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zabiume · 1 year

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i love your fics soooo much <3 if i could request an ichihime argument, angst overload, and then they make up passionately *smirks*

(Read on AO3) | Explicit content | 4.4k

Orihime hadn’t cried the first time, a detail she remembered often whenever she escaped to her bathroom floor. The first time they stumbled into bed together, they had been so many things — nervous, mostly, but also confused, fascinated, awkward and shy. It had been more about the experience than anything else — their mouths, their hands and their bodies doing something new to explore the heart that had grown between them, the heart that kept growing and overflowing. She hadn’t bled or seen sparks or had any of the dramatic reactions she had been expecting; she was mostly just surprised when it was over, giggling when Ichigo, red-faced and in wonder, asked her, “Did you uhhh.”

She hadn’t.

It didn’t take them until a few tries for her to really start enjoying sex, a fact that Ichigo took to heart despite her clumsy assurances. He seemed determined to treat her right, which did insurmountable things to her that she knew he’d brush off or underplay if she told him. Orihime knew in a very distant way that boys and men had been eyeing her since high school, but the knowledge had never made her feel desired. Just ogled at. With Ichigo, she felt precious beyond belief, cherished beyond comparison. Every little thing he did set her body ablaze but made her heart feel safe. To see this new side of him that he hadn’t shown anyone else, to get to hold it in her hands and keep it—she didn’t know how to tell him that this mattered to her more than any skill in bed ever could. That the intimacy he created for her was enough.

Which was probably why she hadn’t registered it at first. As with most things, Ichigo was a fast learner, and soon the heat of his breath on her neck, the pressure of his fingers, the wet insistence of his tongue inside her all became impossibly addictive. Ichigo began watching her with a keenness reserved for observing an enemy in battle. And when he reacted, he reacted with the intelligence that he was hardly given credit for. It was like they couldn't keep their hands to themselves anymore. They made out in her apartment with a desperation she’d never felt before, and it wasn’t long before Orihime had lost count of the number of movies they pretended to watch while they messed around with each other.

Eventually, when his wrist curled in just that perfect angle she’d urged it to with her hand, Orihime felt the first flood of something hot and feverish rise within her.

“Wait,” she whispered, both pleased and displeased when his fingers immediately slowed down inside her. Her throat tightened in an awfully familiar way, and she knew tears couldn’t be far behind. “Ichigo-kun, please wait…”

“Did you come?” Ichigo blurted, looking genuinely surprised and half-sorry that he missed it.

Orihime flushed at the bluntness of his question and shook her head. “No, I’m just.” She bit her lip and sniffed.

Ichigo’s soft brown eyes turned tender in a way she really, really liked. “Is it too much? Do you want to stop?”

“Do you?” Orihime asked, feeling vulnerable when he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“It’s not about me,” he said patiently, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “It’s about you. I don’t want to touch you if you’re not comfortable.”

Orihime felt tears well within her eyes despite the simplicity of his words. She pulled him in by his shoulders, mouth opening to him in a soft, slow kiss. He responded readily, but with restraint, like he was still unsure where the boundaries were.

“Touch me, Ichigo-kun,” she murmured softly into his lips, “I like it when you touch me.”

Her words snapped something within him. Ichigo pushed her onto her back and kissed her hard. When his hands returned to her body, they were warm, making her clit pulse with excitement, even though her eyes were wet with tears. Just feel, she scolded herself, and tried to let go, her hands tracing the strength of Ichigo’s chest, his tense stomach. When she came, she came with a shuddering sob, bucking into Ichigo’s fingers with abandon. The surprise of it distracted her, and she promptly kneed him in the stomach.

“Ow,” he grunted, rubbing his belly. He looked up at her and glared. “Did you really come so hard that you had to kick me?”

Orihime giggled, feeling lightheaded and embarrassed. She replaced his hand on his stomach with her own in apology. “I’m sorry.”

Ichigo's face softened, and he leaned down to steal a kiss from her, soft and utterly reverent. "Was that alright?"

She nodded, pulling him down to embrace him in a tight hug.

Everything else slipped from her mind.

x.x.x.x.x

Except it happened again—and again. Orihime chalked up her tears from the first time to just the emotional weight of it. But even as they grew into it, as they began to learn what they liked together, she still ended up shedding more than a few tears by the end of it. Every time they had sex, she found herself scurrying to the bathroom, a culprit running away from the scene of the crime. Then, she'd lock the door, let the tap run, and let the tears fall, muffling her sobs into a closed fist. It wasn't even a big cry most of the time, but she still shook with embarrassment. Her body was not her own in those moments. She didn't know how to explain it.

When she returned, usually composed again, Ichigo would watch her curiously, and then open his arms up for a cuddle. She would go to him without reservation, but with an immense amount of guilt. She knew for certain that he didn't like being left in the dark. She could tell that he wanted to ask. Once, he even did.

"Where do you go?" He mumbled into a kiss on her hairline, making her feel precious and cornered in equal measure. "You know. When we finish."

"Ehee. I just need to pee," Orihime replied, and she knew from the mild frown on his face that he didn't believe her. "Does it bother you?'

"A little," Ichigo admitted, with a touch of reluctance.

Orihime's heart sank. "Oh." She wanted to say more, to promise to stay a while next time, but the prospect of that made her feel nervous. Eventually, the moment passed and Ichigo said, "It's okay; don't make that face," with a warm, teasing smile and then kissed her nose like it didn’t matter.

He truly was the purest and kindest of souls, leaking with sincerity. Yet, there was no part of her that wanted to put an end to this. Sometimes, there was a playful air to the way they got together, all butterfly kisses and tickles. But sometimes there was an intensity to it that burned her, tore her asunder. She liked it.

Besides, she was surprised by the sheer number of ways and sheer number of places they could use for pleasure. On one occasion, he surrendered all control and let her ride him, let her hold him down, let her sink her teeth into his neck and give him a hickey. Later, she cried so hard in the bathroom that she threw up.

Sometimes, she felt a little frustrated with her body for reacting in such a visceral way to his regard. Her body, although soft, was far from delicate. She'd trained. She'd been battered and bruised by people who didn't know what her limits were and didn't care. Clearly, she could take a lot.

Why, then, was she a blubbering mess over such tenderness?

x.x.x.x.x

On a particularly dreary Tuesday, Ichigo invited her over to his house so she could help him study for his midterms. Giant drops of rain had been reluctantly plopping down all day, not yet at the point of outburst. Orihime wrapped up her shift at work, the balls of her feet springing with energy as she swapped her work shoes for her casual ones, and her uniform for a skirt that Ichigo particularly liked. Despite her excitement, she diligently made sure to look both ways before crossing the street (he always drove himself into a fit at the supposed recklessness with which she rushed to see him) and then she was at his doorstep, beaming.

Ichigo opened the door, looking sleep-soft and well-rested in a beloved shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms. His hair was mussed artlessly. Orihime was very endeared by it and had to fight down the rising surge of affection.

“Hey. I was just wondering whether I should come get you.”

“It hasn’t started raining yet,” she said, grinning, and moved to shrug her coat off but, to her surprise, Ichigo quickly bent down to press a kiss to her lips. Orihime rested her hands on his shoulders but her eyes scanned the entire room and landed back on him with an increasingly questioning look.

Ichigo’s cheeks were dark. “Dad and the girls went out to see a movie, so it’s just me. Sorry. Was that too sudden?”

She sagged. “It was a pleasant surprise,” she said happily, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss him again, this time paying more attention. Ichigo laughed — just a heavy breath through his nostrils that tickled her cheek — and then guided her upstairs to his room. They sat as they always did, with Orihime on the bed and Ichigo by his desk. Despite the silence, there was a weighty anticipation in the air. Outside, the rain kept waiting for a sign to fall; inside, Ichigo and Orihime fidgeted as they tried to focus — Ichigo, on his books, and Orihime on the sudoku puzzle she was trying to solve.

Ichigo got up to keep an empty mug back in the sink. Orihime shifted a pillow. Ichigo bounced his knee. Orihime gnawed thoughtfully on the tip of her pencil.

By the time the rain began, they were both in bed, kissing furiously and wetly like they couldn’t get enough.

“Ichigo-kun, your midterms…” Orihime breathed, dazed, tracing her hands over his pecs through his shirt, rucking it up so she could feel the hot, bare skin of his stomach with her fingers.

“I’ll study later,” Ichigo promised, and then framed her face with both his hands so he could slow down their kiss. He gently plucked at her bottom lip with his mouth and then tilted their heads to fuse their mouths together. She loved it when he kissed her like this, like he loved her. Sometimes she even had to pinch herself to believe it. The soft-eyed, awestruck looks, the teasing, the care — all of it.

“Ichigo-kun, I want—”

“I've got you,” he said, his voice rough as he helped her up to peel her clothes off.

Orihime’s heart was in her throat. They’d never done it in his room before, and Isshin, Yuzu and Karin could be back any minute, but the room smelled like him, and his hands were warm on her ribs, and she didn’t want to stop — not ever.

“You’re so unfair,” she complained, flushing when he fixed her with an affectionate eye roll.

“I should be saying that to you,” he teased, biting her nose and her cheek gently before kissing her again, hard.

Orihime was amazed by how quickly he shifted from playfulness to seriousness when they were like this. She could hardly keep up. She locked a single leg around his hips and then bucked up breathlessly as he began pressing slow, sucking kisses around her chest. Even when Ichigo touched her breasts, he never made them feel disconnected from the rest of her body, the way girls at work always swore most boys did. He regarded them with a simple, curious fascination that made her feel confident, made her forget about everything else and focus on his tongue and his twisting fingers.

Ichigo dropped kisses on her ear and neck and then eased her down onto the bed. Orihime pulled at her panties eagerly, getting them down only as far as her mid-thigh before her hands were reaching for the front of his pants again. He grunted at the warmth of her palm, holding her wrist as he guided her up and down the cloth a few times. A couple of strokes later, he pulled his pants down and he was in.

Absorbed in the bliss of her afterglow, Orihime almost forgot about her pesky little condition. The completely new environment had lulled her in with a false sense of security as she stroked his heated neck and chest with gentle fingers. Ichigo held her eyes with a warm and unwavering gaze, leaving her sinking, lost, gently floating in the wave of this feeling—

Her eyes snapped open.

“Be right back!” she shrieked hastily, pushing herself off the bed as she felt her chest caving in, eyes already swarming with a thick layer of tears. She could barely hear him call her name from behind her. Through a shaky vision, she fumbled her way around the corridor and made it to the bathroom. Once there, a few feeble sobs were all it took before she was done. It wasn't a great outpour, so she neglected to wash her face or check her reflection, eager to get back to Ichigo as soon as she could.

When she stepped out, she suddenly ran into him.

Ichigo grabbed her shoulders to steady her. He immediately sensed something was off as he began scanning her face. "Orihime? What's wrong?"

She hastily wiped away a traitorous drop of snot with the back of her hand. "Nothing, Ichigo-kun!"

"You're crying." His tone, while harsh, was laced with concern. "Why are you crying? Did I hurt you?"

Orihime's eyes flew up to his face, alarmed. "No, you didn't! I'm just. This is just—" She took a breath, wringing her hands over her shirt as she whispered, "—a thing."

"A thing?"

Orihime said nothing, realizing how it sounded. However, the more the silence grew, the more time the words had to sink in.

"You've been crying?" Ichigo demanded, and Orihime's chest ached at how devastated he sounded, his hands still firm on her shoulders. "Every time we've slept together?"

Orihime flailed. "No—I mean! Yes, but it's not. It's not what you think. It's not bad!"

An aghast look flickered across his face. "Is it — do I hurt you?" He immediately released her shoulders like he'd been burned. Orihime's heart sank, her eyes filling with tears again—the awful kind.

"No!" she insisted, desperately wanting to touch him somehow in reassurance. "No, it's not like that. I was going to tell you. I don't know how to explain it, but it's not bad!"

She'd meant to tell him some time when they weren't in the mood, and in her head it had gone a lot better than how it was going right now. How had she messed up this badly?

"How can it not be bad?" Ichigo asked quietly, looking heartbroken. "You had to have known I'd react like this. That's why you took so long to tell me." He glanced up at her in doubt. "Were you even going to tell me?"

"Yes." She wiped her eyes, feeling betrayed by the question. "Ichigo-kun…"

"Orihime," Ichigo said finally. "Do you know what I'd do to a guy if I heard you cried every time the two of you were together?"

"It isn't like that!" She sobbed, feeling frustrated and unheard. "Ichigo-kun, please." The tears collecting in her eyes were real now, not the benign, absent rush they were after they slept together. "It's normal—"

"It's not normal, Orihime," Ichigo barked. It was the first time in recent history that she could ever recall him interrupting her. It stung more than she expected. In bed, she'd known after a good assessment with herself that her tears were a harmless release from her body—a catharsis of sorts. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt shame about crying, but it was all coming back now, making her feel miserable.

Ichigo sighed, pinching his brows together. "I need a moment. Let me walk you home and we can pick this up at a better time."

"It's okay," Orihime sniffed glumly, pushing through him and towards the bedroom to gather her things. "I can walk by myself."

"Orihime, c'mon." He called over his shoulder.

She ignored him and picked up her bag, taking a minute to pat herself down and make sure her clothes were on right. Then, she took two stairs down at a time as she hurried out of his house. Half of her was afraid he'd follow her or try to stop her, but he didn't, letting her leave of her own volition.

When she got home, she was in a worse state than before, feeling the emptiness of her apartment acutely. Her only relief was that at least Ichigo would have his father and sisters there to comfort him. At night, she tossed back and forth in her bed sleeplessly before she finally gathered the courage to pick up her phone and text him. Are we breaking up?

Of course not, he replied, just under a minute later. Why would you think that?

Because you looked really upset with me, she sent, hugging one of the shirts he'd left at her house to her chest.

She watched him type, but it took a few minutes for his next reply to come in. I am upset, it read. But not with you. Then, Get some sleep, Hime. It's late.

Okay, she tapped back and bit her lip. You too.

x.x.x.x.x

Ichigo came over the day his exams ended, a box of donuts in hand as he entered her foyer.

"How were the midterms," Orihime said, anxious. They truly had picked the worst week to have their first 'real' fight.

"They were fine," Ichigo scoffed, leaning down to accept the kiss she pressed to his chin. "Here." He pushed the box into her hands, an implicit apology.

Orihime melted.

"Thank you." She hesitated, then leaned on tiptoes to hug him. When his arms came around her, one palm pressing warmly against her back, everything in the world felt right again.

Later, as they snuggled up on the couch and ate, limbs tucked into each other, Ichigo said, "I'm sorry."

Orihime braced herself. "What for?" She asked softly, playing with the lapels of his jacket so she could avoid eye contact.

Ichigo took a breath and she felt it, the gentle up-down of his chest as he tried to form the words. "I got so angry at myself."

Orihime shook her head. "I told you it wasn't like that."

"No, I know," Ichigo said, gently stroking her shoulder, a touch so tentative she hardly felt him move. "But Orihime, I can't pretend it was easy to hear something like that."

Orihime looked up at him. "I'm sorry, I should have told you. I just didn't know how to work it into a conversation, and I got a little nervous."

Ichigo nodded like he guessed as much. Then, "Do I — do I make you uncomfortable? When we—"

"Not at all. Not even a little," Orihime insisted sincerely, stroking his cheek. "You're very good to me." She tensed slightly but eased when he ran his hand over her back in a comforting pattern. "Too good to me, I think," she muttered.

Ichigo's brows raised high.

"It's just. I've had feelings for you for a very long time," she said shakily, braving herself to meet his eyes. "And I guess I just feel a lot when we're-when we get together like that. Like. All the big feelings."

His face gentled. "Me too."

It's different for me, she wanted to say but she knew he wouldn't accept it. He never went into anything he cared about without his 100%, and their relationship wasn’t any different, but still. It was different for her. It always would be.

"Do you want to stop for a while?" Ichigo suggested, stroking her ear gently with his thumb.

"No," she said, a bit too quickly, and then blushed when the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile.

"I should have realized something was going on when you went to the bathroom so often," Ichigo sighed, shaking his head. "I did."

"It's okay," she told him soothingly, getting up on haunches so she could spread her arms over his chest. "I told you, it wasn't bad. It felt good actually, letting it out like that."

Ichigo watched her face carefully. "Did it?"

Orihime nodded.

"Then - do you think you could stay with me the next time?" He asked, his expression hopeful.

Orihime's stomach tightened with anxiety. He must have seen it on her face because he stroked her cheek with a gentle thumb. "I've seen you cry before," he reminded her. "Besides, I think it would make things easier if I could see for myself, y'know. That it's not bad."

Orihime considered that. It was true that they had been through a lot together, and that it probably felt lonely for Ichigo whenever she left him like that. One thing she'd learned about relationships was that sometimes they needed compromises. It was okay. She loved him. She was happier than she'd been in a long time. She could do it.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Okay?" He looked up at her, and something about his handsome, concerned face drew her down to press her lips against his, soft and full of feeling. The kiss immediately turned hard and hungry in seconds, Ichigo's hands coming up to gently cradle her neck. He traced her skin down over her shoulders, and then over the sides of her breasts before pulling back slightly. He was breathing hard.

"Why'd you stop," Orihime asked, a little petulant.

"Weren't we having a conversation?" Ichigo looked amused.

"Well, can it wait, please?" Orihime huffed. "I missed you."

"Alright, alright, keep your panties on," Ichigo teased, before registering what he just said with a small grimace. "On a second thought," he muttered, leaving Orihime in hysterics as she doubled over in laughter, burying her face in his neck.

"It wasn't that funny," he groused, valiantly ignoring the delighted little kisses she was pressing to his cheeks and all over his face.

"I love you," Orihime said softly, eyes radiant with joy as she held onto his shoulders. "Take me to bed."

Ichigo sprang into action as he hauled her up in his arms, balancing her waist over his shoulder and leaving her upper half at gravity's mercy.

Orihime squealed. "Ichigo-kun, I'll fall, I'll fall!"

He pretended not to hear her, dangling her on their way to her room. She landed backwards, her body meeting the soft futon underneath her. Blood rushed to her head and the world spun around for a good few seconds before stopping.

"I won't let you fall," Ichigo promised, stroking her collarbones with his long fingers. Orihime wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down again, moaning when he snuck a hand under her sweater to stroke her bare skin.

"Ichigo-kun." She gently lifted his face with one hand so he could look at her. "It might happen again," she warned.

Ichigo nodded, his eyes dark and serious. "Let it. Just let me take care of you."

In his voice, in that tone, it sounded like a promise. Orihime relaxed, but her ease quickly melted into a gasp when Ichigo rolled her bra down to cup her breast. She tried to dig her fingers into the sheets, but when she found them to be flimsy, she pushed them into Ichigo's hair.

A soft sound released from the back of his throat as he quickly pulled away from her to help her out of her clothes and spread her out on the mattress. When he returned his mouth to hers this time, their kiss grew heavier as their tongues rolled against each other desperately.

Ichigo pulled off for a second, breathing heavily. “Orihime.”

“Mm.”

He kissed her cheek and then returned to his position. “Look at me.”

Orihime’s large eyes met his, feeling loved and impossibly cosseted.

“You’re so important to me,” he muttered, tilting her chin up between his index and his thumb. Orihime pulled his head down, intending to kiss him but he went lower, pressing naked, wet kisses down her neck, the rest of her body. By the time he reached her belly, Orihime's chest was heaving in anticipation.

"Ichigo, please," she breathed, forgetting to add the suffix in her anticipation. "Please, please…"

Ichigo pushed her underwear aside with two fingers and then lapped her up with a slow, steady suck. Orihime trembled, trying to buck up, but he held her down across her stomach with one muscled forearm. All she could murmur was, "Oh" over and over again as his tongue rubbed deeply over her slick folds.

"I'm so close," she murmured, burying one hand in his hair. She wanted him with her, wanted him inside her. "Ichigo-kun, I need you."

Ichigo pulled away and came up to her, replacing his tongue with his fingers instead. Orihime gasped. The pads of his fingers were rough, calloused, as they brushed her clit in firm strokes.

"Orihime." He kissed her forehead. "Come on."

"Mm." Orihime writhed, feeling his fingers drive deep at a particularly pleasurable stroke. She held onto his wrist, using his hand to work herself up on that building wave. Soon, her body locked up and she knew it was coming, a giant ripple that pulsed throughout her body in a series of shivers. "Oh—"

"Yeah," she heard him say as she floated down, sparks flying across her vision and all the way down to her fingertips. Orihime breathed heavily, chest glowing with a sheen of sweat. She kept waiting for tears, for that tightness in her throat to manifest into something. But they never came.

"Orihime?"

Orihime turned on her pillow to see the boy she loved watching her attentively, his soft eyes focused on every shift of her features. She felt close to him, loved by him, and all the big emotions felt bite-sized in the wake of her release.

"Hi," she smiled, small and subtle and slightly teary-eyed.

Ichigo sighed in relief and touched his forehead to hers. "Hey. You good?"

"I'm good," she told him and pulled him in for a kiss.

#not sure if this is an angst *overload* but i put off working on this for at least a year so...#this is the best i could do #ichihime #myfic

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