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Ishida KinkFic: "It's Me In Here." NC17 Yaoi.


Argh. I wrote it. I don't know what to say except I know I cheated but I let the fic take me where it wanted to take me. I know its less sexy that what you were expecting.


It’s Me in Here
by debbiechan




Disclaimer: Kubo Tite invented Bleach and while he didn’t write any kink in the source material, he implied a lot. Thank you, Kubo-sensei.

Description: NC-17 Non-con, bondage, humiliation. Maybe incest … maybe.

Warnings: See description above. This is a kinkfic. Also, character deaths, a little bit of backstory, melodrama.

Written in response to a request and prompt at Bleach Kink Meme, version 2.:

Pairing: Ryuuken x Uryuu
Kink: Archery bow wire and/or Quincy necklace/bracelet pendants, definitely some kind of struggle, insults for Uryuu not being good enough
Anon loves you if you do this, thankyuuuuu~


I didn’t post this to the meme because I’ve got this hang-up about fulfilling anonymous requests. Whatever floats your muse, but it’s not for me. I have to identify myself, and I prefer it when someone I know asks for smut. In any event, I have a good idea who requested this--just because I know you Ishida kinkos out there, and yes, I will respect you in the morning. ^_~

-----

“You know it’s me in here….” ~Grand Fisher when he took the form of Ichigo’s mother, Chapter 24, “One-Sided Sympathy.”

-----


“I’m not your father,” said Ryuuken.

The reiatsu was Ryuuken’s. Yes, it was undeniably Ryuuken’s. It was a power that could be hidden at will or displayed with a casual almost insouciant control.

“I’m not your father,” Ryuuken repeated. “I’m not here to rescue you.”

An inert anger, imperceptible unless the bow was raised. Hate that could launch itself with the arrow and burn out the moment it struck its mark. Ishida had fought this unbeatable opponent for days straight before coming to Hueco Mundo. Ryuuken. A Quincy. Not an Espada.

“What’s the matter? You can’t trust your senses anymore? Hallucinations are a symptom of fatigue.”

Ishida took a step backwards. Then he cursed himself for that concession of weakness.

“Where are you going, Quincy? You know you can’t run away. You tried that before. All paths lead back to me.”

Ishida knew that the Espada was talking about having shifted the hallway earlier so that Ishida and Renji would run right back into the laboratory instead of away from the battle, but the fact that Ryuuken was speaking…. A sick feeling rose in Ishida’s throat.

Silver hair, white doctor’s coat with the stitching Karakura General on the pocket, that unmistakable contemptuous expression.

All paths lead to me.

The struggle had always been with his father’s expectations. Years of raging against Ryuuken.

“I’m not called a genius for nothing,” Ryuuken said. The words didn’t sound like Ryuuken. They were spoken with the lilting sarcasm of the Espada Number Eight. “I promised you the most grotesque death imaginable.” The Thing that looked like Ishida’s father, emanated his father’s reiatsu and spoke with his father’s voice, lifted its arms and walked a slow circle. A haughty, exhibitionistic walk. “Do you want to know how I did this?”

“No.” Ishida drew power through the pendant at his wrist and Ginrei Kojaku materialized. He still felt nauseous. He couldn’t swallow the feeling. “I’m tired of your talking. I’m going to kill you.”

“No curiosity?” Ryuuken’s voice. The insinuatingly polite tone. “Curiosity is the hallmark of genius. The Quincy were a genius people. Are you sure you’re a Quincy?”

The Thing took a step forward, and Ishida took another step back. Let it believe he was frightened. The more off-guard it got the better.

“What’s the matter? You can’t kill your father?”

“Of course I can.”

In the training room under the hospital, Ishida had wanted to. Ryuuken had grabbed him by the collar and hissed the words: You can’t kill me but at least gather your courage and try instead of standing there like a nurse in uniform waiting to help someone. This is war, Uryuu. It’s not about helping those who can’t be helped; it’s about surviving.

The Ryuuken standing before him was a younger version than the one Ishida had fought under the hospital. The eyes. There was something less strained about the eyes. Hair that was shorter and better-groomed. A Ryuuken from Ishida’s childhood.

“Are you just going to stand there?” It asked.

And the other one of recent memory: Are you just going to stand there? You’ve had enough time to sew six of those Quincy dresses of yours.

Ishida had not doubted himself, not once, since coming to Hueco Mundo. He had incomparable speed, an arsenal of Quincy techniques, and now the seal on his powers had been lifted in this room. In the past half-hour of Ishida’s fighting and killing his own clones, Seele Schneider had absorbed the strength of twelve Quincy.

He flew directly behind what he knew was the Espada’s weaker shoulder and fired the arrow.

Something grabbed Ishida around the neck.

“Too slow,” Ryuuken’s voice said.

The opponent was behind him, and Ishida raised his bow in an attempt to crash the weapon’s spokes against the Thing’s head.

“Too slow.”

Ginrei Kojaku clanked to the ground, splintered into confetti of white light. The Espada twisted Ishida’s arm behind him. Not Ryuuken, not Ryuuken. The Thing that even breathed like Ryuuken exerting himself during training--it held Ishida in a chokehold.

“Uryuu!” The shout was Pesh’s.

Ishida was shoved to the floor. The Espada sat on his back.

“I’m still here!” Pesh yelled. “I’ll help you!” Then a gasp. “Why does he--? He looks like you, Uryuu.”

“Be quiet, Hollow.”

Ishida’s glasses were askew. He’d hit his jaw hard on the floor, and blood was filling his mouth.

“You underestimate me,” Pesh said bravely. “I’m stronger than Uryuu. I’m the one you want to fight.”

Ishida winced. Please don’t even try. Your voice is trembling.

“Look, Hollow, since you survived this far, I’m going to keep you. Unless you learn to show me the proper respect, though, I’ll have to refurbish your crude neurology.”

“What are you doing to look like Uryuu? Are you ingesting his power? Are you--?”

“Quiet!”

Ishida turned his head and saw that Pesh stood, apparently unharmed, among a pile of slain clones. Donchaka’s reiatsu was … gone? Ishida spotted Donchaka, the real one, the one without the black filigree pattern over its shut eyelids, lying as if asleep with one cheek resting on folded paws. Dead. Donchaka was dead.

Abarai’s reiatsu was gone too. Ishida couldn’t see Abarai’s body, but maybe the Shinigami was comatose--maybe he and Kuchiki-san and Sado were so severely injured that their reiatsu was … dormant? Maybe there was still time to help them?

Ishida swallowed hard and his nausea quelled. He could still channel reishi. Think. Let the Thing babble and brag for a moment and Ishida could re-form the bow backwards, shove against the Thing’s torso, and propel himself to a fighting stance.

“You can’t get up, Quincy, because I’m stronger than you are.” It was as gleeful as a playground bully. It bounced its bottom once, twice, on Ishida’s lower spine--that was so unlike Ryuuken. It held both Ishida’s wrists with one hand--the way Ryuuken could when Ishida was a small child. It was freakishly strong.

“Uryuu. You did introduce yourself. I suppose a father should address his son by his proper name. What do you call me? Quincy-sama? …. Papa?”

Under the hospital Ryuuken had described Quincy close-range defenses, but he’d never gotten around to showing his pupil the specifics.

Of course not.

Ishida lowered his face to the ground and felt blood spilling from the corners of his mouth. Before receiving enough training to combat this sort of Espada, Ishida had bolted with Urahara. What the hell had Urahara been thinking when he urged the rescue team to leave for Hueco Mundo right away?

“Souken,” Ryuuken’s voice said, and Ishida startled at the name.

“Sou--?” A pang of fear struck him--don’t turn into my grandfather.

Ishida was yanked to his knees. A bony hand shoved a blurry white object in front of his eyes. At first he thought the Espada was holding a tangle of noodles.

“Cuerda para el arco,” said the Thing, referring to the long twisted length of hemp in its fingers. It spoke the Spanish name as if it had no idea that souken, which meant bow string, was also Ishida’s grandfather’s name. Maybe it didn’t know.

“Recognize this pathetic rope?” Ryuuken’s face appeared over Ishida’s shoulder. The face was too close. A smile wider than Ryuuken’s. “I’m not accessing your memories, if that’s you think.”

But how could it know about Quincy artifacts--how could it make itself look like the Ishida Ryuuken of a decade ago?

Don’t bother. Just kill it and get out of here.

Something shot across the room and splatted on the Thing’s cheek. As the clear liquid ran down its face, Ishida recognized Pesh’s Infinite Slick.

The Espada turned to look at the Hollow with Ryuuken’s weary disdain. “I'll kill you later. First, I want you to see what I’m going to do to your precious Uryuu.”

Let it babble and then--

“Before I was an Espada, dear Uryuu, I was a sad sort of Hollow known as a Menos Grande. Before I was a Menos Grande, I was a nation….” The voice erupted into mad delight. “I was a nation of bitter, vengeful, murdered Quincy!”

“What?” Before Ishida could process what the Espada was saying, he felt his arms pinched together at the elbows and his face hit the ground again. This time one of the lenses of his glasses popped out.

His arms had been bound with the bow string.

“Thought you were going to catch me off guard? You can’t.”

Ishida’s Quincy pendant dangled before his eyes. Ryuuken’s hand tossed it across the floor.

“Try something else, Uryuu. Try ransoutengai. I know about that puppet string technique from some sad loser who attacked your father. The memories are jumbled up--so many insignificant, pitiful memories. And let me tell you this--one of the Hollow who would make up my Menos fought your father.”

“My father?” Ishida wasn’t understanding anything. Quincy turned into Hollow? A Hollow-Quincy attacked his father?

“Try anything. There are no restrictions on your power in this room.”

Ishida tried ransoutengai. All the reishi he could channel from the air wasn’t enough to lift his bound arms. He raised his chin and squeezed his eyes and struggled with his own muscles against the bow string.

“This isn’t souken,” Ishida heard himself say. The cord was too thick and too strong.

Sensei, I can get myself out of this.

Before his grandfather taught him to hold a bow, he had taught Ishida to twist the bow string. True Quincy bow were shaped out of reishi but Souken showed his grandson how to manipulate reishi by first wrapping hemp fibers into several bundles and then coiling these bundles into one pliable length.

The day would come that a reishi chord, when plucked, would feel like ordinary corded hemp under Ishida’s hand.

The way of the ordinary bow is standing meditation. The way of the hami-yumi is a little different, Uryuu. To destroy evil, you first have to recognize its face.”

Ishida kicked his legs and wrestled the bow string binding him. Sensei, help me.

“I modified it,” said Ryuuken’s voice. “This stuff the Quincy knew was organic mierda and cloning it would’ve served no purpose.”

Ishida didn’t waste any more energy struggling. He lay still, breathing hard.

“What you’re feeling around your skinny arms is my own reiatsu.”

“Your reiatsu is my father’s. How--?” Ishida needed to know now. Something told him his Quincy pride was at stake. There was no way this creature could have real Quincy reiatsu.

“The Hollow I sent after your father barely escaped. Poor thing, it was diced to ribbons--but it did manage to gather your father’s reiatsu the same way that Cirucci whore gathered your own. I noticed the similarities between your Quincy soul-prints in my lab and devised this form in anticipation of fighting you.” A long exaggerated sigh. “Are you really following this or should I stop torturing your feeble mind and begin torturing your body?”

“Let me go,” ordered Ishida but the Espada laughed. Ryuuken never laughed.

“I enjoy hearing you plea for your life, Uryuu, but I’m afraid I can’t--”

“Let me go,” repeated Ishida in what he thought was a steady, threatening voice, not a plea. “When I stand up again, I promise I will kill you. Fight me.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Ryuuken’s voice degenerated into a low moan. The moan turned into a purring sound. “Rrrrrrrr, Uryuu, I told you. I don’t like to fight. I’m not--I’m not a fighter, really.”

Something wet touched the nape of Ishida’s neck.

“Uryuu, be a good son.”

It was kissing him.

“Uryuu!” Pesh shouted. “It’s trying to eat you!”

“I told you to be quiet, Hollow, or I’ll have you join us over here.”

Ishida felt nothing but the shock of a cold, wet space on his neck. Then the kissing resumed, hot and slow, against his ear.

“Truly, Hollow, behave or else.” Ryuuken’s voice, dangerously soft. “I believe you’d rather watch than experience what I’m going to do to Uryuu.”

Ishida realized what that was.

He screamed.

He’d never summoned his energy like that before--with reckless rage and a thrashing body. He managed to surprise the Espada because its reiatsu spiked, and it yanked Ishida by the hair.

“Quiet! Why do you think I didn’t kill you like I did your red-headed friend over there? You seemed to be more … refined.” Its knees held Ishida’s thighs pressed together, but Ishida could still struggle. He bucked his body and managed to kick the Espada’s lower spine with the heel of his shoe.

It slammed Ishida’s head against the floor. His glasses frames cut into his brow; blood poured into his eye. He felt his head being raised yet again.

“You’re a disgusting coward,” Ishida said. His voice sounded more panicked than he’d ever heard it. He willed himself into control. Don’t struggle. He’ll kill you. You still need to save--

“That’s better.” The grip on Ishida’s scalp relaxed into a caress. “I knew you were a Quincy. There now.” A kiss between the shoulders. “You were saying? Who’s a coward?”

“You aren’t a warrior. You--” Ishida wasn’t going to be humiliated. The Thing on top of him wasn’t capable of humiliating a Quincy, no matter what it said about being made of Quincy souls. It was a Blasphemy. It was a Thing. “This isn’t fighting. From the very beginning, all you’ve done is cheat and hide and lie--”

It grabbed Ishida’s shoulder and rolled him over.

“Are you suggesting that I’m afraid of this?” It lowered its Ryuuken face to Ishida’s. “Here am I, face to face with you. Now, who’s afraid?”

This was worse. Worse than having some monster sit on you was having to look Ryuuken in the eye.

“Ridiculous human apparatus.” Ryuuken held Ishida’s mangled frames in one hand. He crushed them. “You’re just a human.”

Pesh was sobbing somewhere. The sound shamed Ishida. The fraccion were making curious humming noises. They were all watching. Somewhere in the room lay Abarai--dead because Ishida hadn’t acted in time to save him. He hadn’t even seen him go down. He didn’t know how he died.

“You’re pathetic,” said Ryuuken.

You make me sick.

You’re stupid.

You have no talent.

Ishida looked away. There was no shame in not meeting its eyes.

Don’t look at it.

Just stay alive.

-----

Ishida had been expecting coarse and violent, so after a few minutes of the Thing’s stroking his face, his arms, his thighs with deliberate tenderness, he grew suspicious. The violation was just this, wasn’t it? Making Ishida feel loved.

Ishida didn’t know what love felt like, but the thrill that floated inside his stomach might be the physiological part of love. The newness--the intimacy--This should be disgusting to me but it isn’t.

That thought in itself was more horrifying than the anticipation of being raped.

The tongue lapping his palm stopped.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Ryuuken’s voice had never sounded so gentle. “Affection?”

As easily as one would pop the seal on a gift envelope, its fingers tore off Ishida’s utility belt.

Breath staggering, face flushing, Ishida felt could forgive himself for his hard-on. He knew he was only a teenager and he’d been sexually aroused in situations less sexual than this one. He was a Quincy, though, and he thought he could control himself. He wanted to channel his reishi from the inside out; if he could only make his soul leave his body….

“Do you think that with hundreds of souls, hundreds of sad miserable Quincy souls inside me I wouldn’t know a little something about fathers and sons? The competition, the yearning for acceptance, the yearning….”

Ishida couldn’t help it. He looked at his father’s face.

It had taken off the glasses. Ryuuken’s eyes were narrowed with lust, moist with affection.

The look did something to Ishida’s heart.

Father…. Ryuuken had never looked at his son this way. Ryuuken, why do you hate me?

A soft mouth between his legs prepared him. A hot tongue moved inside him.

Ishida knew better than to brace himself. He tried to relax his body, pretend that he was asleep and dreaming.

And then the Thing pushed its penis inside.

It didn’t hurt any more than other parts of him that were hurting. The bow string cut through his sleeves. One side of his face, where a tooth had been knocked loose, throbbed dully. The place on his shoulder where Cirucci Thunderwitch’s weapon had whipped still bled and ached.

He’d given up trying to fight his way out of this predicament.

To destroy evil, you first have to recognize its face.

The first Hollow that Ishida had vaporized looked like a monster. A monster with a fierce, living skull for a face.

The face hovering over Ishida’s now was his own. The Ishida family chin, the straight nose and long cheekbones. Ryuuken’s lips were parted and a soft exhalation accompanied each thrust of his … its … lower body.

A nation of bitter, vengeful, murdered Quincy.

It couldn’t be true.

It was.

That Quincy could become Hollow was as real as the bitterness he’d seen in his own father’s eyes.

Those eyes weren’t bitter now; they were soft with pleasure.

Sensei, please. Make it stop.

“Oh Uryuu, you feel wonderful. This body fits your body….” The Thing sighed. “My dear boy, it’s like--it’s like--” The Thing was stroking Ishida’s arousal gently with one hand. “It’s like coming home.”

When Ishida came, the feeling was a relief in more ways than one. The violation seemed less intense. Ryuuken’s body, its arms fully clothed in the Karakura Hospital uniform, its legs still wearing pants, worked harder, heaved and pushed and wounded Ishida. Each thrust hammered a wound and then pulled away, leaving a welcome hurt. It was okay to hurt--hurting felt better that the foggy pleasure of moments before.

“Damn you, boy!”

The Thing opened his mouth on Ishida’s cheek as it released. It was only then that Ishida noticed and felt grateful that its mouth hadn’t kissed his own mouth, not once. The face hadn’t come as close as it could come.

-----

Ishida felt empty, raw. He felt blood and semen pour out of himself. He stung with emptiness.

He felt himself being rolled over onto his stomach and the binds on his arms give away. Then there was a huge soundless explosion of pink and gold dust that blinded him for a full minute.

He coughed and when he could finally see, he raised his head.

The Espada’s original released form, the monstrous butterfly, cast its huge shadow over Ishida. Its tentacles were unraveling from the single braid at its waist. Ishida thought of worn-out bow string. Tentacles, each live and writhing and dripping fresh blood.

My blood.

Ishida turned his head and wretched. He hadn’t eaten before leaving the Living World hours ago (a lifetime ago?) so all he vomited was a puddle of frothy bile. His mouth and throat stung from the acid.

Pesh was helping him to his feet.

The hands that pulled up Ishida’s pants were a Hollow’s. The hands pushed down his tunic and flattened the fabric over his abdomen. Ishida was already dressed when he realized he’d allowed Pesh to dress him.

He shook the Hollow off. “I can stand,” he hissed, even though he wasn’t sure he could. His legs were numb.

Then he noticed that Pesh had slipped the Quincy pendant into his palm. Ishida closed his fingers around it.

The Espada Number Eight threw back its head and ran its black-nailed claw through its pink hair. “Well, that was very satisfying. Not since Luppi-chan…. Ah, you were softer, not as tight as I expected, but of course, you’re just a human.” It cast its gold-eyed gaze on Pesh. “Hollow, you go back and stand with my other fraccion. And you, Uryuu….”

Not his father’s eyes anymore.

Ishida blinked. He knew what the Thing was going to say.

“You’re free to go,” it said.

“Uryuu!” gasped Pesh. “Did you hear that?”

Ishida looked Pesh in the eye. Face your friend like a Quincy. Face your comrade like a warrior. “I’ll be back,” Ishida said. “I’ll be back for you and Abarai and Donchaka.”

“They’re--they’re not alive.”

“I’ll be back with Inoue-san.” Ishida was sure of it. Inoue-san could heal them all. The only logical course of action was to fly out of here, find her, and--

Espada Number Eight cackled. “Yes, yes, go along with your mission. You want to be a good boy and survive. I think all your comrades are very dead, but if you should happen to run into one, explain the blood running down your leg.”

“Uryuu,” whispered Pesh. “Go already.”

“Bleeding like a girl!” The Espada went on. “You shouldn’t have worn white, Uryuu!” It threw its head back and screamed with laughter, euphoric with itself.

Ishida took a breath and began to gather spiritrons under his feet. His legs were throbbing back to life. Tendons in his thighs were shaking.

“Yes, survive, Uryuu. Make your father proud.” The Thing, the gold-eyed giant butterfly, nodded its humanish head. It looked drunk, too enraptured not to display its foolishness. “Yes, go back and show your papa what you’ve learned today.”

That was all Ishida would stand to listen to. In a blur of hirenkyaku, he fled the room.

White walls, white ceilings, white floors. Las Noches all looked the same. Ishida sped up a row of white steps, turned into another long corridor.

He would never again see all paths as leading to Ryuuken. He would always be running away. There could be no reunion, no resolution--

It was illogical but final.

Ishida hated his father forever.

He also understood him now; there was something about the Quincy that Ishida himself could now hate--even as he still prided himself on being a Quincy.

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.


It was easier than feeling I love you.


End




A/N: Sorry for side-stepping the incest implicit in the request. I just couldn’t do that to Ryuuken. I figured if manga-Ishida could find a loophole in his promise to his father, I could write Quincest without actually writing Quincest.



As always, I appreciate typo catches, misspellings, any feedback. Neither my beta nor I went over this thing.

And here's something else, a drawing for no_utopia  . She wanted a nearly naked Tousen for her birthday and here he is:

Tousen for Pia
Tags: ishida, it's me in here, kinkfic, ryuuken, szayel, yaoi
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