Bleach One Shots GrimmIchi

Unexpected

Found on Archive Of Our Own
Author Mythdefied

The first hint Grimmjow got that something had gone wrong in his perfect world was Kurosaki Ichigo’s fist slamming into his face. Granted, violence was still one of their main means of communication, but these days they usually led up to it with some small talk and a few fond taunts coupled with creative insults. Being greeted by having his nose broken wasn’t something Grimmjow was used to anymore.

He fell off the throne with a grunt of surprise, only to have it turn into one of pain as Ichigo’s foot caught him in the chest, cracking a few ribs, if not breaking a couple. Managing to roll out of the way of another kick, Grimmjow spat out blood and looked up at Ichigo with a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“The fuck is your problem?” he demanded.

The look in Ichigo’s eyes, the absolute fury, was something Grimmjow hadn’t seen since after the war ended, since Grimmjow became king of Hueco Mundo, taking over what was left of Las Noches. Well, it was more like a self-declared position, seeing as how he was the only Espada left after the war and there was nothing strong enough in Hueco Mundo to refute his claim. And not that it actually meant anything, other than getting to lounge around in Aizen’s throne and take out the odd hollow who got ideas. Actually, it was kind of boring. Which was why Grimmjow looked forward to Ichigo’s visits.

After the war, Ichigo was appointed the official representative of Soul Society to Hueco Mundo; it was his job to “keep up relations” with the new king. Whatever that was supposed to mean. At first it’d meant fighting until they were both too cut up to stand, but then they’d started to actually talk before fighting. Then one day they’d both realized that the fighting was a substitute for something else. These days they still fought, but it was pretty much foreplay and they never took it far enough to actually cause damage anymore. Real damage would stop them from the part they both loved even more.

They were keeping up relations all right; they fucked each other into the floor. Or rather, Grimmjow fucked Ichigo into the floor. Or the wall. Or the table. Or the throne. Anywhere he could, really, and Ichigo demanded it. It was always more and deeper and harder with him and Grimmjow was perfectly happy to give it too him. He fucked Ichigo until that sweet, tight ass of his was red and raw and Grimmjow’s dick was bruised and felt damn near ready to fall off. They kept it up for days whenever Ichigo visited, barely taking any time out for pointless things like eating or sleeping. By the time Ichigo left, he nearly had to crawl through the Senkaimon, cursing himself and Grimmjow the entire way; Grimmjow himself was limping and ready to collapse. It worked for them and up until today they’d never had any problems.

Now Ichigo was standing over him wearing a killing expression that frankly, was turning Grimmjow the fuck on. But he kind of doubted that he’d get to do anything about it, not with Zangetsu drawn and held white-knuckled at Ichigo’s side.

“What’s my problem?” Ichigo demanded, his face reddening as the reiatsu he exuded began to do what felt like a slow boil.

“Yeah!” Grimmjow pushed himself up, wiping blood away from his face. “You don’t show up for months and when you do, you pull this shit! So what the hell is going through that pea-sized thing you call a brain?” He narrowed his eyes as he stared up at Ichigo. There was something...different.... “Hey, were you stuffing your face all this time? Because you’re out of shape. Looking kind of chunky there.” He sneered, thinking the taunt might get him one in return, maybe prod Ichigo into spilling whatever was going on.

What he didn’t expect was the way Ichigo’s eyes widened, something like...horror crossing his face ever so briefly. Then his eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back from his teeth in an expression of incredible viciousness.