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rinusagitora · 1 year ago

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I'll be the villain you blame.

Fandom: Bleach Characters: Momo Hinamori, Sousuke Aizen, Nanao Ise, Izuru Kira, Shuuhei Hisagi, Renji Abarai Pairings: badship AiHina, minor RenShuuKiraHina Words: 2.5k Summary: A study in invisible labor, gender inequity, & rage. Warnings for abusive relationships, cannibalism, & mild gore. AO3: works/50610688 A/N: I forgot what list I used for this & can't keep a schedule worth shit, so I'm just posting it now lmao I used various black metal, In This Moment, & Otep songs as inspiration. There are so many good ones.

"What do you mean you won't make dinner?"

It's not a question, but a demand for a damn good answer. Momo is elbow-deep in a wash basin bubbling with soap and waterlogged shitagi. Sweat pours down her sides from her pits.

"I have shit to do," he replies.

Her teeth grind. "And I don't?"

"You're washing laundry."

Thank you, Captain Obvious, and here she thought her hands were cramping from doing nothing.

"These stains are going to take hours getting out," she says, "so unless you want dingy laundry or dinner late, I need you to make us some food."

"I'm going to an Association meeting. I'll be eating there."

Momo's seen the Shinigami Men's Association. It's an excuse for officers to goof off.

"Okay. And what am I going to do for food after washing the laundry? It's going to be late when you finish."

Sousuke rolls his eyes. He doesn't even shut the door behind him when he fucks off.

It's times like these Momo wants to take his skin and put it through a wash cycle while he cries for help from their bed. See how he likes it.

Momo ought to, at least, lock the door behind him. He'll have to sleep on the engawa and explain to a passerby why that it. Briefly, it makes her smile thinking of it. My wife locked me out because I'm a piece of shit who dicks around while she scrubs my house clean. What a bitch, right?

It's pipe dreams. Even if someone catches him sleeping on the engawa, he'll make her look like a hysterical cunt.

---

He's home at three. Wakes her up to regale her with the fun he had while the Men's Association sang songs around a campfire.

Momo groans. "Honey, I need some sleep before we go into work."

He snorts. "You've slept for hours."

She really hasn't. There's maybe four hours under her belt. The bottoms of his socks took hours to whiten completely. Part of her was tempted to leave it, but picturing her husband in gray laundry just reminded her how bad his feet smell, and she couldn't bring herself to neglect it the way he's able to.

"I'm really tired, Sousuke, laundry took forever."

His face scrunches. "God, is it such a chore for you to listen to me?"

Momo wants to laugh, but knows it would start an argument she's much too tired for. "Fine. Go on."

She tries to sleep while he blathers, but he doesn't stop talking until the blue light of morning peeks through their window.

---

Sousuke takes a sick day. If Momo joins him, nothing will get done in the office, and he'll bitch about it for days like it wasn't something avoided easily enough by just having made dinner.

Nanao sometimes visits during lunch breaks. Momo thinks their friendship spawned of their mutually useless men. Her uncle can't even be bothered to wear socks or spit out poisonous reeds he chews on.

At least his feet don't smell as bad.

"Oh my god, you look exhausted."

Momo hums. "Sousuke was out late and woke me up when he came home. I couldn't go back to sleep."

"On a work night?" Nanao says while she scowls.

"It was a Men's Association gathering."

"Well, that's stupid," she says while unpacking bento. "I brought goodies, though, if you'd like to take a break."

The smell of soup and steak wafts to Momo and it makes her misty-eyed. When is she ever cared for? How long have she and Sousuke been married, and what has he done for her?

Momo wracks her brain while she and Nanao eat but can't think of a single chore he's done, or even a single thank you he's uttered.

---

All she wants to do is sleep when she comes home, but Sousuke has other plans.

"The irori is full," Sousuke says. Sure enough, the pot is laying on coals. "I have some paperwork to finish. Can you clean it out before dinner?"

Momo's teeth grind. "What's this paperwork?"

"November's budget."

"Wasn't that due yesterday?" she says.

"Yeah, but I was busy,"

"Busy goofing off with the Association members."

Sousuke scowls. "Can you just clean the fucking hearth?"

Her teeth grind. "Fine. Please run a bath for me."

"I told you, I have to do the budget."

"The budget that was due yesterday. Yesterday, which you spent hours goofing off during, instead of working."

"Will you stop nagging me?" he snaps. "Just clean the fucking irori."

Momo takes a deep breath. There's a beat of silence between them. "I'll clean it... please run me a bath so I can wash off when I finish."

"I just told you I'm fucking busy," Sousuke says.

Another beat of silence. "You can't take ten seconds to turn a fucking faucet?" she says.

"You can run it yourself. You're a big girl."

She curls her fists and utters a long groan. Her teeth grind. A headache radiates into her skull. "Indeed. I'm also a big girl who hasn't slept since three in the morning, am very tired, and would like a bath after cleaning the irori. I'm fairly certain your budget can be turned in twenty seconds later than it would be without you running a bath for me."

"What the fuck is this martyr act about? Seriously, you're behaving as if I've shot you."

"I don't know how to explain it anymore clearly than I have already!" she snaps.

"You haven't explained shit, Momo!" he returns with equal vitriol. "You're blathering on about nonsense like I'm some fucking criminal. What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?"

Something inside Momo snaps like a dry twig.

"You fucked around last night instead of doing the budget, and now it's overdue, then you woke me up, chat for hours about how much fun you had procrastinating the budget so I've gotten no sleep, then you called off work because you fucked around too late to get any meaningful sleep before we're supposed to go to work, which left me to pick up your slack, and when I come home utterly exhausted, you can't even bother to turn a faucet for me while I get filthy cleaning out the motherfucking hearth. Is that fucking clear enough, Sousuke?"

His hands slam on his desk and he flies to his feet. It rattles Momo like he's going to hit her. "I don't have to fucking listen to this shit, Momo. I'm your superior officer and you will treat me with respect I'm owed."

"You're my husband! You asked me to marry you because you loved me!" Her scream is so shrill that she wonders if the windows will shatter in its wake. It would be nice to be validated. To have some fucking control. To turn Sousuke into a pin cushion of glass shards. Maybe then he'll listen. Maybe he'll tiptoe around her instead and give into her whims so she can fucking rest.

He spits on her instead.

The glob of saliva and mucus rolls down her cheek. It leaves a trail like a snail. She's stunned while he storms out. It's like there's a delay between her and reality. Like time decompresses. When it returns to normal, there's an explosion.

Momo throws her fist into the wall. It gives underway. She's bleeding and full of splinters when she frees herself but can't bring herself to give a flying fuck. Instead, she storms out like Sousuke, hearth be damned.

She needs a fucking drink.

She doesn't even know the name of the bar she storms into. Momo thinks she scares the bartender because he doesn't make a peep when she asks for a pitcher of beer, just places it in front of her a few moments later. She doesn't even use the provided glass and tips it into her open mouth instead. Some of it dribbles onto her collar but she doesn't fucking care because it doesn't even begin to wash down her outrage.

"Hinamori?"

Beer goes down the wrong tube when she hears her name. Izuru takes a seat like nothing happened. For a moment, his fair face has semblance to the wall she put her fist through, and her brain feeds her an image of his skull exploding around her right hook. It makes Momo want to throw up.

Izuru pats her back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's fine, I'm just a little absent-minded because I haven't slept well."

Momo hates that she's making excuses, that she's covering for her husband, but she isn't sure she has it in her to be told she's making mountain out of mole hills, even if it's by a dear friend.

"I can tell," he says. "Hey, Abarai and Hisagi are with me, why don't you drink with us? It's been awhile."

Momo kind of doesn't want to, but isn't able to concoct a reasonable excuse to decline, so she follows Izuru to their booth.

"Hey, it's been awhile," Shuuhei says while she slides into the booth next to Renji. "How's it going?"

"Fine," she fibs politely, then sips beer like she isn't a ravenous, vexed alcoholic.

Renji looks her over but he doesn't say anything. Momo wonders if he's clocked her exhaustion. He's always been good at reading people.

Shuuhei laughs. "Good to hear. We thought something was wrong when we saw you pounding your drink."

Momo groans. "It's fine. My husband and I just got into an argument and I wanted to blow off some steam."

"Makes sense," Renji replies. He reaches under the table and rubs her leg. It makes her head fall onto his shoulder. For now, she'll chalk it up to exhaustion.

"Marriage seems... hard," Izuru says.

"I can imagine so," Shuuhei says.

"It's just..." Momo trails off. She pinches her sinuses so she doesn't start bawling her eyes out. "I just don't get why he can't do simple things. Like, I was cleaning the irori when I asked him to run me a bath, but he threw a tantrum over it for some reason."

Part of her expects them to shrug it off, to call her hysterical, but Izuru says, "I don't understand why that would be a chore for him."

"Thank you," she says with wry laughter.

"Yeah, it's not hard," Renji agrees.

Momo takes another drink. "I'm sure all couples argue about chores." She hates herself more for bitching about him and then covering for him. It feels wishy washy. It feels like malicious lies.

"Sure, but... I don't know. It doesn't seem hard to just run a bath while you clean," Izuru replies.

It's times like these Momo wishes she married Izuru. It makes her sad she thought poorly of Izuru's intentions. For now, she'll chalk it up to exhaustion, like the day dream she has of being facedown in her pillow with Izuru's fist around her neck while he rails her slick pussy.

She laughs. "I thought so too. Alas, I'm the insane one asking for a simple favor."

"Why'd you even marry him?" Shuuhei asks. "He's unpleasant to be around as, like, a whole. He's pedantic."

"He was different not too long ago." Alas, this is her punishment for fucking her superior. Blow up the relationship and the squad blows up. Her career blows up. Everything blows up. The shrapnel will only go into her face, and he'll be unscathed, even if she screams about his incompetence from the rooftops.

Momo should've fucking married Izuru. He isn't an asshole even if he doesn't put his socks in the hamper.

---

In the lulls of her contributions to their conversation, Momo daydreams of each of them kissing her sore limbs and making love to her. Of being passed around them. She doesn't say anything even after taking her home around eleven. It's later than Momo would've liked but she didn't really want to escape their company after Izuru bought them a round of tequila shots. They took her home because she could hardly walk between exhaustion and intoxication.

Momo knows she passed out the second she covered herself in her quilt, but it's like she hasn't slept a wink when Sousuke shakes her awake and kisses her.

She's expecting an apology, but then he unties his obi. He's hard.

He's an asshole and expects her to fuck him at three in the morning when she's exhausted and angry. Somehow, his sobriety makes her even angrier, like this shit would be better if he was wasted.

Momo throws a right hook into the center of his face. Bones crunch under her fist, like the wall, and he squeals like a stuck pig.

"You wanna fuck after everything you said?" she screams in disbelief. "You can't even be bothered to fucking apologize?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Sousuke howls while he clutches his face. He's like a petulant child. It makes her cunt recede into her pelvis.

"What's wrong with me? It's four in the morning! I haven't slept hardly five hours since yesterday morning, but you wake me up after a huge fight when I'm utterly fucking exhausted to fuck me like you weren't a raging fucking asshole earlier!

Sousuke doesn't get a word in before Momo is on her feet and knees him. He's pushed into a fetal position, grunting and crying, and it's oil on fire.

"You're the most neglectful fucking asshole I know!" she screams. "You can't do anything! You're seriously a fucking baby and you expect me to fucking spoon feed you! If I wanted to marry an infant, I would've robbed a fucking cradle!"

Magic coils in her hands. Her rage is consistently underestimated, the same as her labor is unappreciated and unreciprocated. She could spend months cleaning his home-- his home, because it's not hers, its not theirs, she's just a maid-- without so much as a thank you or a finger lifted to help.

It coalesces as fire in her palms. It barrels into Sousuke's face and roasts his hair and his skin. The smell is acrid, but there's no air for him to scream. She can see him trying to but all it's doing is burning his insides. There isn't enough oxygen to scream, not when its eaten by fire.

Sousuke wheezes when the fire stops. Momo assumes his vocal chords are fried. It's pathetic and blissful.

Momo recenters and sends fire to his crotch. She'll find better cock.

---

She's quite bedraggled and the floor is blackened once she finally finishes. Sousuke's top layers are charred to shit. The smell of burnt hair is long gone, and there's just the smell of seared meat now.

It makes her belly rumble.

There's the issue of the body, of course, and the most horrific epiphany occurs to her while her chest heaves.

He can't make dinner. Why can't she make him into dinner?

---

Momo sends a courier to Izuru, Renji, and Shuuhei inviting them over for dinner when she goes to work in the morning. She sliced Sousuke's buttocks and thighs into steaks, rubbed them with chilis and spices, and served them over potatoes, onions, and asparagus. There isn't a clean plate in the house before the night ends. They even help with the dishes.

#bleach #badship aihina #renshuukirahina #momo hinamori #sosuke aizen #izuru kira #renji abarai #shuhei hisagi #goretober 2023

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