I’m Not About…to Let You Be The Only One Who Dies!

he’d known grimmjow’s mouth to be full of needles, ready to be spat. patience begins to waver. it had, perhaps, collapsed even earlier, when the scarce distance had been narrowed, when his kick had connected with taut muscle. or maybe a more primal part of him - the monster that constructed him - isn’t quite so averse to giving in to his desires, or the temptation that presents before his eyes.

the sully of lord aizen’s name gives him leverage. the heel that’d dug itself into grimmjow’s groin pierces deeper still. ‘ you’re crossing the limits, grimmjow. what exactly do you wish for, running your mouth like this? what else if not to be punished. that, i can give you. ’ 

it’s within my power, anger is foreign, but he understands discipline. if lord aizen asked… what are the boundaries to hierarchy? ulquiorra couldn’t remember the last time he’d received orders that rose doubts. perhaps. perhaps not. as long as it’s necessary. it’s pointless. it’s dark, the only source of light comes from the partitions near the tall ceiling, gray moonlight. an appropriate place for grimmjow to confront his feelings, to be taught. a place to be cornered.

this was not supposed to happen.

hands on hips, fabric moved down and teeth around sensitive skin - grimmjow is as fast as he fights, and though ulquiorra could’ve dodged the action, something hooks him in place. the two of them, ulquiorra staring down at the other arrancar in their perfect isolation. there’s nothing between them but the empty air and silence that no longer than a second is all but devoured: grimmjow’s teeth gnaw at his hip-bone, claws tearing their way in, where there should be tender skin, had they been human. but they are not. ulquiorra’s eyes flare open, a moment of confusion, evaluation - it would be a lie to say that he’d been unaware, that he hadn’t seen beyond the goading, the circling like two predators testing the limits of their territories.

‘ grimmjow, you — ’ ulquiorra whispers through gritted teeth, earning him little. his body tenses with anticipation, watching with rapt attention as his shaft disappears inside grimmjow’s mouth, teeth pressing at parts that he hadn’t know could respond in that way to the rough treatment. everything sounds loud, even louder in the silence. the wetness of it. their gasps. white noise pounding and unforgiving in his head.

the sudden closeness astounded him, only momentarily. pride, as he wields it, is sharp, like the edge of a sword. his hands grip at grimmjow’s hair, forcing him into stillness, ‘ is this what you wanted? is this your idea of what punishment should be, because it is not if you’re enjoying it. ’, and presses forward, fingers tight, the almost urge to shove, to savor. to hurt, to break. to destroy.

ㅤㅤㅤIN  HUECO  MUNDO  -  THERE  ARE  NO  GENTLE  TOUCHES,  and  among  the  espada  -  this  rings  especially  true.  they  were  primitive  creatures  in  their  own  right,  boiled  down  to  their  singular  aspects  and  governed  entirely  by  those.  grimmjow  was  a  being  of  destruction  in  all  he  did  -  all  he  felt,  for  in  pursuit  of  whatever  feeling  or  fight  had  caught  his  attention,  the  arrancar  would  raze  the  world  to  the  ground,  and  then  himself  in  the  process.  he  supposes  it  might  be  similar  to  ulquiorra  -  but  with  grimmjow,  at  least  his  destruction  wrought  joy  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones.  at  least  he  felt  complete  when  pain  crackled  through  his  body  and  he  saw  his  efforts  rewarded  in  depthless,  emerald  gaze  -  saw  the  reflection  of  himself  crazed  and  hungry  and...

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ hah! ❞   he  can't  help  it  -  the  indignant  laugh  that  leaves  him,  the  startled  noise  of  outright  surprise.  it's  like  catching  the  scent  of  blood  in  the  water.  fresh  ichor  scattered  across  the  sands.  he  feels  his  mouth  salivate,  feels  every  predatory  instinct  hone  in  on  the  man  above  him,  even  as  bones  grind  beneath  his  touch,  even  as  his  jaw  aches.  he  just  purrs  louder,  and  louder,  and  louder  -  and  skates  that  feline  rough  tongue  between  the  bat  bastard's  elegant  fingers,  and  sucks.

ㅤㅤㅤnext  thing  he  knows,  he's  own  his  back,  staring  up  at  him,  stomach  smarting.

ㅤㅤㅤyet  somehow  -  grimmjow  doesn't  look  that  angry.  instead  -  he  looks  smug.  were  his  tail  out,  it  might  have  been  swaying  with  delight.  ulquiorra  only  gets  the  benefit  of  his  bright  eyed  stare  though,  the  amused  curl  of  his  lips,  and  the  way  sharp  black  claws  rake  into  stone  flooring,  cracking  the  tile  beneath  them.  ❝ you've  never  done  this  before,  have  you? ❞   grimmjow  sounds  positively  elated  actually,  especially  as  the  fourth  looms  over  him  -  all  monochrome  colors  and  depressed,  empty  gaze.  his  hands  are  surprisingly  alive,  the  sensation  almost  sensuous  and  he's  not  above  baring  his  throat  a  bit  further,  and  also  not  above  another  jolted  out  purr.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ i  don't  think  that's  what  you're  actually  interested  in  right  now,  dumbass. ❞  there  it  is  again  -  that  permeable  smugness,  and  grimmjow  is  lightning  quick,  snapping  a  hand  upwards  to  quite  blatantly  rest  upon  the  heat  of  his  companion's  crotch.  ❝ never  fucked,  ulquiorra?  never  leaned  into  anything  carnal  with  another  arrancar? ❞  as  grimmjow  speaks,  his  grip  tightens  -  dangerous  and  divine  all  at  once,  ❝ guess  i  shouldn't  be  surprised.  aizen  isn't  telling  you  to  do  it  so  why  would  you? ❞   his  fangs  glint  in  the  night  then,  and  the  espada  raises  onto  one  elbow  -  the  inviting  dip  of  tongue  over  a  bloodied  canine,   ❝ c'mon. ❞  he  purrs  again,   ❝ come  at  me  again.  i  wanna  see  what  you  really  want  to  do  to  me. ❞

ni hao fine shyt

he only grins, a single finger pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he gives the other man a pointed look. " won't your boyfriend get jealous? not that he has to know, but it's just an observation. "

@hourdive

“ never understood why you were such a book worm, but for the life of me, I can’t seem to put this one down. ” it’s a nasty habit of vein’s to touch everything in liu xiao’s dorm when he enters. he’s a collector of high class trinkets and designer goods. anyone with a keen eye would be attracted to all he’s got. this Shakespeare hardcover has his eye. “ you never told me why this one draws you in so much, guess one day I’ll know, ” crimson red eyes twinkle in humor. still so much he was learning about liu xiao. “ my heartbeat. you hear it, don’t you? what can you gather, from someone like me? ”  to lx 😏

“did you know, there are people who can lower their heartbeats to the minimum?” he says thoughtfully.

which wouldn’t be that much of a problem, he thinks, if they weren’t weaponized for warfare or spies. when vein made his way to him, liu xiao remained seated on the couch, his eyes falling briefly on the black tea at the table. he feels more than he sees the approach, vein’s silhouette distorted by the rippling surface of dark-tinted liquid. he doesn’t need to look up to know he’s smiling, all sharp teeth and confidence. he liked that about vein.

“you are faring well, if that’s what you’d like to hear.” praises are earned, he supposes, and vein has done more than enough for liu xiao to allow him this much. “manipulating heartbeats is not impossible, it can be done with training, but asking for a reading when you are prepared for it makes for poor evidence of self-control.”

when he looks up, his eyebrows raise in an apologetic gesture, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose and the brief connection between gazes holds up for as long as his finger taps lightly on his crossed legs, echoing the rhythm as he hears it: steadfast, in the beginning, but it picks up around the moment where vein’s attention becomes captured, two predators measuring each other from the limits of their territories. 

watching for a reaction, liu xiao smiles, “what your heart tells me right now is that you’re confident. you’re certain that i won’t notice you’ve been stalling. for what, that i cannot tell. you’ll have to do it yourself. what is that you want to say so badly that it’ll make you skim through shakespeare?”

@burntpa1ace

thinking about adding ogata back to my muse list, i just miss him so much but there's no golden kamuy rp fandom bye

hey so if you see a guy with a red mullet + braid, sunglasses, long black coat, a foreign accent, has a perpetual 🤪 on his face —- he’s trying to get at the crazy cult man ur in love with and should die

what do you mean another guy is talking to suguru? what does he look like? HEY stop running!!

@hourdive

face, sender turns receiver's face towards them. ( geto & gojo )

pulling himself back to a standing position is the initial intent, only stopped by the firm hands clasped on each side of his face: garnering his attention requires less than this, but he supposes suguru wants to make a statement of it. hand seeks leverage, placed flatly on the desk as his body remains arched, waiting, unsure whether to take this as a challenge, a warning, or a third secret thing that only suguru seems to understand and perfectly eludes satoru's wondering eyes. he allows the other man the benefit of the doubt, waits it out, only to be surprised by a bold statement.

'quit it out.'

their back and forth had escalated into a drawn out argument — though not entirely one-sided, it's clear that suguru wants no part in a battle of moral judgement. his views are cemented, a sense of justice buoyed in the philosophy that hierarchy exists as a parachute for the unlucky bastards right down south in the grand scheme of things. satoru, on the other hand, believes it a conspiracy led by the beliefs that their existence is taken for granted, though he needn't explain the specifics to suguru. it's easier to face the fury head-on, bathe in it, because that's what his body and mind are familiar with. power is intoxicating, sweeter than honey. gojo's sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose, his right hand holding geto's wrist mirroring the amount of strength used to turn his around and which he unlocks from the grip with a jut of his chin.

he's met with a surge of remembrance then: retainers, old enough to butt shoulders with his own parents, of whom he barely remembered anything, only bits and pieces like the smell of jasmine coming from his mother's kimono, the unmistakable scent of wood and smoke from expensive tobacco in a pipe, signature of his father's presence, and nothing else. though his birth had elevated their position within the household, truth is that they weren't bearers of the eyes but him, and alone he stood during morning trainings, and on most nights, a pair of small, curious steps testing the boundaries of his own jurisdiction, how much he could twist the rope before it snapped. he's yet to feel the draw back of its taut line. in a sense, suguru represents the line he shouldn't cross, almond-tinted eyes hooked confidently in place, two curses measuring each other — a truth untold in that fox-like smile.

' feeling like playing substitute teacher? count me out of it. as you can see i'm a little busy right now, ' he guides suguru's attention towards his phone screen, where graphics remained static although 8-bit music played in a cacophony of robotic sounds, ' don't get me wrong, i'd love to play along but my tetris streak? oh, let me tell you how much it can't wait.'

satoru manages a determined expression, thinks about making a funny face, tongue out, clowning the tension in the air away, but decides he's not in his best behavior and he really meant it when he said the match couldn't wait, seconds ticking and signaling the approaching lock screen mode on his device. gaze darts back, fingers deftly picking up and rising his score. new-found clarity settles, making him speak loud enough to be heard, before he notices.

'oh by the way, have you been training after class? your hands have gotten rougher. girls will go mad, you player. '

@gokunoban

sugar daddy au

“azazel” light yagami 🐐

SHINYA 🧡

サイコパス: THE MOVIE (2015)

Dir. by: Naoyoshi Shiotani, Katsuyuki Motohiro

hi hhave you considered writing Nikolai Gogol? Do you have ships for him?

BSD characters are dangerous for me because I've considered writing or have written: akutagawa, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai, yosano, fukuzawa, koyo, fitzgerald.... Save me

I can write nikolai for U but first you'll have to let me draw him like this

Edit;

THE WAY I DIDNT READ THE SECOND QUESTION. My only bsd ship so far is fyoya but I can learn. Send good fanart