Character Pairings: Hiruma/Mamori
Genre: Romance/Drama/Humor
Rating: T - MA+
Warnings: Profanity; Bad Humor
Disclaimers: I don't own anything Eyeshield 21
Recommendation(s):
Page Width: Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.
Light/Dark: This chapter is best read on the light background setting.
Author's Note: Sugar Bulletsis a collection of prompts I responded to during the Hiruma/Mamori Kink Meme in the Hirumamo Livejournal community. While I will be adding what I've already written, I plan on responding to those that I neglected, as well as the "personal kink meme" based on Hiruma/Mamori. Guess, what that means? You guys get to give me your own prompts for me to respond to.
I want to use this as an opportunity to help inspire my writing again, and I'd like you guys to participate! All you have to do is review or PM me with a vague prompt that you'd like to see me take my personal spin on. The kink is a specific thought/situation/dialogue/etc. you want written in, regardless of how the prompt is taken.
For Bar_Ohki:
The Prompt: Pillows and one of Hiruma's electrical devices.
The Kink: Use of pillows.
The Rating: Any; just no rape.
She paused, glancing up. Behind her, she could hear the commotion caused by a rowdy pillow fight through the wall, and a small smile bloomed across her lips.
"Die, Senaaa!"
"HIIIE!"
"YA-A! The night before the decisive match against America – a huge pillow fight tournament!"
"Ano . . . is it really alright to do this . . . ?"
"Yes. I think this is suitable. A moderate warm-up and then going to bed early before the match is optimal."
"HIEEE! A scary Trident Pillow!"
She pressed a hand to her lips, stifling a giggle as she heard the boys play around in the adjacent room, shouting out taunts mixed with battle cries and triumphant bellows.
Shaking her head, still smiling, she tuned out the uproar and settled deeper into her own thick, fluffy pillows. Well, not hers – Hiruma-kun's.
She looked back down at the laptop, open and balanced in her crossed-legged lap, absently surfing the Internet as she waited for its owner to return.
. . . She pursed her lips a little, feeling a familiar prickling of irritation as she recalled him coolly ordering her to stay in his room and guard his things while he went out. He had looked good, dressed in a crisp, black business suit and slacks, the dark shade bringing out the fair tone of his skin and the electric-blond of his hair. But his appearance had nothing to soothe her mild indignation caused be his ever lack of manners. Not using "please" at the end of his "request" had been one thing, but it hadn't helped matters when he'd just turned and walked out, deftly ignoring her question as to where he was going.
"Hmph," she grumbled. Really, was it that difficult to be polite once in a while? Sure, she would have done whatever he wanted . . . but it would have been nice to hear him actually ask rather than demand.
She glanced up when she heard a soft clicking, and saw the bronze doorknob twist before the door itself was pushed open, revealing the Devil himself.
She smiled in greeting, but she was promptly disregarded as the spiky-haired quarterback kicked the door closed behind him and sauntered across the room toward the room's dresser, long, tapered fingers loosening his tie while the other hand pulled his shirt from his pants and belt.
While quietly watching him, she was suddenly struck by the image of a husband coming home from a long day at the office, his wife waiting for him with a warm smile and open arms, ready to hear all about it.
She choked, utterly astounded and bewildered, her eyes widening.
"Oi."
Her face burning lightly from a blush, she hesitantly looked up. Her blush flared hotter. He was standing at the foot of the bed, eyeing her inspectively as he lazily dragged his tie from his neck, appearing handsomely unkempt with his unbuttoned sleeve cuffs, untucked dress shirt, and open suit jacket.
Clearing her throat, she quietly powered off the laptop and closed it with a soft click.
"I guess . . . I'll head out now," she murmured, placing the transportable computer on the nightstand and scooched herself off the high-sitting bed. She was consciously aware that she was in just her simple, duck-printed pajamas while he stood not even feet away, ready to strip down completely. "G'night, Hiruma-kun."
"Tch. Whatever."
She stilled and her lips thinned. She glanced over her shoulder, a small glare creeping up into her eyes, watching as he took a seat on the bed, facing his back to her as he bent down to untie the laces to his shoes, no doubt.
"Aren't you going to say 'thank you' at least?" she inquired softly, her crystal-blue eyes narrowing and her chin lifting slightly in defiance.
When he just ignored her, tossing off one shoe and then going for the other, she felt a hot ball of anger form in the pit of her belly. Ooo, how rude! The brute, never showing any gratitude for anything that she did! Why, she'd box those grotesquely strange ears of his if she hadn't been so sure that he'd put said action in his extortion book! Maybe she could just push him right off the edge of the bed instead? Yeah, that'd be good – make him fall right on that butt that sorely deserved a well-aimed kick!
Or . . .
Fairly vibrating with her repressed frustration, she silently stalked back up to the bed, snatched up one of the thick pillows in both hands, reared it back . . . and then threw all her weight into her swing, the pillow smacking the ungrateful man upside the head with a satisfyingly solid impact.
A startled curse bounced off the walls followed closely by a heavy thud when the broad-shouldered captain tumbled off the bed and onto the floor.
Smiling pleasantly, suddenly feeling much better, she turned on her heel and walked back to the door, calling out again cheerily, "Good night, Hiruma-kun!" She then closed the door securely behind her, her smile turning haughty and triumphant.
She would have to remember to thank the boys in the morning. After all, who knew hitting someone with a pillow would feel so good?