Polluting your mind since the dawn of time

Bleach - Nnoitra/Il Forte "Unwanted Attention"

2009-11-13T22:57:08Z

Title: Unwanted Attention
Author: ryokoful
Pairings: Nnoitra/Il Forte, implied Szayel Aporro/Il Forte, Nnoitra/Tesla, and Nnoitra/Szayel Aporro
Rating/Warnings: R // Oral
Notes: Sequel to this.

Il Forte could hardly breathe around the cock in his mouth. He tried to pull back a little, just to catch his breath, but Nnoitra’s hand stopped him.

“Too much for ya, eh? Well suck it th’ fuck up,” he snarled, shoving his dick back into Il Forte’s mouth. Il Forte nearly gagged, but managed to calm himself at the last second. Motions slow and sure, he grabbed the remaining few inches of the Quinta’s cock and began stroking it in time with his tongue.

Nnoitra groaned and tightened his fingers in Il Forte’s hair, pumping in and out of his mouth. He was not gentle, nor had Il Forte expected him to be. Still, it was all he could do to find the time to breathe as Nnoitra increased the pace, slamming into Il Forte’s mouth and down his throat so fast Il Forte could feel his flesh being rubbed raw. His hands dropped to Nnoitra’s thighs and he pushed back in alarm. Il Forte had sustained countless battle wounds. He wasn’t afraid of pain. But this? This was different. Il Forte didn’t know how he would be able speak afterwards.

As he anticipated, Nnoitra didn’t allow him to maneuver even the slightest bit away, his bony hand fisting in Il Forte‘s hair and dragging him back. Second after agonizing second ticked by, Il Forte’s vision beginning to blur as Nnoitra took full advantage of him. Just as he felt sure he was going to pass out, Nnoitra came with a loud grunt, emptying himself into Il Forte’s throat. He would have spit if he could, but Nnoitra thrust into his mouth a few more times, forcing everything down. The Quinta only pulled out when he began to soften.

“Fuckin’ weakass. Dunno what the hell tha’ shithead sees in ya,” Nnoitra hissed, lifting Il Forte up by his mask. Il Forte was aware of the danger he was in, but he had no time to respond. He was too busy sucking in as much air as he could. It was only when Nnoitra let him drop, boneless, to the floor that the blackness began to recede. His relief was short lived, however, as a booted foot crashed down on his sternum. Il Forte wheezed out a breath, his eyes widening as his body rocked under the impact. As Nnoitra let out a stream of curses, grinding his heel into Il Forte’s chest, he could hear his bones creaking and feel warmth spreading through his body as it resisted the inevitable.

Il Forte wrapped his hands around Nnoitra’s leg and glared. This only made Nnoitra angrier. He pressed down until Il Forte felt something snap. Il Forte spasmed, pain lancing through his chest even as a smooth, silky voice distracted Nnoitra.

“My, but what are you doing?” Il Forte shuddered, partly from the pain, but mostly because of the sudden appearance of his brother. He didn’t need to see Szayel’s expression to know he wasn’t pleased.

Il Forte was in trouble, and he knew it. It didn’t matter he hadn’t wanted this, just like it wouldn’t matter he had been completely outclassed--hell, Szayel’s reiatsu was nowhere near Nnoitra’s level, much less his own.

“What’s it look like, eh?” Nnoitra stepped closer to Szayel and Il Forte was left blissfully ignored. For the moment. He sat up, knowing it wouldn’t last.

“I do not sully your things.” His brother’s words may have been pleasant, but Il Forte heard the underlying threat. He stood, clutching his chest and wheezing. This…could get ugly fast and he didn’t want to be around when it did. Il Forte began shuffling to the door, hoping beyond anything that the two would continue ignoring him. He was almost gone when a wave of reiatsu sent him to his knees. He grunted, holding onto the doorframe as Szayel spoke again, his glare all for Il Forte this time. “I did not say you could leave, dearest brother.” The last was hissed as if it was the vilest of insults. Although, Il Forte supposed, to someone like Szayel it probably was.

“Ya don’, eh?” Il Forte looked back just in time to see Nnoitra grab a fistful of Szayel’s shirt. “Then what the fuck was tha’ shit with Tesla?”

His brother remained calm as ever, smirking even as he was lifted up by his shirt. “Payment for services to be rendered, of course. I do not recall you voicing any objection to it at the time. Or am I quite mistaken, hmm?” Il Forte felt his brother’s reiatsu slip away the slightest bit as Nnoitra punched him in the face. True to form, Szayel played it off as if it was nothing. And maybe to him it was, but Il Forte knew the power the Quinta held, his throbbing chest a painful reminder.

Il Forte’s eyes widened as Szayel slowly licked his split lip and smiled. That was…he didn’t want to see anymore. He turned away, and just in time as he heard a shuffling noise and familiar moan coupled with a muffled grunt from the Quinta. Fists clenched by his sides, Il Forte fought to stand.

Szayel’s reiatsu forced him down and he lay on the floor used and forgotten, but not broken. Never broken.

D.Gray-man - Akuma/Allen "The More, the Merrier"

2009-09-22T04:45:55Z

Title: The More, the Merrier
Author: ryokoful
Pairings: Akuma/Allen
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 // tentacle sex
Notes: For dgm_fuh_q. Shameless tentacle sex covered by a thin veneer of soul saving.

It all happened so suddenly, but then, battle was always like that. One minute Allen was standing and fighting, with his opponent, a level 3, about to be saved. He attacked, and found his hand buried in cool stone instead of his intended target. Things were a blur after that. Allen stood, searching for his opponent. His left eye was slow in locating him. When it finally did, it was too late. Monstrous appendages appeared out of the smoke and were on him in an instant, encasing his body in writhing chains.

Allen sucked in a breath, gathering his resolve, and screamed out as he attempted to free himself. He cut through the tentacles holding him with ease, but more came to replace those that had been severed. Those that had been cut grew anew, resuming their previous positions before those covering his left arm tightened. Allen gasped in painful loss as his Innocence deactivated, his eyes wide.

The surrounding smoke from their battle was beginning to settle, but not enough to reveal the form of the demon he had been fighting. Its disembodied voice seemed to come from everywhere, even though Allen’s left eye told him exactly where the demon was.

“That is Medar’s ability, Exorcist,” it said, chuckle reverberating around the area. The dust had finally settled enough Allen could see a vague outline of the demon. “You can’t escape. I’ll kill you.”

Allen called out for his Innocence to activate, but nothing happened.

In the space of a moment, the demon was in front of him, purple, glowing skin matching the tentacles that held Allen captive. It chuckled, eyes opening all over his head. “Without that troublesome Innocence, you’re no match for me.” Its singsong voice echoed around the empty street. “Kill you, kill you, I’ll kill you!” Even though Allen could see the soul and hear his pained pleas, he could do nothing to save him.

Allen closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as the demon continued its chant. He tried to activate his Innocence once again, but Crown Clown simply would not appear. Allen hissed out a curse, and the demon abruptly stopped speaking. “But first,” it crooned, tentacles sliding under the collar of Allen’s shirt. “First, I’ll break you.”

The tentacles were warm and slimy, something he hadn’t noticed while his skin remained mostly untouched. Now that they were moving down his neck, his chest, tearing his clothing from him, it was all he could think about.

“Not if…not if I save you first,” Allen managed to choke out, his throat constricted by the demon’s limbs. The tentacles paused just above the waistband of his pants.

“Don’t make me laugh, Exorcist!” the demon said, but Allen only had ears for his weeping, pleading soul.

Help me, he said. Even though I’ve become like this. Love me.

“I will.” Allen’s smile was warm and meant for the soul alone--not the traitorous weapon that confined it. The demon, of course, misunderstood. Malice shone bright in its mismatched eyes and it shredded Allen’s pants and undergarments. Despite everything, Allen’s expression remained serene, the tightness at the corners of his eyes the only indication of the deep-rooted sorrow he was feeling.

The demon ploughed on, meeting little resistance as it spread Allen’s legs. The quiet strength keeping each of Allen’s limbs pliant enraged it.

“Do you know how many I have killed?” it taunted, mechanical grin the hideous parody of genuine expression.

Allen did not bother to answer. He didn’t want to know, though he was aware the demon would tell him anyway. He shuddered, his skin sticky wherever the demon had touched him.

“One.” The first tentacle was somewhat of a surprise as the demon jammed it down his throat. Allen could not help the pained cry that escaped him.

“Two.” His expectation did not make the next intrusion any less sudden, another tentacle circling his leg to push past his sphincter and embed itself deep inside of him. Allen could not help his cry this time, either.

“Three.” A second tentacle joined the last, stretching and filling Allen in ways he had never imagined possible.

“Four.” There was no alarmed cry this time, only a half-smothered, guttural groan as a last tentacle snaked around his flaccid cock.

“Four Exorcists. What makes you think you’ll be different?” Even had he not been inhibited by having his mouth full, Allen wouldn’t have been able to form a coherent reply. The demon had begun moving, flesh sliding into lubricated flesh. The limb encircling his cock stroked him, slow and sure. Despite his best efforts--concentrating on the pained exclamations from the soul wasn’t working anymore--he began to rise into that warmth.

The demon chuckled, tentacles pumping into Allen’s body at a faster pace.

“You’re all the same.”

It was something Allen could easily have said to the demon. Instead, he clung to the last shreds of his frayed determination. Even as the hot, thick limbs filled him and stroked him, he could not ignore the soul hovering inches away.

Save me from myself.

I will. Allen’s reply was silent, but the soul heard him.

The demon did not make it easy for Allen to keep his mind on the tortured being and not himself, tugging, thrusting, and writhing limbs covering his body.

How?

Trust me. The more the demon abused his body, the more aroused he became. It was wrong, so wrong. However, he had a plan, and if it worked…

Another tentacle came out of the teeming mass to brush against the head of Allen’s cock and he moaned around the one in his mouth. At this, the two buried inside him redoubled their efforts, their motion rocking his body so hard against the wall he could feel the stone rubbing his skin away.

The limb teasing the tip of his cock buried itself inside and Allen came hard, in what was likely the most-powerful orgasm of his life. He cried out, eyes wide, as the tentacle retracted and the evidence of his pleasure shot out to stain purple flesh.

The demon cackled as Allen sagged in its grip.

“Now, time for number five,” it exclaimed, head thrown back and arms spread wide.

It had barely finished the sentence when Allen’s hand burst through its chest. The demon looked down, all its many eyes focused on the Innocence-powered limb embedded in its flesh.

“How…” it croaked out, shaking as it struggled to stand.

“I was told about you. Your powers don’t work when you are distracted.” Allen’s smile was pleasant and inviting even as he gasped for breath, the demon’s tentacles tightening around his throat as its eyes narrowed.

“I was…waiting, for a chance,” Allen choked out, ripping his hand upward and through the demon’s skull. “Pitiful demon, may your soul be saved.”

The demon shuddered and cried out one final time before exploding. As the soul broke free from the chains of burden holding it, Allen sighed, smiled once more.

Thank you.

“You’re welcome.”

Bleach - Nnoitra/Szayel Aporro/Tesla - "According to Plan"

2009-08-21T00:58:01Z

Title: According to Plan
Author: ryokoful
Pairings: Szayel Aporro/Tesla, implied Nnoitra/Tesla and Nnoitra/Szayel Aporro
Rating/Warnings: R // Oral, voyeurism, minor blood play
Notes: Speedfic. Written for a prompt at the newest kink meme.

Szayel wasn’t sure what turned him on more, the warm tongue circling his cock, or the pair of angry eyes observing him from across the room. Groaning and fisting a hand in Tesla’s hair, Szayel watched with half-lidded eyes for Nnoitra’s reaction. He was not disappointed. Szayel imagined he could hear the Quinta’s teeth grinding from the other side of the room as the other man’s fingers twitched in Santa Teresa’s direction.

Unlike Szayel, Nnoitra had never been very good at hiding his emotions.

“Mmm…I see now why you chose this one as your Fraccion,” he said, panting as Tesla took him deep into his throat. Nnoitra’s fingers clenched into a fist at his side and Szayel smirked. “Did he have to audition, or could it be you simply--” The Quinta was on him in a flash, Santa Teresa pressed dangerously close to Szayel’s throat.

“Don‘t fuck with me, Octava,” Nnoitra sneered, leaning in close and meeting Szayel’s unflinching gaze. “I ain’t got time to play your games.” Tesla continued pleasuring Szayel as if nothing had happened. This and Nnoitra’s close proximity made Szayel feel light-headed. He decided to press his luck.

“My, my, such harsh words. And here I was simply trying to pay you a compliment. He is such a well-trained plaything, after all,” Szayel said, running one gloved finger across Santa Teresa’s edge before taking the pink-tinged digit into his mouth and sucking the blood off. Tesla chose that moment to redouble his efforts and Szayel let out an involuntary groan, eyelids fluttering.

Eye narrowed, Nnoitra shoved his zanpakutou into the wall, bringing the edge so close to Szayel’s throat a line of red appeared. The pain merely heightened Szayel’s pleasure, but it wasn’t until Nnoitra gripped his hand and pulled him forward that he actually came, back bowing as he made his satisfaction known.

“Tesla. Get out,” Nnoitra commanded a moment later, voice cutting through Szayel’s afterglow. He frowned as the Fraccion mumbled something in the affirmative and hastily made his exit.

Unlike Szayel, Nnoitra had never been very good at hiding his intentions.

Santa Teresa was removed with one hand, Nnoitra using his other to twist Szayel around and pin him against the wall. Szayel’s chuckle was cut off midway as the other man’s hand tightened around his neck. A second later and Nnoitra’s mouth was right beside his ear. “This shit’d better work, or--”

“Or, what?” Szayel queried, cutting him off. He could read the other man well. It was why he had set this whole thing up when Nnoitra had come asking for a favor--not that the thought had been the Quinta’s own either. No, Szayel had been working on him for weeks beforehand, dropping little suggestions here and there. Nnoitra had eventually given in. Judging by the hardness digging into his back, Szayel knew he would get just what he wanted this time too.

For a moment things seemed to be going to plan, but then Nnoitra spun away and stalked off in the direction Tesla had gone. Szayel, ever patient, stood in the stillness of his laboratory planning his next move. He would achieve his goal soon, he could feel it.

Bleach - Aaroniero/Ukitake "Always and Forever"

2009-08-21T00:46:56Z

Title: Always and Forever
Author: ryokoful
Pairing: Aaroniero/Ukitake
Rating/Warnings: R // HJ, dark themes
Notes: Written for a prompt at the newest kink meme. One of my fave pairings now.

Aaroniero licked his lips as he trailed a gloved hand down the front of the other man’s uniform. “Just like old times, isn’t it?”

Ukitake offered no reply, his head turned to the side and eyes closed.

“Those nights before Miyako were great…” Aaroniero whispered, leaning in to kiss Ukitake’s neck, the perfect imitation of an act performed thousands of times before. The Shinigami’s flinch was not lost on him as he trailed more kisses downward, hands parting the top of Ukitake’s shihakushou. Rather than waste time maneuvering the fabric over the other man’s outstretched, bound arms, Aaroniero tore it loose and let it drop to the ground. Ukitake’s bare chest was everything his stolen memories suggested it would be, taut skin stretched over well-defined muscles. “…but not as good as those during.”

This too provoked no response, but by the hitch in Ukitake’s breath Aaroniero could tell he was getting somewhere. Holding back his laughter, Aaroniero leaned in once more, this time to Ukitake’s chest. The other man’s flesh tasted as good as it looked and he found himself wanting to eat it all up. But no, no. Later, Aaroniero reminded himself. Not finished playing.

“Do ya think she knew?” he asked, mouth leaving Ukitake’s nipple for a brief second.

“Yes.” The reply was so soft he almost missed it. Eyes closed as he grinned and laughed, Aaroniero pulled back.

“Hey now, I wasn’t talkin’ about the good times we all shared together,” he said, cupping Ukitake’s face with one hand. “Although, those were fun too.” It required no effort to turn the Shinigami’s head toward his own, Ukitake resisting only when Aaroniero’s intentions became clear.

Although the kiss was one-sided, Aaroniero enjoyed it. Things were always more fun with a resistant partner. Even better should the other person become aroused against his or her will. “I meant those times we met out in Rukongai. Don’t ya ever wonder if she knew about those?” Aaroniero licked his way down Ukitake’s chest, stopping near the bulge in the other man’s hakama. Yes, there it is, he mentally congratulated himself.

“I don’t know.” The words were softer this time, if that was even possible. Aaroniero palmed the other man’s quickly hardening cock through his hakama, Ukitake tensing at the sudden friction.

“Eh? Can’t hear ya. Maybe if you speak a little louder…” He could feel the tremors running through Ukitake‘s body, could feel him subtly pulling back.

“It doesn’t matter. You are not Kaien.” Aaroniero frowned. This would not do. Spoiling things so early!

“Pretty mean of ya, Ukitake. Especially when your body recognizes me so easily,” he said, squeezing the Shinigami’s erection for emphasis.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ukitake repeated, shifting to the side. “None of this matters.” The Shinigami’s eyes were open now. Aaroniero met them, basking in the other man’s anger.

“No? I think it does, especially to Miyako,” he said, grinning as he undid the tie on Ukitake’s hakama and helped the garment to the floor. The other man’s fundoshi soon followed. Aaroniero did not waste any time, making good use of his Aizen-given hand. His other, false hand was busy pulling Ukitake closer. “Whaddaya say? Want me to ask her? I’m sure she’ll tell you,” he whispered against the other man’s lips.

“That won’t be necessary.” Exhibiting an admirable amount of restraint, Ukitake remained still and allowed Aaroniero to fondle him. Characteristic grin in place, Aaroniero ruffled his own hair.

“If ya say so, Ukitake. But knowing her, I’m sure she’d love to speak to you.” Ukitake’s lips were just as deliciously resistant the second time. Aaroniero took things slow, savoring the taste as he brought the other man closer to climax. “I mean, it wasn’t exactly like we had her permission and all…” Ukitake groaned, the sound pushing past clenched teeth. Aaroniero inhaled the scent of the other man’s arousal, pulling off his left glove with his teeth as he kept up the pace with his right hand.

“Say, you don’t think she’s mad, do you?” His query was ignored, Ukitake’s pelvis undulating with each movement of Aaroniero’s hand. Ukitake did not appear to notice the tentacles wrapping themselves around his neck. He was sweating, breaths heaving in and out as his composure crumbled.

“I’d hate for her to be mad. You sure we shouldn’t ask her?” Aaroniero’s tentacles held Ukitake in place as the bindings around his arms dissolved, soaking up his reiatsu. Ukitake’s orgasm came a second later, his hands clawing at Aaroniero’s tentacles. Should be thankful. He would have fallen, Aaroniero’s mind supplied.

“She’s in here, you know. With me. We’re always together.” He leaned in for one more kiss, this one reluctantly returned. “Don’t you wanna join us, Ukitake?” Aaroniero asked, pulling back enough for the other man to answer.

He did not see the kido coming. One second he was gloating, sure of his victory. The next he was on his back, left arm stinging where it had been burned.

“No, no I don’t,” Ukitake’s swift reply was contrary to the tears brimming in his eyes. Then he was gone, a blur of white interrupting the dark contours of the room.

Aaroniero laughed. He laughed and laughed.

Next time, don’t play with the food so much, he thought to himself, the sound dying abruptly in his throat as he sat up and let his façade melt away.

Bleach - Shinji/Hiyori "To Wait, or Not to Wait"

2009-08-21T00:32:29Z

Title: To Wait, or Not to Wait
Author: ryokoful
Pairing: Shinji/Hiyori
Rating/Warning: PG-13 // Language
Summary: Shinji is resolute in his stance. Hiyori is not so sure he should be.

( ...he let out a muffled, indignant grunt. )

Bleach - Ishida/Orihime "Daijoubu"

2009-08-21T00:16:47Z

Title: Daijoubu
Author: ryokoful
Rating: PG
Pairing: Ishida/Orihime
Summary: Everything is fine - a series of vignettes on life after Kurosaki.

( It occurred to him she was crying for both of them. )

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Ishida "Risou Eien: Chapter Two"

2009-08-21T00:04:27Z

Title: Risou Eien: Chapter Two
Author: ryokoful
Pairing: Szayel Aporro/Ishida, Mayuri, Renji
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 // torture
Summary: Szayel Aporro has had a millennia to plan his revenge. In this future dominated by Aizen, he has all the time in the world to defile his newest specimens.

Szayel Aporro’s fingertips flew across the keyboard. Onscreen, several molecules rearranged themselves and he smiled, a slow spreading of the lips. If his calculations were correct, he had finally identified the exact chemical composition of the drug the Shinigami Captain had used on him. It was something that had troubled him since he had awoken. His old body was not hard to find, but the poison contained within it had proven to be quite the challenge to disassemble. Szayel had to grudgingly admit his fellow scientist was quite the brilliant man despite his obvious disadvantage being a member of an inferior species. He never would have thought the reagents involved would be quite so unique.

With a click, Szayel had the solution forever saved, forever his.

He may not have been able to change the past, but he could make sure it repeated itself. This time everything was in Szayel’s favor, and would remain that way. He would make sure of it. The circumstances were different. There would be no unnecessary battle, no disappointing outcome. Instead, everything would be an experiment on tolerance. How long would the Shinigami Captain last infected by his own creation? For that matter, how long could Szayel tolerate being in the other man’s disgusting presence before killing him?

Under ordinary circumstances, Szayel did not think he would be able to stand the smug face of his counterpart for longer than was necessary, but somehow he knew this would be the exception.

Szayel had already analyzed the Shinigami’s structural composition and was well aware of how unique the other man had made himself. The next step would be to create and administer the poison. Then his enjoyment could truly begin. Szayel had the most brutal regiment of tests and experiments he could think of planned for the Shinigami. Nothing could be more pleasurable than returning the favor of thousands of years’ worth of painful contemplation. Perhaps he would even be so generous as to allow the other man brief periods of lucidity as well. These would, no doubt, prove to be a useful study on the progression of insanity.

Lips curling into a smirk, Szayel programmed his computer to produce the poison. Naturally, it would have been child’s play for him to create, but he wanted to test the limits of his new hardware. His palace had been rebuilt, all the computers replaced. Although he was sure the equipment was more than sufficient, he had not had a chance to fully test its capabilities; Szayel never left anything untested.

Swiveling in his seat, Szayel summoned one of his faithful Fraccion. “I trust the room is prepared,” he postulated, standing before the insect-like thing finished its assenting nod.

Strides swift, Szayel exited the room and moved into the darkness of his scientific labyrinth. Within minutes, he reached his destination. Although the door looked the same as all the rest, Szayel did not hesitate in opening it. His domain might have been confusing to others, but Szayel Aporro knew it like his own DNA.

Although Szayel’s expression did not change from the usual amused apathy, the sight of the Shinigami tied to his laboratory table sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. The man’s arms spread out directly to the side and feet together, he looked like the victim of a crucifixion. While this was certainly within the realm of delightful possibility, Szayel had something far more intrusive planned for this first experiment.

Szayel stepped closer to his newest specimen, his expression carefully maintained. It was, however, impossible to keep the excited timbre out of his voice. “I trust you find your accommodations pleasing,” he said, caressing the metal of his perfectly manufactured laboratory table. Mayuri opened his eyes, gaze rolling to meet Szayel’s own. He opened his mouth to speak, but Szayel cut him off. “I do not believe I gave you leave to respond. Or am I quite mistaken?” Mayuri almost managed a rebuttal this time, but Szayel cheerfully shoved a wad of cloth into his mouth before sealing his lips with medical tape.

“There, now. That repulsive voice of yours has finally been silenced,” he said, his features melting into a maniacal grin. “Were the world a sentient entity, I have no doubt commendations would be in order.”

Chuckling, Szayel ran his fingers over all the instruments he had lined up and ready for use before selecting a scalpel. He approached the wonderfully prone Shinigami, already anticipating the feeling of the other man’s flesh parting beneath his blade.

Before he could decide on a ‘Y’ or ‘T’ incision, one of his Fraccion appeared and handed him a syringe full of the Shinigami Captain’s drug. That he had all but forgotten about such was truly a testament to his excitement.

The Shinigami’s relaxed expression became strained as Szayel flicked the syringe a few times. Pushing in the plunger to remove any excess air, Szayel watched with delight as the other man’s eyes widened and he began to struggle. Leaning in over his counterpart, Szayel trailed a gloved hand over the other man’s bare chest.

“My, my, why so nervous? I would think you‘d be overjoyed knowing you’ll soon make a valuable contribution to science.” Szayel’s lilting voice filled the chamber as he inserted the needle directly into the other man’s chest, right above his heart. He pushed the plunger in slowly, savoring the Shinigami Captain’s renewed, vigorous struggles.

Something like a moan escaped Szayel’s lips as he administered the last of the drug. This simple act brought him more pleasure than he had ever thought possible. Revenge was, indeed, sweet and addicting. Szayel was already hooked.

Still dedicated to regasssa although I am not sure she will like it.

Bleach - Chad/Ichigo "Reciprocity"

2009-07-07T05:50:19Z

Title: Reciprocity
Author: ryokoful
Pairing: Chad/Ichigo
Rating: G
Summary: Blame is not necessarily exclusive.
Notes: For Round 1 of the challenge at senkaimon. Slight AR. As others have said, first and last time writing this pairing. ~~Chad/Ishida, however...~~

( It was absolutely inexcusable. )

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Ichigo "Despair as the Root of All Evil"

2009-05-29T23:36:43Z

Title: Despair as the Root of All Evil: Chapter One
Author: ryokoful
Pairings: Szayel Aporro/Ichigo, Fraccion/Ichigo, mentions of Grimmjow/Ichigo, Rukia
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 // Non-con, disturbing imagery, disturbing Fraccion ala Szayel
Notes: This is the sequel to The Darkness Within. It probably won't make much sense uless you read it. It's not for everyone. There will be one or two chapters after this.

Ichigo’s first thought upon waking was that it had to be a dream. No way had he been overcome by Grimmjow, raped by the man using the very person he had tried to protect’s blood. No fucking way he was that weak. At least, that’s what he tried to tell himself. The cold stone against his cheek was a harsh reality he didn’t want to face. If he just pretended he was on the floor of his bedroom, just ignored the dull, throbbing pain in his ass, everything would be okay. Normal. Safe.

For a second, Ichigo almost believed it, falling for his self-delusion. It was the nearby sounding whimper that caused him to snap his eyes open and appreciate the reality of his situation. He lay sprawled on the unforgiving stone at Rukia’s feet, exactly where Grimmjow had left him. The torches around her had nearly run out of fuel, now casting only the faintest glow on her features. Besides her, there was no one else in the room, Grimmjow having long gone. Ichigo wondered how long he had been out, and why they hadn’t come for he and Rukia while he had been lying there defenseless.

Looking up at her, Ichigo could tell she was asleep. Her chest rose and fell with deep, shaking breaths, her small mouth pulled back into a grimace that suggested she was having a nightmare. Ichigo tried to sit up, but found he lacked the strength to do so. He reflected on what Grimmjow had said before, and figured the gas he had mentioned must still be affecting him. From the looks of things, Rukia had gotten a dose of it herself. He wondered, once again, how badly she was hurt. From his position on the floor, things didn’t look too good. This close to her, he could see the bruising in her lower legs and feet had gotten worse, turning her skin from sickly shades of yellow to something close to black.

The evidence of his shame on her legs and the wall was obvious, beading brilliantly white over discolored flesh. Ichigo closed his eyes, willing the disgusting image away, and sucked in a shuddering breath. He wasn’t sure he could deal with it at the moment. It was a fresh reminder of his weakness, his failure. Instead of saving her, he had only made things worse. He gritted his teeth and tried once more to sit up. If he couldn’t even save Rukia, who was right in front of him, how was he supposed to save Orihime?

Ichigo folded his arm under himself, and muscles straining, managed to pull himself half-way off the ground, his weight resting on his elbow. He panted from the sudden exertion, arm shaking, cold sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. He didn’t know what was in the aforementioned gas that affected him this much, but he wasn’t going to let it stop him. He had to get up. He had to rescue his friends. It was his job; he felt the pull of heroism down to the very core of his being.

After some intense exertion on his part, he finally managed to sit up. He paused, panting, strained muscles shaking, and waited to recover. Beside him, Rukia mumbled something in her sleep, sounding lost and forlorn. Ichigo grimaced as her voice trailed off, wanting nothing more than to help her. They had to get out of there, and to do that he first had to get up. Gritting his teeth, he reached out a hand to brace himself against the wall and tried to stand. He managed to get half-way there before collapsing to the floor again, the cold stone scraping his bare ass as he fell.

Ichigo reached for the wall again, muscles all but seizing up with the effort. However, before he could make another attempt at getting up, he heard a noise behind him. Ichigo froze, hand on the wall, and hated himself for yet another weak, animalistic reaction. He managed to turn his head and was greeted with the sight of an unfamiliar Arrancar leaning against the wall a short distance from Rukia. The man did not look like much, but Ichigo had not even heard him approach nor felt a trace of his reiatsu. The noise that had alerted him to the man’s presence was, in all likelihood, done on purpose. This was not a comforting thought at all, and Ichigo found himself unconsciously digging his nails into the wall.

This unknown Arrancar was silent as Ichigo glared at him. He tried in vain to lift himself up for the third time, and the pink-haired man smirked, uncrossing his arms and running a hand through his vibrant hair. “Oh-ho, still attempting the impossible, are we? None too smart, I must say,” the man quipped, chuckling as he took a step toward Ichigo. “If you are any example, we will have little difficulty subduing the rest of your unfortunate species.”

Ichigo’s mouth twitched, the newfound feeling of uselessness creeping across his mind, its claws digging in deep. Adrenaline coursing through his system, he decided to continue with his brave front. He had never been one to succumb to adversity, and did not plan on letting the horrifying experience Grimmjow had put him through alter his personality the way it had for Rukia. Yes. He would be an example for her recovery, at least. “Dunno where you get your information from, asshole, but I’m not dead.”

“Ignorant as well as weak. My, but I suppose one could expect no less from such a low class breed. Of course you aren’t dead yet, dear, oblivious Shinigami. My gas has not completed its work.” The man chuckled again, the annoying sound magnified by the heavy atmosphere in the room. By his statement, Ichigo pegged the man as the Arrancar Grimmjow had spoken of earlier. Szayel Aporro, or something like that. It was hard to say as the name was a weird one.

Ichigo opened his mouth to reply, but was overtaken by a sudden coughing fit. Lungs burning, shuddering, from the force, he fell onto his side, one hand coming up in an attempt to stifle the noise. Regardless of the pain he was feeling, he did not want Rukia to wake up at the moment. Better she should sleep than have to witness his weakness and hear the insults of this Arrancar.

Finally, the fit subsided, and Ichigo groaned, his hand red with his own blood. As he stared at his sullied flesh, he began to wonder if Szayel Aporro was actually telling the truth. He still held out hope the man was simply screwing with his mind, but based on the way he was reacting…

“Ah, yes. Stage two. How terribly unfortunate for you. All too soon your body will begin to reject its own tissues. Of course, the starting point for such degeneration can be hard to predict, but with you it is obviously--”

“Shut up! I don’t give a shit what you say, I‘m not going to die from this,” Ichigo responded, cutting the Arrancar off. He tensed, ready for some kind of retribution, but was met only with the slightest of smirks from the other man.

“Impudent, ignorant, and weak, with an over-inflated ego and sense of bravado. It becomes increasingly apparent you possess no redeeming qualities whatsoever. But no matter. Orders are orders, after all.” Chuckling yet again--how Ichigo just wanted to punch the arrogant fuck’s face in--Szayel Aporro closed the distance between them, one foot pushing Ichigo onto his stomach. Aware of just how much danger of a repeat performance he was in, Ichigo strained his neck trying to keep the man in his sights as he struggled in vain to move. It was impossible to say for sure due to the glare on the Arrancar’s glasses, but Ichigo felt sure the other man was scrutinizing his abused ass.

“As expected of Grimmjow, sullied beyond usability.” The last was accompanied by a sigh, the man’s eyebrows creasing downward in the smallest of frowns as he walked around Ichigo‘s prone body to stand by his head. Ichigo paled as Szayel Aporro grabbed a handful of his hair and lifted his head up. “Not a particularly appealing countenance either, but I suppose it will have to do.” With a laugh, the Arrancar released him and stepped back, gaze turned the way he had come.

“I do not have all day,” he said, motioning to someone Ichigo could not see. Another agonizing feat of endurance later, Ichigo had his neck craned to see the newcomer. Eyes wide as he took in this newest threat to his health, Ichigo blanched. He could not think of anything more disgusting than what he was seeing now. Of all the Arrancar he had encountered, this one was by far the least human looking. Short, stumpy legs held up a squat, round body with long orangutan-like arms. No head was immediately apparent. What drew most of Ichigo’s attention was the…well, he hesitated to call it an erection, but supposed there was nothing else it could be. Either way, it was far too big for the body and made him uncomfortable in ways he did not want to begin to think about. Breath coming in harder now, he fought to move. There was no way he was letting that thing get close to him. Grimmjow had been bad enough. Ichigo managed to crawl all of two feet before he was stopped by a foot slamming down on his back. Body rocking under the impact, Ichigo spit blood onto the floor and was still.

“How fortunate for you that you will be the first to interact with my newest creation. Naturally, it is less than ideal I could not run this test in my laboratory, but one needs do what one must.” Ichigo paid no attention to the other man’s words, instead focusing on the sound of heavy steps and dragging fists nearing him. A cold sweat broke out as he felt huge hands encircle first one calf and then the other. The pressure from Szayel Aporro’s foot eased and he could feel himself being lifted from behind, but could do nothing to stop it. As soon as the thing’s hands touched him he felt much weaker, as if he had no reiatsu left at all. Ichigo knew this was impossible, but could not think of an explanation for his sudden weakness. Even the gas had not affected him like this.

The thing shifted behind him and Ichigo closed his eyes, willing it all to be a nightmare. Several seconds passed and he was almost sure he had succeeded, but too soon he was drawn from his escape by a hand fisting in his hair. He gritted his teeth, not wanting to open his eyes, but did anyway. In the end, he supposed it was better to face reality and deal with it than dream of something different. He held on to this conviction even as the pink-haired man’s expression tinged on the gleefully malignant, his eyes holding that crazed spark that Grimmjow’s had earlier.

Summoning all of his strength, Ichigo breathed deep and let loose with all he had, spitting into that smug face. “You are all fucking freaks and dumb ones at that if you think this’ll change me.” The hand in his hair tightened until Ichigo thought he would end up bald. Szayel Aporro sneered as he used Ichigo’s uniform to wipe his sullied cheek.

“I do so look forward to the day when Aizen-sama rids the world of you Shinigami vermin. Inelegant, unintelligent pests that you are.” Smirking, Szayel Aporro drew back, freeing his half-hard erection from his hakama. “I was simply going to observe, but it appears you need the extra lesson.” Pinching Ichigo’s nose, the Arrancar bumped his disgusting cock against his lips just as the thing behind him did the same. “I do hope you resist, dear Shinigami. Although I have no use for such a worthless specimen, I am certain you would make a fine meal for one of my Fraccion.”

Fraccion… Ichigo had heard the word before, although he could not place where. Whatever the case, it meant this Szayel Aporro had to be an Espada. With this realization, his hope of escape, of rescuing those most important to him, dwindled and he choked on the breath he had so dearly been trying to hold. Instantly, Szayel Aporro’s erection was in his mouth. Ichigo gagged at the intrusion and the Espada shoved it in further, until it bumped the back of his throat. It was all he could do to breathe as the man pulled out and shoved himself back inside. Breath wheezing around the large, unwanted object in his mouth, his scream was short lived when the Fraccion behind him made its move. The pain was so intense, he thought he might die. He had thought what Grimmjow did to him horrible, but he was wrong. This was so much worse. And, Ichigo reflected as the Fraccion made itself at home, bigger. There had to be a law against having a cock this size. It was unnatural. Through the blinding pain Ichigo could not find any room to protest.

Both Espada and Fraccion pumped in an out of his already abused body, sending him rocking from one to the other. Against his will, and in spite of the pain, Ichigo felt himself growing hard again, and hated himself all the more for it. He screwed his eyes shut. Was it possible? Was he really this despicable? A little voice in his mind whispered that yes, yes he was and Ichigo finally found the will to fight back. At Szayel’s next thrust, Ichigo bit down as hard as he could, teeth digging into and scraping sensitive flesh as the other man completed his motion.

“Ohhh, yes. Like that,” Szayel hissed, groaning and gripping Ichigo’s hair tighter. It was not the reaction he had expected. Ichigo felt helpless, his only weapon taken from him. But pleasurable for the other man or not, he refused to let go. If he was holding on, the Espada could not move. If he just resisted, maybe the other man would give up. He could make it through with at least his mouth intact.

A swift slap had his jaw loose and him realizing otherwise as Szayel Aporro resumed his thrusting. However, the pain in his cheek was nothing compared to the feeling of his insides being ripped to shreds by the thing behind him. The realization he could do nothing about Szayel Aporro, much less the man’s Fraccion, was the most painful of all.

With his attempt at resistance foiled, he had nothing to focus on and his arousal returned. Each punishing thrust only made it worse. He was acutely aware of it, and unable to stop the sounds escaping him each time one of his abusers thrust into him. Szayel Aporro’s laughter let Ichigo know he had noticed as well.

“Enjoying yourself, dear Shinigami? You should be. After all, he was personally tailored to fit your…physique,” Szayel breathed, his chuckle punctuated by his thrusting into Ichigo’s mouth.

Ichigo had no idea what the other man was talking about. All he knew was this was the worst moment of his life. He had never felt more helpless, or more aroused, than this. If he came now, allowing his enemies to take advantage of him for the second time, he would never be able to forgive himself. As Espada and Fraccion pounded into him, he forced his thoughts away from his situation. He thought of Ikkaku, Kon, anything to keep his mind off the present.

It almost worked. But then Szayel Aporro gasped and shuddered, coming hard. Jets of the disgusting stuff pumped into Ichigo’s mouth until he could hardly breathe. Szayel’s hand was on him a second later, forcing him to swallow around his cock. Shame burned through Ichigo’s veins as the stuff slid down his throat, as the Espada pulled out and wiped his dick all over Ichigo’s face. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the other man’s expression. The cooling warmth both on his face and sliding down his throat was enough he never wanted to open them again.

The sounds that had been suppressed by Szayel Aporro now surged forth, Ichigo moaning every time the Fraccion thrust inside him. The thing moving inside him was so big, so thick, so warm, he could not help himself. As it picked up the pace, pounding into Ichigo with increasing force and speed, he knew he was lost. Ichigo had never figured himself for a masochist, but when Szayel slapped him again at his Fraccion’s next thrust, he came, sagging in his enemies’ grip. It did not take much longer for the thing to finish, and when it did Ichigo again thought he might die. He still felt full after it pulled out.

The intruding hands left his body and he slumped to the floor, utterly drained. He wasn’t sure if he could open his eyes if he wanted to, which he didn’t. If Ichigo had his way, he never would again. Even if it was possible to recover from what had just happened to him, he had forgotten all about Rukia while he was being violated. He was sure she was awake now--how could she sleep through the noises he had made?--and absolutely did not want to see her face. He was so weak, unable to save anyone. What could she, or anyone, possibly think of him now?

I'm on a freaking roll. Oh, boy :D Next chapter is pretty much planned out. There may be one after that, or maybe just a epilogue. And I could see myself writing another trilogy following that. I've had these ideas for years and now this part is coming to fruition. Yay. /teal Hope you like it!

Bleach - Aizen/Byakuya "The Fine Art of Disobedience"

2009-05-28T18:20:12Z

Title: The Fine Art of Disobedience
Author: ryokoful
Pairing: Aizen/Byakuya
Rating/Warning: NC-17 // Masturbation, D/s, light blood play, dark themes
Notes: This is for the awesome good_chaser ♥

“We agreed you would not follow me here.” Aizen’s voice was warm, the underlying threat obvious.

“I go where I please,” Byakuya replied, halting in the doorway as Aizen seated himself on his overlarge, white sofa. The room was as colorless as the furniture, as sterile as the rest of the vile place. It all reminded him of the twelfth division with its equally repulsive captain. With an audible sniff, Byakuya stepped inside and allowed the door to close behind him.

Aizen’s only reply was to chuckle as he leaned back against the plush sofa cushions.

Eyes narrowed, Byakuya remained silent. He knew Aizen’s good graces only went so far, but he had yet to find the other man’s limits and didn’t mind either way. There really wasn’t much he did care about these days. Aizen had taken everything from him even as he had given Byakuya anything he could ever have desired. The man was the epitome of the double-edged sword, good and evil, sadism and compassion irrevocably intertwined within his twisted psyche.

Not that Byakuya minded. Aizen had awoken something in him, a long-slumbering, hardly noticed part of himself he had never really thought about before. Now that this fierce desire had been stirred, it could never be put to sleep again. Byakuya neither wanted nor needed this craving, this yearning, to end. If it did he might start to think about other things, about the fall of Soul Society, about the fact he was merely one of a handful of surviving Shinigami, and he did not want that. It was far better to lose himself in the sinful pleasures Aizen offered than live in a perpetual state of hatred and hopelessness for the rest of his life.

Blinking several times to clear his thoughts, Byakuya stepped forward, close to Aizen, who only smiled.

“I assume you went against my wishes for a reason, Byakuya.” Aizen’s gaze was impassive as he leaned his head against his hand, his elbow perched on the arm of the sofa. Again, Byakuya said nothing, instead choosing to take the last few steps into the center of the room, facing Aizen.

“Nothing to say? Then strip.” After a moment’s hesitation, Byakuya obeyed, removing one article of clothing after another and letting them all fall to the floor. Exposed, Byakuya fought down the urge to shiver under the other man’s piercing gaze. No one else would have noticed this minor weakness in the stoic former noble, but Aizen always did. “Sit. Spread your legs,” he said, his smile widening almost imperceptibly.

Byakuya made a move to sit on the sofa, but Aizen stopped him with a glance. “The floor, Byakuya.”

Months ago, he would have hesitated; now, he simply sank onto the cold ground at Aizen’s feet. What use was there in resisting? The harsh blows Aizen had dealt to Soul Society had also affected him, cracking his formidable pride. The shattering of such came later, also by Aizen’s iron will. Thoughts of all the other man had done to him, of warm hands on his body, of the acid tongue that whispered despicable, sweet lies made Byakuya shudder. He hoped Aizen thought it was simply because of the cool stone against his bare flesh, but one look at the other man told him otherwise. The smirk was barely there, but Byakuya recognized it; Aizen knew he had Byakuya right where he wanted him.

“Now, touch yourself,” Aizen commanded as Byakuya settled in position, his legs bent at the knees as he leaned back on his elbows. He raised his hand and complied without a word. In the past, he might have subtly disobeyed, playing with his knee or some other innocuous part of his body. Not anymore. His hand trailed down his chest, pausing to tweak one of his nipples, before sliding it down his abdomen to wrap around his hard cock. He did not hesitate in pleasuring himself, any lingering vestige of pride having long gone. Aizen watched him with those simultaneously kind and malicious eyes. Although he betrayed no signs of it, Byakuya knew the other man was enjoying himself. After all, it was Aizen who had pursued him, Aizen who had spared him for this purpose, and Aizen who had broken him to the point he enjoyed it as well.

“Yes, like that,” Aizen stipulated, as Byakuya played with the head of his cock, fingers massaging the slit. Byakuya suppressed a moan at the feeling of his fingers on himself accompanied by the other man’s honeyed voice sliding down his spine. He pumped himself with his fist, his hand sliding smoothly up and down his dick again and again. It was good, but so much better if Aizen would simply touch him, fuck him. At this thought, Byakuya leaned back on the cold stone, his other hand going for his ass. He slid one finger in and could not hold back a moan this time. But it was still too little. Byakuya added one, two more fingers and pumped his hands in time with each other. The pain of each dry intrusion was outweighed by the pleasure he took in degrading himself this way in front of the other man.

“You look good like this, Byakuya,” He almost missed Aizen’s words. He was sweating, nipples erect as he writhed against his hands. The patented Kuchiki control only went so far; he was nearing his breaking point.

“Come.” An innocuous demand like most others, but something snapped at this. His rebelliousness came back, directed in a new way.

“Touch me,” he sighed, speaking for the second time since entering Aizen’s chambers. He was trembling from the effort of holding himself back, but something in him would not let him completely submit. That part of him that had atrophied to the point of uselessness flared to life, redirecting itself and demanding his attention. “I want you to…”

He never saw the hand that slapped him. His head swung to the side so hard his vision went white for a moment. The pain in his cheek was immediate and let him know it was more than a superficial injury. Blood seeped down his cheek from his friction burned skin and dripped onto the floor. An instant later and Aizen was there, hands clutching Byakuya’s head. He smirked and leaned in, his tongue sliding up Byakuya’s jaw, his mouth then covering the fresh wound.

“Come for me, Byakuya.” Aizen fisted a hand in his hair and Byakuya sucked in a breath, unable to let it out, as he came all over himself.

Sorry it took me so long XDD But hopefully you like it ♥!

Naruto - Sasuke + Suigetsu drabble

2009-05-28T18:15:19Z

Author: ryokoful
Characters: Sasuke, Suigetsu
Requested by: release
Rating: G

“Yo, are we going to go or what?” Sasuke merely lifted an eyebrow at the question, his face betraying none of the turmoil he felt inside. “Man, that Karin…she sure keeps us waiting,” Suigetsu continued, idly twirling his sword, his weight shifting from foot to foot in his boredom. As Sasuke stared at the metal gleaming in Suigetsu‘s hand, his mind was not on the present, but events long past. Ever since he had returned to the bridge where he and his old team had fought the hidden mist nins, he had been unable to think of anything else; especially after seeing the name of the bridge. The Great Naruto Bridge. Sasuke scoffed.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Suigetsu asked, stepping closer to the Uchiha and squatting down to kneel beside him, sticking his sword in the earth nearby. “You sure that snake isn’t eating your brains in there?” he continued, reaching over to poke Sasuke in the middle of his forehead, a familiar gesture which brought other, less pleasant, memories to mind. Sasuke flinched and slapped Suigetsu’s hand away, but said nothing.

“Geez. Touchy much?” Suigetsu sighed and lay back against the rocks behind them both, his body reclining at an almost 180 degree angle. He folded his arms underneath his head and closed his otherworldly eyes, yawning. “Wake me if something interesting happens.”

Naruto - Orochimaru/Jiraiya "A Moment Worth a Thousand Words"

2009-05-28T18:13:11Z

Title: A Moment Worth a Thousand Words
Author: ryokoful
Pairings: one-sided Jiraiya/Orochimaru, implied Orochimaru/Tsunade
Requested by: release
Rating/Warning: PG-13 / some tongue action

The room was so dark he could barely discern the vague outline of Orochimaru‘s bed, could barely see his teammate under the sheets.

Jiraiya took a step towards the bed and Orochimaru grunted in his sleep, causing him to freeze in place. He really didn’t want to wake his comrade up. He was only here to check on him. It had been several days since he’d seen Orochimaru and he had been starting to worry. Their last mission had been particularly difficult, a routine assassination gone horribly wrong. Somehow the enemy had found out about their mission---he suspected there was a mole in the ranks--and had almost prevented them from taking out their target. There had been a fierce battle in which he and his teammates had almost been killed, far out numbered as they were, followed by several tense days of hiding in the jungle with barely any supplies. Before then, he had never seen Orochimaru receive so much as a scratch on a mission; his pale companion seemed impervious to injury. He himself had been pretty bad off, but not as bad as Orochimaru, which was why he was worried now.

Across the room, Orochimaru shuddered and rolled onto his side, his breath leaving him in a harsh gasp that rattled Jiraiya‘s nerves. He approached the sleeping ninja apprehensively, his steps slow and silent. One could never be sure exactly what to expect when it came to the snake-like man. Jiraiya stopped at the edge of the bed and stared down at his teammate. Living alone, Orochimaru didn’t need a full bed, but for some reason he had one anyway. He leaned over to get a closer look, his long hair accidentally falling over his shoulder and brushing the sleeping man.

In a flash, Orochimaru rolled over, eyes wide. Before he could move, Jiraiya felt a hand grab his hair and a kunai press against his throat, the sharp metal digging in enough to break his skin. For a moment, there was only wildness about his friend, then recognition seemed to fill his eyes. Orochimaru let go of his hair, sinking back down onto the mattress and heaving a most uncharacteristic sigh as he flicked the light on.

Jiraiya, for his part, was too shocked to move. Orochimaru’s pale skin was flawless, not one bandage or cut marring his face, arms, or the exposed line of his chest. There was no way he had healed that quickly. Jiraiya still had at least two more days of medically required downtime before he could go on another mission. Mind reeling, he almost missed the smile creeping across Orochimaru’s features.

“Don’t look so surprised, Ji--ra--i--ya,” he said, sneering, drawing out his name as if to taunt him, a strange gleam in his unnatural eyes. “Tsunade loves working on me. You should know that by now,” he continued, his features relaxing as he laughed.

Jiraiya wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch him or sigh in relief that he was okay. He settled for bringing his hand across Orochimaru’s face in a swift slap, the sound echoing through the mostly barren room as his teammate’s head snapped to the side. Before he could draw his hand back from the motion, Orochimaru grabbed it, swinging his head back to look at Jiraiya as he did so. He yanked Jiraiya’s arm until their faces were only inches apart, Jiraiya having to use his other arm to keep from completely falling on top of the snake-like man. Orochimaru’s breath was hot on his face, but Jiraiya didn’t move, not even when the other man’s tongue came out to trace his cheek, sticky tendrils of saliva clinging to his skin it its wake. Orochimaru stared at him, their eyes locked as his tongue dipped lower to trail down Jiraiya’s neck. He was left speechless and aroused as Orochimaru continued to play with him. Although he didn’t want to admit it, he had always had a crush on the older man. He still considered himself straight. He just had a thing for Orochimaru, whatever that meant.

Almost as if sensing his thoughts, the snake-like man drew his appendages back and smiled. It did not quite reach his eyes, but this was par for the course with his teammate. “Your little crush is unrequited, I‘m afraid.”

The words caught Jiraiya by surprise and he pulled back. He was unsure exactly who Orochimaru was referring to, himself or Tsunade, but from the look in his eyes as he sat back, Jiraiya thought he could hazard a guess. Lips pursed, he stood and headed for the door. “I was just coming by to check on you, but you seem fine…” Jiraiya left the sentence unfinished as he fled the way he had come.

Most of this was written two years ago. Just had the inspiration to finish this and knew it’d probably never come around again. It’s supposed to be longer and end differently, but better something than nothing. Love Orochimaru then, now, and forever. Hope you like!

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Ishida "Risou Eien"

2009-05-27T19:33:28Z

Title: Risou Eien
Author: ryokoful
Pairing: Szayel Aporro/Ishida (Szayel Aporro + Mayuri)
Requested by: regasssa
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 // dark imagery

The boy hadn’t seemed like much at first. Just another ordinary human, one of billions.

But then Szayel Aporro had not witnessed his abilities, had not figured him for a Quincy. They were quite the rare breed, and Szayel was only too pleased to see one in battle. Even better should he acquire him as a specimen.

His excitement was palpable when the Quincy showed up to defend his lackluster companion. Their battle surpassed his expectations. Even though he had fully analyzed the Quincy‘s abilities, he found himself nearly overcome during their skirmish. Perhaps because of this, for it was the first time in his memory he had come so close to death, he began to see the Quincy in a slightly different light. Of course Szayel would utilize the boy--Ishida, wasn’t it?--to the best of his abilities, but he wanted to do something more, something to make Ishida suffer as no other specimen had before.

He had been so close to this goal. The fact he had been beaten by a Shinigami of all things, was absurd, unthinkable.

Szayel had ages upon ages to plan his revenge. It was all he thought about, all that kept him sane, during those first centuries of waiting. The only captivating things to look at were Ishida and perhaps the red-headed Shinigami, although anything was better than looking into the grinning face of the man he now recognized was his counterpart. But this grew old, as did everything. He had their features memorized within the first year. The next thousand were more than enough to make them redundant. He was worn thin. By the time the disgusting man’s sword pierced his heart, Szayel was ready to die. For the second time, he almost did. Although, this time he would not have minded as much.

He had forgotten all about his secret laboratory underneath the sands of Hueco Mundo, completely separate from Las Noches. When he awoke again, his body freshly hatched from his supply of clones, he remembered everything but felt none of the despair he had in his previous incarnation. It was wonderful. All those millennia of thoughts, experiences, plans, were his to keep, but without the unnecessary emotions attached. It was one of his better ideas, and that was saying something.

Szayel Aporro generally had no problem explaining things. He loved making his enemies--and at times, his allies--feel like the inferior beings they were. However, he had always kept this place a secret. Szayel knew how important contingency plans were and that the secrecy of such should remain absolute. The fact that Aizen knew was due to his master’s unquestionable superiority in all things. He had not meant for it to happen, but in the end he had been forced to divulge his secret. It was one of the things that made him respect Aizen--that he had been able to see through all of Szayel’s carefully worded half-truths.

In a mysterious turn of events, Aizen had not punished him. He merely insisted Szayel produce clones of the other Espada as well. It appeared he had put some thought into the matter after Grimmjow had disobeyed his orders in such a blatant way and caused the destruction of some of his valuable resources. Naturally, Aizen agreed with Szayel about the secrecy of the operation. The other Espada, save a few, were nothing if not prone to fits of revealing rage.

It was easy to obtain tissue samples of most of his fellows. Grimmjow, Nnoitra, and Yammy always needed patching up from various skirmishes. It was child’s play to deceive Zommari and Aaroniero as well. Barragan was slightly harder to outmaneuver. Ulquiorra, Halibel, and Stark proved the greatest challenge due to their reticent personalities. Despite all this, he triumphed. Aizen was most pleased, enough to grant Szayel permission to open up further cloning facilities. As a result, there were several scattered across the great plain of Hueco Mundo. Naturally, all were fully equipped and rendered invisible to prying eyes and kidou.

The new Szayel Aporro awoke in the facility closest to Las Noches. His first thought was one of smug self-satisfaction as most of the containers next to him were empty--he had not been the only one to die. Now practically everyone was in his debt. The feeling was glorious and absolutely self-serving. He loved it.

Upon his reemergence into Las Noches he discovered, to no great surprise, that Aizen had won the war. The Shinigami, Human, and Vaizard forces had been decimated when Aizen stepped into the battle. Many died, a few were spared. Aizen now ruled all from his seat as the King of Soul Society. Gin and Tousen were his emissaries to Hueco Mundo and Soul Society respectively.

He was especially pleased to find Ishida among the leftovers, even better the Shinigami captain was with him. Although Aizen had stipulated every courtesy be extended to the captives, he had said nothing about their general wellbeing. Szayel was within his rights to sample a few. As long as he returned them in relatively good working order, he was sure Aizen could not possibly mind. The prison they were being kept in was underneath Las Noches. It was a dark, dank place Szayel hardly ever visited save for happy occasions such as this. Both were in a separate room, almost as if Aizen knew Szayel would want them. Ishida did not look too surprised when Szayel walked in. If he had to hazard a guess, Szayel knew Ishida had probably seen his fellow risen Espada and had expected him to show up at some point. It was a little disappointing as he did so love to make an entrance, but Szayel was prepared to overlook this minor detail. After all, he had all the time in the world to disassemble, desecrate, and destroy his new toys. Szayel couldn't wait to get his hands on Ishida. He had big plans for the sole specimen left over who was his type.

I'm a free-form writer and never know where things will end up once I start the ball rolling. This certainly isn't what I expected. I think it could have turned out a lot better, but I hope you like it anyway. I believe Szayel Aporro can do pretty much anything with that lovely mind of his :3 And um, because the bug has bitten me and I'd also like to write something better for you, expect a continuation with less telling and more showing.

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Il Forte "Divine Interference"

2009-05-19T18:36:50Z

Title: Divine Interference
Author: ryokoful
Pairing: Szayel Aporro Grantz/Il Forte Grantz
Rating/Warnings: R // disturbing imagery
Notes: Unbeta'd. This was written for my darling akaadji whose friendship means the world to me and whose Il Forte is grand.

He had the room arranged exactly to his specifications. Every detail was taken care of, every variable accounted for and rendered irrelevant. Everything was perfect; he had made sure of that just as he always did. The whole affair was meticulous and to his expectations, except for one thing: the experiment to be conducted was on a subject science could not easily interpret. Naturally, this would not stop Szayel Aporro. He did so love a challenge, and if his calculations were correct this would prove to be one. Succeeding would further demonstrate his greatness, and should the experiment fail, no one would know. There was nothing to lose.

The test subject had also been carefully prepared. Szayel had rescued and preserved it for just such an occasion, anticipating Aizen’s need. The body was in disarray having sustained a massive, life-ending injury. This left it far from the beauty it had been in life. There was a tattered arm attached by a thread of tissue to a shattered torso, ribs puncturing leathery skin in various places. One of the legs was missing, the other cut off from the knee. What was left of the right arm hung limp and useless to the side of the body. The head was nothing more than a grinning skull, hair stuck in tufts to charred skin. Indeed, the whole body was covered in third-degree burns. It was dead, broken, perfect.

Szayel stepped back from the circle outlined on his floor one last time, carefully avoiding contact with the test subject within. Intent on their duties, his loyal Fraccion scurried about as he gave the order for the experiment to begin. One flipped the appropriate switch and the ever-present hum of electricity grew in intensity until it went beyond the range of his hearing. Several seconds passed. The light in the room flickered and dimmed as all power was diverted to the circle at Szayel’s feet. He stepped back again as the circle began to glow, orange spreading from the side opposite him until the entirety was illuminated. Slowly, as if the very air was fighting it, the orange illumination began to ascend. It rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern until it encapsulated the test subject in a mildly transparent half-sphere.

Szayel held his breath, gaze intense as he scrutinized the remnants of the body. The change was immediate, but insignificant--the only difference noted by Szayel’s discerning eye the test subject’s skin losing some of its blackened discoloration. Minutes passed and he began to wonder if his calculations had been incorrect. However, as this was rarely ever the case, he dismissed the thought.

Glancing to the side, Szayel found the source of the problem. One of his Fraccion had somehow grabbed several of the power cables and was being electrocuted. Szayel frowned and snapped his fingers, once, twice. At the second, the misbehaving thing hissed and slid to the ground, dead. He paused at this to mentally congratulate himself on installing such a superb fail-safe in his minions before turning back to the glowing sphere.

Now that the unnecessary addition to the circuit had been removed, the orange color grew more intense, almost obscuring the test subject within. The change became more rapid as well, muscles sewing themselves over newly formed bone. The test subject’s missing legs sprouted from mutilated flesh, tattered arms joining themselves to the now robust looking torso. Last to come was the long, blonde hair.

Szayel smirked as he glanced at the test subject’s vitals splashed across one of his overlarge monitors--everything was perfectly normal. The experiment was a success. Just how effective he did not yet know, but at the very least, the body had been regenerated. Aizen would be more than pleased with his work; Szayel was sure.

He gestured for one of his Fraccion to cut the power and it did, returning the laboratory to its normal brightness. Inside the circle, the test subject twitched and Szayel smirked. It appeared the soul had returned as well. Excellent.

Stepping closer, he made note of the perfect color of the specimen’s skin, the beautiful contours of its limbs. Beauty, health, and spiritual vitality had been returned to it. And all because of him.

Clinical gaze unwavering, he watched as the test subject came to, watched as it sat up and fixed on him the customary cold glare. Szayel mentally checked off personality on his list. Naturally, everything would be checked and double-checked, but Szayel felt safe in calling the experiment a success. His study of the human--or was she?--female’s abilities had proved to be as fruitful as he had always hoped. From Ulquiorra’s first report to the time he had spent observing and experimenting on her in Las Noches, Szayel had been able to build a machine that replicated her powers. The research had been difficult, Aizen’s laughable stipulation that she not be harmed the subject of much frustration, but in the end he had succeeded. The human girl was now irrelevant, just as Szayel was sure his leader had always predicted.

“Did you really think your death would end things, brother?” Szayel asked, coming to stand next to Il Forte. The Numeros offered no response, merely rolling his eyes in distaste. No matter. In his accomplishment, Szayel had effectively put Il Forte in his debt. It was one which he would make sure his brother dearly paid. After all, he was sure Aizen would not mind giving him Il Forte as a small reward.

He stood smirking, basking in the afterglow of his success for a moment more, before crouching down next to Il Forte. His brother’s naked, perfect body drew all of his attention. Il Forte’s legs were long, so long. And muscular. Szayel held one in an iron grip, fingers digging in as he scrutinized his brother’s bare flesh.

“Trash that you may be, you should know better.” Szayel bit down hard on Il Forte’s oh-so-beautiful calf and tasted the fruit of his labor; there could be nothing sweeter.

The idea would simply not leave me alone. It's not as twisted as I'm sure you wanted it to be, but I hope you still like it ♥

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Il Forte Drabbles

2009-04-28T10:38:02Z

Rules:
1. Pick a character, pairing, or fandom you like. - Szayel Aporro/Il Forte
2. Put iTunes or equivalent media player on random.
3. For each song that plays, write something related to the theme you picked inspired by the song. You have only the time frame of the song: no planning beforehand: you start when it starts, and no lingering afterwards; once the song is over, you stop writing. (No fair skipping songs either; you have to take what comes by chance!)
4. Do 5 of these, then post.

5 Grantzcest drabbles. They probably all suck since they were written so quickly, but oh well. I'm just happy to write something again ♥

Dexter - 1x11 Ending

Il Forte’s head snapped to the side as the harsh sound of a slap echoed throughout the laboratory.

The Numeros thought he could get away with it. He thought Szayel would never notice the small mark on the back of his neck. He should have remembered Szayel was first and foremost a scientist, and that due to this, would be more observant than most.

“I do not find it pleasing to share my possessions with others, dear brother.” Il Forte had no response, did not even have the grace to look ashamed for his actions. Szayel frowned, mouth tightened into a grimace as he considered all the punishments he could inflict on his older brother.

Dir en Grey - Glass Skin

Szayel’s eyes remained glued to the monitor long after it went dark.

Despite Il Forte being a mere Numeros, he had not believed this eventuality would come to pass. At least, not by the hands of a lowly Shinigami. If anything, Szayel had imagined it would be himself who killed Il Forte, as it had been for his brother‘s first death.

He had been sure he would go too far with an experiment one day. Playing with fire was dangerous; Il Forte had known that from past experience. Yet despite everything, it had been someone else who took what so rightfully belonged to Szayel.

Hand curling into a fist, Szayel glared at the empty monitor and resolved to put his brother out of his mind. The only thing worthless Shinigami could kill was trash itself. A real Arrancar could not have been touched.

Alice Nine - Velvet

Sometimes he caught Il Forte outside the walls of Las Noches. He would watch the Numeros run across the open sand like some kind of low-level Hollow, like a child. Szayel would never tell anyone, least of all his brother, but those moments that should have brought nothing but scorn actually amused him.

Il Forte caught him once. Szayel had thought his camouflage perfect, and was impressed his brother managed to see through it. It drove him to the conclusion the Numeros might not be as worthless as he had thought.

When Il Forte came to him afterwards, Szayel did not put up any resistance.

HIM - Venus Doom

At first, Szayel was less than thrilled. He had been happy to be an Arrancar while his brother remained a Hollow. It was just another way to prove his superiority to the other man. Szayel ate it up; let it all go to his head. In death, he had managed to crawl out of his sibling’s shadow. He was delighted to repay Il Forte the indifference and cruelty he had been shown in life. Nothing could have pleased him more.

Or so he thought.

As he gradually came to realize he had been chasing his lost humanity, his feelings began to change. While this did not make him any less arrogant in his position, it did make him see his brother in a new light. He had no qualms about making his desire known either, and was gratified to see it returned.

Il Forte was adept in this as he was with nothing else, yet Szayel never failed to see the irony of the brother who had been so cold to him in life becoming exactly the opposite in death. It was further proof their positions had indeed been reversed.

Atreyu - We Stand Up

The lines of blood trickling down Il Forte’s chest and neck did nothing but enhance his beauty. Szayel loved these moments, loved his hands covered in his brother’s blood.

“You missed a spot.” Szayel started out of his momentary distraction and laughed. He brought his scalpel to bear against Il Forte’s skin and pressed down, a line of red quickly welling up and spreading down to join the others.

“So kind of you to remind me.” he quipped, bending over to get a closer look at his handiwork; it tasted as good as it looked.

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Il Forte "Conquest"

2009-02-26T02:53:47Z

Title: Conquest
Authors: ryokoful
Pairing: Szayel Aporro Grantz/Il Forte Grantz
Rating: R
Theme: This at the newest kink meme
Warnings: Sex
Notes: My first solo foray into Grantzcest.

The feeling of the hot, wet mouth on his cock was almost more than he could bear--especially considering whom it belonged to. One gloved hand threaded through blonde strands, Szayel shuddered as Il Forte took him deep into his throat.

It had started out a game to the Espada, a battle of wills. What would his ignoble, worthless brother do when backed into a corner? This thought was entertained for a short while before Szayel discovered his sibling’s weakness. Once the Espada had that to hold over the older man his victory was assured, although not quite in the way he had previously imagined.

They had never been close in life, not as Hollow nor as Arrancar. Or so Szayel had thought. Once it became clear the thick veneer of distain Il Forte displayed was as illusory as Aizen’s benevolent smile, Szayel was more than happy to take advantage of him. Naturally, he viewed his brother as nothing more than an object, a convenient solution to an eternal problem, but he was exceptional at hiding his true feelings.

It had not been easy to convince the ever-distrustful Il Forte of his supposed affection. Il Forte knew him, really knew him the way no other being in existence could claim to. Still, Szayel eventually overcame his sibling‘s doubts. It was no surprise; Szayel had always known he would come out the victor. Il Forte did not possess his keen intuition, substantial intellect, or his superb grasp of the art of deception, after all. He was doomed to fall under Szayel’s influence. The fact that it took so long was simply from a lack of interest on Szayel’s part.

With Il Forte sucking his cock, he could see what he had been missing. It was a wonder it had taken him so long to figure it out. Still, Szayel supposed every genius must have an occasional lapse in clarity. Not everyone could be as faultless as the ruler of Hueco Mundo. That pinnacle of perfection was hard to attain, though Szayel knew he came close.

Mouth quirking into a smirk, Szayel relished the feeling of the conquered man’s mouth and eager tongue as he worked to please. A few more strokes of the talented muscle had Szayel coming hard into the other man’s mouth, groaning and pulling blonde hair tight as the Fraccion took all he had to give.

Coming down from his high took longer than normal, and Szayel was forced to consider perhaps Il Forte did have some use after all. The thought stripped him of his slack jawed-expression, returning his smirk to its rightful place.

Bleach - Aizen/Byakuya "Times of Gain and Loss"

2009-02-15T05:40:50Z

Title: Times of Gain and Loss
Author: ryokoful (aka Naraku's Dark Soul)
Dedicated to: alpha2nd2006
Rating: R
Pairing: Aizen/Byakuya, mentions of Byakuya/Hisana, implied Byakuya/Rukia
Theme: Obsession for bleachedblackk's Valentine's Day challenge; #12 parting ways/meetings for bleach_15
Warnings: Implied sex, speed fic with no beta orz

The feeling was unbearable. Aizen had been plagued with it ever since he first laid eyes on the man. They had both been a lot younger then, so it had not been exactly the same. However, the twisted regard which he had felt for the other man with mutated over time, becoming more powerful, more commanding. He wanted so badly to possess this younger man, to own him, break him, watch his dispassionate features twist in pain and pleasure. It got to the point he could think of almost nothing else.

Naturally, he was very good at hiding his feelings. He became close to Byakuya. He was always polite, never let his mask slip or let his true nature or intentions be revealed. During that time he began to see a return on his investment. Little signs which would have bypassed an ordinary person did not escape his careful eye. Aizen was nothing if not a scholar of human character, after all.

They became lovers, and to his great satisfaction each of his perverse fantasies was acted out. It seemed the younger man also knew something of the pleasures that could be found within pain. Aizen was delighted to teach him the rest. He took things slow, did not rush. Time was insignificant to those with long lifespans. He had forever to dominate his partner, forever to bask in the glory of his conquest. Byakuya was a good pet, as Aizen had always known he would be. Time passed. Glorious, hedonistic time.

Gradually, Aizen began to sense a change in the other man. It was subtle at first, manifesting in small defiances he would normally have overlooked. However, as Byakuya’s boldness became more obvious, it was impossible to ignore. Naturally, he granted the other man his due punishment. For this Aizen was rewarded only with sullen silence or aloof disregard--a complete degeneration into previous, unacceptable behavior.

Slowly, Aizen’s feelings twisted into hatred. Not for Byakuya, but for the one who was changing him, the third wheel, Hisana. Although Byakuya tried to conceal it, Aizen always knew there was another. His pet could never hide anything from him.

When Byakuya declared his wish to end the relationship, Aizen was nothing if not courteous. He knew Byakuya’s heart was hardened to him, knew the relationship was impossible to salvage at that time. The two were married and Aizen raised no objections. He got his revenge in other ways. When Byakuya came to him after Hisana’s oh-so-unfortunate death, he was happy to help the other man, happy to take back what was so rightfully his. Time passed. Glorious, hedonistic time.

Eventually, Byakuya realized the truth behind Hisana’s death. Naturally, this was the real end of their relationship. It was an unfortunate slip of Aizen’s mask in a moment of despicable passion, his fall from infallibility. His only saving grace was that Byakuya could prove none of his claims. He made sure of that. Indeed, Byakuya had never even received an admission of his guilt.

Years and insignificant years later, Aizen stood a conqueror over Rukia’s body, ready to take the Hougyoku as his own. Triumph, at last. Both the Hougyoku and Byakuya would be his.

Afterwards, Byakuya stood in his way. Oh, how he hated Rukia for it. It might not have shown but in his careless disregard for her life, but was acutely felt. Aizen had despised her from the moment she became close to Byakuya and took his rightful place at the other man's side. Planning her execution gave him great joy. All the better there was legitimate reason for it in his mind. Leaving without killing her was hard, but he did it with the future in mind.

Aizen sat in Las Noches upon his throne for the first time knowing that one day Byakuya would be his again. Once all his dreams come to fruition, everything will be as it should.

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Il Forte "You Are My Puppet" Ch.4

2008-10-28T00:20:12Z

Title: You Are My Puppet: Chapter Four
Authors: ryokoful and akaadji
Pairing: Szayel Aporro Grantz/Il Forte Grantz
Rating: R
Theme: #4 masks for bleach_15
Warnings: experimental torture ala Szayel
Summary: There is no rescue if everyone thinks you are dead. Szayel Aporro saves Il Forte right before his death. Implanted with a device that smothers his reiatsu and prevents him from using his zanpakutou, Il Forte is left questioning his brother's seemingly uncharacteristic action and wondering what it will mean for him.

( Even through the pain...his leg felt wrong )

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three

Inuyasha - Naraku/Kagome "Net of Silk"

2008-09-16T06:10:13Z

Title: Net of Silk
Author: ryokoful (aka Naraku’s Dark Soul)
Pairing: Naraku/Kagome
Theme: #15 Apathy for 30_deathfics
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Character death
Summary: What is a spiderweb, but a net spun from silk?

She is falling, always falling, and there is nothing she can do to stop herself. Shadows rush past her, blinding in their dark intensity, but do not interfere with her descent. It is only he who reaches out, fingertips grazing her arm, dancing across her back, as he halts her movement, her weight suddenly settling against his appendage, his other arm reaching down to slip beneath her legs.

She is dangling now, limp like a rag doll in his arms, but she does not mind. Her savior holds her above the pooling blood, above the slack-jawed faces of her companions, their broken bodies like forsaken puppets. She stares into their dull eyes and all she can feel is happiness. His poison may have infected her, entered every cell in her body and corrupted it, but they won’t be around to see the result of this. They won’t be around to see her willingly embrace their enemy, to hear her soft cries as he strips her of her last vestige of innocence.

It is far better that they should die here than see what she has become. This twisted thing bound to him with chains made from love and hate. She couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to, and she doesn’t want to, could never want to stop herself from loving him, hating him.

Smirking, Naraku carries his prize away, fading back into the darkness from where the surprise attack had come. The blinding shadows circling closer, Kagome tilts her head to the side, her gaze locked with Naraku’s own, and smiles.

Written after reading some of scelerus_animus' work. I was trying to find inspiration to continue working on chapter four of my own Naraku/Kagome fic, The Ties that Bind Us. I certainly found it, but not quite in the style I wanted. This is to expunge some of the purple that is lurking in my brain. Probably crap. Oh well.

Bleach - Szayel Aporro/Il Forte "You Are My Puppet" Ch.3

2008-08-20T06:38:21Z

Title: You Are My Puppet: Chapter Three
Authors: ryokoful and akaadji
Pairing: Szayel Aporro Grantz/Il Forte Grantz
Rating: PG
Theme: #15 bo-hahahaha! for bleach_15
Warnings: None for this chapter.
Summary: There is no rescue if everyone thinks you are dead. Szayel Aporro saves Il Forte right before his death. Implanted with a device that smothers his reiatsu and prevents him from using his zanpakutou, Il Forte is left questioning his brother's seemingly uncharacteristic action and wondering what it will mean for him.

( His quiet laugh quickly turning hysterical, he exited the room, sealing it behind him... )

Chapter One
Chapter Two

Inuyasha - Sesshoumaru/Rin "Purge"

2008-08-20T06:35:36Z

Here, has some things I wrote this summer but didn't post here. :3?

Title: Purge
Author: ryokoful (aka Naraku’s Dark Soul)
Rating: R
Characters: Sesshoumaru/Rin
Summary: Sesshoumaru can only contain himself for so long. My first time writing this pairing.
Warnings: Could be considered loli.

For tomoeish ♥

In this moment, Rin is perfect. Her plump lips are open wide, little, pink tongue hanging out. She watches him with trusting eyes, nipples hard on her tiny, round breasts.

The hand pumping his cock increases its pace as he thinks about how good she will look with his come smeared across her innocent face. Thoughts like these, he doesn’t share with her, hardly acknowledges himself until they become too much and he has to purge himself.

Sesshoumaru’s expression remains stoic as he comes, but inside he is dying, the pleasure so great his knees tremble and he almost falls.

Bleach - Szayel Aporro, Orihime "Penny for Your Thoughts"

2008-06-13T18:08:42Z

Title: Penny for Your Thoughts
Author: ryokoful (aka Naraku’s Dark Soul)
Characters: Szayel Aporro, Orihime
Rating: PG
Summary: Szayel tests out his newest invention on Orihime.

Smirking, Szayel studied the scalpel in his hand, light gleaming off the sharp blade. At the sound of protest from his guest, he turned to look at the woman. She had been quiet up until this point, but Szayel could tell she was worried, scared even. He did not blame her. Had she been anyone else, there would have been due cause for this. However, she was under Aizen’s protection, and much as he might wish to make full use of her, he had only been given permission to do a noninvasive analysis. Determining the exact nature of her powers was something he was--had been--looking forward to, regardless of Aizen’s request.

Placing the scalpel back in its designated space on his tray of tools, Szayel smiled at the woman. “If I do not take proper care of my instruments, they will be of no use to me when I do need them,” he said, fingers moving over to grasp a syringe out of the same tray. It was whole, no cracks or other aberrations to prevent it from being useful.

“Y-yes…” The woman’s response was slow in coming, her face red as if she had been caught doing something illicit. Still smiling, Szayel chose to ignore her discomfort as he filled the syringe with his specially prepared spectral parasites. These were a modified version of the original, designed not only to heal damage and observe the subject’s reiatsu and actions, but to record his or her thoughts as well. Szayel had had a recent breakthrough that made the last possible, but the results were untested as of yet. Orihime would be his guinea pig, the first to receive this advanced version of the bugs. Not that he had told Aizen this. Oh no, Szayel put a much higher value on his life than that.

After making sure there were no air bubbles and that the woman’s skin was clean, Szayel injected her with his newest invention. Even though there could be no escape with her arms and legs strapped down to his laboratory table, she stiffened as the needle broke her skin, her eyes closed and her hands balled into fists.

Szayel was not surprised at her renewed discomfort. He had heard from a few of his test subjects that the sensation of the spectral parasites racing through their bodies for the first time had been unpleasant. The comfort of his specimens was hardly something the scientist cared about, but he made note of her reaction anyway. As she was the first to receive these advanced spectral parasites, he would document everything.

After a few moments, the woman relaxed, head drooping to the side as if she had fallen asleep. After disposing of the needle and placing the used syringe in the appropriate sanitary bin, Szayel returned to check her vitals. Everything appeared to be normal, her pulse, respiratory rate, and reiatsu all at previously documented levels. His sensors indicated that she was in a deep REM sleep, and would likely be for some time.

Again, Szayel was not surprised. It would take quite a while for the parasites to synchronize with the host body; something he had observed in most other cases. Usually it took several hours for them to align with the synapses in the host’s brain. He imagined this new breed would take even longer as per its special capability. If everything went as planned, he could expect to see results within the day. Szayel’s lips curled into a slight smile and he snapped his fingers, summoning one of his faithful Fraccion.

“Monitor her vitals. If anything changes from the norm, come see me immediately.” His subordinate nodded its assent and Szayel turned heel, walking quickly away. He had far better things to do than to tend to the girl while she slept. If anything went truly wrong, his Fraccion would notify him. The cameras and sensors in the lab would catch the rest.

Just a quickie. I am and have been intrigued by this pairing, but am unsure if I want to continue this. First time writing Orihime in any manner too.

Inuyasha - Naraku/Kagome "Whispers on the Wind: An Interlude" (The Ties that Bind Us Ch.3)

2008-06-10T20:50:04Z

Title: Whispers on the Wind: An Interlude (The Ties that Bind Us Ch.3)
Author: ryokoful (aka Naraku's Dark Soul)
Pairing: Naraku/Kagome
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,350
Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha, nor do I make any profit from this story.
Summary: Always he has been gluttonous, never fully satisfied. Now in this modern era, there is much power to gain and many obstacles to overcome upon meeting her again. But could she be the one give him what he really needs?

Chapter One: Into the Dark Tunnel My Pretty
Chapter Two: Salvation through Sin

Kagome sighed as she swept the steps of her family’s shrine.

It had been a week since she’d given up her virginity. A week since she had seen him. Time stretched on through endless days filled with boring classes she could hardly pay attention to. Hadn’t she used to enjoy them? She couldn’t remember. The only thing that seemed to matter was finding that oneness she’d had for a brief moment with him. He made her feel whole again, reignited her long burnt out sense of adventure, and freed her from the weight of her guilt. Everything else was boring routine, a path carved by rote memory. It seemed the past was taking over her life again, only this time it was the present. It was as if she was under some kind of spell, and she wondered if this was really the case. She wouldn’t put it past Naraku to do something like that, but she was thinking of the Naraku she knew in the past. This new Naraku was confusing to her. She felt that though she knew him, she didn’t really know him. Maybe she never had.

She stopped sweeping, choosing instead to gaze at the filmy layer of clouds obscuring her view of the sun. The weather was dreary; it looked like it might rain. A sudden gust of wind tore at the long, purple skirt she was wearing and she put a hand down to hold the fabric in place. Her gaze dropped from the sky to the grey stairs at her feet. Squinting, she studied the old stones. She had always thought they were white, but it seemed her mind had deceived her. Perhaps nothing was really white in the world, purity itself a mere illusion. Shaking her head to clear her mind of such morose thoughts, she began sweeping again.

Some minutes later, when she was finally done, she climbed the grey steps and made her way toward the storage shed behind the main shrine. The wooden door was slightly ajar, the wind making it rattle a bit as it gusted again. Kagome frowned, unsure if she had closed it all the way or not. A strange feeling of foreboding stole over her, but she ignored it, reaching for the handle. As her fingers stretched toward the edge of the door, a scuffling noise sounded from within the building. She drew back quickly, the wind rattling the door again as she did so.

She stepped back, and the wind seemed to caress her, whispering her name. Shivering, she decided it was best to get it over with quickly. She swiftly reached over and threw the door open, the faint sunlight filling the small room as the door slid out of sight. Her eyes flitted from the old lawnmower her grandpa had bought to the shiny, new hedge clippers handing at the back of the shed. Nothing appeared to be out of place.

Kagome rolled her eyes at her own foolishness, stepping inside to put the broom in its proper spot. She leaned it against the wall as was customary, but paused when something on the floor caught her attention. There, among the slightly bent up tongs of the rake, was a single, white feather. Kagome quickly dropped the broom against the wall and leaned to pick it up. The feather was much longer than any ordinary bird’s should have been, at least a foot in length and wide enough to match. It was light too, almost insubstantial in its weight, the soft downy fibers seeming almost ethereal as they shifted in the slight breeze coming in from outside the shed. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what it was doing in the small building, and resolved to ask her grandpa once she got inside. She turned on her heel to leave, the feather fluttering gently in the breeze as she held it.

Once outside, she slid the door shut, making sure it was closed this time, and headed back to the house. The threatening sky notwithstanding, she probably wouldn’t stay for dinner anyway. It was getting quite late and she had to be up early for classes the next morning. The last train left in an hour, and she knew if she stayed for supper, she probably wouldn’t make it.

She was almost to the back door when the feather started to grow warm in her fingers. She held it up near her face and it grew hotter, taking on a reddish hue. Startled, she dropped it, and not a moment too soon as it immediately burst into flames, burnt to nothing but ash in mere moments. Horrified at this development, Kagome quickly skirted the dwindling remnants of the feather and hurried inside, nearly smashing her fingers in the door in her haste. She huffed a quick breath and leaned close to the glass to see if she could spot anything unusual outside. She diverted her wide-eyed gaze to the spot where the feather had been, but the stone there was clean, not even a sooty trace of the feather.

With her heart hammering in her chest, Kagome turned away and calmly walked toward the stairs. It wouldn’t do to get too upset about it. She had seen weirder things in her travels in the Sengoku Jidai; a self-combusting feather should be nothing to her.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur; she could hardly remember how she got home. Yet here she stood just inside her apartment, holding the door ajar and fumbling around in her purse for her suddenly ringing cell phone. As her fumbling fingers brushed it, it fell out of the small brown bag and clattered to the floor, Namie Amuro’s “Come” filling the space as the song grew louder.

“Alright, alright!” Kagome exclaimed as she let the door go to reach down for her phone. She seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Behind her, the door slammed shut, leaving her in almost total darkness save for the shining screen of her happily chirping cell phone. She gave a triumphant cry as her hand closed around the grey device, flipping it open and bringing it to her ear.

“Hello?” she said, but received no response. The line was dead. Slightly disgruntled, she pulled the phone from her ear and snapped it shut before turning and flicking on the kitchen light. Whoever it was could always call back.

Although far from rich, Kagome’s family had managed to land her a nice apartment. Three rooms in total, it consisted of a bedroom, small bathroom, and a half kitchen dining room. She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky, most students living off campus ended up with just a bed and bath, or even just a bedroom with a shared bathroom. She had supposed it might be her Grandfather’s connections---many wealthy patrons stopped by the shrine and were friends with its owner---but she didn’t know for sure.

Kagome walked to the fridge and opened the shiny, chrome door, peering inside. Nothing but a half-eaten bento and a few condiments were visible. She sighed as her stomach rumbled. It was instant ramen for her. She hated eating the stuff. It reminded her too strongly of the past for her own comfort.

Usually, her fingers shook as she tore open the container, but not tonight. Kagome’s hand was steady as she opened the left of her two cabinets and extracted her dinner. She shut the Formica door softly and dropped the container onto the grey counter. She paused to retrieve a pot from the other side of the cabinet and went to the sink to fill it with water. Once it was full, Kagome came back and, hardly blinking, set it to boil on one of the burners, carefully turning the handle away from the open space of her kitchen. She’d had a nasty accident with boiling water in the recent past and was still being cautious because of it. Kagome put the top on the pot to help the water to boil, and moved past the fridge, sliding the door there open so she could get into her bedroom.

The windowless room was small, but not cramped. Straight across from her was her double size bed, the mauve cover slightly rumpled from where she’d hurriedly tucked it in the morning previous. She’d stayed at the shrine last night in her old room, the pale yellow wallpaper there a striking contrast to the sickening lilac color adorning her walls here. If she’d been allowed to, she would have painted over it already. As it was, she was stuck with it as well as the shabby end table to the right of her bed. The light wood was peeling in strips down the side and there was a curious green stain on one of the top corners. Always slightly repulsed by this, she only used the thing as a place for her alarm clock and the occasional glass of water to sit. Well, there was one other thing, but she didn’t like to think about it too much. The single item taking up room in the chipped drawer was Inuyasha’s necklace. She still remembered reaching for him in the heat of battle, but finding only the necklace of subjugation, which had snapped---beads flying everywhere--in her grasp. She refused to think about what had happened next, choosing instead to cross the equally vile maroon carpet to her closet on the opposite side of the bed from the end table. She slid the doors open and began unbuttoning her grey shirt. When the last button was undone, she shivered, the chill air of the room getting to her--she’d have to remember to keep the thermostat at a higher temperature--and hurriedly put it on a coat hanger. Her grey bra was next, slipping off her now ample bosom and to the floor where she left it. She would deal with that later.

She found her pajama shirt tucked safely under her pillow and put it on before unbuttoning and unzipping her skirt and tossing it in the dirty laundry pile on the floor of her closet. The shirt might be good for another day, but the skirt definitely had to go. She fished under her pillow again and came out with the bottom of her outfit, slipping the medium green pants on over her dark blue, satin panties before pulling her hair out of the top of her outfit.

Feeling a little fresher, she headed back into the kitchen, lifting the lid on the pot when she got there. The water was just starting to boil. Satisfied that she had a minute, Kagome walked back into her bedroom and around the right side of her bed. She paused briefly, examining a new crack in the whitewashed door and hoping she wouldn’t have to pay for it when she left. Sighing, she slid the door open and stepped inside. The blue tiles adorning the small room were always a relief to her after the various and sometimes clashing shades of purple in the bedroom. She turned to the bathtub on the left, intent on letting the tub fill with water before she ate. She wanted to have a nice soak after dinner and wouldn’t be long enough eating that the water would get cold. The brass knob squeaked loudly as she turned it and the hot water roared to life, pouring into the drain at the bottom of the faux porcelain tub until she plugged it with a rubber stopper.

The water was, as usual, slow in filling the tub up. As she waited, Kagome made sure she had a towel and washcloth handy for her soak later. It had been a while since she had done laundry, but the green cloths were still nice and fresh. She set them on the cracked sink, near the tub. The mirror above the sink was a bit dirty, and Kagome made a mental note of it. She would have to clean it soon. Since coming back for good from the Sengoku Jidai, she harbored a distaste for dirty things. Those long days and nights having to make do with hardly any clean clothes, not to mention the distinct smell of the people of that era, had left their mark on her.

Sighing, she walked back through her bedroom and into the kitchen to check the water. It was hard to tell with the water pouring into the tub, but she thought she had heard the telltale sound of bubbles rising in the kitchen. Sure enough, the water was boiling, bubbles rising at a steady rate from the stainless steel. Kagome ripped open the brightly colored package of instant ramen and, setting the seasoning aside, dropped the noodles into the water.

One unsatisfying meal and an hour long soak later and Kagome was ready for bed. She had early classes the next day and needed to be awake for them. Going to bed early usually wasn’t a problem for her, but as she settled under her mauve covers, Kagome found her mind drifting back to the incident with the feather. It really had been unnatural, and it got her to wondering if there were demons in the modern era. Aside from the occasional long-slumbering one, she had not met any. It had always been a point of curiosity for her, but one never fully explored. It wasn’t as if she could just go out looking for them. With her companions and powers gone, she was just another human and would likely be killed. No one to save her now. An image of Naraku flashed across her mind and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling lonely and slightly ashamed, but eclipsing all of that, hungry for more.

So, this is where the story starts to take a turn. I have a huge plotline mapped out for this. Romance, angst, adventure, and spiritual themes are all included. Hopefully you will stick with me? ♥

Inuyasha - Naraku/Kikyou "Fire and Ice"

2008-06-10T20:31:55Z

Title: Fire and Ice
Author: ryokoful (aka Naraku’s Dark Soul)
Pairing: Naraku/Kikyou
Theme: Opposites attract for iyhedonism
Rating: R
Warnings: Sex
Summary: Victory is in the eye of the beholder.

In Naraku’s embrace her body shudders, shattering under the force of his ardor. He is flame to her ice, dark and burning, licking at her frigid, pure body until it melts. Worlds are created, birthed, and destroyed as their union reaches its completion, her back bowing and his name falling from cold lips even as he spills his pleasure deep inside of her.

Afterwards neither is the same, the fresh blemish on her otherwise pure soul naked, bare for him--and all the world--to see. He has infected her with his darkness, and a bead of sweat finds its way down her forehead at the return of warmth to her body. He smirks, thinking his victory absolute, but she has seen inside of him, knows the depths of his black heart, and does not miss the tiny spot of white that has appeared at its center. It is small, innocuous, but growing ever larger as the taint inside of her spreads.

Kikyou’s return smile is as secretive as her victory.

SO, this is the winner of iyhedonism's week 6 mod's choice. My first award for Inuyasha fic evaaar. Unexpected and nice. Share with me my excitement? :D :D :D!!

Bleach - Grimmjow/Ichigo "Pretty Awful in Pink" (Contest Entry)

2008-06-07T22:22:29Z

Title: Pretty Awful in Pink
Author: ryokoful (aka Naraku’s Dark Soul)
Pairing: Grimmjow/Ichigo
Rating: NC-17
Kinks: cross-dressing for the lulz, D/s, humiliation, bondage, spanking, public sex, very light S&M
Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from this story.

“Ya look ridiculous, Shinigami.” Grimmjow said, chuckling, his slow, easy tone of voice grating on Ichigo’s nerves. He scowled as Grimmjow sized him up, the Espada’s grin so wide Ichigo thought the man’s face might split in two.

“And whose fault is that, huh? You’re the one who made me put this fucking thing on,” Ichigo said, frowning as he stepped closer to the water behind him and farther away from Grimmjow. They were at a public pool, and not just any public pool, but the one at his high school.

Grimmjow had ambushed him after class, insisting he had something to show Ichigo. He had dragged Ichigo to the locker rooms, telling him to slip out of his body or he’d be sorry. Knowing Grimmjow meant business, Ichigo had complied and the two had stuffed his body into a locker. It was ridiculous, really, and made Ichigo wish he had brought Kon with him--which he would have if he had known Grimmjow was going to pay him a visit that day. Not that the fucker ever gave him any notice. Oh, no. Grimmjow couldn’t be bothered with such a trivial thing as that.

Standing two inches from his high school’s pool, Ichigo could not believe what was happening to him. He sincerely hoped no one could see him. Clad in this pink, frilly, piece of shit swimsuit, he’d be the laughingstock of the school for sure if any of his classmates did notice him. Grimmjow did not appear to share this sentiment, however, the other man’s huge grin still in place as he raked his eyes down Ichigo’s body.

“You bet yer ass I did,” Grimmjow replied, snorting then laughing as he stepped closer and gave Ichigo a swift smack on his pink ass. Ichigo winced at the loud noise Grimmjow’s hand connecting with his flesh made. There were only a few people in the pool, but no way to know for sure whether they could see he and Grimmjow or not. Ichigo knew he presented a lewd spectacle, dressed in this girly one-piece, but knew they could just be being polite and trying their best to ignore him.

“Where the hell did you get this…thing anyway? No fucking water in Hueco Mundo.” Ichigo pulled at the strap, letting it go and flinching in disgust as it hit his skin.

“I didn’t get it from there, dumbass. Just stopped by that strange-broad-you-call-a-friend’s place. Ya know, the one with the huge tits,” Grimmjow said, miming grabbing them. Ichigo blanched, his eyes wide.

“O-orihime?” he said, his face reddening as the realization he was wearing her bathing suit sank in. Well, that would explain the excess fabric in the front. The thing was tight, but the chest tented out, fabric sagging over his less-than-buxom form.

“Whatever the fuck her name is, I don’t give a shit. Point is, Shinigami, ya still got some laps to do,” Grimmjow retorted, spitting on the pavement before sneering at Ichigo and taking several steps toward him.

“You’re such an asshole. I can’t believe you stole Orihime’s clothes! Why the fuck I listened to you, I’ll never know,” Ichigo said, stepping up to the edge of the pool. While it was true he had agreed to put the shitty thing on, Grimmjow never said anything about laps. Ichigo did not intend to humor the other man any further. It should have been enough that he agreed to this humiliation in the first place.

“‘Cuz you‘re my bitch, that‘s fuckin’ why. An’ ya better watch what ya say to me,” Grimmjow replied, his eyes narrowed. Scowling, Ichigo opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, Grimmjow gave him a shove and he fell backwards into the pool.

Spluttering and indignant, Ichigo kicked powerful legs and rose to the surface. He had only been under for a moment and could still see the waves from his fall surging outwards. Whipping his head around, he looked at the other people in the pool. None of them appeared to be looking his way. It was strange, but Ichigo was relieved they had not noticed the splash. Turning back to Grimmjow, he spit a jet of water at the other man, who easily dodged it.

“What are ya so worried about, dumbass? Start swimmin’. No one can see ya,” Grimmjow quipped, giving Ichigo a look that said he’d better or else. Rolling his eyes, Ichigo swam a few feet away and back. No one could say he wasn’t a compromising person.

“Happy now?” Ichigo hoped Grimmjow would be as that was the most the Espada was going to get out of him. No way was he swimming laps in some girly swimsuit. It was tight in all the wrong places, loose in the worst of them, and that excess fabric on the front billowed out in the water making him look like a complete idiot. Scowling, Ichigo tried his best to flatten it down, but with little success.

Deciding he’d had enough of the crappy thing, he made to get out of the pool, but was stopped by a sharp pain on his wrist as he grabbed the ladder. Cursing, Ichigo drew his hand back and examined the fresh welt rising up on his otherwise pristine skin. It wasn’t until he heard Grimmjow chuckling that he realized the other man was responsible. Snapping his head around to look at the Espada, Ichigo’s eyes widened and then narrowed at the leather whip in his hand.

“The fuck was that for? I did what you asked! And where the hell did you get that anyway? Stealing from someone else?” Ichigo said, propelling himself backward and away from the ladder. It was better to keep a safe distance from Grimmjow when he was like this. Although they had been lovers for quite some time, Ichigo had never seen the other man with any proper equipment. If he hadn’t been in the water, he would have been sweating by now. Grimmjow’s playful moods never ended well for him.

“You know exactly what it’s for, bitch. Told ya already, you got some laps to do. A few feet ain’t gonna cut it. As for this…” Chuckling, Grimmjow stretched and snapped the leather in his hands. “…got it from big tits’ place too. Bet ya didn’t think she was into this shit, huh?” Still chuckling, Grimmjow let the whip unfurl to touch the ground, the excess coiling at his feet.

His heart palpitating in his chest, face flushed, Ichigo wondered if it were possible to die of mortification. If it were, he certainly had one foot in the grave with this. He had always thought of Orihime as an innocent, had never wanted to believe otherwise. This was waaay too much information, and Ichigo let himself sink in the water until only the top of his head was visible. He did not want to have to converse with anyone at the moment.

He had almost shaken the feeling of wrongness pervading his entire being when a he heard a snap and felt a sharp pain on his head. “Goddammit Grimmjow, not my fucking scalp!” Ichigo exclaimed, shooting up out of the water to clutch his head as he tried to clear his nose of all the water he had accidentally snorted. His wrist was one thing, but Grimmjow had to be crazy if he thought Ichigo would just sit back and accept being beaten in the head. He opened his mouth to say just that, but was cut off again by the whip flying towards him. Ichigo ducked, splashing to the side as the leather thing whistled past.

“Well what are ya waitin’ for? Get to it,” Grimmjow replied, unfazed. He raised the whip high, ready to strike again, but Ichigo was ahead of him this time. Taking a deep breath, he dove underwater and began swimming toward the other end of the pool. It was a long way, but Ichigo felt safer underwater. He doubted the Espada would hit him while he was being obedient, but could not be too sure his classmates wouldn’t see the splashing. It was some sort of miracle they hadn’t noticed already, and Ichigo wasn’t about to press his luck.

With a few more strokes of his powerful legs, Ichigo emerged gasping at the opposite end of the pool. It was the shallow end and he could have stood up if he wanted, but he didn’t feel like it. Being in such uncomfortable and embarrassing swimwear left him with no qualms about concealing himself. Turning around, he saw Grimmjow glaring at him from the other end of the pool and knew he better get back. After a moment’s rest, he dove under again, pushing himself off the wall this time.

Ichigo had been rushed the first time, trying to get away from Grimmjow and that damn whip, but took his time coming back. Not because he wanted to, but because the swimsuit with its shitty excess fabric was a real pain, slowing Ichigo down while he tried to swim in such a way that the excess didn’t balloon out in the back. It was a nice little feature he hadn’t noticed before, but was painfully aware of now. A frustrating half a length of pool later and he was back where he started. He came up slowly, one arm above his head to ward off any blows that might be coming his way. Instead, he found a grinning Grimmjow in wait for him, hands on hips.

“Now that’s more like it, Shinigami. Knew ya had it in you. Don’t know why ya fight me so fuckin’ hard about shit.” He was still gripping the whip, and Ichigo hesitated responding, wondering what else the man might expect from him. After a moment’s pause, he rolled his eyes and headed for the ladder, deciding he’d take the punishment. He had to get out of the swimsuit if it was the last thing he did. Damn thing was riding up in places Ichigo didn’t want to think about. Clearly not made for men. Or, at least, not for him.

Gripping the ladder, he hauled himself out of the water and stood dripping, orange hair plastered to his head, waiting to see what the Espada would do. Quick as only he could be, Grimmjow was on him, palming his cock through the pink fabric with one hand, the other drawn out and quickly back in for a smack to his ass. Sucking in a breath, it was all Ichigo could do not to stumble back. He hadn’t expected this kind of welcome, had been fully prepared to dodge a few lashings and make a hasty exit to the locker room to reclaim his body and be done with the pink monstrosity.

Grimmjow’s hand on his wrist brought him out of his shocked state, and he blinked several times before looking down at the offending limb. He was about to ask for an explanation, but as Grimmjow pulled his other hand in and tied both with the whip, it all became clear.

“Go on. Get over there an’ bend over,” Grimmjow said, turning Ichigo around and giving his ass another smack, sending him back toward the pool ladder. Frowning, Ichigo looked over his shoulder at the Espada.

“The hell you got planned now?” he asked as he bent over, Grimmjow getting a face full of his pink ass.

“Yer a dumb fucker, you know it?” the Espada responded, sneering as he reached down to tie the other end of the whip to the pool ladder, nice and close. “An’ pink looks terrible on ya.”

Ichigo could have told him that to begin with. Pink was for girls, although he wouldn’t exactly be surprised if he found Ishida wearing the color. Shaking his head, Ichigo pushed back the thought. He was already growing hard in anticipation of what Grimmjow would do next and did not want his boner harshed. As if reading his mind, the other man came up behind him and began to massage his ass cheeks, spanking each lightly before drawing away.

Again, Ichigo thought of how ridiculous he must look in the stupid bathing suit, and wished he’d had the foresight to take it off as soon as he got out of the pool. He should have known Grimmjow would jump on him like this. The man had a damn near insatiable sex drive and could never keep his hands to himself for very long. Sighing, he gripped the metal in front of his hands, steeling himself for whatever the other man had planned for them. He wasn’t sure how it would work with him in a one-piece bathing suit, unable to take it off, but knew the other man too well to doubt his capabilities.

Suddenly Grimmjow was back, nails digging into Ichigo’s flesh as he viciously tore the bottom half of the swimsuit away. Ichigo hissed at the newfound freedom, relieved, but still annoyed by the remaining half of the bathing suit hanging limp from his upper torso. The man definitely had some kind of ESP, or whatever the hell it was called, Ichigo thought, gripping the handrail harder.

He was still embarrassed that they were doing this in such a familiar, public place, but that only seemed to add to his desire. Grimmjow had barely touched him, but he was already fully erect. Behind him, the Espada laughed.

“You can pretend all ya want, but I know ya like it, my horny bitch.” The last was punctuated with a slap, which echoed off the hard planes in the room. Ichigo grunted in response. His face might have been red, but he wasn’t about to agree with the other man, and disagreeing wouldn’t get him what he wanted.

Soon enough, Grimmjow’s hand found his entrance, and Ichigo’s favorite part, or one of many favorite parts of sex began. Grimmjow stretched him with first two well-lubricated fingers, then three. He groaned as the third was stuffed into his ass, pushing back against Grimmjow’s calloused hand for more. The Espada obliged him, pumping all three fingers hard and fast inside of him until Ichigo cried out.

Chuckling, Grimmjow drew his hand back, replacing it with his hard cock as he gripped Ichigo’s hips. “Better fuckin’ hold on.” Ichigo gripped the handrail until his knuckles grew white. He knew the Espada, knew he wasn’t kidding when he said something like that. Sure enough, the man’s first thrust inside of him was brutal, tearing a gasp from his throat and nearly causing him to lose his footing. Ichigo quickly righted himself as Grimmjow drew back out, spreading his feet wide for balance. He did not want to end up back in the pool, especially like this. The second thrust caused him to jerk forward a bit, but not nearly as much as before, and Ichigo relaxed a little, losing himself to sensation. Grimmjow’s cock was thick as ever, pushing deep inside of him to hit that special spot that made his back bow, made his vision blur with pleasure.

It was all Ichigo could do to keep his grip on reality as Grimmjow increased his pace, slamming into him hard enough that the ladder clanged against the wall. The thing sent ripples across the pool with each thrust and Ichigo saw his classmates finally, belatedly looking around to find the source of the disturbance, but could not bring himself to care. He was quickly approaching the point of no return, with Grimmjow’s hard length pounding him into submission. Nipples standing erect, Ichigo bucked back against the Espada, earning a surprised grunt from him and a slap on the ass, which sent a shudder of pleasure through his overloaded body. He swore when he came a second later, jets of semen spurting out to land in the pool and slide down the handrail. Gasping for breath as he came down from his high, Ichigo barely registered the tightening of Grimmjow’s hands on his hips, barely heard the Espada’s strained grunt as he emptied himself deep inside.

Grimmjow remained inside for a second before pulling out and letting go of Ichigo, who was still trying to regain his composure. Ichigo heard a rustling sound and assumed Grimmjow was straightening his clothing. He only wished he could do the same. Now that there was no more pleasure distract him, he was conscious of the vulnerable position he was in. If Grimmjow decided he wanted to have some more fun, there was not much Ichigo could do about it. Not that the whip was a real problem. Sure, it was leather, but it wasn’t reiatsu resistant. It was more about the idea of control. Ichigo could free his hands if he absolutely needed to, but he knew the Espada wouldn’t like it if he did. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off again by Grimmjow cursing.

“Ah shit. Forgot that asshole Aizen’s havin’ a meeting soon. Gotta go, Shinigami. You c’n take care of the rest.” Before Ichigo could protest, he felt the tell tale shift in the air pressure announcing the Espada’s departure.

Sighing, he set to work on the knots Grimmjow had made, trying his best to free his hands without damaging the whip. He didn’t know if Grimmjow would be pissed about it. Not that it really mattered. The man was a complete asshole and would probably find some way to punish Ichigo regardless. He didn’t know why he had let this happen to himself. It wasn’t as if this was the first time Grimmjow had left him hanging.

Standing up and rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the ache, he stripped off the top half of the pink monstrosity Grimmjow had gifted him with and let it fall to the ground. Ichigo wasn’t one for souvenirs, and half of a pink, frilly swimsuit wasn’t going to change his mind.

Happy Birthday Gogo ♥♥!! You rock, girl! I really hope you like it. Not sure if I brought the costume aspect out, but hopefully there were enough lulz to make up for it :D