![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bleach - bloodsport - chapter 1 (grimmjow/ichigo)
i said i would not post it on tumblr or ao3. this isn't either of those. doesn't count. right??? >_>
anyway scifi/psychic grimmjow/ichigo enemy sex in space. or something. nsfw.
--
"Heeeey. I'd recognize that hair anywhere. Ain't you the fucker who keeps cockblocking my shots?"
The last place Ichigo wanted to hear about his hair was in an alien forest on an alien planet in the middle of a quote-unquote "polite" standoff with an Arrancar hunter squad, and the last fucking person he wanted to hear it from was some asshole with hair as vividly blue as his own was orange.
He said nothing, though. Fourteen months under Captain Quilge Opie had broken him of opening his mouth unless addressed by a superior, and the Arrancar wasn't that.
Ichigo wasn't even part of the group that was speaking with them. Low man on the totem pole; he stood back, half turned away, watching the woods behind them for a pincer attack. The blue-haired man meanwhile stood right next to their green-haired leader and some creepily long-limbed, leering guy, face to face with Opie's second in command Accutrone and ignoring him entirely in favor of chatting up some random soldat.
"Talking to you, Naranjo."
Ichigo rolled his eyes discreetly, kept watching the woods to the right, Ishida a few feet away at his back.
"Please tell your man to refrain from bothering our recruits," Opie said frostily to the green-haired woman in charge, who watched with her hands on her hips and not an ounce of stiff-backed decorum.
"Mmh-hm. Grimmjow, flirt with the Quincies on your own time, will you?"
Ichigo didn't need to reach out very hard with his empathy to feel the spasm of disgust in borderline every single member of their squad, or the second reaction when the black-haired guy on her other side leered, letting a tongue roll out that looked about ten inches too long to have fit in his mouth.
"Oh, Nelliel, Nelliel, I don't waste flirting on Quincies, I just fuck 'em messy, slit their throats and leave 'em in the gutter where they belong. I was just wondering if I needed to take care of Orange over there on the way out, he's basically the only one that's actually an obstacle. Oi, cheeto puff."
... Fourteen months under Captain Opie had almost broken Ichigo of opening his mouth.
"Go ahead and take care of me if it makes you feel better," he threw casually over his shoulder, making a show of not looking at the guy at all. "You nailed Le Varr in the back and somehow missed every single important organ he had, I'm not worried."
Now every single member of the squad felt annoyed at Ichigo though, and it wasn't because he'd backtalked.
He was gemisch: half-blooded, begotten on a pure echt noblewoman who could trace her lineage on both sides through fifteen generations. With abnormally deep reserves of power -- hybrid vigor, they called it with doubtful moues -- but no fine control worth the name, and shitty training to boot. The people in this squad weren't merely echt, they were elite soldiers.
Guarantee the Arrancar had said that to cause trouble in their group, though. Either via making them annoyed at Ichigo for being considered superior or via changing their formation to either use or protect him better, which in the middle of an operation was not the time for it. Sigh. But he was used to his squad being annoyed at him, and he had no illusions about how likely Opie was to change jack shit to accommodate him. Opie didn't even like to admit he breathed their air.
"Mouthy little fucker, huh," the blue-haired Arrancar drawled, but then his leader said something quiet and firm and he dropped it.
He dropped it until later that evening, when everyone was done setting up camp.
--
"What do they feel like?"
Ichigo sneaked his cousin a glance. "The Arrancar? Kind of buzzy. Adrenaline, probably. It's pretty hard to read them right."
Ishida's brow scrunched up. Coming to a rest almost elbow to elbow, he scanned the woods with Ichigo but there was nothing much to see. Some weird seaweed-looking trees, nothing worrisome. Ichigo's empathy only worked on humans and human-adjacent, so for all they knew a pack of tooth worms lurked behind the big leaves.
He could tell that Bazz and Candice really wanted to get into a fight again, and that Candice especially might well kill a couple Arrancar just from the frustration of being ordered not to. He could tell Opie was profoundly offended that the green-haired woman even existed, never mind how she seemed coolly unimpressed by his posturing. Apart from that...
(Weird as hell that they were making camp together, but Ichigo sort of understood the logic. They were both after the same target, a war criminal with unknown but likely massive means neither side could afford to leave free; cooperation was the best way to make sure he was caught. Therefore their nations had set a truce that had to be respected -- officially. Unofficially, neither side wanted the other side to disappear behind the treeline and take potshots all night.)
"So you don't know if they're going to attack us in the night."
Ichigo sighed. "No idea. I know they're ready if we do though."
"Damn straight we are," purred someone he had not felt coming at all.
Whirling, Ichigo and his cousin both raised their hands on instinct, focus crosses glinting at their wrists.
The blue-haired, foul-mouthed bastard from earlier stood a few steps away. His hands were in the pockets of his fatigues like he didn't have a single worry about hobbling himself, like he didn't even think he might need to dodge.
A long, trim body, loose spine, loose shoulders, arms thick with muscles -- but still built for whipping speed. Something shudderingly odd in the articulation of his jaw, in the markings on his face, in his teeth.
To Ichigo's other sense he wasn't there until Ichigo met his heavy-lidded, amused eyes. Then it was like he fuzzed into view -- a cat letting the mice go just to watch them run.
Ichigo scowled. Teeth or not, fuck him. "What do you want?"
"You're a rude little shit, huh," the guy observed, a long, toothy smirk blooming on his face.
Ishida's upper lip twisted faintly; he drew himself up, hands falling at his sides to brush imaginary dirt off his uniform. "He is not," he lied -- really shamelessly, too, considering Ichigo's track record. "Apologies if you failed to understand. I will rephrase; what do you want, you abomination of nature."
The guy's smirk faded away. The way he looked at Ishida -- Ichigo didn't like that. It was like he looked through him. Or like he was thinking about putting something through him. Ichigo stepped forward and between them without a thought; Ishida clicked his tongue, annoyed.
"Kurosaki--"
"So your name's Kurosaki."
Ichigo blinked, a little thrown. "... Why the hell did you want to know?"
"Like I said, you're the only fucker that's even been a little bit of a hindrance. How the hell do you know I'm coming every time like that?" the Arrancar asked, head tilted to the side, tone almost friendly.
... Well, it wasn't with his empathy. Ugh. Ichigo scowled. He'd blocked the guy's attacks somehow until he didn't, and while Le Varr was gonna be glad to be out on disability once he healed of the bolt straight through his chest, Thoumeaux was dead.
Thoumeaux had been a little bastard. Worse, his telepathy had been strong enough to control people's perceptions entirely and he'd liked to practice on Ichigo. Ichigo still felt awful.
"Maybe you're not as good at stealth as you think."
"Maybe you don't wanna be riling me up right behind the trees, Quincy," the Arrancar breathed out, suddenly in his face, and then Ichigo realized he'd herded them -- only a few shuffling steps, thoughtlessly keeping the distance, and now there was a trunk blocking the view, there were shadows deep with evening light, swallowing them. The others would see them if they looked straight on but they may not think to look at all.
He flipped his cross up into his palm and lifted that palm up until his fingertips almost brushed the man's throat, the cross only an inch away from the tender underside of his jaw.
"I don't?" he asked, just as quietly.
He tried to feel farther around for similar buzzing eagerness -- maybe the man wasn't alone, maybe there were others surrounding them right now, and Ishida --
A wild, oddly happy grin flashed on the Arrancar's face, and he leaned into Ichigo's hand, grabbing at his wrist; Ichigo's fingertips touched his skin then, found it animal-hot.
Then Ichigo's awareness of his feelings bloomed into full surround sound. Bloodlust and pleasure and offense, pleasure at being offended -- his pulse kicking with anticipation against Ichigo's fingers -- a thirst for violence so burning-eager, so enthusiastic, so physical -- oh god.
'Fuck them and slit their throats,' huh. Yeah, Ichigo could... He. God.
"Take your filthy hands off him," Ishida snapped, sidestepping around Ichigo with his hand raised. And no, they couldn't afford to be the ones who broke the tentative truce. Ichigo grabbed Ishida's forearm with his free hand. The guy didn't even glance that way.
"I think I know you from somewhere else too," he purred, eyes roaming Ichigo's face. "You been to Las Noches recently?"
... Motherfuck.
"Say, six months ago."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Ishida, get back to camp," he ordered quietly. "Now."
Ishida puffed up like an offended hen. "Kurosaki you do not boss me around--"
Ichigo broke eye contact with those crazy blue eyes, even though it felt like a deathly mistake. Stared at his cousin, then gave the camp a quick flickering look. Cang Du was looking their way. If he came -- if he overheard. They'd both be fucked.
Ichigo could take the fall. It was fine. Just say stuff about his birthday, a dare, wanting to try the brothels. The freaky beast girls. Filthy behavior, but nothing better was expected of a gemisch. Impure blood must out.
"When I've got blackmail on you I boss you around. Go."
"... I'll be watching," Ishida said after a too-long moment weighing the odds and coming up with the same numbers as Ichigo had. He side-stepped around the Arrancar, glaring hotly. "If you injure him they will not find enough of your body to fill a thimble."
"Uh huh. Piss off, Glasses."
The guy didn't try to talk farther, to tell Ishida anything. He probably wanted to keep it in reserve -- if he bought the idea that Ichigo had blackmail on Ishida and he wanted to cause problems there was a good chance he'd go straight to the blackmail victim to offer his intel. Ichigo tried not to seem too relieved.
His fucking hair, though. Black-haired guys were a dime a dozen even in the heart of the Arrancar capital. Nobody would remember Ishida had been there.
The Arrancar was still in his face, holding his wrist; Ichigo didn't want to remove the threat of his cross but his arm was starting to ache from keeping the position, and it was gonna bruise.
The asshole smiled then, grimly amused. "It wasn't a sanctioned mission, huh. What happened to the bitch in the end? You sell her on the side? Our labs would probably have paid you a nice little ransom."
Ichigo's foot lashed out, hooked the guy's ankle and pulled. He twisted at the waist to slam him against the tree, his other hand fisted in his collar, and growled. "I'm really sorry I kidnapped your kidnap victim. Did you get in trouble."
He looked so pleased. Eyes bright with interest, teeth bared and oh god, yeah, they were weird, too pointy, too thick. Not human. "Nah, I was just on retrieval. Those morons in Security, though, they got it. You let her go, didja? She put out first?"
Ichigo didn't think -- he lashed out, a quick left uppercut.
His fist glanced off the guy's jaw and the world whirled -- the wide, twisted tree didn't have bark to dig into his spine but thin branches bowed like plastic until he was pinned to the trunk. In the clearing someone had lit a fire; it traced the very edge of the man's jaw in gold, but the rest was in shadows.
They were pressed together from ribs to pelvis.
It wasn't a surprise to him that the Arrancar was hard. It was dizzying anyway. Pleased rage and hateful want whipping up a frenzy under his skin -- he gasped quietly, affected despite himself. The guy loved that Ichigo had made it so hard to do his job, and he wanted to ruin Ichigo for it. For daring. For succeeding. For being so frustratingly competent and god, god, Ichigo needed to shield himself now, he needed to stop feeling all that.
"... You actually like it," the Arrancar said, slow with mocking wonder. Ichigo's head jerked up.
"Wha -- what?! No! I --"
He ground his hips against Ichigo's, slow and insistent, grinning wider and wilder by the second. "You thought I was kidding about slitting your throat once I was done fucking you sloppy?"
Ichigo's lip curled up; he twisted the hand with the cross, trying to get free -- got it slammed against the trunk too. Shit, his arm strength was ridiculous.
Telekinesis would have the whole squad there watching him get humped by an Arrancar in the next second. Flushing red, he hesitated --
"You wanna take your chances, huh." The man leaned in, exhaling slow and deliberate against Ichigo's jaw, the slice of his neck showing over his high collar. "Maybe I was kidding," he purred, mocking. "Maybe you'll be a good enough fuck I'll forget."
-- Yeah, no. Ichigo shoved a hand between them, grabbed the guy's crotch through thick cloth, and started twisting.
"--Hnghff--" A burst of startlement, shock -- almost good but not good, instinctive desire to jump back, shield himself (but he couldn't without yanking his balls out of Ichigo's grip and that would absolutely wrench something,) equally strong desire to bite Ichigo's throat out. Elbows planted on both sides of Ichigo's head, the Arrancar stared at him with wide, wild eyes at point blank range. Ichigo narrowed his eyes meanly.
"If you want to rub your dick on me, you ask first."
"... You little bitch," the man breathed out in sheer disbelief, and ground his teeth together when Ichigo gave another little twist, bowed his head until his forehead almost touched Ichigo's. Ichigo could feel his hot breath washing over his face. "Like you're not gagging for my beast dick. You Quincies are all the same," he growled, or purred maybe, something low and rolling right into Ichigo's ear. "Fuckin' cream yourselves thinking of an abomination ruining your prissy little uniforms. Your prissy little cunts."
He gave a heavy thrust there, right into Ichigo's grasp; he must have hurt himself, but he still let out a low grunt of pleasure-relief, something that shifted into a breathy sigh against Ichigo's skin.
"Haven't met a single one of you that didn't dream of being defiled," he sighed out, lips brushing Ichigo's neck.
"You've met one," Ichigo replied, feeling weird. There was so much hate in him.
Closing his eyes, he loosened his hold into something merely firm, not cruel; then found the man's shaft, gave it a slow pump, and a second. Startled confusion -- pleasure, unexpected. The Arrancar's breath hitched.
Ichigo thought -- it might be hot to play at it. Play at being pinned down, ravished. The guy honestly thought Ichigo despised him just for being born with the genes he had, though. That... That soured it.
He thought about just... Just jerking him off, just because -- then going his own way. Go back to patrol (oh hell he was supposed to keep watch,) just do that for him and then be done; the guy didn't want an exchange, a mutual hookup.
He'd called Inoue a bitch. Ichigo's hand tightened a little.
The Arrancar dived under his chin, bit Ichigo's throat through the stiff collar of his jacket, growling -- Ichigo shuddered, feeling the points of those teeth even through armored cloth. He pressed closer to Ichigo, rolling his hips into his hand.
"Like fuck you are," he snarled. "Saintly little priss. Gonna sit you on my dick, make you sing--"
"Shut up," Ichigo snarled right back, and pumped faster. He felt thick in his hand. Fever-hot. "Told you to ask first."
Strong hands ran down his sides, squeezing at his flanks, his waist. His hips. Shoved up between jacket and shirt, trying to free skin. Ichigo gasped. That felt -- better than it had any right to.
"The day I beg a Quincy for jack shit is the day I die."
"Did I say beg," Ichigo snapped, irritated, and then had to swallow a yelp of surprise as the Arrancar swayed back, grabbed his hips, shoved him up the tree, and crashed right back into him. He pinned Ichigo up with his feet off the ground and his knees somehow parted to allow even more closeness.
Ichigo's hand had shifted; he'd lost his grip and at this angle it hurt to try to find it again. He wriggled, trying to gain some space to move; the Arrancar's hands palmed at his ass, rough possessive kneading, pressed against the taut cloth between his ass cheeks.
"Fucking--" Ichigo hissed, giving up on the guy's dick for now; cupped his head with both hands and fisted his fingers into wild blue locks. He yanked the guy's head backwards -- Ichigo's collar was damp, one of the buttons gone from the gnawing, fuck, Opie was going to -- never mind that.
He looked so feral. Eyes glimmering too much for so little firelight, teeth bared in an ugly rictus -- offense and rage all through his heart. How dare Ichigo --
Ichigo kissed him -- tilted his head into it with both hands and dove into his mouth, ankles locking over the swell of his ass.
The guy gasped into his mouth, body briefly tensing, heart flickering confusion, then groaned, kissed back -- for a moment it wasn't about contempt and revenge; it was just hot startled want. Ichigo shivered. A tongue met his; he sucked it into his mouth, groaning, eager. (It felt just this little bit rougher, less smooth than he had expected.) His hips rocked hard against the man's hard length.
Thirty seconds ago he'd been glad to be pinned with his pants still on, still closed. They were military issue and the belt was new. His crotch and ass were absolutely safe from direct contact. He kind of hated himself for that right now.
With a growl, the guy broke away, went right back to his neck, rocking insistently into him. Ichigo's back was gonna be bruised to hell and back. He wrapped his arms around his shoulders and rocked back.
A few seconds -- minutes -- of nothing but quiet panting in each other's ear, cloth rubbing together. The Arrancar's desire, evident both in his body and in what Ichigo could feel of him, not burning with hate -- just, kind of, sprinkled there. Flashes of resentment and then bursts of hot, liquid satisfaction, the coiling-spring feeling of rising pleasure. Ichigo didn't even know whose it had been originally.
He wasn't expecting to come first -- but a thrust got him just right, and the cloth of his pants went tight between his legs, against his taint, and hot panting against his throat -- he convulsed in the man's hold, fingertips digging bruises in his wide back, breath choked in his throat so that he wouldn't shout. Ichigo went limp in his hold, breathing hard; the man stumbled a little, fell forward into him, growled.
"Lemme down."
"Fuck you, you're not running now--"
"Lemme down," Ichigo repeated, with a swat at his shoulder, and tugged on blue hair. "Let me down, and ask me."
The guy loosened his hold by pure surprise; Ichigo slipped down the tree trunk, feet thudding down, caught his hips and pushed them back immediately, before he could get pinned again.
Then he went down to his haunches, balanced on the balls of his feet, hands firm on narrow hips. And then he glared up, knowing he was flushed, his mouth swollen with biting kisses and arousal, glared up with absolute certainty. "You don't have to beg. But if you think I won't bite--"
Wide, disbelieving eyes -- and then they scrunched closed and he curled above Ichigo, forearm and forehead pressed to the trunk over him. "Fuckin' -- blow me."
It was lacking a 'please.' But it had been strangled with need, not imperious, not cold. Good enough. Ichigo's hand rose to curl around the shaft the guy had just fished out through his fly, batting the Arrancar's own hand away; then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to the head, let it push wetly past his lips. He tightened his grip after that, rocked backwards with the man's instinctive thrust. A square hand cupped the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, tried to push him forward, and he growled a warning.
Then he sucked again, a long gliding pull; dived down again, fingers tightening against the base of his shaft.
God he was big. Ichigo had a disorienting moment of wondering what he was doing there, sucking enemy dick, how it had happened. Of feeling -- odd, easy, dazed.
Then the man made a quiet little strangled noise, a gasping moan. Still feeling so completely baffled at Ichigo, but no longer caring. Ichigo's shoulders loosened; he went a little deeper this time, took in a little more -- allowed the hand on his head to guide him more, so long as it didn't shove too hard. He could still feel the sense-memory of those hands on his side, on his ass, kneading and grabbing possessively.
"Ah -- fuck--"
Ichigo gagged as the last thrust went too deep, too hard, reared back with a hiss and the whole length of his dick slipped out, hot and slick on his lips --
-- eyes staring down, still leaning hard on that elbow, watching him with such intense --
-- warm wetness across his cheek, his chin.
A first splash. The Arrancar's eyes fluttered almost all the way closed; he caught hold of his dick, gave it a long pull. Again on Ichigo's cheek, at the corner of his lips.
The last time was deliberate, resting the head of his cock against Ichigo's lower lip, coming that last hot and bitter drop right across, into his mouth.
They stared at each other for a long, breathless moment, coming down. Ichigo didn't know what he looked like; it occurred to him to wonder, not straight away but eventually, and then he flushed hot, eyes flitting away. His hand rose to his own face, hesitated.
"You -- came on my face." Oh. That was... That was kind of.
Defiled. Sloppy. Was this what...? Was he --
Ichigo looked for mean smugness. He could only feel buzzing satisfaction slowly overtaken by an odd ambivalence, and then the Arrancar stepped back all at once. He broke all physical contact and then Ichigo could feel nothing at all, just like earlier when he'd snuck up on them, so sudden he reeled a little. Eyes wide, he opened his mouth to -- the Arrancar was turning on his heels, tucking himself back in briskly. Then he took two long steps and was gone, melting between the trees.
Ichigo kept crouching there for another long moment before he climbed back up to his feet and mechanically started cleaning himself up with tissues. He neatened his uniform, got his collar mostly back into place, batted moss off his back. Vaguely, far away, he hoped he hadn't missed anything incriminating. Then he got back to patrolling.
--
In the morning the whole Arrancar squad was gone, disappeared sometime during Barro's patrol, and Barro wasn't the kind to doze off on the job. Opie drove them twice as hard all day to catch up, because there was no way they weren't all after the same target here.
Of course Doctor Sousuke Aizen was a war criminal of epic proportions for the Arrancar nation.
That was exactly why the Wandenreich was going to take him, or make sure nobody else could.
--
"I still can't believe you made me watch you get busy with -- with that."
Ichigo groaned. Ishida's voice was low and they were at the back of the squad, but it was blindingly obvious something was going on between them. It had been obvious from the frosty silent treatment that had left Ichigo baffled for a whole day, and now that Ishida had shared the problem it was even worse from all the blushing Ichigo had been doing.
Had he seriously assumed Ishida wasn't going to come back and check on things when Ichigo didn't reappear straight away? He had been a moron.
"I didn't make you watch, oh my god."
"You sure made me have to play lookout for your -- your tryst, what the hell, Kurosaki, that wasn't even a baseline human like your dad."
Ichigo discreetly elbowed him in the ribs. The kevlar was thick but he had pointy bones; Ishida grunted, glared pointedly back -- then Bazz looked back, scanning the squad, and they both put their serious faces back on.
Ichigo got a lot of leeway for his behavior with Ishida because of their distant family connection -- and yeah, Bazz didn't care if they ragged on each other, but Opie and Accutrone and Candice sure did. Uryuu Ishida was an emperor candidate; Ichigo Kurosaki was... nothing. His personal meat shield. If Ishida got chosen Ichigo might look forward to a spot on his bodyguard team -- the secret one, not the one in pretty uniforms that got to parade along with the limo.
Which, good, because those uniforms made them all look like douches. Ichigo liked being able to breathe without exploding his clothes, too.
"You didn't even see anything," he mumbled back a few minutes later, eyes roving watchfully over the landscape. Which was more of a hopeful denial than a certainty.
"Kurosaki, what I saw is now seared into my brain until the day I die, I will not make it worse by recounting the details to your face. What were you thinking?!"
Had he been thinking, was the better question. Ichigo ducked his head. How to even explain this -- this tornado of raging feelings to Ishida? Telepathy was the weakest of his cousin's gifts and it didn't include the emotional spectrum much at all. How would Ichigo explain what it was like to know someone like that, what drove them, what they craved --
Also that asshole had been really hot. Um.
"How can you -- I can't even -- how do you want on you a mouth that has probably eaten people."
Ichigo huffed out a breath. "Come on, that's propaganda--"
"We had a briefing about it being necessary to deny them access to corpses. We're supposed to obliterate their bodies in the field rather than just kill and move on. Why did you think that was?"
"... Psychological warfare?"
Ishida gave him a long, disbelieving look. "It's because they eat the corpses to heal themselves. Because biokinesis is a gift every single one of them has, and this is the most efficient way to use it."
... The guy's mouth had been on his neck. Teeth, too. Ichigo tried to figure out if he was retroactively freaked out about it. Maybe a little.
He'd already known there was a small chance the Arrancar would take the chance to kill him, if Ichigo failed to make himself respected. What happened to his corpse after that didn't... He wasn't sure if that was something he wanted to get worked up about. He'd be dead either way.
He knew that was not an entirely normal way to feel in the circumstances. Maybe he didn't fully grasp it, inside his heart, and that was why he was confused instead of shuddering with disgust.
While Ichigo found new things to get ambivalent about regarding blowing enemy soldiers with shitty attitudes twenty paces away from his own squad, Ishida had fallen silent; his mouth pinched white, eyebrows angling less toward anger and more toward anguish. Ichigo only noticed when he cleared his throat, weirdly hesitant.
"... You didn't -- because of her, right? To cover for--"
... Oh, no. No. Now he thought Ichigo had taken the fall for Inoue's rescue for both of them. Ichigo bumped his shoulder into his cousin's, rolled his eyes pointedly. "Would it make you feel better if I said I ceded to sexy blackmail."
"Yes," Ishida lied, groaning, all of his uncertain guilt and sympathetic fear dissipating.
Which. Ichigo was a little glad. Smothering a burst of affection, he elbowed Ishida in the ribs again, just a nudge. It was good to know that Ishida thought it was preferable that he deliberately chose to get busy with a freak of nature bastardized with monstrous alien genes than to have it forced on him. It spoke of personal distaste at Ichigo's shit tastes but a respect that it was still his choice to make, of care for his well-being and happiness more than for the honor of their race as a whole.
Anyway. Ishida was kind of cool sometimes, behind the stiff propriety. "Okay, okay, I owe you one," Ichigo muttered with fake reluctance.
"You owe me therapy," Ishida replied waspishly.
Then Bambietta whistled a warning and they were all on the job again, and Ichigo could feel free to ignore the strange encounter once again.
(Seriously, the guy was hot, but he had issues on his issues.)
--
(Try as he may the strange look on the man's face as he gazed down at Ichigo's come-streaked face wouldn't leave his mind. He kept turning the memory over and over again, trying to decode it.)
no subject
However! That said, it's a smoking hot chapter with lots of delicious, chewy worldbuilding sprinkled through its veins, so I am not remotely sorry at your failure of willpower. :DDD
no subject
X'D there is so much more in the next chapterrrrr it may have to be two chapteeeers noooo. why this. why me.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Hmm. I like that Ichigo shocks everyone by having independent standards, but also really meaning them. It seems like he's way less central in this universe than canon. We already know that being left entirely alone is a death sentence for Ichigo, but I'm curious how he's going to do with two teams who both can't really accept him will go.
no subject
Ahh, starting off with Grimmjow's priorities. Who gives a shit about authority figures or protocol when there's the only competent opponent he's found *right there*? I approve.
I also really liked the contrast between the arrancar and the Quincies and how easily it sets up that there are two very different cultures interacting here, (because I mean... its not like I'm interested in culture clashes at all...) And also Nel being the competent-but-casual leader who has Seen Everything by now and in completely nonplussed.
"Oh, Nelliel, Nelliel, I don't waste flirting on Quincies, I just fuck 'em messy, slit their throats and leave 'em in the gutter where they belong." Well, that's a suitably explicitly brutal metal image, yes. I was honestly a liiiiiiiittle bit concerned what direction Grimmjow was going to go in this fic after that, but I should've known better than to worry. And after reading the whole chapter and then coming back up to this again, (not that I've read this chapter at least 10 times or anything,) I can really appreciate this line for something that is just as much rooted in Grimmjow's Many Issues as it is a threat. And Grimmjow trying to weaponize the things that get to him the most, (and other people's perception of him, whether accurate or not,) against other people is just so in character, (and done well so rarely in fic,) that I ended up being really happy it was there. It sure as hell set a tone.
And then Ichigo being a smart-ass with a smart mouth, ahhhh one of my favourite flavours of Ichigo. There's really no place for writing much that in my fic, so I *really* enjoy seeing it in fics like this one.
And I also love how just kind of casually vicious Grimmjow is without even doing anything. He's absolutely radiating the *big cat lounging until suddenly claws; teeth* vibe in how you describe him standing and moving and I just love it any time a write captures his Big Cat Energy so perfectly.
Can I say that I am super intrigued about how Grimmjow seems to exist in a kind of deadzone in Ichigo's empathy until he's literally right there and *looking in his eyes*. Fuck. I am super curious about whether that's a generic arrancar thing or a *Grimmjow* thing specifically, especially since it seems like he can kinda feel Nel and Nnoitra enough to at least know where they are in a general sense.
"Thoumeaux had been a little bastard. Worse, his telepathy had been strong enough to control people's perceptions entirely and he'd liked to practice on Ichigo. Ichigo still felt awful." I am honestly in awe of how you manage to write something so incredibly, powerfully disturbing so subtly. Because that is three sentences, and that is all it took to make my skin crawl thinking about it.
Then they're touching and Ichigo's getting his emotions full blast and he doesn't *hate it* akldjgkskgljh
And *of course* Grimmjow is into Ichigo's competence and his skill just as much as he hates being one-upped by him. Yes, so much this.
And then they're shoving each other up against trees. This is so rough and physical and intimate and perfect and Ichigo just grabbing his dick and refusing to play the game Grimmjow clearly thought he was playing. Thank YOU.
" "You've met one," Ichigo replied, feeling weird. There was so much hate in him." I love this line so much for everything it means, (and everything is hopefully means going forward).
And just that Ichigo isn't *against* the idea of letting Grimmjow *ravish* him, he's against the context and Grimmjow's motivations for wanting to. That Ichigo's issues aren't with Grimmjow or his species, but his *intent*.
I just love this so much. That Grimmjow focused on Ichigo expecting to get an asshole with a superiority complex who was disgusted with his existence, who if he was into him were into what he was, objectifying him as some kind of *exotic* creature, and not giving a shit about who he was, (which I can't see any universe in which that *doesn't* drive Grimmjow crazy).
I just love Ichigo being the counterpoint to all the shit Grimmjow has in head about Quincies. Ichigo being nothing at all like what Grimmjow was expecting, of Ichigo genuinely *wanting* and Grimmjow not knowing what the hell to do with that. Without having to fight against all the bullshit designed to make him *less*. When there *isn't* hate on the other side of the equation.
That Grimmjow's clearly used to having to make himself the person who's doing the using so that he's not the person being used by a Quincy with a fetish for the *exotic and beastly* that has more to do with his species than him as a person.
That he clearly isn't used to someone like Ichigo doing something like telling him to *ask first* and not having it be a power play for Ichigo to bring Grimmjow down, to make him beg, but one to make them *equal*.
Especially how the more they get into it, the more Ichigo gets into it and sets his own terms, the more of Grimmjow's hate just kind of bleeds off.
Also, that was very hot. A+
I shall also take this moment to appreciate how Ichigo has clearly been a good influence on Ishida because I find it immensely enjoyable watching Ishida lip people off. Even if Grimmjow definitely isn't someone he shoukd be lipping off.
Also Ishida being more openly protective of and worried about Ichigo. I just really enjoy how close they clearly are in this fic, (as a nice contrast to Ishida being much more tsundere about caring about him in canon,) especially since most of the other Quincies are really awful people to have to be around. It was just really nice to see them have such a close friendship.
And good job on zoning out on the arrancar lecture Ichigo. Good to see you're playing things as they come like always.
Also that he's not nearly as bothered by the whole potential cannibalism thing as he should be because he's way busier trying to figure out what was up with Grimmjow instead.
ngl, world building + Grimmjow's issues are two of my favourite things, so *of course* I am here for all of this.