Thriller | By : Raceysama Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male > Grimmjow/Ichigo Views: 2972 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor do I make any profit from these works...... |
CHAPTER 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach... Onwards... XOXOXO You should never argue with a crazy motherfucker You oughta know by now (by now, by now) Hey, you should never argue with a crazy motherfucker Gotta get you ya money -Unknown- XOXOXO Grimmjow secured his black hood over his head of bright blue hair, grinning maniacally as he crossed the street towards the men edging towards the corner of the store where his strawberry obliviously waited. What was with the boy and working so late at night anyway? Didn't he realize that that shift was just asking for trouble? The men paused at the mouth of the alley beside the building, warily glancing around for witnesses. The one in the front was rather bulky, but kind of short. Grimmjow couldn't see faces because of the masks they wore, but he could clearly see a pair of dark eyes roaming the deserted street. He could also see the man behind the one leading and carrying a small, black duffel bag because he was taller and slimmer. His eyes were a soothing shade of brown, but had nothing on the eyes Grimmjow had on his mind constantly. Grimmjow lifted a hand and froze both men in their tracks, two pairs of eyes widening in fright. "What the hell?" the man in front shouted. Grimmjow ambled up to them and walked around them in a slow circle. The men were suspended in mid-air and it reminded him of the cartoons Shirosaki watched, where the characters would run off a cliff, but right before they plummeted, they seemed to freeze. Fucking hilarious. Especially that dumb shit of a coyote. Man, that roadrunner was a genius. "Who the fuck're you?" the slim one asked in a gruff tone, startling Grimmjow from his musings. Rude fucker. "Nah, see ya don't get ta ask ME questions 'cuz only I get ta do the talkin' right now," he returned, spitting out the huge wad of gum in his mouth. He rooted around in his pocket for a moment, looking for more and sucked his teeth in annoyance when none turned up. Oh, well. He'd just have to get another pack. And looky, looky, he was right near a nice little convenience store. The thought of confronting Ichigo made his dick nearly jump out of his jeans in anticipation. "The hell we don't!" Shorty snapped, making Grimmjow jump. Shit, he was really distracted. He walked another slow circle around the suspended men before stopping behind them. He flicked his wrist and began moving, leading them back into the alley they emerged from, mind conjuring ways to torture them for even THINKING they had the right to touch his strawberry. Idiots, they were. Grimmjow stopped moving once he felt that no one would hear the two men screaming and if they did, they wouldn't pay it any mind. This area wasn't about to win any awards for safety any time soon. Grimmjow pinned the men to the wall and allowed his grin to return. Just when he was feeling antsy, he got a nice little activity to keep him somewhat occupied. The men were watching him the way a mouse watched a snake approach: with a sort of inevitable dread. Ever watch a glass dish fall from the edge of a counter while you were on the other side of the room, too far to catch it before it hit the floor? Yeah, well, that's how these two idiots watched him. Grimmjow had become their falling dish. The thought made him laugh uproariously aloud, making his victims give him a look of incredulity. "Nah, I was jus' thinkin' somethin' funny!" he crowed. "My bad!" "Crazy bastard," Shorty spat and all humor drained from Grimmjow as quickly as if someone had flushed a toilet. He felt a huge wave of anger crashing over him as he glared at Shorty, "Crazy, huh?" he asked lowly. Shorty at least had the sense to widen his eyes at the tone of Grimmjow's voice, but there was no redeeming himself from that statement. Grimmjow hated that word with a passion. He wasn't fucking crazy. "I got yer crazy," he growled lividly, raising his free hand and using it to pin Shorty's friend to the alley wall. Grimmjow turned the hand holding Shorty up into an imitation of strangulation. Shorty's eyes bugged as his hands twitched and shook, trying to reach up and pry the invisible force from his throat, but Grimmjow held him immobile, "Does it hurt yet?" he sneered. Shorty choked and wheezed, saliva forming in the corners of his mouth as his eyes began to roll back into his head. ...c-can't breathe...h-help... Grimmjow grinned wickedly, enjoying the sight and sound of the man leaving this world for good. No one called him crazy and walked away from it. No one. He began singing softly, "Shh, see I got ya all figured out. Ya need everyone's eyes just ta feel seen." ...oh, shit! Junichi!... Shorty's tall friend was good and scared now; Grimmjow could see it in his wide, brown eyes, the color only serving to piss him off even more. He felt like the man was trying to insult Ichigo with his cheap imitation and...well...he just couldn't have that. Grimmjow dropped the hand not strangling Shorty and allowed Shorty's friend to fall to the ground. The man's wide eyes grew even wider as he tried to scramble to his feet, no doubt ready to flee. Grimmjow sucked his teeth. He didn't say the fucker could leave just yet. He lifted his hand until it blocked Shorty's friend's head from view, then swiftly closed it into a fist. Shorty's friend's head exploded like an apple in a microwave, body slumping against the brick alley wall as blood pooled around the crumpled legs and flowed freely over the sagging shoulders. Grimmjow grinned, continuing his song where he'd left off, "Behind yer makeup...nobody knows...who ya even are...who d'ya think that ya are?" and turned back to Shorty, only to notice that in his excitement, he'd squeezed maybe a bit too hard because Shorty's head was slumped to the side, unmoving. He was no longer making those delicious little noises as his breath left his body slowly but surely. Gotdammit! He always got carried away like that when he was excited or pissed off, but he really couldn't help it. He loved seeing the unbridled fear in a person's eyes as he killed them, making them regret ever crossing him. Shit, he bet Shorty wouldn't be calling anyone else crazy anytime soon. Then he remembered that Shorty was dead and laughed heartily at his oversight. Grimmjow allowed Shorty's body to hit the ground in a heavy heap, short legs crumpling beneath it. Grimmjow spied a large, green dumpster a few meters away and decided to clean up his mess for a change. Shinji was always scolding him about being such a "fucking slob", so he lifted both hands and slowly guided the bodies to the dumpster, tossing them inside with a flick of both wrists. There was nothing he could do about the blood left behind, but at least he'd disposed of the bodies. There...all done. Grimmjow leaned against the wall opposite where the two dead men had previously been and shoved his hands into the pockets of his black, leather jacket. His searching fingers came up empty and he remembered that he needed to buy another pack of his favorite watermelon flavored bubble gum. A feral smirk stole across his features as he pushed away from the wall and headed towards the mouth of the alley, singing quietly, "If I could write ya a song ta make ya...fall in love...I would already have ya up under mah arm." He had a date with a strawberry. XOXOXO Ichigo had just finished rearranging the displays behind the counter where he was stationed, when the store's automated doors slid open, admitting a tall man wearing all black, starting with a black, leather jacket with a black hoodie underneath. Both items were worn open, revealing a form-fitting, black t-shirt that hugged the man's broad, muscular torso enticingly. What? He could certainly admire another man's body. He'd never claimed being straight. The only downside to the show was the black hood thrown over the man's head, blocking any view of what the guy looked like. All Ichigo could see was a slightly pointed chin and the bottom of a strong-looking jaw, the skin tanned and appearing flawless. Ichigo thought the man was probably really attractive when that hood wasn't in the way. He allowed his eyes to roam the rest of the man's appearance, running over black jeans that fit snugly and hung low on slim hips, giving a nice view of the gray waistband of his boxers and the black belt holding up the pants. Ichigo could tell that the man's legs were muscular and they appeared rather long. Well, of course. The man was tall as hell. Ichigo could tell that much, even with him being positioned on the raised platform of the front counter. The man was wearing black construction boots on a pair of rather big feet and Ichigo's mind went where it shouldn't have. It wasn't his fault his best friend was a girl that had a habit of judging whether a man had a big dick by the size of his hands and feet. Nel was a terrible influence on him, but they had been friends since they were in diapers and he wasn't going to disown her now. Besides, sometimes Nel was right about her observations – or at least that's what she told him. Don't get him wrong, he wasn't a virgin by any means, but he had never based his judgments on those particular appendages before. This man's feet screamed out for that kind of attention though. They weren't obscenely big, but Ichigo would estimate them to be roughly around a size thirteen. Hell, he himself only wore a size ten. Ichigo continued to watch the man browse the store, hands shoved into the pockets of his black, leather jacket. Then a thought occurred to him. What if this guy was here to rob him and that was why he was wearing all black WITH his hood thrown over his head? Not to mention, the man hadn't removed his hands from his pockets since entering the store and Ichigo was beginning to wonder if it was to conceal a weapon. Shit. He was beginning to have a mild panic attack that only increased in intensity once the man finished his trek throughout the store and headed to the counter. His heart was on the back of his tongue and his stomach was churning furiously. The man hadn't lifted his head yet, so Ichigo still couldn't see his face. And then the guy was right up at the counter surveying the gum and candy selection located in front of it. Finally, a very large hand was withdrawn from a jacket pocket and sent forward. It returned holding a pack of watermelon flavored bubble gum that was set onto the counter. Then, the man's head lifted a fraction, unveiling a wide, feral smirk with sharper than normal canines exposed. Ichigo's breathing completely stopped as his head detached from his body and threatened to drift into orbit. He knew that fucking grin like the back of his hand. It haunted his dreams and nightmares on a daily basis, along with the man it belonged to. Ichigo seriously felt like he was about to piss himself at any moment as his hands began to tremble and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. What was he doing here? Did he come back to finish what he'd started at Hueco Mundo? Holy shit...he hoped not... If there had been any doubt left in his mind about who the man before him was, it was scattered to the winds, when the hood was thrown back revealing a mess of bright blue hair and those shining, ocean-blue eyes. Ichigo froze as he stared into the man's hypnotic gaze, afraid to think, breathe, move or even make a sound. He was petrified like those mosquitoes from the prehistoric days that got stuck in balls of tree sap. "Hey, Berry. Ya miss me?" Ichigo involuntarily swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing drastically as his eyes widened even further. What the fuck should he say? Grimmjow arched a brow and leaned on the counter, making Ichigo flinch and step back. The blue-haired man's smirk only widened at the action, "Yer so nervous," he muttered. "I thought we were past that stage in our relationship." Ichigo finally found his voice, "What relationship? You used me to escape Hueco Mundo!" Suddenly realizing what he was saying, he shut his mouth quickly. He didn't want Grimmjow to think he was better off dead than as a loose end. Grimmjow gave a loud bark of laughter, "Yer just as retarded as ya were back then, ya know that? If I wanted ta kill ya right now, ya'd be dead already. That'd be a waste though 'cuz I ain't get ta play wit' ya the way I really wanna yet. Don' worry though. I will." With that, Grimmjow placed both hands on the counter and leaped onto and over it in two fluid motions, landing right in front of Ichigo, making him stumble backwards into the cigarette displays behind him, knocking several boxes to the floor. He opened his mouth to scream, but a warm pair of lips settled over his own, swallowing up any noise he would've made. His spine stiffened as Grimmjow gripped his waist and pulled him closer, pressing him against a firm torso. A hot, slick tongue invaded his mouth and all Ichigo could do was sigh as he was overwhelmed by the scent and heat rolling off of the man. This was bad. His body wouldn't listen to his brain instructing his legs to kick this man where it would REALLY hurt, instead making his hands settle on broad shoulders as his breath left him in a small shudder through his nostrils. One of Grimmjow's hands left his hip and trailed up his back, settling at the base of his neck and twining in the fine hairs there. The taller man angled his head to the side and delved his tongue deeper into Ichigo's mouth, searching and probing every available and not so available crevice, making Ichigo give a helpless groan as his toes curled inside his black Air Forces. His khaki pants got way too tight across his pelvis and sweat was beginning to form under his black, short-sleeved, collared uniform shirt. He was frightened and turned on at the same time and the combination was ruining his composure. He didn't know what to do, but his body knew what it wanted and that happened to be the man currently kissing the hell out of him. Grimmjow pulled away from his mouth and slid his tongue over his jaw, easing his way towards his neck, growling deeply in his chest as he did so. The vibrations sent chills free-falling down Ichigo's back as he arched into the man's touch. Then, like a douse of ice cold water, Ichigo remembered he was at work and definitely being filmed, so he shoved the bigger man away. The look on Grimmjow's face was enough to make Ichigo inwardly cower, though outwardly he stood his ground. Intense blue eyes, darkened with lust, narrowed at him threateningly. "Y-you can't keep doing this!" Ichigo snapped, frustrated at his lack of control. Again. "I'm at work and I need this job! I have a life that I need to tend to and I can't do that with you getting me fired everywhere I go! Didn't-" His rant was cut short by a hand wrapping itself tightly around his throat. His eyes widened as he panicked and grabbed Grimmjow's wrist, digging his nails into the skin, trying to get the man to release him. Needless to say, it didn't work. Grimmjow absolutely overpowered him with his size and strength. "Berry, don' tell me what ta do, yeah? It's better that way," the blue-haired man rumbled before abruptly letting his hand fall. Grimmjow stepped away from him and that eerie grin bloomed across his face again, "S'good. I'll be goin' now, but I'll see ya later." Ichigo watched the man reach into his back pocket and pull out a black, leather wallet. Grimmjow dropped a bill on the counter and stuffed the watermelon bubble gum into the pocket of his jacket before leaping back over the counter. He straightened his clothes and glanced at Ichigo one last time as he threw his hood over his head again. Ichigo felt his muscles slowly unloosening as he went to the counter and watched Grimmjow saunter towards the door as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just leaped the counter of Ichigo's workplace and kissed him into a stupor. Fucking asshole. Grimmjow threw a hand over his head without looking back, "I heard that," he drawled before continuing out of the store and disappearing into the darkness. Ichigo sagged against the counter and scowled as he massaged his temples with his fingertips. That man would surely be the death of him and like a train wreck, he had no idea how to prevent it. XOXOXO Grimmjow couldn't keep the idiotic grin he'd been wearing since confronting Ichigo off his face, so instead, he embraced it. He let it consume his features and shine from the very depths of his darkened soul. Ichigo was one tasty little treat and he looked forward to digging his claws completely into him. It had been so arousing to choke and scare the shit out of the berry head, but even more so to kiss him senseless. And he'd been senseless alright. Grimmjow had heard his thoughts being shaken around like dice in a Yahtzee game. So fun. Grimmjow stalked up the driveway of the house he shared with Shinji, Corky and Shiro. The house belonged to Shinji's deceased grandmother, but she'd passed it along to the blond in her will before she passed. It was convenient because no one would really think to look for them there, considering the older woman was Shinji's maternal grandmother, thus having a different surname. Not to mention, Shinji had barely spoken to the woman when she was alive. The only reason Shinji had ended up with the house was because his mother had passed when he was five and Shinji was his grandmother's only surviving relative. The white house was very westernized and rather large. It had a long gravel drive that wound through the mini-forestation surrounding it, leading to the street that would take one to the rest of the town, a wide, open lawn that used to boast lush, green grass, but now resembled hay more than anything, and a two-car garage positioned beside the white structure. There were four floors in all, starting with a dark and creepy basement that held the furnace and a couple of washing machines and dryers. There was the first floor that housed a nice-sized kitchen, sitting room, bathroom and dining room and then there was the second floor that held four bedrooms and another bathroom. After that, there was the attic, but no one had ventured up there yet. Grimmjow trudged up the four steps that led to the wrap-around porch and banged on the door when he realized he had forgotten his key. Shinji would bitch, but ah well, so be it. The door was thrown open by a widely grinning Shirosaki, who leaned against the door jamb and slowly looked Grimmjow from head to foot. The albino was wearing a black and white, plaid, flannel scarf around his neck, a tight, white wife-beater, black, skinny jeans with a white belt and a pair of high-top, black and white Converse sneakers. Black, rubber wristbands on both wrists completed his look. Shiro grinned and ran a pale hand through his unruly, ash-white hair, his inverted eyes gleaming devilishly. "Done stalkin' yer strawberry?" Grimmjow sucked his teeth and shoved past his friend, shrugging out of his jacket, then tossing it onto the couch in the living room as he strode towards the kitchen and the smell of home-cooked food, "I don' fuckin' stalk, dumbass! I hunt." Shiro cackled in response and tagged along at his heels like an annoying puppy. Grimmjow smirked at the domestic sight that greeted his eyes upon entering the kitchen. Shinji was seated at the long island, grating a large block of mozzarella cheese, while Corky was at the sink, draining pasta for lasagne, the sleeves to his long-sleeved, white, thermal shirt pushed to his elbows. His dark-blue jeans were nearly hanging off his slim hips, only being held up by a red belt and he was barefoot. Shinji was casually dressed in a pale green t-shirt, black basketball shorts and a pair of white, ankle socks. Corky glanced over his shoulder at him briefly before turning back to his pasta, but Shinji was much more vocal as he paused his grating and turned dark eyes to Grimmjow, "Where the fuck is yer key, dipshit?" Grimmjow sighed, deciding to ignore his blond friend as he went to the fridge for something cold to drink. He opened the white door and stuck his head inside, but before he could find something suitable, a damp cloth smacked him in the back of his neck, then fell to the floor with a wet flop. He turned back to the perpetrator with a deep scowl, "What the fuck, Shinji? I fergot it!" "What's the point of havin' it, if yer just gonna ferget it?" Shinji snapped, returning to his grating. Grimmjow shrugged and slammed the refrigerator door shut, no longer interested in something to drink. He leaned back against the humming appliance and shut his eyes momentarily. Ichigo weighed heavily on his conscience, tempting him to no end. He couldn't understand why the boy affected him so, but he really wanted to know because it was confusing and fucking frustrating. Grimmjow wasn't used to being so out of control of his emotions and this new shit with the berry head pissed him off, as well as intrigued him. "So, ya still stalkin' that orange-haired kid?" Shinji's voice broke the relative silence. Grimmjow growled under his breath, wondering why everyone seemed to mistake what he was doing for stalking. Rolling his blue eyes open, he focused on Shinji and shook his head condescendingly, "I'm not fuckin' stalkin' him, stupid. I'm huntin'. Get it right," he bit out irritably. Shinji chortled before returning his eyes to his previous task, "Whatever, Grimmjow." "Ne, Six, how come ya followin' after that kid anyway?" Shiro asked curiously. At this, Corky once again glanced over his shoulder at him, as if waiting for the answer as well. Grimmjow shrugged, only one reply coming to him, "He's mine." The silence that followed his statement lasted for all of four seconds before Shiro was cackling like a hyena and Shinji was snorting like a horse. Corky didn't respond at all, merely turning back to the stove, where he was preparing the lasagne in a medium-sized glass dish. Shinji had left the island to stand beside Corky with a large, blue bowl full of freshly grated, mozzarella cheese that the petite, raven-haired male added to the lasagne mix, along with some heavenly smelling tomato sauce and ricotta cheese. Grimmjow turned his attention away from Shinji and Corky to observe Shiro withdrawing a switchblade from his back pocket. The albino stabbed the island top and twisted the small blade in a tiny circle, creating a few indentations in the smooth wood. Shinji turned and caught him in the act, smacking him on the back of his head for his desecration of the island. "The fuck're ya doin', idiot?" Shinji yelped angrily. Shiro grabbed the back of his head and yelled back, "Ya didn' hafta hit me! Shit! Shin-chan, ya on yer period er somethin'?" Shinji pointed a slim finger in Shiro's face and snarled, "Ya wanna starve?" Shiro, having been sufficiently chastised, whimpered and hung his head in defeat, "No." "Right. Then act like it." Grimmjow shook his head at his friend's antics and pushed off of the refrigerator. The food wasn't ready yet and he wanted to shower, then change into something more comfortable, so he left the kitchen and headed upstairs to his bedroom after grabbing his leather jacket from the couch where he'd tossed it. The old wooden stairs creaked noisily underfoot as he ascended to the second level of the house, even though they were covered in thick, gray carpeting. His room was located at the end of the hall beside the large bathroom and across the hall from Corky's room, whose door was shut; so was Shinji's, but Shiro's stood wide open, the room looking like a hurricane had just blown through the small space. Posters of different musical artists littered the white walls, a full-sized, western-styled bed was pushed against the wall in the right corner and the bright red sheets and comforter were splayed across it in disarray. A single wooden dresser and nightstand were the only furniture items, but there was a mess of CDs and DVDs stacked against the wall opposite the bed. Clothes were strewn across the cream-colored carpet of the floor and across the dresser and the small garbage can in the room was on its side beside the dresser, miscellaneous items spilling out. Grimmjow curled his top lip in disgust and pushed his own bedroom door open. And Shinji called HIM a slob. The fucking nerve. At least his room was neat and didn't smell like a fucking locker room. His walls were also white and covered in posters of his favorite artists, as well as Ichigo's Hueco Mundo ID. He had never gotten rid of it and used it as a reference for all of his naughty time activities. His friends didn't know about that last part and he wanted to keep it that way. If they found out, he would never hear the end of it. His bed was western-styled and queen sized and his comforter and sheets were a midnight-blue. His furniture consisted of a tall, wooden dresser and two, wooden night stands. He also had a bookshelf that was filled with books, CDs, video games and DVDs and beside the bookshelf sat a stand that held his thirty-two inch, flat-screen television and XBOX 360. All of his clothes were folded in his dresser or hanging neatly in his closet and his cream-colored carpet was still cream-colored. Everything was neat and in order; he was almost anal about that. How dare Shinji call him a fucking slob? Yeah, he had a problem with making a mess when he was killing someone, but that was completely different. He hung his jacket in his closet and retrieved a clean towel, stripping down to his boxers and tossing his clothes into his hamper before moving next door to the bathroom. A hot shower would surely ease the stress of worrying so much about Ichigo. XxxxxxxxX After his shower, Grimmjow had returned to his room and slipped into a white t-shirt and purple pajama pants. He'd sat on his bed to watch a little TV before going down for dinner, when the next thing he knew, he'd fallen asleep, sprawled spread-eagle on his bed. A warm, slick sensation was traveling down the left side of his neck and something firm and rough was running up his right side under his t-shirt. Was he dreaming? Grimmjow slit open a single, blue eye and peeked at his surroundings. His room was dark, but the door was open, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway. With that scarce bit of light, he was able to see someone hovering over him and he realized the warm, slick sensation he was feeling on his neck was a tongue. Suddenly, the firm and rough sensation on his side turned out to be a hand, fingers lightly grazing his right nipple. He lurched up, eyes fully wide as he leaned on his elbows to get a better look at his molester and the sight that met his eyes nearly blew him away. His eyes widened as they locked with warm, syrupy brown. Mouth dry and body taut, Grimmjow ran a hand through short, spiky, tangerine locks in disbelief. He let his hand drop to his side as he stared at his strawberry. What the hell was Ichigo doing in his bed? Soft lips pressed against his, making all questions evaporate into thin air. Grimmjow grunted and gripped the back of Ichigo's neck, pulling him closer and prying his mouth open. As soon as he slipped his tongue inside, he knew something was completely off. The strawberry smelled strange and he definitely didn't taste the same as he normally did. Grimmjow pulled back and studied the smaller man's face as he tuned into his thoughts. ...six is so fuckin' whipped... Grimmjow tensed and growled loudly. Shirosaki. He grabbed the albino in disguise by the throat and squeezed unmercifully, making the other man quickly flicker back to his normal appearance, "Ok, ok!" Shiro choked. Grimmjow snarled and squeezed tighter, "I should kill ya fer that, YA LIL' SHIT!" Shiro gripped his wrist and tried to pry himself free, but Grimmjow was unwilling to let the idiot go just yet. Before he could do anything further though, Shiro used his free hand to punch the shit out of him, making him blink in surprise at the albino. Grimmjow slowly licked the corner of his mouth, tasting his own blood. Sneering deeply, he launched himself at Shiro, knocking the man backwards as they tumbled to the floor, a tangle of arms and legs. "What the fuck're ya idiots doin?" Shinji asked from the open doorway, wiping his hands on a yellow dish towel. Grimmjow was livid. First the prick tried to trick him with an Ichigo suit and then...then the little bastard HIT him. Shiro had to die, friend or not. Grimmjow reared back and clipped the albino across his jaw, his fist slamming into the carpet when the blow was somewhat dodged. He pulled back to swing again, when everything seemed to start moving in slow motion. His fist no longer flew forward at a high velocity, but rather it crept towards Shiro. Shiro wore a puzzled expression as his fist was slowed as well. Finally, they both turned (very slowly) to glare at the blond in the doorway. Shinji was lazily holding his hand forward and scowling, "Yer such children," he scolded, dropping his hand once he had both their attention. "Shiro, ya baka, I told ya ta come tell Grimmjow the food was done! What happened?" Grimmjow growled as he turned his angry gaze back to the man underneath him, "This lil' piece a'shit thought it was a good idea ta turn inta mah strawberry." "An' like a sack of potatoes, ya fell fer it," Shiro muttered. Grimmjow pulled back to punch the smart ass again, but Shinji interfered before he could, "Ah, ah! C'mon, Grimmjow, ain't ya hungry?" he asked as he grabbed his arms. The thought of food had his stomach rumbling loudly, so he shrugged Shinji off of him and stood to his feet, dusting his pajama pants and white t-shirt. After throwing one last threatening glare at Shiro, he stomped from his room and down to the kitchen. Fucking Shirosaki needed to learn some boundaries.While AFF and its agents attempt to remove all illegal works from the site as quickly and thoroughly as possible, there is always the possibility that some submissions may be overlooked or dismissed in error. The AFF system includes a rigorous and complex abuse control system in order to prevent improper use of the AFF service, and we hope that its deployment indicates a good-faith effort to eliminate any illegal material on the site in a fair and unbiased manner. This abuse control system is run in accordance with the strict guidelines specified above.
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