#grimmdy

Needless to say he’s going to be successful as you continue to squirm and groan, his finger moving across the cowl of the dress to pull it further down. The fabric pools against your forearms and he licks his chops as your pebbled nipples are exposed. He dips his head against your chest again, licking one of your nipples into his mouth as you pant above him. 

Wrapping your hands around his head, fingers yanking at the roots of his blue hair, he swears this is what he fought his whole life for and he’ll protect you no matter the cost, even if you’re doing a very bad job protecting yourself.

“It just amazes me how vulnerable you leave yourself,” he starts and you groan, wishing he’d close his lips and get back to relieving the ache between your legs. “Not everyone is as nice as I am,” he sucks a mark into the skin around your nipple and looks up into the mirror where he can see your eyes shut tightly in ecstasy. 

“Lucky that I found you instead.”

You hum your agreement as he switches from one nipple to the other, pinching the still damp bud between his fingers. A high pitched moan leaves your throat and he smirks against the bud that is between his lips. If his hands weren’t occupied he’d be shimmying this joke of a garment off of you, he’d gladly watch it pool around your feet.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” you groan, yanking the strands of his hair tightly. You lift one of your legs and settle it around his waist, the friction blissfully provided by the movement making your eyes roll back into your skull. This is his favorite sight and this time feels even sweeter because he won. He has you. You’re here with him.

All victors deserve a reward and you are his, he just has to slip you out of this damn fabric.

He pops your nipple out of his mouth and you whine, using the leverage of your hooked leg to needily grind against his bulge. Grimmjow looks up at you, using his grip on the back of your head to position your face until you’re looking down at him. 

“Death? Please,” he chuckles, loosening his grip on the back of your head to slide the hand down your body and free you of the dress completely. You step out of the fabric and try to ignore his grimace when he catches a glimpse of the very tiny underwear you wear beneath the dress. “If anything, silly woman, you should be thanking your savior.”

You want to roll your eyes but part of you wonders if he isn’t right to be concerned. It isn’t often you leave the house without Grimmjow in tow and you are positive that the scary cat-man privilege keeps you from being approached more often than not. Your friends would understand, wouldn’t they?

“How should I be thanking you, brave Grimmjow?”

Your tone is teasing but your words are honeyed and laced with innuendo and he catches on immediately, rising and standing to his full height. He lingers an entire head above you and the sight makes you squirm. He uses the strength in his hips to press against you, hands sliding down your body to slip one of them between your legs. Hooking a finger in the gusset of your panties, he slides them to the side and groans as he feels your slick soaking his fingertips. 

“That’s all the thanks I need.”

Can’t imagine a better reward, he thinks to himself as he gnaws his lower lip and furrows his brow. The needy babbling dripping from your lips as he dips his finger between your folds, spreading your wetness from your swollen and sensitive little clit to your fluttering hole just like you showed him serves as its own prize. You spread those pretty lips and willingly demonstrated what makes you feel good and he hasn’t let you down yet, quick study that he is.

“So wet, so ready,” he teases, lips brushing against yours as he slips one of his long fingers inside of you with a lewd squelch that fills the small bathroom. “Aren’t you glad I stopped you, bunny?”

You shiver at the nickname, something only he knows you like to be called. A private little name between the two of you, only existing because he told you that’s what you remind him of. 

“You’re like those damn rabbits we saw at the pet store,” he started as he tapped on your calves where they were draped across his lap. “A little too friendly, a little skittish,” he grimaced as he continued, turning his attention back toward the TV sitting in the center of the room. “Cute.”

You blushed and looked away.

Tonight, you can’t look away as his blazing eyes make contact with yours.

Before another word can be spoken, he wraps one of his hands around your thigh and you understand that he’s going to lift you and that you need to wrap the leg around him. As he perches you on the very edge of the counter, your legs wrapped around him, you gasp as he reaches down to free his cock. The light catches the glistening pre at the tip and you lick your lips. Grimmjow positions himself at your entrance, using one hand to swipe the spongy head of his cock from your clit to your hole and back.

“Don’t tease me, I’ve been good,” you whimper and he stops, wrapping his arms around your hips and grabbing handfuls of your ass. 

“You weren’t going to be though,” he warns, casting a glance down at you as he sheaths himself inside of you in one calculated movement. Your breath leaves your lungs as he bottoms out, your pussy so soaked there was zero resistance for him to get used to. Your walls welcome him home and the tacky sound of his cock pounding into you fills the room, interspersed with your needy moans and his arrogant reassurances.

“You like that so much, don’t you….clenching around me,” he growls into your ear as he looks down and watches your tits bounce with his every thrust. His eyes widen when he catches sight of the marks he has left on your body, the sight making him thrust into you harder, his grip on your ass like steel.

“Grimm, fuck,” you pant, brows furrowed as your lids flutter closed. “So close.”

He can feel how close you are too, that perfect pussy gripping onto his cock like a lifeline. Everything about you is so tantalizing to him - the way you bounce and move, the way you moan, the high pitched tone you call his voice in as you flutter and tighten around him. He isn’t completely sure how he lived without this before meeting you but he’s glad he’ll never have to again.

“That’s right, cum for me,” he grunts as you squeal and feel yourself gripping down on him, your orgasm causing you to arch your back as you run your hands over his scarred chest, using your fingernails to leave fine scratches across his skin. You like marking him as much as he likes doing it to you but that’s a secret you keep to yourself.

Struggling to catch your breath, Grimmjow increases his pace and his grip on your ass as he chases his own orgasm and you can tell how close he is by how filthy his mouth becomes. As always.

“Fuck, just like that. Oh god, fuck fuck fuck. My fuckin’ bunny, my fuckin’ pussy, right?” 

You can only nod as your body rocks with the force of his every thrust he punctuates with guttural moans, bracing one of his hands on the mirror behind you. Too lost to pleasure to scold him, you know it can wait as you let him reach his peak. You watch as his defined abs tense and twitch, his cock making the same motions inside of you as he shoots rope after rope of hot cum buried deep in you. 

Gradually softening, he pulls himself from you and smiles as you lean against his chest and trace little shapes over the discolored skin of his scar. You’re careful not to brush too low and to touch the outside rim of his hollow hole, something he wishes every time he sees you would disappear, but he’s too lost in the post orgasm haze of you in his arms to think about that right now.

Nuzzling into your neck, hands still gripping your ass, he breaks the silence.

“Good thing you stayed in, yeah?” You snort and shove him playfully, giggling as you bury your nose against his chest. “Yeah, thank goodness you saved the day.”

Grimmjow tries to play off the way your praise makes his cock twitch back to life and you squeal as he picks you up, using the leverage of your legs wrapped around his hips to carry you back to the adjoined bedroom and toss you on the bed. 

He smirks and you try to keep your defenses sound, unwilling to give into him. You feel him place his damp chin against your shoulder and you fight the urge to shrug him off as you see either of his hands brace themselves on the edge of the sink. The closeness is alarming but familiar and you glance down into the sink where his sugary sludge sits, preparing to open your mouth and ask him what the fuck was in that cup, before you hear his voice so close to your ear it makes you shiver.

“Remember what you told me when I first started staying here?”

You recall all too well what you told him with a bright smile when he was still crashing on your couch and not in your bed coiled around you every night.

“What’s mine is yours,” the two of you say in unison. His arms move closer to your body, his weight pressing you against the lip of the sink. You reach around his hands and back into the basin, water running and splashing against the ceramic bottom of your mug.

“I kind of assumed the stuff with my name or initials on it wouldn’t apply to that, though.”

Grimmjow chuckles, plucking the mug out of your hands and putting it down. You feel him nuzzle against the side of your neck and your already thin resistance snaps. Pressing your back into him, his arms naturally come up to rest around your waist. You try to ignore the sick feeling you get at your now dampened clothing.

“You’ve never told me what’s off limits,” he reminds and you nod. He’s right and arguing is futile with the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. Finally, you shrug him off and wrinkle your nose at the wet patch on the shoulder of your t-shirt and you turn to face him. He brushes his still wet hair off of his face and you avert your gaze, trying not to be caught staring at his near perfect form.

“So until then,” he grins and shrugs and you can only imagine what’s coming out of his mouth next. “It’s all for me.”

You giggle and shrug, balling the bottom of your t-shirt between your fists as he readjusts the towel (the one with your name embroidered on it, a gift from your friend) around his hips. Feeling your face grow hot, you look away and turn the water back on, preparing to finish the dishes.

“Go dry off before you get more water on the floor.”

He shrugs and you cringe at the sound of his wet feet slapping against the floor but some things simply aren’t worth the argument you reason. As you turn back toward your task, you hear the footsteps stop near the hallway and you look up, almost suspicious at how fondly the feral man turned flower scented shampoo user looks at you.

“Hey,” he says and you raise your brows in response. “Thanks.”

You nod and smile, gnawing on your lower lip as he turns to head down the hallway, giving you a near perfect view of his back. Ogling silently, you laugh at yourself and the ludicrous situation you’ve found.