6/2024 - I've decided to rewrite a majority of this story so if you've read it before, you'll find that a lot has changed.

You can also find me on AO3.

Enjoy!

Money. Sex. Pride.

What more could Ulquiorra Cifer ask for?

Erotic moans and the repeated sounds of skin slapping against skin was the only music he listened to. The taste of sweat and female fluids and tongue sliding against tongue were his nightly dessert. The rancid smell of sex and pheromones were his perfume. Awaking morning after morning with a different girl in his bed was a normal routine along with the chore of having to change his sheets every night. He never called back of course. Didn't even bother learning their names. The young and thriving, 26 year-old, raven-haired man desired only to feel pleasure.

"Does it please you when I do this?"

"Say my name."

"Tell me you need me."

"Tell me you want me."

"Does this excite you?"

Hypersexuality and addiction tend to be used interchangeably. Ulquiorra's case was not so severe that it interfered with his daily life, but it had affected his relationships in both private and professional settings. He didn't necessarily need it every day; there were solo ways to stave the hunger that were more efficient and convenient at some times.

Chains and handcuffs, maids, school girls, catgirls; Ulquiorra had experienced it all. Yet, nothing could satisfy his hunger for raw skin against skin, mixing sweat with saliva, hearing feminine thick moans overlapping the creaking of old spring beds, and most of all, the moment when the woman he is ravishing calls out his name as she climaxed. Something about the unusual hobby gave the hollowness in his chest a temporarily relief. Ironically, at the moment he felt himself... empty. Soaking in the sight of a woman underneath him and completely at his mercy, begging for it almost. It gave him power. A purpose. An ego trip.

It was both the temporary satisfaction of pleasing a woman and achieving his moment of bliss. Yet the yearning for more never fully dissipated.

Some women were criers and high-pitched screamers; some were dead fish and overall boring, but he had some decent partners who engaged in various play and experimentation. That was all these women were to him: faceless entities to achieve his fleeting goals. Trash. They were pawns. Some reusable. Some discarded and never to be seen again. Basically, he didn't care about these women. From an emotional perspective, he didn't care about himself either. He wanted to drown in this superficial void filled with pleasure without the chains of virtue and morals tying him down.

As long as Ulquiorra could remember, there wasn't one moment he didn't enjoy the feeling of tight skin sucking at his groin. He had been sexually active since he was 13 and he didn't regret it one bit. He never bothered to think twice. There was no need as women threw themselves at him either way.

It all started with curiosity. Age 13 was the peak of puberty, the age where hormones began to rage, causing teenagers to make reckless decisions. Having a dysfunctional family only supported his path. Girls came to him, not the other way around. All he had to do was accept, and they were instantly standing naked on top of him with eager eyes and drooling with excitement and naivety. If a girl was curious to experience sex, they would simply go to him and he would make their first experience the best. Guaranteed. It was a despicable business.

After a few years of this routine, Ulquiorra slowly disregarded his emotions. With the involvement of so many females to do intimate acts with, it was only natural that drama were to follow. Having ruined any feasible reputation due to his immoral habits, it wasn't difficult for his heart to rot away. He definitely preferred experiencing different sex partners than falling in love and investing time on one girl. With this mentality, he had broken many hearts, but he never cared. Emotions only got in the way of human desires and made people weak and irrational.

Other than sex, Ulquiorra's other sin was greed.

Money can buy happiness, he argued. And so far he was right. Although, sometimes he had to play dirty to get the cash, it suited him just fine. Remaining apathetic in most situations was a suitable way surviving in this despicable business of sex and money. So he detached himself; he threw away his emotions and refused to spend more time thinking of a subject than was necessary. Logic never failed him. What was so wrong with gaining all the money he earned no matter how he earned it? Money is money. He could buy 'love', a home, a nice meal, and even a family. If you can call a tiny, 6-lb brown Pomeranian named Yammy family. All was right in the world for the flourishing, sexy Mr. Cifer.

Until today.

…

Upon hearing his doorbell ring, Ulquiorra groaned awake, still sore from this morning's round. Feeling the bed shift, the woman next to him stirred conscious and slowly opened her eyes to look at him. He sat upright, causing the comforter to fall off his broad shoulders and expose the nude stranger in his bed.

"Ulquiorra, who could it be?" she purred groggily, "Did you order breakfast?" He felt a slimy, dirty finger trail up his shapely arm and draw circles on his pale skin.

He shrugged her hand off roughly and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

"Get out of here, trash. And don't say my name so familiarly," He responded coldly without giving her any eye contact. He bent over to reach for the pants he had hastily discarded on the floor last night.

The woman gaped at him, her eyes bright red in humiliation. She was unable to grasp the complete 180 in personality the raven-haired man had displayed. The night before, he had been an absolute dream. Absolutely infuriated she had been fooled just to be an easy lay, she threw the covers off and got out of bed. She walked around the bed to stand in front of Ulquiorra; her naked, voluptuous body fully exposed.

Ulquiorra knew what was about to happen so to encourage getting it over with, he lifted his head up after he managed to get his pants on and tilted his head approximately 20 degrees to the left.

The whipping sound of hand against cheek echoed throughout the house along with the heated breathing of the stranger in front of him. The woman glared at him for a few minutes, then grabbed her clothes and stomped out of the room.

"You're an asshole! Don't ever call me back!" she yelled over her shoulder as she hastily dressed and slipped into her shoes.

"I won't," Ulquiorra grumbled after her with his eyes not even straying from the button of his pants he was fastening. The only retort was the sound of his front door slamming shut. Upon waking up, he had decided he was bored of the woman whose name he couldn't remember. So he laid her off with apathetic ease. He was grateful she wasn't the type to grovel at his feet and beg for his acceptance. He tried to stay far away from those.

With a sigh, he stood up from the edge of his bed and snatched his soiled shirt from the floor and threw it into the laundry basket successfully. In his walk-in closet, he searched for a black button-down shirt and tugged it from its hanger.

Ring, riiing. He heard the doorbell urge annoyingly. He completely forgot about the first signal that woke him up earlier.

The young man dragged his feet on the way to the door as he buttoned down his shirt and rolled his sleeves to his elbow and peered through the peephole, a grumpy grimace sewn onto his pale face. He didn't see anyone at his doorstep which explained why it seemed like there was no one there for the woman to awkwardly address when she left in such a frazzled state.

Warily, he opened the door expecting to see some girl scout with the cookies he ordered seven months ago or at least an ex-girlfriend on her knees again, crying and begging him to take her back, but what he was greeted by instead was far from either of those expectations.

At his feet was a baby's car seat, contents covered with a blanket patterned with cartoons of a cat, and a letter topping the bundle.

Hesitantly, he stretched a pale arm out and grabbed the letter delicately as if it were Yammy's soft poop and slowly pried the letter open, dreading what he was about to read. He felt the blood drain from his face and his mind began to race. This has got to be some mistake.

"To Ulquiorra Cifer," he read. It had to be a mistake.

"This is our baby. His name is Grimmjow. You impregnated me about nine months ago. Grimmjow is currently 3 months old; his birthday was on July 31st."

Ulquiorra paused. Sweat started to condense at his temple. The word "our" rebounded endlessly in his mind, slamming the walls of his skull like a sledgehammer. Our... Our... Our...

Baby.

Impossible. He always made sure the women he had sex with were using some form of contraceptive. Though, he preferred sex raw, he had mastered the technique of pulling out and determining a woman's ovulation period either by calculation or strict observation of their moods. Breath hitched in his throat, he focused his eyes on the paper once more.

"I can no longer support the product of our little scandal and I am moving in with my new husband to America. So you better fucking take care of him, you fucking, cheating, and cheap asshole!"

What. He would never cheat. Despite being the complete asshole that he was, he refrained from involving himself in such drama. At least his logic was that you can't cheat if you are not in a devoted relationship. It wouldn't be his fault if the women he slept with made assumptions of his exclusivity.

"PS. He refuses to play with any toy that is not a cat toy"

What in the…

Ulquiorra delicately placed the letter on top of the blanket and took a step back from his doorstep, entered his house, and closed the door slowly in front of him. Maybe he was hoping it would disappear. He would go back to bed, sleep a little longer, wake up, and it would be like it never happened. Or maybe it was a prank and the prankster would pick it back up eventually if he did not entertain them with the reaction they wanted to elicit from him.

But then he heard it.

"Uuuwaah," he heard the newborn's soft whimper from behind the door.

He yanked the door open, gripped the blanket, and threw it out of the car seat, making it land in a heap on the grass beyond his doorstep. And there it was. A little bundle of despair, alive and healthy, was curled into his seat, his tiny, pump hands uncurling and fisting repeatedly in the air. The newborn had tufts of light blue hair scattered around on its bald head and bright cyan eyes the color of the sky. Why the mother would dye his hair such an unsightly color within two weeks of its lifespan was beyond the young man. He surmised the culprit took every step to remain indefinitely anonymous.

Ulquiorra kneeled next to the baby and poked it in the forehead.

Definitely felt real.

He poked it again, but this time, he managed to get his finger caught within the death-like grip of the baby. The baby beamed at him, gums and all, playfully swinging his finger around in his tiny fist.

"So your name is...," he picked up the letter and scanned its contents again, "...Grimmjow," he deadpanned. What kind of fucking name is Grimmjow?

Suddenly, he smelled something rancid and decomposing in the air. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he gently rolled the baby over with his free hand and the stink intensified. Repulsed, he recovered his finger from the baby's grasp and sat back on his haunches feeling utterly lost.

He didn't know shit about babies. Nor did he have any close friends or family at the moment. And there was no way that he was going to let any of his current booty calls know about his current predicament.

Ulquiorra considered his options carefully and quickly. The young bachelor did not want that thing anywhere near his place for more than a day.

He could ask his harem of co-workers to take the baby. Or he could put it up for adoption. Maybe he could even forge a girl's handwriting and leave it at someone else's doorstep.

Or track down the bitch responsible for this and materialize some form of green laser beam made of small particles and shoot it through her chest.

But that was just gnarly. And impossible. And definitely illegal. Besides, after observing his surroundings, it was obvious that the perpetrator was long gone. Furthermore, he had fucked so many women he didn't know where to start looking.

And the fact that this kid had blue hair and eyes didn't help at all. As was intended. Probably.

After some deliberation, he decided that he would just find some place to drop the baby. Ulquiorra reluctantly picked up the occupied car seat and blanket and brought the baby inside his home. Setting the seat down on his couch, the caramel-brown Pomeranian got up from his dog bed and jumped up on the sofa to curiously sniff around the seat.

"Don't eat him, Yammy," Ulquiorra warned him. Yammy responded with a sneeze and a tail wag.

It actually wouldn't be a bad alternative if Yammy ate him...

/

Ulquiorra shifted the baby seat underneath his arm, which jumbled the passenger and caused him to gurgle in discomfort, and rested the seat against his bony hip while he used his now free arm to knock on the door. He stepped back and checked his surroundings before the owner would open the door.

Above him was a large sign embellished with the words "Urahara's Daycare" that framed the roof of a very small, humble, red house.

Before he could further examine the place in his boredom, the front door rattled open and a tall, blond-haired man appeared wearing a green and white striped hat.

"Why, hello there!" he greeted, "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to do something about this…baby," Ulquiorra deadpanned like as if he was ordering a latte.

"Come in, come in," the man urged with a suspiciously large smile, "That must be heavy for you. Don't you have a baby carriage? Let us chat inside, shall we?"

Ulquiorra nodded and stepped in, his shoes tapping quietly against the wooden floor. The man escorted him through a long hallway that opened up to a rather large living room furnished with some couches and a redwood table in the center and ushered him to a chair. Ulquiorra sat down quietly and placed the car seat next to him on the couch. The man sat across from him on a different couch and clapped his hands together in casual realization.

"Oh, that's so rude of me. Let me introduce myself," he stood up from the couch again and reached over the table to shake Ulquiorra's hand, "My name is Urahara Kisuke. I'm the owner of this daycare."

Ulquiorra took his hand and shook it, "John... Snow." He decided he needed to lie here in case they come looking for him when he doesn't return for the child. He then immediately shoved his hands back into his pockets, trying to remain convincing by keeping his gaze unwavering yet melancholic.

Ulquiorra could have sworn he saw Kisuke's eyebrows lift in interest, but when he blinked, the expression was gone.

"So, Snow-san, what is it that you want done with this baby?" he paused, "Specifically."

What else do they do here?

"Your job?"

Kisuke laughed.

"You're quite the funny one, Snow-san, but I think understand now just who you are and what you are requesting... Inoue-san!" he tilted his head back and directed his call to the open room behind him.

"Yes, Urahara-san?" responded a very polite and feminine, high-pitched voice.

From the room emerged the most beautiful girl Ulquiorra had ever seen. Voluminous, chestnut hair framed her face in waves and cascaded down to her lower back. Her unnaturally natural large breasts bounced as she walked to Urahara's side. Bright, gray-brown eyes sparkled and fixated directly onto his viridian ones. Her smile was genuine and large, her cheeks and lips a peachy tint and her lashes long and dark. Just then, as if an angel had descended and presented herself to him, the morning daylight filtering through the small daycare's windows fell upon her head and conjured the illusion of a halo behind her as she stood. He looked away. Something about her seemed so pure, he felt as though he was forbidden to look at her.

Definitely not his type.

Despite the lack of eye contact, the girl still bowed politely in his direction.

"This is Inoue Orihime. She takes care of all the infants here."

"Nice to meet you…," she said with reservation, uncertain of what her opinion of the stoic and pale man in front of her should be.

Ulquiorra stood up and extended a hand out, "John Snow," he repeated to her blandly.

Orihime shook his hand enthusiastically, her soft fingers tickling his rough, calloused ones. Her ochre eyes were lit with pure excitement and genuine hospitality as they locked onto his deep emerald ones. She then walked around the table to where he sat and peered into the car seat curiously.

"Aww! He's got blue hair! That's so cute!" she beamed.

She stretched out her feeble arms to pick up the child, but hesitated and looked at Ulquiorra.

"May I?"

He grumbled inaudibly to himself. The child wasn't his and it felt awkward having people treat him as if Grimmjow was, "Do what you want."

With tender hands, she picked the child up and cradled him in her arms, right next to her breasts. Ulquiorra wondered for a moment if she breastfed with those enormous, bouncy masses of flesh and found himself curiously staring a little too long. Again, he felt the overwhelming urge to avert his gaze from her. Shyness? He mentally shook his head at his uncharacteristic behavior.

"What's his name?" she placed a slender finger into the baby's mouth. Bubbling at the sudden feeling of having something in his mouth, he quieted and started to suck on her finger.

"Grimmjow," he answered plainly.

While Orihime and Kisuke babbled and cooed at the infant, Ulquiorra took out his wallet and fished out a few thousand bills of yen. He suddenly stood up, immediately receiving their attention, and handed them the money.

"I hope this will be sufficient. I'll come back in a few hours then. I'll leave his blanket and car seat with you."

Kisuke reluctantly took the money and looked at him suspiciously.

Excusing himself, he turned on his heel, ignoring the curious and puzzled stares of the two adults behind him, and walked out.

Orihime looked down at the glowing newborn in her arms and frowned. She had a horrible feeling about that man and the baby had features that looked awfully familiar, but she couldn't quite figure out what was bothering her. Watching the baby slowly drift off to sleep, she prayed that dark-haired man would come back for his precious son, but seeing how he had given no instructions concerning the baby's meals and no supplies it seemed unlikely that he cared for the existence of the child. She mulled over the idea that the child is being abandoned, but instead of feeling the urgency to alert authorities or bring it to Urahara-san's attention, her thoughts began to scheme in a different direction. One that would benefit her in the moment.

At the very least, she had the man's name.

…

Ulquiorra pushed open the glass door to his regular bar. The silver-haired bartender looked up at him from the glass he was cleaning in his hands through his somewhat foxlike, closed eyes. Ulquiorra didn't really understand why the man chose to look like that, but he supposed he had his preferences. It wasn't a presence suitable for a bartender whose indirect purpose was to listen to the rambling of drunks. If anything, the silver-haired man's mischievous grin would scare others away from his establishment.

Sitting on a bar stool in front of him, the bartender grinned eerily and set his clean glass down.

"Hello, Ulquiorra," he greeted, "the usual?"

"Gin," he answered with a single nod.

As Gin went to concoct his drink, Ulquiorra sensed someone sit beside him. Turning to the stranger, his personality immediately changed and his mood lifted.

"Wanna buy me a drink?" the stunning, well-endowed brunette purred seductively.

Yes, this empty life is back to normal, he mused with a smirk.

…

Ulquiorra slammed the female against his front door, searching for his keys as he sucked and licked at her neck. After years of experience, it didn't take him long to pry the door open without having to look for the keyhole in the dark. He shut the door closed behind him with his foot as he continued to enrapture the stranger and shoved her roughly onto his couch. The slut was flush with lust, her soft pants and whispered begging like music to his ears. What happened this morning was nothing short of a nightmare and he intended to completely forget the occurrence and bury himself deep into this woman.

He hovered over her, dark lips tilting up at one corner into a seductive smirk as he planted his slender, muscular arms on either side of her body. He was well aware that most women desired this position of submission and he was always obliged to remind them of why. Slowly, he lowered his head to tease her lips with his tongue while he smoothly parted her thighs apart with his knee-

Ring.

With an audible complaint, he gave the woman an apologetic look and removed himself from her to open the door. He felt heat rising to his face with severe irritation yet remained a composed demeaner. Without much thought or reservation, he forcefully swung the door open, fully prepared to tell whatever trash decided to interrupt him that night was going to regret it. But then he would come to immediately regret not checking through the peephole first.

At his doorstep stood a young woman with burnt orange hair holding a blue-haired infant in her arms. Her face and neck was completely flushed with crimson upon noticing the disheveled female on his couch, her legs spread apart provacatively.

"Cifer-san! I'm sorry, is this a bad time?" She was incredibly flustered, her eyes darting between Ulquiorra and the unknown woman on his couch behind him. Ulquiorra glowered at her in annoyance, his lips a tight line as he held himself back from letting her know how unwelcome her presence was but before he could send her off he was interrupted.

"Who is that woman?!" he heard the woman shriek behind him.

"Hi! I'm just returning little Grimmjow to his pappy!" Orihime chirped innocently over Ulquiorra's shoulder at the raging female.

He swiftly turned around ready to explain, not quite mentally prepared for the night to end as badly as it was about to, but the movement actually made the impact of the woman's hand on his cheek land a lot harder.

"A baby!" she exclaimed in exacerbation.

The woman he picked up from the bar huffed, rudely pushed past Orihime, and walked out to a taxi that had been conveniently ready for a new passenger.

Orihime bowed awkwardly and apologetically to the woman climbing into a taxi before sending Ulquiorra a sympathetic look.

"I hope you weren't trying to be serious with her," she laughed half-heartedly, her gaze unable to meet Ulquiorra's still. She wasn't sure if she should have chased after the woman to clear up the misunderstanding, but she noticed the man beside her made no move to salvage his relationship with the woman.

Ulquiorra shook his head and sighed heavily. Rubbing his red cheek, he adjusted his sight to glower at Orihime. Her curious gray eyes settled on his bright, emerald ones.

"What's your name again?" He always had trouble with names.

"Orihime."

"Orihime…?"

"Just Orihime. I refuse to give you my last name because Orihime is what you will call me," she stuck her bottom lip out and her cheeks inflated. She decided to be a little stubborn by taking advantage of the fact he forgot her so easily. It had hurt her pride a little bit.

Oh, we've got a badass here. Ulquiorra sighed defeatedly.

"How did you find me, Orihime-san?"

Suddenly, like a switch had been turned on, her mood changed and giggled lightly, "I can't believe you didn't even try changing his diaper before you brought him to us. His little butt was so wrinkly!"

The auburn-haired girl reached into her back pocket and withdrew a letter caked in something yellow-brown and wet. Suddenly, Ulquiorra was overcome with a sense of dread.

"Property of Ulquiorra Cifer," she read aloud. She repeated the contents of the letter Ulquiorra read earlier that day, "And then she lists your address here. It's funny because it's like she knew you would try giving him away! I found this letter in his diaper, oddly enough. You know Cifer-san...," she paused to lean in closer to him, her eyes slightly covered by her auburn bangs, and whispered slyly, "I'm not so sure but I think child abandonment is illegal?"

The young male could smell a hint of rose water emanating from her dewy skin as she drew teasingly closer.

Suddenly, Ulquiorra backed away in revulsion upon remembering that she was currently touching paper that had been hidden near shit.

Laughing like as if Ulquiorra's response was exactly what she was looking for, the girl brushed past Ulquiorra and walked into his home, and sat down on the couch he was just making out on earlier. Cradling the baby in her arms, she looked at Ulquiorra who was unmoving at his entryway and staring at her coldly with his hands in his pockets.

"I know all about your situation, Cifer-san," she patted the unoccupied space next to her on the couch, "Come sit next to me and lets talk."

Unwillingly, Ulquiorra silently closed the door and sat beside her without taking his eyes off her. Something about this girl interested him and it wasn't just about her physical attributes. She was polite and delicate, pleasant and soft-spoken. Her eyes were filled with light and her face glowed with color and energy. Despite her aversion to looking at him directly in the eyes and her soft mannerisms, her voice was full of confidence. Maybe it was the innocence and purity she had that contrasted with his impurity and emptiness that made his life seem so…horrible. Her very existence made him ponder about his own. He was torn between hating the girl for making him feel so sentimental and lusting after her all in just a few hours.

"Cifer-san," she looked down at the now sleeping baby and ran a soothing finger over his brow, "I'm willing to help you with Grimmjow—"

Ulquiorra opened his mouth to object, but Orihime placed a finger on his lips to his dismay. He resisted the urge to swat her hand away and rub soap on his lips.

"—I'll even pay for all his necessities and everything! Just…," her musical voice started to wither and she withdrew her hand, averting her eyes from him once again.

Ulquiorra stared at her expecting her to start crying, but she snapped her head up and looked straight into his eyes, burning a hole through his skull with eyes full of determination.

"Don't give up on him, Cifer-san. I promise I'll help you take care of him. Maybe at least until I can take care of him myself, okay? Oh and I won't report what happened this morning to the police."

He took a few seconds to consider it. Perhaps he underestimated the small daycare owner and his assistant. He was aware risking having law enforcement involved but he figured he would take his chances. Also he was still in denial that the child was his. There was absolutely no way with those electric blue, yakuza eyes.

But the girl was offering to provide the child all his needs. It was as if the baby wouldn't be his problem anymore. He would offer financial support as well. Money was never a problem for him. But then what was his purpose in this proposal?

"What are the conditions?" he eyed her warily. Women always want something.

Orihime's eyes widened in surprise that Ulquiorra had shown some interest in the deal. She averted her gaze shyly and blushed, staring at her knees as she spoke.

"I'll help you with your baby… but you have to do something about your...," she lowered her voice to a whisper despite the pair being alone, "addiction."

Anger started to well up from within Ulquiorra. Who was this woman to just waltz into his home and use his problems against him to make him do what she wanted? And why? How did she know about his personal business?

"If it's money you want, I can pay you whatever you need."

Ulquiorra stood up to dismiss himself from the discussion, but Orihime stood up faster than him and surprised him by pushing her palm down on his abdomen causing him to fall back down on the couch. Without removing her hand, she looked at him squarely in the eyes, determination flickering with gray-brown flecks in her eyes, her thick thighs on either side of his as he cradled her in his lap.

"And you have to provide me a place to stay."