This is a re-post of my story This Is My Shit. It was removed earlier in the year by ff so I'm re-naming it and editing it and putting it back up. So enjoy, I guess. Wouldn't mind having some feedback. Changed a few things. The first time I wrote this I was listening to that Gwen Stefani song that says 'this is my shit'. That's the only reason I named this story that in the first place. No other reason. I just like that. So this time while I was editing I was listening to Sour Cherry by The Kills, which I've been listening to a lot lately and is responsible for some other writing too, but I think it fits this story quite well. –TPP

Still dedicated to my lovely ladies, Racey and Kat

Rated M for language, mentions of sex, yada yada.

Sour Cherry

Part 1: F*** Cake

I chewed on a piece of cake thoughtfully, ignoring the monstrous noise around me as my classmates carried on with the lunchtime birthday party that was currently being held in Urahara's classroom. Apparently it was Ishida's birthday and we all had to bow down and kiss his ass because he had turned seventeen. Fuck that prick. I hate him as much as he hates me.

It makes me smile that Inoue used to get wet at the thought of me, even though we never banged. That's probably why when they started dating, Ishida's undying loathing of me was taken to a new level.

But even if he hated me, he had to give me a piece of his birthday cake as it was sliced up and passed around the room. I made sure the first few bites to chew with my mouth open and moan like I was about to cum, which got me a mixed bag of blushing stares and –jackpot!- a vein ticking on Uryu's forehead.

I go back to licking my fork free of delicious vanilla frosting, wondering if its fattening and sugary properties will decide to settle on my hips or ass when I realize somebody is staring at me.

And not the normal kind of staring. The kind of staring where you feel like you're being violated, possibly even eye-raped. Too bad I didn't have a rape whistle, especially when I realized who it was that was currently eye-fucking me.


Why? Why him? Of all the people in the junior class to eye rape me, why did it have to be the notoriously insane Grimmjow Jaegerjaques? He was unstable. Everybody knew that. He was the most unhinged guy in the whole class, beating punks up for no other reason then staring at his ungodly bright blue hair for too long.

I felt a tiny tinge of sympathy. I was no one to judge on that account, considering I had broken more than my fair share of noses because of my own personal collection of safety-cone-worthy orange hair that was spiked on my head like an agitated porcupine.

But right now I sent him a scowl that would make even the most seasoned Yakuza cringe, but that just made the bloody fool smile so big and huge I thought his razor-like teeth might obliterate his face.

I didn't know whether to tell him to fuck off or tell him to come closer so that I could inspect that perfectly predatory mouth of his, along with other parts of his body.

I sat frozen, petrified. I most definitely did not have the hots for Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. He was insane. He was a psycho. He stuffed freshman in lockers and set garbage cans on fire and got away with flirting with the hottest teachers in school, male or female.

Maybe I respected him. Yeah, that was it. Maybe on some level I wanted to be him. Hell, I wasn't above appreciation. He did and said what he wanted: he had no filtration system, which made a lot of people laugh but also made a lot cry. A lot of people claimed to hate him, but they still followed him with their eyes and couldn't help being around him because he was so unpredictable. He got a lot of detentions but he also got out of a lot of detentions thanks to that perfectly shaped mouth that looked rough and soft at the same time. He had no shame. Last year somebody had accused him of being a fag and he'd grabbed their balls, squeezing them until the kid had cried out in pain.

The rumor was never confirmed, not until I'd seen Grimmjow come out of an old classroom that wasn't used any more followed by a scared looking kid that had snot running out of his nose. Hanatarou or something like that.

I, and a bunch of others, had watched Grimmjow walk away down the other side of the hallway, not giving a backward glance to Hanatarou. Hanatarou had been limping pretty badly, looking like he was about to burst into tears.

He transferred schools soon after that.

That had been enough confirmation for me. He had a killer body, even I, the straightest male on the planet, could admit that. His muscles were absolutely everywhere, but it didn't make him bulky and huge to the point where you were almost disgusted. I'd run into him in the hallway once and had thought maybe I needed to go to the hospital to be treated for broken bones. I was almost certain I had had a concussion. I thought I had walked into a brick wall, but that brick wall had turned out to be the fucking blue-haired bastard…that was still smirking at me with that irritating grin and those blue eyes that were so blue they weren't blue anymore.

They were eyes that screamed sex so good and so hard that I'd scream his name over and over again until I forgot everything and everyone accept for what he was doing to me.

They were eyes that promised that I would like it, too.

Fuck my life.

I swallowed, looking away from him before sticking my plastic fork back in my mouth to see he was still openly admiring me. He hadn't moved at all. Was he conscious of anybody else in the room? Not likely. Grimmjow was that kind of guy. When he set his sights on something, somebody, anything, it didn't matter. He would get it, he would possess it, he'd play with it, and then he'd dump it, just like everything else in his life once he lost interest.

And I sure as hell was not about to become one of his cum-covered, discarded playthings.

Even though my dick was telling me otherwise.

I savagely dug my fork into what was left of my cake, eviscerating it effectively. I let images of big bouncing tits and tight pussies float through my brain, and my dick instantly stopped pounding.

Shit, who the fuck was I kidding? I couldn't get it up for a girl if I tried. Inoue was proof of that. Rukia too. Everybody had been certain I was ignoring the voluptuous Inoue for Rukia Kuchiki.

Yeah, right. Instead of the girl with long hair to yank during a good fuck and boobs so big they threatened your sanity, everybody had assumed I'd go for the annoying, obnoxious, bunny-obsessed bitch Rukia Kuchiki who's chest was flatter than a game board.

Rukia and I fought like crazy, but we were still friends. I realized with a moment of sugar-clarity that if Rukia was indeed male, I might have gone for her, but she most definitely was no male, as demonstrated the many times she had chosen to change in front of me like it was no big deal and I'd pitched a certified bitch-fit.

But Rukia had seen through it from the beginning, and that had scared the hell out of me. She was the first to notice how I looked at guys, how I never stared at anything other than Inoue's face while every other male on the planet with a pulse couldn't take their eyes off of her fun bags.

She'd laughed at me and teased me for days after seeing me blush when I met her older brother, Byakuya. He was the new English teacher for the year and he seemed to instantly dislike me because he picked on me a lot in class to read and demonstrate shit about a language I didn't give a flying fuck about.

And when he would yell at me and threaten to give me a detention for my insolence, I'd get hard. Really hard. Hard enough to excuse myself to the bathroom and jack off because I was a punk who actually got hot at the thought of somebody dominating me. I wasn't a sadist at all. I'd taken the quiz online:


Other uke admire you, some seme fear you. Despite your sometimes flaming appearance, you can even fool other people into thinking you are seme with your mischievous, manipulative attitude, but when push comes to shove, your true submissive nature emerges. It takes a seme with enough intensity to challenge you and keep you satisfied, and your perfect match, the Don't Fuck With Me Seme, knows that all that nauty teasing just means you want the punishment.

Most Compatible With: Don't Fuck With Me Seme, Chibi Seme

Least Compatible With: Sadistic Seme, Romantic Seme

I looked at Grimmjow again. My dick stirred.

Oh you insufferable bastard, you are most definitely a Don't Fuck With Me Seme.

Grimmjow still didn't break eye contact as he finally picked at his cake, not using a fork. He lifted some of the vanilla frosting on two of his fingers, licking them with a sadistic grin on his face. He smacked his lips together when he was done, looking at me in open challenge.

Oh fuck you.

I slammed my fork back into my obliterated cake before taking a small bite, my tongue running along the exposed frosting. I licked it slowly and carefully, spreading it farther along the blue-colored fork. I then held the fork by the pointy prongs and began to insert the handled end into my mouth, sucking it back and forth like a lollipop stick. I lifted my long orange lashes, sending him a smoldering gaze.

I wanted to laugh out loud. He looked like he had just shit his pants, but his eyes had grown darker somehow. I'd turned him on.

I was disgusted with myself for being proud.

He smirked at me, and I didn't understand. I'd won! Me! Why was he smiling at me like that?

"Yo, Ichigo," Renji said, holding a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing. Chad was chuckling already, and even Keigo was going through some kind of spaz attack as he started laughing hysterically.

"What?" I said irritably, somehow both relieved and pissed that they had interrupted our sex battle.

Renji couldn't control himself any more, reverting to his ass hole behavior, "I really hope that's frosting on your face, buddy."

I felt something akin to rage rise up my spine and settle in my throat and gut as I heard maniacal cackling coming from my blue-haired opponent across the room, everybody looking at him like he'd lost his mind.

But of course Grimmjow didn't care. He didn't care that he was once again the center of attention, because all he cared about in that moment was humiliating me and making me feel as big as a worm. A worm with cum-colored frosting on the corner of his mouth.

But the rage began to subside, if only a little. I realized that showing my anger would only get this little fucker off, so I had to be creative. I had to think differently. I had to think like a monster to beat a monster.

Instead of wiping wildly at my face or cursing or bursting into tears, I carefully put a finger to where I found the frosting. It was on the corner of my mouth and a small glob had managed to travel to my chin. I stroked my finger across my skin until I was certain I'd gathered it all and, knowing he was watching, licked the vanilla flavored cream from my finger as sensually as possible.

I released my finger with a pop, looking right at Grimmjow when I said, "Oops. Thought I had swallowed all of it."

Renji was staring at me with what I hoped was a mixture of admiration and horror at not having collapsed at his obvious bait for a fight. Keigo had quieted his laughing, his eyes shiny as he looked at me like he had seen the face of a god.

And, to the pleasure of my ears, Grimmjow was, for once, completely silent.

"Kurosaki's so gross!" Inoue wailed, getting everybody back into the swing of the lame party. Crisis averted, I sighed and stood up from the edge of the desk I'd been sitting on and made my way to the garbage can to toss my trash.

Of course the bastard was right behind me, practically breathing down my neck as I turned on him, offering him another practiced scowl, "What the fuck do you want?"

Grimmjow's leer made goose pimples prickle along my arms at the same time it made my blood boil with rage. How could you hate someone so much but want them to touch you at the same time?

His eyes laughed at me, "Funny. What I want is in that sentence."

I repeated my choice of words in my head like an idiot. Rearranged, it made a Neanderthal worthy statement: Do what? Want. Fuck. You.

"Ass hole," I growled, spinning past him to get out of the classroom. He followed me, his chuckle making my head pound and my fingers itch to touch the stupid bastard.

He grabbed my arm the second we were outside of the classroom, the hallway still gloriously abandoned due to the lunch hour.

"Exactly, Kurosaki," he murmured into my ear, making me physically spasm, "that's exactly what I want."

You know when you rub your socked feet really fast across thick carpet, and then you touch somebody, and it shocks them? And then they yell at you for it before they do it back to you and then you're even for the torture? That's exactly what it felt like, except that I didn't want to yell at him. I wanted his grip to get tighter on my arm so that he could drag me into the nearest empty room and fuck me senseless against a cold wall. Or maybe a teacher's desk. I'd always had a fantasy of being pushed onto a desk covered in papers, listening to them scatter on the floor as my lover put his greedy hands all over my body, popping my buttons on my pants and ripping my shirt from my body and pouncing on me like a monkey in heat.

I felt the blush covering my neck and burning on the tips of my ears as I looked at him, my fantasy-riddled brain trying to form coherent thought as his stupid smile took a hold of his face again.

And then he laughed, "You're too fucking cute. I'm a sucker for freckles."

I felt like screaming as his tongue quickly ran across the bridge of my nose and over one of my cheeks. I screwed my eyes shut, the only defensive tactic I could think of at the moment, my body tensed for flight.

And then he let go of me.

I blinked a few times, wanting to tackle him. I wanted to beat the ever-lovin' shit out of him and fuck him at the same time. Decisions decisions.

"Fuck cake," Grimmjow announced, cocking his head to the side as he stared at me, his hands now in his jean pockets, "I'm gonna have the real thing, Kurosaki. I'm gonna make ya beg, and then I'm gonna make ya cry. And when I'm done, you're never gonna want anybody else but me."

I couldn't even yell at him. I couldn't hit him. I couldn't do anything except stare at him like he'd just run over my cat as he walked away from me.

To think cake had gotten me into this mess in the first place…

Fuck cake. I'd never eat it again.

A/N: I actually took the quiz. Any Bad Ass Ukes out there? We'd make some pretty babies apparently.