deldreams

[deldreams]

OMG NO!! NO ONE GIVE HER A PHONE!😭😂😭😂

I wasn't going to post this by itself, but I need to get it out of my files

(OC is owned by @deldreams )

this is why they don't have phones in Bleach

[deldreams]

I’m trying out more split collages. This time of Äs Nödt and my OC Seraphim 🤍 🖤🤍🖤

[deldreams]

THANK YOU

why do you prefer butches?

i don't just prefer butches, i'm exclusively attracted to butches. there are sooo many reasons why, but here are just a few.

the masculinity which sits on their shoulders so naturally, the way they move through the world with quiet resilience, their tough exteriors and their soft hearts, their loud laughs and the silent comfort that their presence brings a room. i love how i fit with a butch. how my femininity is bolstered by their masculinity and vice versa. the electricity that passes between us when we spot the other across a crowded room. i am so grateful for butches who let me be soft and gentle in a world that demands i be strong all the time. i daydream about how good my nails look on their biceps and how great my thigh looks in the passenger seat with a strong butch hand grabbing it. seeing their work boots at the front door, cooking for them after a hard day, smelling their cologne on my sheets. i love that our roles in the community perfectly compliment each other. i adore being a safe space for them to take off their armor and rest, heal, and feel cared for.

i just love everything about the butch identity and about butch/femme dynamics 💕

[deldreams]

Split tongue Mayuri HELLO???!! YES GAWD

My darling. I would be amiss if I didn’t request a very self indulgent drawing of my freaky science husband 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Kurotsuchi lovers unite

Mandarin orange 🎀

Bleeding gums under the cut

putting these two next to each other was very funny to me

//P.S: IM SORRY ALL THESE PICTURES HAVE TERRIBLE LIGHTING!!!!😔

[deldreams]

@deldreams 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

you have no idea how hard I was laughing drawing Seraphim and Äs like that

[deldreams]

What should I draw next....🤔

Sorry if your favorite character isn't on here or anything, these are just things I'm interested in drawing currently!🎀

[deldreams]

One of my favorite artists is speaking everyone shhhhh

i think it has been asked before, but still, how do you end up shipping nnoitora and nodt? like what was the thing that made you “ah yes, nnoinodt”

i’m always curious when i see rare pairings

The answer is much easier than u think - at first it's just libido and lust speaking. The sexual tension between these two is mind blowing 😩 the bipolar self-destructive ドS and OCD dom ドM

They share the idea despair (that's why I initially ship Nödt with Izuru) but with different causes...so that gives them a lot to in common meanwhile maintaining a broad spectrum of differences to chew and digest 😌 They are deviants and they struggle to live...they want to exist with heir heads held high... they can understand each other to quite some extent but they won't agree to each other in their roots

Gilga is radiating the primitive energy with his complete lizard brain (hence the idea of body is the only thing Gilga feels default and trusted with) but Nödt's existence is to peel that away from himself (Nödt struggles with the idea of a body, so he live on the controls he rebuilt and weaved into his body). Ironically, Gilga is the one who inevitably got hurt and lose his body parts, and Nödt is the one who is in the opposite situation.

Nödt looks more fragile physically and is in the bottom place, but he is the one who is in dominance of Gilga. Gilga on the other hand, giving the vibe of the top indeed, but he does have a soft place to play with, so he will cave. The hurts Nödt receive form Gilga are all allowed by Nödt as a permission, or even commands for Gilga. I will always be a fan of this kind of interlocked dynamics.

Philosophically speaking, Gilga ran away from pain by his suicidal actions but Nödt's attitudes of "the pain being dead won't be much different from being alive" so he dgaf of being dead will shake and crumble the only way to salvation Gilga sees, thus asserting questions and fear to him.

Also on my way of scavenging my blorbos on internet, i found out that, this combination is buried deep in people's mind - no matter what their tastes of their favourite ship are, no matter the time span, from fandom-toxicated groups to power-ranking maniacs, all of them - cannot deny the potential Gilga and Nödt have 🥹 i've seen people unconsciously talking about them, or having nnoinödt as an occasional side dish - but no one actually wants to dig them through...?! ......if no body is gonna do it then i need to give it a go...!

[deldreams]

putting Unohana in free-balling is the funniest thing I've ever done in my life, I think.

[deldreams]

HONESTLY BRO! Like it just takes one single sentence from a character for the yucky transphobes to show up. She’s a girl. Everyone uses she/her. She’s a woman.

Why the fuck is everyone calling Giselle a "trap", "femboy", or just flat out a guy.

Did we even watch the same show? Is your skull empty? Were you on drugs when you watched this, perhaps? 🥺 aww wittle baby can't comprehend someone being twansgender? Wittle baby can only stomach a femboy? 🥺🥺

Does this piss anyone else of?? She's clearly transgender (I don't think I have to mansplain every scene, interview, and interaction just to say she's transgender)

[deldreams]

decided to give her a body

🎀Would you love her if she were a worm.

[deldreams]

I love Äs Nödt and I think his personality is really interesting! He is shown to repeatedly mention loneliness. How he is so lonely and seems to long for connection. I think a lot of his personality stems from his medical trauma. Being alone and in pain and fear for years in a hospital bed has made him jaded to the concept of any healthy relationships as well as any trust. In the manga and anime he is shown completely alone in a sterile hospital room. I think he was very close with the concept of death. Maybe wishing for death instead of painful breathing with a terminal illness, however he was never granted this option of mercy. He thinks that humans are driven to avoid death, that that’s where fear comes from. I think he was afraid to die in that hospital bed, but at the same time he wanted the pain to be over. So I also think he believes that in killing people he is absolving them of fear and that death is the only true escape from fear. Remember how he said he was not afraid of death, only afraid of disappointing Yhwach. The only person who has ever sat with him and given him a choice and salvation.

To quote a quick Google analysis,

“As Nodt's character provides an interesting exploration of the psychological concept of fear. He believes that true fear is without reason and stems from instinct, unlike rational fear that can be overcome through willpower or experience. He also highlights the fundamental connection between comfort and life, and fear and death, suggesting that humans are inherently driven to avoid death and, therefore, fear. “

THIS IS NOT TO SAY I DONT LOVE HEADCANNONS!! I love the creativity and freedom to love a character and express them in your own way! For example, I think he has a surprising amount of gentleness and care when someone is very ill or injured. I think he would spend a lot of time in the medical area just to ensure the ill are not alone.

chat can someone mansplain Äs Nödt's personality to me?? We only see like a few seconds of him, and I personally didn't get anything from this. 😭

Idk if this is just a me thing, or if no one else got anything from that either. I need someone who is so obsessed they're like "no actually see he loves ponies because his third eyelash is slightly darker than the rest" type shit.

//P.S: I'll also take headcannon personalities atp

[deldreams]

Omg Vampire! Äs Nödt?!

so just bite me baby

pairings : vampire!Äs Nödt x human!gn!reader

genre : fluff, kinda suggestive

cws/tws : a lot of blood talk,

a/n : I love vampires so muhc oh ny gof rhey)e so hot and I love Äs this isso fire

Äs Nödt

One of those vampires that loves to hunt down and terrorize humans but doesn’t hunt often. He wants to keep his attacks random so he could show up when people would least expect it.

Because of his mask, it’s easy for him to conceal his vampiric features, but his pale skin is the one thing that often draws suspicion towards him, he excuses it by saying he doesn’t get out much or he was ill.

Speaking of his features, other than his skin being a dead giveaway, another one is his teeth. His fangs are much more pronounced even for a vampire, it’s almost like a needle honestly. It’s perfect for drinking blood but difficult to hide, it’s why he opts to wear a mask in and out his house.

He does dislike the “needing to drink blood” aspect of vampirism, he wishes he could just live off regular food like a normal person, he wants to be able to eat regular food and feel full. But, like everything else in his life, he’s gotten used to not being able to get what he wants, especially regarding his health.

Because he insists on eating regular food until he really needs blood, he won’t feed on you that often. But when he does it’s feral; teeth sinking harshly onto your skin no matter how much he tries to hold back. He holds onto the other (unbitten) side of your neck to tilt your head, giving him more leeway into your blood .

He gets jittery as well as he sucks the blood out your body, partly due to hunger but mainly due to how your blood tastes. Maybe he tricks himself into thinking it’s different because it’s you, but something in him knows it is. Yours is sweet, not like candy, but like a flavor that deepens the thought that this is essentially your life essence into his brain. The danger of giving too much of your blood away to him sends satisfying shivers up his spine as you gently skim through his silky hair, completely oblivious to the temptations that he poses upon himself every time his teeth meet your skin for feeding.

Because of how…messy things tends to get when Äs feeds on you, he takes lead in clean up. It’s basic decency he says. He keeps a bandaid within arm’s reach so he can quickly seal the puncture wound without more blood seeping out, he rushes to the fridge to get whatever snack he knows can replenish the lost iron, he stays with you for a long time in case you pass out. He’s a very caring guy in his own way.

He’s also clingy after taking your blood. It’s fair to compare him to a very affectionate cat, burying his head in the crook of your neck above where he bit you and long limbs strung along your body keeping you from moving (also so you wouldn’t get dizzy from moving around too much).

[deldreams]

Updated persona collage with my loves 🔪🖤

Punk lil ginger demon 🔪🖤

[deldreams]

It’s me I’m one of the 4 Mayuri lovers

₊ ˚. 🕯️ ⊹₊

Little scholar

˚　.　　. 　 ✦　₊ ˚. 🪶 ⊹₊ . ✦　.　　. 　 ˚　

Mayuri Kurotsuchi x fem!reader

Warnings: +18, mature content, NSFW, unprotected sex (use protection!), dom!mayuri, sub!reader, teasing, slight dirty talk, longing, no!aftercare, rough sex, little plot, mayuri being weird, this is poorly written I apologize!

Synopsis: During a late night in the dark archives of the Shinigami Research Institute, you find yourself alone. Captain Kurotsuchi shows up, and things get…weird.

Notes: This one’s for the 4 Mayuri admirers out there. Comments and rebloggs are appreciated! Enjoy <3

You sat alone in the depths of the Shinigami Research Institute's archive. The air was cold and dry, carrying the faint scent of aged paper and stone. Darkness surounded you, broken only by the faint glow of a few lanterns placed throughout the room. Their flickering light cast long, uneven shadows along the wooden shelves and worn tables. The space held a strange warmth, a peaceful haven filled with the weight of forgotten knowledge.

On nights like these, you knew he was here as well.

Captain Kurotsuchi rarely visited the archives personally. When he needed something, he usually sent Nemu to fetch it quickly. You had seen him before, moving silently between the older shelves — his long, honed nail lightly trailing over the covers of ancient books and scrolls. He looked different down here, in this forgotten part of the institute. The strange masks, extravagant robes, and painted face he wore in the Seireitei were gone. His blue hair fell loosely across his face, hiding his eyes from the dim light. Small golden ornaments adorned his chin and ear. The long nails remained, but his robe was plain and simple.

You've worked through three full scrolls already, fingers smudged with ink, posture stiff from bending over a desk. The scent of parchment and old wood filled the air. Mayuri slipped between the shelves, moving fast but careful not to knock anything over. Every now and then, he'd stop and mutter to himself under his breath. "Hm...this one's older than I thought," he whispered, pulling out a scroll and unrolling it just enough to peek inside. Then, a litle further down the aisle, he paused again, fingers tapping a dusty book. "No, no...that's not quite right." Sometimes he'd chuckle quietly, shaking his head. "Ah, here you are," he spoke, his voice low, almost casual, as if he was talking to a friend instead of surrounded knowledge.

You couldn't always understand what he was saying, not really. His voice slipped in and out of meaning. Sometimes it was oddly funny. "Useless. Useless. Hm, not entirely," he mumbled. Other times it was less...funny. "Still breathing...good. Still watching too, I see," he whispered, crouched low near the floor, peering through a gap in the shelving. There was no one else there.

But...despite the speeches, there was something almost beautiful about it. Down here, burried beneath the formailty of the Seireitei, with the Captain stripped of his white coat and paint, you could hear him thinking out loud. That's what made it so strange, not just what he said, but how much he revealed.

Now, he slipped around your table without warning. You didn't hear him this time. Not the steps, not the whisper of fabric, not even the usual muttering. When you looked up, he was already standing there in front of your table. The oversized book with cracked leather rested open in his hands, but he wasn't reading it anymore. He was watching you. His hair had fallen fully into his eyes now, a few strands clinging to his cheek in the lantern-warmed air. The sarp gold in his earrings caught the light when he tilted his head slightly.

For a moment, he didn't say anything. He just studied you the way he studied ink samples or dissected tech, carefully and without blinking.

His gaze dropped from your eyes, to your lips, to the part of your collarbone, barely visible above your robe. "You're very composed," he said, his voice quiet. "Most people don't sit this still when I look at them like this."

You didn't answer right away but he didn't seem to expect you to. Instead, he took one slow step closer, just enough that the edge of your knee brushed his shin beneath the table. You reached for the wooden pencil you'd been using and laid them down gently, lining them up beside your notes like you were preparing to leave. "Don't stop!," he spoke, tilting his head. "Captain Kurotsuchi I...," you paused.

Mayuri didn't move back when you hesitated. The flint in his eyes was unreadable, layered with a kind of curiosity that never felt entirely innocent. You lowered your gaze for a moment, unsure wether to stand or stay seated. "I did not mean to disturb your concentration," he said softly, though his tone lacked apology. His long and sharpened nail scratched lightly alond the wooden surface, just beside your hand. The sound rasped against the grain and you flinched at the noise. He caught the motion and you felt his gaze flicker toward you again. "Sensitive to sound," he noted, almost amused," are we?"

You didn't answer that. Your fingers touched the edge of your notes again, mostly to anchor yourself. "I was trying to find the Second Unbound Theories of Reishi Manipulation earlier," you said, voice steady but low. "The index listed it, but it wasn't on the sheld. I thought maybe it got transferred to..."

"It's in the locked section," he interrupted, without looking away from you. "I removed it myself. You can look through it, if you are under direct supervision." The faintest smile pulled at his lips. "Mine, of course."

Your stomach tightened slightly at the way he said it. He reached past you across the table, pulling a slim sheet of parchment you hadn’t even realized was half-hanging from your stack. His hand brushed against yours and stayed there a second longer than necessary. He didn't move for a long moment and the silence between you stretched, heavy with tension, until you suddenly spoke. "No...," you said qietly. "It's...it's not that important."

Mayuri had only just turned. The key glinted faintly in his hand, and the door to the forbidden lower sector stood just barely ajar, breathing out a cold draft. His yellow eyes slid toward you over his shoulder, half-veiled by the fall of his blue hair. There was something waiting in his gaze. "No?," he asked, not moving. "I actually found some other books earlier. They covered the most of what I was looking for, really," you tried to laugh under your breath, make it sound light, but it came out thin. "Thank you, though."

"Hm," he growled. That was all. He turned slowly back, slipping the key into the inner fold of his robe. The forbidden door swung quietly shut beheind him with a heavy, final click. He didn't speak again as he walked back into the circle of your lamplight, stopping just behind your chair. "You disappoint easily," he said, voice low. But there was something else beneath it, not hurt...just not fully satisfied.

You didn't turn to face him. "No...I just thought it would be better to stay here," you murmured, eyes on the page though you weren't reading a word. You heard the faintest breath, maybe a chuckle...maybe not.

Silence settled over you for a long second, long enough that you dared to think he'd walk away. But then his voice brushed the nape of your neck. "Mm. Safe little scholar," he whispered. "Tucked behind her table, behind her ink..." You blinked slowly, breath catching. There was nothing wrong with the words...well, nothing directly. And yet...something in the tone twisted under your skin.

He didn't move away.

His coat brushed the edge of your chair again. This time, when he leaned in, you felt more of him. His presence slipped in just behind your shoulder, close enough for the heat of his body to begin pulling yours backward with the faintest touch.

"I don't care about the books right now," he said simply, voice quieter now. "I want you." You breath stopped. The weight of those words hit heavier than anyting he'd said before. "I don't know what to say...," your voice faltered. You stared down at the page in front of you. "You're trying so hard to pretend," he murmured. "But...I see everything, you know." He tilted his head. You felt the shift, the air moving against your skin as he leaned just enough to speak beside your ear. "The way your breath hitches when I speak like this. The way you freeze when I stand this close. It's not fear. You know it's not."

You swallowed, your throat dry and lips parted. "You like this," he said. "You just don't want to admit it."

He let the silence settle again, drawing out the moment like a thread. Then his voice came again, quieter, right at the edge of your skin. "If I touched you," he asked, "right here...," his fingers traced just above the back of your hip..."Would you still pretend it didn't matter?"

You couldn't answer, but you barely remembered how to breathe. "You can tell me to stop," he said. "You haven't yet."

"Captain Kurotsuchi..."

The next moment blurred.

His hands seized your waist, the sudden clatter of scrolls and books hitting the floor echoed through the quiet archive. Your chest pressed flat against the wooden desk, knocking over the ink jar, dark liquid blooming across unfinished pages. You barely had time to gasp before his body closed in behind yours, pressing you down. One hand came to the back of your neck, while the other slid lower, parting your fabric. “Come on, little scholar… read out loud for me,” he growled, low and close. “Mm? Don’t be shy now.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a dare.

“Extended exposure to Arrancar reiryoku has been observed to erode Shinigami spiritual cohesion…,” you pause, groaning. “I…In affected subjects, reiryoku becomes unstable…”

His long nail trailed from your shoulder down the length of your spine. "Good girl,” he added. “You knew this was coming, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with the way your knees trembled, not with your breath caught halfway in your throat. You bit down hard on the ink brush you'd been using, trying to keep the sound from spilling out of you.

“Well, now…I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?,” he murmured, voice thick with something dangerous as his fingers lifted the fabric, tracing slow circles.

He reached forward, his long nail flicking over the pages, skipping sections with ease. He knew exactly where everything was in these books.

You read only what he showed you. Your voice grew quieter, more quivering with each sentence. “Quincies are born…w…with an inherent ability to absorb and manipulate reishi directly, bypassing the spiritual pressure constraints common to Shinigami…,” you kept reading, your breath catching as you spoke the words. “….T-This unique power often puts them at odds with both Hollows and S-Soul Reapers, leading to fierce conflict and…”

You had to stop abruptly as his hand tangled in your hair, pulling you just enough to catch your breath. At the same time, the weight of his boots shifted, parting your legs beneath the table. Your breath hitched, voice caught somewhere between hesitation and something unspoken.

“Now keep quiet,” he said, almost kindly, "...or the archivists will come and see what a filthy little thing you are…”

What followed wasn’t gentle.

Your body jolted forward into the desk, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the ink-stained wood. The pace was merciless. The old table creaked under the force, shelves rattling faintly as scrolls slid from their places. And through it all, he barely made a sound. No ragged breath. No loss of control. Not a single grunt escaped his lips. Only his voice, low at your ear: “I wonder what you’d do if someone walked in right now. Would you scream? Or beg me not to stop?”

You couldn’t speak. Only gasps and broken sounds left your throat. Your nails scraped against the wood, body trembling as the tension built fast and hot inside you. “You’re doing so well,” he said next, brushing your hair away from your face with a touch that mocked affection. “So obedient. Always eager to serve.”

He pushed even harder inside you, your walls milking his length. "I’m c…close," you cried, but he pulled your hair again and kissed your neck. "What was that? Speak clearly...I don't understand you..."

It overwhelmed you.

The release hit you like a wave, your back arching, muscles clenching. You pressed your arm to your mouth to muffle the cry, legs threatening to give beneath you. He stayed still for a moment longer, breath warm at your shoulder, before pulling away.

The soft rustle of his robe filled the silence. He looked at his hand, inspected a single long nail, then glanced at the mess around you with mild amusement.

“Clean this up,” he said softly, as if the whole moment had been no more important than spilled ink. “And be sure to finish your reports.”

You were left breathless, your legs trembling, ink smeared across your hands and pages, scrolls scattered all around you.

[deldreams]

Stop this is so cute

BLEACH HEADCANONS 1: GRIMMJOW EDITION

Due to having experienced sex repulsion as of late and needing comfort, I felt the need to write out something that left open the kind of relationship Grimmjow would have with the people he is interested in. Reader is assumed to be an s/o who could be any gender and any ethnicity, and an s/o who isn't specifically platonic/romantic/sexual/alterous/labeled. I tried to be as inclusive as I could. Maybe it could be considered suggestive because I did mentions, well, suggestive stuff, but it was just a mention. Not much more than that. Enjoy.

Grimmjow bites.

Sometimes hard, sometimes softly, but he can and will bite under certain circumstances.

He is kind of like a jaguar or cat about it of course. He has plenty humanoid awareness and instincts now that he is an Arrancar, but that doesn't mean that his older, Adjucha ones don't come out to play every now and then.

He, in fact, prefers licking and biting to kisses and the like, but due to how weird his intuition tells him showing such behaviors in front of his usual company would be, he avoids doing it.

That is, until he acquires people he respects and trusts deeply.

Whether the bond he has with them is of familial, platonic, romantic or sexual nature, or maybe something else entirely that he feels would be impossible to ascribe to any of these definitions... Well, his urges to bite and lick people eliciting feelings of closeness, interest or concern from him become strong, once said bond is formed.

An example would require, other than his s/o or very close friend, Ichigo and Nel. He has found himself resisting the urge to bite them more times than he can count.

While for Nel it was whenever she would rush against another menacing Hollow threatening their and Hallibel's territory, though she was already wounded and bleeding and thus vulnerable...

... For Ichigo it was whenever he proposed to patch him up after their duels, those times when Orihime wasn't around.

It wasn't anger that drove him when it came to them. It was some kind of worry, or a need to reach out, try and make them think "I am fine, I am still close to you: let me do this myself and do not worry".

He can never put it into words, so sometimes, he just bites and never bothers with explanations. He is the King after all, he must stay inscrutable to subjects and enemies alike.

With you, he would like to bite you to either show his appreciation, creating hickeys that are hard to explain to onlookers who notice them, or to playfully bring reassurance, though he never grins while doing it.

He does it to bring you closer to him: when you check on his bruises, when you fling yourself at him to hug him or invite him to a game of tag... or maybe, if the relationship you folks have entails it, when you are kissing him or straddling him before/while you have sex.

This goes for the licking as well. He frequently will want to lick your wrist or the back of your neck. If he cannot because you have sensitivity issues or are feeling particularly overwhelmed, he will use his nose to nuzzle you instead. When you are crying, his bites get much softer, like little nips, and he will usually put his chin on your shoulder or the top of your head if you are still sad, hugging you from behind so that you find purchase close to him. Bumping his head against your shoulder and back, or against your own head, is another thing he will do, as well as producing a rumble from his throat and chest that sounds like an hybrid between growling and purring.

These are all intimate gestures he does only if you two have come to a deeper understanding of each other, meant to remind you that you two belong together and that he wants to keep you by his side to experience the years he has in front of him knowing he can come to you whenever he feels like it, and that you will ask for his aid when you need it.

[deldreams]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🫕˚ Synopsis: You are sharing a tent with them on a mission.

˚　.　　. 　 ✦　₊ ˚. 🍥 ⊹₊ . ✦　.　　. 　 ˚　

Includes: Nnoitra Gilga, Äs Nödt, Kenpachi Zaraki, Renji Abarai, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Jugram Haschwalth, Uryū Ishida, Ichigo Kurosaki x fem!reader

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Notes: No explicit warnings. Comments and rebloggs are appreciated! Enjoy! <3

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Nnoitra Gilga

The fire crackled softly, throwing flickering shadows around the campsite. Crickets chirped and fireflies drifted through the warm night, filling the air with a quiet, almost sleepy rhythm. You were curled up inside the small tent, rough blanket pulled to your chest. The tent flap hung open just enough for you to see him. Nnoitra was sitting by the fire, his tall frame hunched low. His scythe leaned against a nearby rock, the curved blade catching little sparks of flame. He had his legs stretched out wide, elbows resting on his knees, and one hand hovered dangerously close to the fire, like he was waiting to see if it would actually burn him. His single eye glowed gold in the firelight. You’d never seen it look like that before.

He wore a thin jacket, lazily draped over his shoulders and left completely unbuttoned, showing off his bare chest underneath. The wide pants and tall black boots gave him and almost weirdly and formal look, but he didn’t strike you as someone who cared about appearances.

You shifted beneath the blanket and whispered, hesitant but audible, "Uhm...don't you want to come in?"

His eyes slid over to you slowly, like a blade being drawn out inch by inch. He didn't answer at first, he just stared. You felt it immediatly, the scrutiny. Like being peeled back layer by layer. The kind of look that didn't care if you liked it or not. He fnally spoke, voice low and casual, "Tch. Why the hell would I wanna cram myself in that sardine can with you?"

You blinked, awkwardly pulling the blanket higher. "It's cold." He snorted and tilted his head a little. "Ain't cold for me."

You watched the way the firelight carved out the sharp lines of his jaw, the corded muscles of his neck when he tilted his head. "You just going to sit out there all night?"

"What, you miss me already?," he muttered with a smirk. You frowned, cheeks heating. "I didn't say that."

He chuckled, low and rasping, dragging a hand though his black hair. "You didn't have to."

There was a pause. The air between you rippled, not with warmth but tension. You loked at him through the small slit of the tent's opening. "You will keep staring like that?," you asked, but the didn't flinch. "You poked your head out, not me. Don't start actin' like I came sniffin' around." You shifted again. "You're looking at me weird."

"Am I?," he said, voice quieter and more pointed. "Or are you just used to being looked at soft?"

The fire popped and your mouth dried. You didn't respond right away. "Don't worry. I'm not the cuddlin' type, remember?"

You tried to brush off the weight of his gaze, even as your fingers clenched tighter on the blanket. "I know you're not."

He leaned back slowly, stretching until his spine cracked, then tilted his head toward the sky, watching a firefly drift past. "Then stop invitin' me in like you forgot who I am." His tone wasn't cruel. But it wasn't kind either. It was Nnoitra.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Äs Nödt

The fire outside had burned down to a faint red glow, just enough to hold off the edge of the night’s chill. Inside the tent, everything felt too still…too quiet. The fabric walls pressed in on you, the air felt tight, and you clutched the thin blanket to your body like it might actually help. Your heart pounded against your ribs, louder than it should’ve been in the silence.

You lay there stiffly, pretending to be asleep, but your eyes kept drifting toward the tent’s entrance. Every little sound made your breath hitch. Then you saw it…a flicker of movement. A shadow stretched long across the inside of the tent. A moment later, thin fingers slipped through the narrow gap in the flap. They curled against the seam of the tent and didn’t move.

You swallowed hard, shifting slightly under the blanket. A second set of fingers appeared. They flexed once, then withdrew, as if testing the space. You hesitated, throat dry, before whispering, almost against your will, “...You can come in.” No response. The wind rustled. Leaves murmured.

The flap pulled aside, theatrically slow, and a head tilted sideways slid into view, too far tilted. His neck bent at a jarring angle, like a broken doll. Hair spilled like wet silk, draping down as his face. His eyes, dark and glassy voids, caught the faintest glimmer of light as they looked to you.

“I heard you,” he finally said, voice soft and wrong somehow. Flat, but airy. Like a breath echoing through a hollow shell. You didn’t answer. You just shifted, pulling your legs in and moving a little to the side, offering space. You shouldn’t have. But you did.

He crawled in, not like someone entering a tent, but like something slithering inside a crack in the wall. Slow, limbs moving with too much precision and too little sound. He settled beside you on his back, looking up at the canvas as if it were the night sky. He didn’t blink. You clutched your blanket tighter. His voice came again. “You breathe too fast when you’re lying.”

You said nothing, eyes locked on the roof of the tent. He turned his head with a strange stiffness, toward you. Your pulse spiked. A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, not kind. Not amused. Just... off. “I can leave,” he offered, almost cheerfully. “But I think we both know I won’t.”

Your blanket was drawn up to your chin, your body tense beneath it, curled into yourself like a shield could protect you from something already inside. His face was turned fully toward you, eyes open, pupils like voids. It was nearly impossible to sleep like this. You couldn’t even pretend anymore. “…Could you please stop looking at me like that?,” you finally whispered. “I wasn’t blinking,” he replied softly, almost helpfully. You swallowed. “Yes. I noticed.”

“…You looked different when your eyes were closed,” he murmured. You blinked, horrified and confused all at once. “What?”

“I mean that kindly,” he added quickly, as if that made it better. You turned your head away, toward the tent wall. “Please, just… face the other way. Try to sleep.” He didn’t move.

Then, after a beat, in a voice far too calm: “I don’t usually sleep when someone’s that close. Sometimes they stop breathing. Just… stop.” You froze and he seemed to think for a moment, then added, “Not saying you will. Probably.”

He stopped, and his face moved closer. “You smell like warm fabric. And something sweet. Like… maybe bread.” You turned sharply to face him again, stunned. “Why would you say that?” His brow furrowed slightly. “Isn’t it… polite? Compliments are for comfort.”

“That’s not comforting,” you snapped, voice still hushed but shaking. “It’s really weird.” He blinked, slowly this time. “Ah.”

A faint smile, if it was a smile, twitched on his lips. “I’ll try something else next time,” he said, turning finally, painfully slow, to face the tent ceiling. But he didn’t stop watching you.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Kenpachi Zaraki

The tent was already threatening to collapse under the weight of night dew and poor design when you heard him coming. “Shit. Where’s the damn zipper…”

You sat up, blanket clutched to your chest just as the tent flap violently. He ducked inside like a man who’d never crawled into anything smaller than a battlefield trench. The poles bent. One cracked with a soft, pitiful snap.

“Be careful!” you blurted, shrinking into the corner. He gave the canvas a puzzled look, elbow already jabbing into one wall as his boot stomped too hard onto the floor. “The hell kinda toy tent is this?!,” he growled, shifting onto his side with a grunt. “Feelin’ like I’m stuffin’ myself into a box.”

He flopped onto his back next to you, the whole tent wheezing under his weight. One of his legs kicked against the far corner, the other bent near your hip. You pulled your blanket tighter, bracing for more impact. “I swear,” he muttered, wiggling slightly, “if this thing collapses I’m blamin’ you. You’re the one who picked it, right?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually use it

“Yeah, well,” he grunted, “it’s cold. Deal with it.”

He shifted, trying to get comfortable…which looked more like a bear attempting yoga inside a shoebox.

Then, with all the grace of a falling tree, his arm flopped right over you. You froze like a raccoon caught in headlights. His hand landed across your shoulder, then slid halfway down your back, fingers relaxed like you were just another part of the bed. Your voice came out small. “Um…”

“Mm?,” he grunted, already halfway to unconsciousness. “Your arm…”

He cracked one eye open, looked down at you… and smirked sleepily. “Huh. Thought you were one of those big soft body pillows for a second. You’re warm.”

You stared at him, blinking. “I’m not a pillow.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he murmured, shifting just a little closer until his chest was half against your side. “Kenpachi—”

“Shhh.” His voice was muffled now, cheek against the top of your head. “Stop movin’. You are comfortable. Don’t ruin it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he was already snoring. Pinned under one massive arm, completely smothered in body heat, and feeling like some kind of oversized plush toy, you lay there, wide-eyed and stunned.

You exhaled softly.

“…I hate this tent.”

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Renji Abarai

You were curled beneath your blanket, legs drawn in, trying not to focus too much on the presence beside you.

Renji was already inside, barely fitting. He lay on his side, one arm beneath his head, his red hair messy and loose, some of it spilling across the shared space. His tattooed chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, but his face was anything but calm.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, shifting a little. “You okay? You comfortable?”

You glanced at him. “I’m okay, Renji.”

“You sure? ‘Cause, I mean…if this is too tight, I can sleep outside. Seriously.” He started moving like he meant it but you put a hand out, stopping him. “No, really. It’s fine.”

He hesitated, eyeing the ceiling of the tent like it might collapse out of spite. “It’s just…you’re kinda, like… pressed against the wall. And I’m…well, I’m not exactly built small.”

You laughed nervously. “You’re… not wrong.”

“…You really sure?”

You sighed, cheeks already warming. “Yes, Renji.”

“Okay. Good. Just…y’know. Tell me if it gets weird or anything.”

Two minutes passed and he shifted again. “Wait. You’re not cold, are you?” You tried not to look at him. “No,” you said, voice slightly higher than normal. “You sure? I got extra cloth in my bag, I could—”

“Renji.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m fine.”

He let out a soft breath. “Okay. Okay. Sorry. I just… I don’t wanna make this weird or anything.” You turned your head to look at him. His eyes were on you now, earnest and a little embarrassed. “It’s not weird,” you lied. “It’s totally weird,” he mumbled, looking away quickly. You both went quiet again.

“Okay, but, like…if it got weird, would you tell me?”

You groaned into your blanket. “Yes, Renji.” He scratched the back of his head. “Okay, good. ‘Cause I’m kinda… very aware of my arm right now? And I keep thinking if I move it wrong it’s gonna land somewhere it shouldn’t, and then I’ll die.”

Your face flushed deeper. “Just… keep it where it is.”

“Where is it?”

You peeked down. His elbow was about a centimeter from your hip. “It’s… fine.”

Another pause.

“Okay. But you’d tell me, right…?”

“Renji,” you said, voice strangled now, “if you ask me if I’m okay one more time, I’m going to scream.” He blinked, then broke into a grin. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.”

You turned away at the same time, cheeks burning.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

You lay curled up beneath the blanket, pressed into the farthest corner. The fabric clung to your skin, and the warmth of the night mingled with the warmth of nerves.

You heard him before you saw him, boots crunching the dirt, a faint exhale, then the zipper rasped.

“Move over,” came Grimmjow’s low voice, rough with impatience.

Before you could respond, he ducked inside, crawling in with that same dangerous grace, like a panther closing in on prey. His bare shoulder brushed the tent wall, and then his knee bumped against your leg.

He let out an annoyed grunt. “Shit’s tighter than it looked,” he muttered, twisting to lie down. His side pressed fully against yours. “Hope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t move…You couldn’t. The heat of his body was…overwhelming. Skin on skin where his bare chest grazed your arm, your legs tangled slightly beneath the blanket. You pulled it tighter around you, heart thudding, and peeked over the top. He turned his head just slightly, catching your eyes. A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “There you are.”

You shrank a little under the blanket, only your eyes visible now. He chuckled under his breath, the sound low in his throat. “Cute.”

Your voice came out soft, barely a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d really come in…”

He scoffed, shifting his weight. His thigh brushed against yours fully now. “Was I supposed to freeze my ass off out there for pride’s sake? Screw that.”

“I just thought… you wouldn’t want to…”

He glanced at you, his breath brushing your temple. “Tch. You think I wanna touch people when I sleep? You’re not that special.”

Your cheeks burned.

“Relax,” he said again, voice quieter this time, more like a lazy drawl. “I’m not gonna do nothin’. Just sleepin’.”

You nodded once, too embarrassed to speak.

But then he moved, just slightly, and his hand rested near your waist, not touching, but close enough that you felt it. His leg shifted again, your knees brushing beneath the blanket. He didn’t flinch…he didn’t pull back. You whispered, “You’re really warm…”

He grinned. “Yeah? You nervous or somethin’?”

You looked down, fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “A little.”

He tilted his head, looking at you more fully now. His voice came low, almost teasing. “You think I’m gonna bite?”

“I… don’t know.”

His grin widened, showing his sharp teeth. “You’d know if I did.”

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Jugram Haschwalth

He entered without a word, silent as ever, his presence more commanding than the cold air he let in. He ducked just slightly to step inside. He removed his gloves slowly, and his gaze flicked over you once before he turned away…too quickly. His composure sharpened into something brittle.

“You’re already here,” he said, voice low. “Of course.” It was almost funny…how pointedly he avoided looking at you again, as though eye contact might detonate something.

“The storm’s coming,” he said quietly, voice low and even. “I heard,” you replied.

You shifted slightly, the blanket dragging against your skin, tugging lower. The cold prickled anew along the line of your back. Bare thighs peeked out of the thin blanket and moved slightly in the dark light. “Don’t”

“What?,” you asked and blinked. “Don’t do that,” he said again, more controlled this time, though the edge hadn’t dulled. “Don’t shift like that.”

“Why?,” you asked, deliberately keeping your voice neutral, edged only slightly with amusement. “I’m just getting comfortable.” His jaw flexed once. “It’s distracting.”

You turned your head, not fully, but enough to glance at him over your shoulder. “You can look away,” you murmured. “I’m trying to,” he said flatly. You could see now that his fingers had curled slightly against the fabric of his uniform.

He lay down beside you, his back rigid with effort not to touch, not to lean too close. But the space was too tight. The blanket didn’t stretch far enough. And his shoulder brushed yours. His breath faltered once. You smiled faintly into the darkness.

You turned slowly, shifting onto your side to face him, your blanket dragging with you in a rustle of cloth and skin. He didn’t look at you, kept his eyes pinned to the ceiling of the tent. But his hair…golden strands falling soft and fine, even in the low light…tempted your fingers.

You reached out, slow, your fingertips brushing just behind his ear first and then combed through the strands gently, as if it were nothing. A low sound came from his throat. His hand shot out, catching your wrist in a firm grip. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rougher now.

“Just touching your hair,” you murmured. “It’s softer than I thought.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“That’s not the same as ‘don’t.’”

His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t release either. “You’re testing me,” he said quietly. “No,” you replied, lips curling faintly,“I know where the line is. I’m just curious if you’ll actually cross it.”

For a second, his gaze burned into yours and he didn’t blink.

Then, finally, he released your wrist, the warmth of his fingers lingering longer than they should have. He turned his head back toward the ceiling. “Sleep,” he said. You stayed close. Your breath was warm against his jawline now.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Uryū Ishida

The fire was pathetic. Crackling low in the wind, barely more than a flicker and some stubborn embers. He sat in front of it, wrapped in at least ten folded blankets, every inch of him bundled up like he was fighting a blizzard instead of a cold desert night. His jaw was tight. His glasses were slightly fogged. And when the wind cut across the camp again, you saw his shoulders flinch before he drew them back. You watched from the tent’s opening for a moment. Then finally pushed the flap aside.

“Uryū,” you called softly. He glanced toward you without turning his head, strands of black hair moving in the wind.“You are stubborn,” you said. “Come inside.”

“I’m fine,” he said immediately, shaking his head once. “You’re shaking, Uryū.”

“I am not…” His voice caught as another gust hit. You raised an eyebrow. “Should I take a video for evidence?” He scowled slightly but kept his eyes on the fire, like maybe ignoring you would make your concern disappear.

“It’s a shared tent,” he muttered. “You’re already using it. I’m not going to intrude.” You stared at him. “You think being cold to death out here is better than lying next to me?”

“That’s not…,” he paused, clearly realizing what he was about to imply, then cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You said that already.”

“It’s still true.”

“You’re literally wearing every blanket we packed.”

“They’re effective,” he said, arms drawn tight around himself. “Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you echoed flatly. “And if they stop being ‘mostly’ in the middle of the night?” He didn’t answer that. You stepped out of the tent and walked over to him, crouching in front of the dying fire. The heat barely reached your face. Uryū kept his eyes down, but you saw the way his lips were a little pale. “I’m not going to kick you out of the tent,” you said quietly. “If it helps, I’ll stay on my side. I won’t even talk.”

He hesitated. Not for pride anymore. You could see the real reason now…it was written all over his face, even in the dim light: the discomfort, the awkwardness, the tension he didn’t know what to do with. “I don’t mind sharing space with you, Uryū. But I will mind if you turn into an ice sculpture out here trying to impress no one.”

That earned you a look…“I’m not trying to impress…”

“Good,” you said, standing. “Then you have no excuse.”

You held the tent flap open for him. He gave you a long, deeply resigned look.“Don’t say anything,” he muttered.

“I won’t,” you promised.

The moment he stepped inside, he made a quiet sound, almost a sigh, and sat down heavily. You slid in after him, zipping the flap closed. “You’re not going to tell Renji or Ichigo about this, are you?,” he asked. You turned away to hide your smile. “Only if you fall asleep first.”

“…Then I’ll stay awake all night.”

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Ichigo Kurosaki

The blanket was pulled tight around your shoulders, the fabric cutting off most of the chill. You figured you’d finally get a minute of quiet. Until you noticed he wasn’t there. Again. You peeked out of the flap.

Ichigo was sitting just outside the tent entrance, his arms crossed, his back to the fire and his eyes scanning the horizon.

“You’re seriously doing this again?,” you asked, pulling the flap open wider. He didn’t even look at you. “It’s fine. I’m keeping watch.”

“There’s no one out here but us.”

“That’s what makes it the perfect time for something to show up,” he said. You raised an eyebrow. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m not cold,” he said immediately.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m not!,” he paused. “It’s just the wind.”

“The wind is cold, genius.”

He finally looked over his shoulder at you, frowning, cheeks slightly pink. “What if a Hollow shows up? Or something worse? What if you fall asleep and something drags you out of the tent before I even notice?” You blinked at him.

“…What if something wants to eat you, huh?” You stared but he kept going. “Or what if there’s, like, some weird Quincy trap out here? Or…”

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, stepping out of the tent and walking toward him, raising your hands. “That’s enough ‘what ifs.’ You sound like a dad.” He gave you a look. “It’s caution. It’s being prepared.”

“It’s you being ridiculous,” you said, and then you reached out and took his hand. He froze completely. Your hand wrapped around his, warm and steady. His fingers twitched, like he didn’t know if he should pull away or grip tighter. “Come on,” you said, smiling a little. “Come inside.”

Ichigo looked at your hand, then at the tent, then at your face, and somewhere in the middle of all that, he turned red. Not just a slight flush. “W-What if…,” he started again, voice cracking slightly. You rolled your eyes, but amused. You yanked him forward, catching him completely off guard, dragging him up to his feet with a startled grunt and literally shoving him toward the tent.

“Just get in, Kurosaki.”

He stumbled once, almost tripped on his own boots. You followed behind, zipping the flap shut. He sat stiffly beside you, blanket shared between you now and still holding your hand like he hadn’t realized you hadn’t let go. “…What if I snore?,” he muttered finally…too quiet. You glanced over, smirking.

“ICHIGO!”

[deldreams]

Someone feed me bleach OC content. I want to indulge in old school cringe content. Let our OCs interact. Like parents watching children on a playground.