt in my entire life—and I make her toes curl and make her dig her heels into my shoulder blades. I blow on her clit and make her start to pant without even touching her most intimate parts. I cause the flesh on her legs to rise into the largest wave of goose-bumps she ever experienced in her life.

 

And then, when she was least expecting it, I attack like the hungry predator I was always meant to be. I am so vicious and unrelenting that my inner-Hollow comes out and bows down to me. Because I am the king of this world and of Rukia Kuchiki.

 

I am so hot and so extreme that she isn't able to do anything else but moan as I eat her alive. I can see it now… her pupils dilating and her mouth opening into silent, continuous, screams.

 

And when she is about to come I increase my ferocity threefold. She comes so hard that she doesn't even know what the hell hit her…

 

But I don't stop there. Oh hell no… I don't stop until she comes again and again and again and again! Until she is so tired that she can't even lift her body up by her arms anymore. Until my stomach was so filled with her delicious essence that I won't need to eat actual food for an entire month.

 

Then, and only then… is when I'll actually stop, and only then will I take her down from the wall, toss her onto the bed, and ravish her until every inch of my body was satisfied.

 

Oh yes… that's what I'll do… and I'll do it over and over and over again until there is absolutely no energy whatsoever left in my body and—

 

…………

 

Oh shit. I've got to go to the bathroom now. I need to… finish, ah… something.

 

Ten minutes later…

 

See, I told you it was hard… this whole getting-an-erection-because-of-Rukia-and-having-to-fucking-finish-by-myself . I hate my life right now…hate it so much… I want to squeeze it like a zit and pop it until it's all freaking gone away!

 

Fuck.

 

Well, maybe not the sex part… I wouldn't want to die and then not have sex ever again… with Rukia.

 

Can you even have sex in the afterlife? I mean, I know how people get to Soul Society and all that jazz, but does anyone ever really have kids there? You know, the whole “sperm + egg = baby” thing? Did they actually do that? They must have, considering how those noble families continued to spawn all that royal blood.

 

But how often did it happen? Do people just kind of have quickies in those confounded mazes they call streets? And if we're talking about that… how do they have actual quickies with those stupid robes on? They have to untie all of the sashes and the folds and then put it back on… it just seems like too much work.

 

And, in all seriousness… what actually turns them on? I highly doubt lingerie is a biggie in the Soul Society. What with all the propriety of the nobles, all the rules and regulations, and all the uniforms that covered every single inch of their bodies… I just don't see it.

 

I mean, what, do guys showcase their, er… Zanpakuto's to the ladies when they flirt with them? Or is it something more along the lines of, “Hey baby, you've seen my sword… now how about seeing my other sword. It'll run right through you.”

 

Was that actually supposed to turn the female population on? And really, with the exception of Matsumoto—who looked like a fucking hooker—all of the women in the Soul Society look like nuns… without the habits… and without the chastity… but I'm just speculating.

 

But life would be so much easier if Rukia were a nun. If she were a freaking nun I wouldn't keep picturing her naked and I definitely wouldn't keep thinking about fucking her on every single surface of my room, my house, my school… and possibly the sidewalk.

 

The sidewalk? Jesus Christ I'm perverted.

 

She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun. She's a nun…

 

I groaned and felt like banging my head against my desk.

 

Oh yeah, I needed a hobby.

 

A hobby other than thinking of Rukia as a freakishly beautiful and pious nun… kneeling at an alter while I crept up behind her and lifted her black clothing… feeling the naked skin of her ass and the wet slickness of her center as I rubbed my hands all along the inside of her legs, she'd whimper and I'd—

 

Oh fuck…

 

Yeah, I gotta go to the bathroom and, uh, take care of something…