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Anime/Manga Fan Fiction >> Bleach

The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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No Shoes,
No service

By Hakkyou Kaosu

 


Authoress: The Bleach binge continues! :D

Zen: this ones a little….

Authoress: …yeah?

Zen: racy. ^-^ I approve.

Authoress: you would. >.>U

SUMMARY: Double-Drabble His gigai is constricting, he's not allowed to carry his sword, and modern clothes are just plain uncomfortable. So what--now he can't even let his feet be free? Ikkaku -X- Reader

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bleach or its characters.

No Shoes, No Service

“Whaddya mean I can't come in?!” Ikkaku instinctively reached for the wooden sword at his belt, fully in confrontation-mode.

You slid your arm under his, preventing him from being able to draw the wooden sword. He relaxed a bit from his aggressive stance, but his muscles remained tensed.

“I-I'm sorry, sir,” the host said, stumbling over his own words. “But we have a strict policy here. It's r-right there, sir, on the sign.” He pointed meekly at the discreet notice that warned: “No shirt, No shoes, No service.”

“Forgive us,” you said, smiling sweetly at the host. “We'll be going, now.” You gently nudged Ikkaku, signaling that you wanted to go.

Ikkaku turned, tugging you along. “Why the hell do I need shoes?” he grumbled under his breath. “They're too damn tight. Just like this damn gigai.”

You smiled, knowing how he hated to feel confined. You suddenly smirked, letting Ikkaku help you into the little car you had taught him to drive. Once he was in the driver's seat, you slipped your hand high onto his thigh and gave a firm squeeze, relishing the little hitch in his breath.

You whispered naughtily against his ear, “I'll still service you.”

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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