Title: Love Spell

Summary: Ichigo could accept he wasn't ordinary, world wasn't what it appeared to be, and that demons existed. It was harder to accept, how knowing Urahara all his life he still fell into the psycho's trap. AU. demon!Grimmjow/shaman!Shirosaki/shaman!Ichigo. Yaoi.

Warnings: Man smut, language, Urahara conducting an experiment, slight Hime-bashing, not betaed. And No bum will be left unexplored in the duration of this fic so be aware of the mindfuck of different positions you're going to come across~!*inserts mad-scientist laughter*

Rating: M.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor am I making any money writing this story.

Pairing: Grimmjow/Shirosaki/Ichigo IchiGrimmIchi & IchiShiroIchi & GrimmShiroGrimm.

Dedication: For CrystalMoon23. Because I abso—freaking—lutely adore your writing and want to keep my promise~. I really hope you'll enjoy reading this, hon! :D

Chapter 1. Obliviousness.



"Yo Vixen. Ain't ya a cute one? 'M pleased. Since I'm the one being summoned here, ya must've read the sixth incantation from the book. Mommy didn't teach ya you shouldn't play with forbidden spells, human? Heh. Well, no matter—it's too damn late fer you to go back. I'm Sexta, an Espada kind. One of the most powerful of Demons from the Abyss. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez at yer service. Let's get along my …eternal mate, ey?" The voice like velvet sin literally purred the words, just short of a lover's whisper spiced with a dose of arsenic, "Ya better not be lousy fuck, bitch, or I'll enjoy fuckin' breaking you." The ice-cold blue Abyssinian eyes laughed at him; a mix of unhidden contempt, anticipation and animalistic craving.

Oh boy. This is gonna be a long day, Ichigo dimly thought.



Ichigo glared vehemently at the leathered-bound pages laying on the floor in his room which only seconds ago were in his grasp. He should have fucking known something disastrous would happen the moment he steeped foot into that freakishly eerie Urahara Shōten. Even his inner voice of reason—he fancied calling Zangetsu—gave warning signs of distress that day while flooding Ichigo's mind with feelings of unease and agitation. He felt something was about to happen that he would not like. It was a clear sign for Ichigo to turn the fuck around and run for his heels, never looking back.

He relied on him unconditionally—Zangetsu the more perceptive part that was his subconsciousness saved his ass on regular basis since he was just a brat, meaning more times he could manage to count at the moment. And mind, he always—always dammit—followed his extremely sharp instincts. Especially, when the bad vibes he got were so goddamn touchable he could feel skin crawling on his back in a sense of dreading premonition.

So why, ironically, he did the opposite?

You're probably wondering and marveling at his momentary apparent lack of common sense he displayed. Hell—he was asking the very question himself for over half an hour now, pacing anxiously around the room and still didn't even come close to reaching an answer.

It was like hearing a whisper of darkness. Like an irresistible pull of the Earth's gravitation, or siren's call. He became lost in a torrent of emotions that went through his body after he laid his hand on The Book.

It was all Urahara's fucking fault.

He gave it to the orangette as a gift on his 21st birthday and soon to be graduation ceremony at the Shinō Academy where humans with shaman's lineage studied. He thought he'd learned not to accept any suspicious gifts from the eccentric shopkeeper after one accident with a faulty mod soul candy which possessed Ichigo rather than acting as it should as a suppressor of his wild reiatsu. But the moment Ichigo laid eyes on The Book he knew he had to have it. He didn't understand the impulse, but his instincts told him it was a very, very valuable gift. At first glance he could tell the leathered bound pages were unique and surely fucking priceless—which meant dangerous, probably risky obtained, forbidden and …tempting.

How in bloody hell Urahara obtained it he didn't know. And no, he didn't want to know. Some things are better left unsolved. But Ichigo was a first rate hypocrite, because despite not wanting to know about shady dealings of his family's old friend; he craved power, knowledge and new techniques. And no matter the source.

Not for selfish reasons, though. Far from it. But nonetheless, the promise of learning something sealed, long forgotten, banned was making his blood run faster through his veins. His palms were sweating profoundly at the mere thought of simply touching The Book.

And to Ichigo the enticing appeal of something alluring but potentially dangerous was like a shot of ecstasy. And even though he saw the not quite sane look of smug satisfaction on Urahara's face, Ichigo stopped giving a fuck about rationality in .3 milliseconds after laying his hand on the heavy and old tome.

That was a moment the time stopped for him entirely and he realized, with a saner part of his mind, that he succumbed to the evil charm of something unearthly and deceitful. But there was another part of his being—an evil and darker one, that secretly rejoiced at the connection Ichigo made with the artifact.

He lightly traced the patterns over the leather, almost lovingly, wanting to memorize every nook and cranny. God, can you become entranced with a piece of fucking manufactured wood?!

Obviously you can, Ichigo deducted flabbergasted.

"You like?" Came the expected, but no less welcomed than usual, chipper question.

Ichigo sneered and glared at the shopkeeper. Torn between wanting to squeeze the life out of him from glee for giving Ichigo something so bloody beautiful and wanting to tore right into Urahara's throat with his fingers for making Ichigo break and succumb to something he was Not. Yet. Sure. he wanted to venture into.

And worse thing was, Urahara knew this would be the outcome even before seeing Ichigo's reaction, probably the pervert knew it even before Ichigo started growing some pubes down there. Urahara was just that good, and that scientifically confident in his fair judgment there was no room for arguing. And Ichigo partially hated himself for acknowledging this, even if it was done subconsciously. He didn't want to owe the mad undercover scientist more than the norm required. It was like threading on the field with quick sand. You never knew when your overconfidence would make you step recklessly and miscalculate.

The orangette swallowed thickly and shakily accepted the gift. "Y—yeah."

"I'm glad, then." There was no way in hell Ichigo would get used to the sinister glint in Urahara's eyes. The man was always up to no good and it seemed Ichigo was his favorite test subject more often than not. Well, not like he could outsmart the genius standing before him, and as long as the pranks or little experiments Urahara engaged Ichigo in weren't life threatening then he was fine with it. He could deal with anything that came his way.

Well, at least he thought so few hours ago.

Now he wasn't so sure about not going and strangling the life out of Urahara. Can you fucking imagine a situation where a young, good-looking, intelligent shaman, with a vibrant orange hair and whole future before him becomes tricked into performing a love spell? To a fucking Demon, no less? Someone he should fight against not freaking…well—fuck.

Only now Ichigo started to remember little details like Urahara wearing gloves at the time while he was unpacking the box it was in, and the shopkeeper didn't have any direct contact with The Fucking Book after.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!! Ichigo chastised himself, wanting to rip the hair out of his skull.

It was the first touch that sealed the deal. Well, maybe Ichigo did read some of the incantations in there too. Mostly because he thought Urahara actually pulled a good joke on him which, in his humble opinion, totally justified what Ichigo did next.

He didn't know whether to be relieved it was a harmless book, or be pissed at Urahara for getting his hopes up, at the time. He turned few pages and read a random love biding contract. Each page was filled with pink. colored. hearts, and those little guys with angel wings and golden bows. Damn, but—anyone would feel like it was some sort of a creepy joke. So in a bored, indifferent and sarcastic tone of voice he read the words;

...

"Winds of love, come to me,

Bring my soul mate, I decree.

As I wish, so mote it be."

...

The orangette's brain was experiencing a severe case of short-circuiting. The sight of a real, feline Demon born in the Abyss in his goddamn room was just …too much.

His synapses were fried to bits.

Jaw long ago forgotten and impaled in the floor.

Eyes the size of discs.

You gotta be… fucking… kidding me!! That seemed to be his only coherent thought he could muster.

And then—the fucking Demon—opened his stupid mouth. Declaring now they were stuck together for like… all the fucking eternity or some equally not realistic spam of time. Ichigo didn't know how it could be possible since—hello?—he was a human. If he reaches a hundred in today's times he'd be a fucking hero who cheated death for, like, twenty more years than normal human life lasted. And no, he didn't want to find out if what the freak said was possible, in case the bastard before him knew actually how to make Ichigo immortal or some shit.

The next stupid thing the other said—and Ichigo remembered before his brain shut down and he fainted, face first—was that the Demon would really hurt Ichigo if the orangette doesn't satisfy him sexually. Quoting; "Ya better not be lousy fuck, bitch, or I'll enjoy fuckin' breaking you."

Can you believe the nerve of the blue-haired bastard?!

Ichigo obviously couldn't.

But humans are weak creatures in face with some unexpected and abnormal things happening. He couldn't voice how much he bloody despised blue-eyed freak along with his whole race, and that hell would freeze over before the orangette bended over for him like some pathetic submissive bitch.

To his mortification, Ichigo's body decided the perfect self-defense for the shock he experienced would be to turn off the boy like by snatching a plug from the contact.

Urahara is now officially a fucking dead-man, was his last thought before darkness swallowed him.



A/N: Ohoho! What will Grimmjow do now with unconscious berry?! Lol! This will be a short story. Probably three chapters. AU-ish verse where demons/monsters/bogeymen, etc. live on the Earth and feed on those rare humans who posses reiryoku—spiritual energy. A plot gone wrong where it diverted from my original idea as I was writing, lol.

There's no shinigami or ghosts deal or out of the body experiences. The humans who have spiritual energy come from a lineage of shamans and… Well, you'll get to know about this world as you read next chapters. I hope no one will take it as making fun of things or people, far from it, but I'm gonna make a connection to a real life person so… I dunno, just don't want to hear someone interpreting it in a way I didn't have any intentions to.

I treat this fic kind of like stretching before an actual exercise that are my other fics I plan to write, so hopefully it won't seem like a horrible to read word-vomit for any of you. I would have finished new chapter on this weekend if it wasn't for my studies, so expect an update next week. Smexy time will be probably in a third and final chapter.

This was inspired by Dawn McClure Fallen Angel series. That woman can write! My favorite books about fallen angels since it's full of smut too, hetero though. If you enjoyed and anticipate more, feedback me, please~

Apple~