happyely4

[happyely4]

˚˖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 reblogs 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 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!”

[happyely4]

୨୧﹕fem!reader, freaky grim

grimmjow blinked once. twice. he'd fucked a lot of people in a lot of ways across hueco mundo, but this? this was new. this was different. you were crawling over him like heat made flesh, like chaos with a wet mouth and no brakes.

"fuckin' hell," he muttered as your tongue slid up his chest—slow, taunting—before you bit him just under the collarbone hard enough to draw blood.

you moaned.

"did you just—?"

"mmhm." you grinned, eyes wild, pupils blown wide. your fingers wrapped around his cock like you were testing the weight of a weapon, thumb flicking over the thick head just to watch him twitch.

grimmjow's hands twitched too—reflex, instinct, predator—but you slapped one of them away.

"no touching unless i say so, kitty."

his eye twitched. “the fuck did you just call me?”

"kitty." you leaned in close, lips barely brushing his ear. "now sit there and take it like a good little beast."

he snarled—but didn’t move.

because you’d already lowered yourself onto him, cunt soaking, dragging tight along his shaft with an unhinged groan that sounded half-animal, half-prayer. “fuck, you’re thick—hahh—like splitting me open every goddamn inch—”

grimmjow groaned, head falling back against the wall behind him. his claws scratched the stone. his hips bucked up, but you slammed your hand down onto his chest and rode him down again, your pace brutal, frenzied.

you weren’t trying to get off.

you were trying to ruin him.

“slow the fuck—shit—slow the fuck down,” grimmjow hissed, but his voice cracked halfway through.

you didn’t. you went harder. you grinded at the base like your pussy was trying to melt the damn thing into your womb. your hands tangled in his wild blue hair, pulling hard as your hips slammed down, your ass clapping against his thighs with messy, obscene sounds.

“you don’t want me to slow down,” you breathed, licking a stripe up his neck. “you wanna see if you can survive this pussy. come on, sexta espada. show me what a king of beasts can fucking take.”

he growled—deep, gutteral, feral—and finally grabbed your hips with both hands, flipping you in one vicious motion, slamming you beneath him.

“oh? oh! is kitty fighting back now?” you cackled.

he didn’t answer. his mouth latched to your throat, biting, sucking, marking as he pistoned into you, hard enough to shake the bed, the walls, the fucking air between your gasps.

but you just arched into it—fingernails dragging down his back, legs locked around his waist like a vice.

“you call this fucking?” you panted between moans. “i thought espada were dangerous. but you’re just my toy.”

that pushed him over the edge.

he went feral.

the next few minutes blurred—your body bent over the headboard, your legs folded against your chest, your face pressed into the mattress, drool and tears mixing as he fucked you in positions no sane person would attempt. his cock slammed into your cervix like it was trying to carve his name into your womb. his voice was pure rasp behind your ear:

“you think you’re crazy? you think i can’t handle you? i own this fuckin’ pussy. say it.”

"f-fuck no—"

he slapped your ass so hard your whole body jumped. “try again.”

“i—fuck—i’m—yours—yours, yours—”

“say it like you mean it.”

“i’m your fucktoy, grimmjow—ahh, fuck—you break me—break me more—”

your back arched, another orgasm tearing through you like a scream, like glass shattering in your veins. and he didn’t stop. he fucked through it, chasing his own climax with brutal, grunting thrusts that made your body jolt with each one.

when he came, it was with a deep roar into your neck, like a beast howling at the sky. hot cum flooded your insides, thick spurts marking you from the inside out.

he collapsed over you, panting, twitching, growling faintly as your cunt milked him through the aftershocks. his hands trembled against your thighs. his chest heaved.

and you?

you giggled.

"still with me, kitty?" you whispered, looking back at him with a twisted, cum-drunken smile. "or did i just fuck the espada out of you?"

his eyes burned. his smirk returned.

"…round two, freak."

[happyely4]

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.

[happyely4]

Reminders for fanfic writers who think it “doesn’t count”

✦ Your writing counts. like, a lot. If someone felt something because of what you wrote, then it matters. That scene you almost didn’t post? Yeah. Believe me, someone out there bookmarked it for a reason.

✦ Writing existing characters doesn’t make it “less than.” You’re building arcs, crafting dialogue, emotion, pacing. You’re studying character psychology like a scientist. That’s not “just fanfic,” that’s storytelling.

✦ “but it’s just fanfic” ...no. STOP, it’s craft. It’s understanding tone. It’s hitting emotional beats. It’s layering theme and backstory and prose into something people feel. You’re doing the work, you just don’t get graded on it. (Which, honestly is a blessing.)

✦ Writing fanfic means you love stories enough to live inside them. You care, deeply. You care enough to reimagine, to explore, to add something of yourself to a world you didn’t create and somehow still make it feel brand new.

✦ Someone out there rereads your fic like it’s their favorite book. Maybe they’ve saved a line to their notes app,or they quote it to a friend. Maybe they just think about it when they’re having a bad day. That little fic you almost deleted, it’s comfort now.

✦ Your comments section is real. Every “I needed this” and “this made me cry in a good way” is proof, you don’t need a book deal to matter. You don’t need a publisher to have an impact, because you already do.

FANFIC IS WRITING! Fanfic is yours.

You’re not “just” anything. You’re a writer, own it. Be proud of that.

[happyely4]

Szayelaporro got me into Grimmjow in a dirty dream. Or, rather, got him into me 😜

Dunno why I’m doing this anonymously, you know who this is…

Warning: smut.

Your first encounter.

Grimmjow, handcuffed and blindfolded, was positioned between your legs as you laid strapped down onto the exam table in Szayelaporro’s lab.

You are also blindfolded, unaware of the sixth Espada tucked between your soft thighs. Your mind is racing, your pussy is wet and inviting while Szayelaporro is pulling the strings and playing matchmaker.

“Let me introduce you to paradise”, he whispered into Grimmjow’s ear, guiding his erect cock towards your entrance.

The man whom you yet to meet, lets you a low growl of approval, your soft mushy walls clamping down to study his length. He was thick and veiny, the texture itself was ready to send you to your peak.

Hips began to move on both ends with a sloppy rhythm, nothing to grab onto but his cock. Your tight walls were sucking him in, ready to accept him as your mate.

“I have done it again”, Szayelaporro applauded himself and decided to leave the two in privacy—to let them become better acquainted.

Now that’s what you call a blind date.

[happyely4]

Sweet talk & Switchblades (Delinquent!Grimmjow x Reader)

Also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/65163163

The whole thing started with an argument over a bike.

You were running a bit late. That was nothing new. You didn't know how you always managed to be racing the clock when you tried to set several alarms to wake up on time, but perhaps your neighbours and their incessant arguing had well and truly fucked up your Circadian rhythm. You’d tried to ask them nicely to keep it down, but they always apologised and then forgot their promises to lower the volume a couple of weeks later. You'd woken from a fractious sleep like the dead hauled from a grave, only for your body to clumsily lurch into gear when you realised the time.

Either way, you were in no mood for some wannabe delinquent's shit, especially not when they looked like they were barely out of high school.

You were hurrying to get to the station, your bag banging painfully against your hip as you moved, trying not to outright run and get out of breath but moving fast enough to make an actual difference, and your armpits were already starting to dampen from the exertion. You could see the steps leading down to the platform up ahead, like some kind of beacon.

There was a convenience store right beside the station entrance, which normally was a godsend when you forgot to make breakfast and wanting to grab a quick snack to keep you going on the ride to work, or a place you could walk to in the evenings on balmy evenings to pick something up and stretch your legs before winding down for the night. You recognised its glowing sign very well, like a checkpoint that indicated you were nearly home after a long day. Under normal circumstances, its presence was a stable, comforting one. But that was not the case today.

Your path was impeded by a bunch of bikes. Admittedly you didn't know shit about bikes, so you couldn't tell if they were just large scooters or small motorbikes or something inbetween, but either way they were blocking your path to the steps. You nearly tripped over your own toes as you suddenly lurched to a halt to avoid them, given how fast you’d been walking, hissing between your teeth as you knocked lightly into one of the bikes. A group of guys who looked like their ages ranged from late teens to perhaps their thirties, judging by the tall skinny guy, had the nerve to look over at you like you’d disturbed them.

"Oi, watch it, girlie." said a blonde guy who might have been attractive if it wasn't for the sneer on his face, like he was smelling something bad.

You bristled instinctively at his tone. Girlie?

"Excuse me?" you bit out, doing your best to keep your voice, an even volume and not let it go all high and priggish.

"Yeah, watch it!" a shorter guy with a mouth that looked like it's been punched several times chime in, his teeth chipped as he speaks. "You coulda scratched the paint!"

"By lightly bumping it with my bag? Where'd you get it, random parts in a junkyard?" you snark in response, unimpressed by the posturing. Real tough guys these were, five of them all staring down one woman who just wanted to get down the goddamn stairs. Not to mention, what were they doing loitering on some random street? Didn’t they have another gang to go punch or whatever it was they did to amuse themselves?

The boy's face was painted with shock at your retort for a split second and it took him a moment to recover, like he was taking a second to process what you said, like a slow computer buffering.

"You got a mouth on you, huh?" a heavyset guy with a red mohawk commented, more a factual statement than an accusation, but it didn't put you any more at ease. The way they were looking at you wasn't dissimilar to a pack of dogs who have heard an animal moving through the brush and are debating if it’s worth the chase.

They still hadn’t moved and you desperately wanted to check the time on your phone, but you didn’t want to risk taking it out and tempting them to snatch it off you – you wouldn’t have been able to stop all of them if they did, and with their bikes they could easily get away before you had time to react. Instead you drew in some air, trying to keep your cool despite the mounting irritation.

“I just want to get past.” You said, but they just chuckle mockingly at you.

“Yeah, sorry, but we’re waiting. You’re gonna have to take the long way.” Drawled the blonde guy, leaning back against his bike, hair spilling down his back over his jacket.

Your patience (what little you had left of it) was reaching its limit – you shouldn’t have to ask them to move more than once. Or at all.

"Move your goddamn bikes."

All of them suddenly stopped smirking. If this were a movie, it would be the scene where tumbleweed crossed the barren landscape, just before the shootout.

Got to stop watching shows so late at night. You thought to yourself, irrationally.

The shortest guy stepped closer.

"What did you say?" he said, and you're starting to understand why his teeth look like that - you're starting to want to punch him in the mouth as well. What was so difficult for them to understand, exactly? And because you doubt another girl would be as upfront as you, should one happen to be the next poor person who simply needed to get from A to B in a timely manner, you couldn't back down now. You would not.

"You heard." you replied, folding your arms, anger pulsing through you like a second heartbeat.

The stunned looks on their faces would have been pretty amusing if you weren't so keenly aware of the five of them against one of you, the bikes in your way like a shiver of steel sharks, but there was nowhere else for you to get onto the platform, not unless you crossed the street and walked even further and you had a feeling that if you tried that now, they'd chase you. Probably yelling insults and throwing things. Or worse. The best way around this is through.

The runtier guy glanced over his shoulder for a second, like he's asking the others silent permission or something. He's trying to look menacing but the scowl on his face made him look more petulant than anything else.

"You little-"

"What's this?"

A deep voice suddenly cut through the tension, and immediately, it's like they'd all forgotten about you. Every head turned towards the source of the noise and, unwittingly, you raised your eyes.

A tall figure strode towards the commotion, having just emerged from the convenience store. Your eyes were drawn to him inexorably, something about him immediately demanding your attention. He wore jeans and a black leather jacket with silver studs on the shoulders, which caught the light. Electric blue hair was swept back off a handsome, chiselled face, a couple of strands hanging between his eyes. He was smirking and something about the curve of his mouth, the half-lidded slant to his eyes, sent a spark licking down the length of your spine. There's something about the way he moved that told you he knew how to fight, there's a fluid, feral grace to his movements.

"I told you dumbasses to wait out here and you can't even do that right?"

He drew closer to you and you could smell him, a spicy kind of cologne mixed with cigarette smoke and styling wax. He wasted zero time in getting all up into your personal space and your feet gave ground to his approach on reflex. He grinned, looming over you, the collar of his shirt gaping open enough to reveal hard, firm pectoral muscles and a silver dog tag glinting between them. Your legs hit the bushes bordering the path and the leaves tickled your skin.

"I just asked them to move out of the way." you said, proud of yourself for keeping your voice from shaking, even if it sounds breathy to your ears.

"She mouthed off at us, Grimmjow!" piped the runt behind him, like a kid tattling to his older brother.

Grimmjow - what a strange name, yet it suits him somehow, adding an extra flair to his already striking appearance - regarded you with amusement and slight condescension.

"Did she."

He doesn't look angry, there's a glint in his eyes as if he's intrigued, and you found yourself unable to tear your gaze away, his eyes sucking you in and holding you there, rendering your body immobile, refusing to obey your mind's commands. He moved in closer, taking obvious pleasure in crowding you and cutting off any potential escape route.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time for you right now, sweetheart.” He said in a lazy drawl, leaning in and resting a hand on your shoulder, where you noticed that several thick silver rings adorned his fingers. “Got places to be. But before I go, what’s your name?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest – would he seriously let you just walk off after giving his friends attitude? He definitely looked the part of a delinquent, maybe even a gangster, far more than any of his friends did. And he seemed to be the leader and you had no doubt if you were a man the situation wouldn’t be playing out this way, but you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Why do you want to know my name?” you asked, and he gave a soft, dangerous chuckle.

“Playing hard to get, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that only you could hear him. His eyes bored into yours and his hand dipped lower, settling on your waist and squeezing. The strength in his fingers alone drove a gasp from your throat. “Heh. Have it your own way.”

An indignant splutter left your mouth as his hand brushes over the swell of your ass as he straightened up and a blush burned your face – did he just-?! Your mouth fell open to say something, which was probably not wise, but nothing happened, just a faint croaking noise emerging from your throat. It happened so quickly you’re already doubting it it did at all.

“We’re leaving.” Grimmjow commanded the men behind him casually, like he was giving out his drink order. “Move it.”

“But-“ the runt protested.

He glared at the smallest guy, who visibly shrank back, chin dipping to his chest.

“Yeah? Got something to say, D-Roy?”

D-Roy? That had to be a nickname, surely. Unless the idiot just happened to have particularly cruel parents. D-Roy quickly shook his head, shooting a glance at you that was both fearful and resentful, and one by one the gathered group get on their bikes and just like that, your path was cleared. You half expected to hear a videogame jingle to indicate you could proceed.

You were determined not to look back as you practically ran for the stairs, but just as your head was about to disappear down past the brick wall either side of the steps, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking out of the corner of your eye.

Grimmjow was watching you, a smirk on his face that immediately made you uneasy, like he knew something you didn’t and was savouring in your woeful ignorance. With a sharp inhale, you faced forward and hurried down the steps – perhaps if you were lucky, you could still get your train.

Grimmjow strode towards his bike, which had been concealed from your vision by the others. His was larger, sleeker and cooler-looking than those of his gang and he straddled it with the expertise of a cowboy getting atop his horse, revving the engine.

“You’re really going to let her off the hook that easy?” Shawlong queried, in a dry voice, drawing his bike up beside Grimmjow’s, but still staying slightly behind out of silent respect. Grimmjow’s lip quirked, revealing a flash of teeth.

“Who said anything about letting her off the hook?” he responded with a shrug of his wide shoulders. “When I want to find her, I know where to look.”

“How do you know that?” Ilforte asked, sounding surprised. “You’ve met her before?”

“Nah,” Grimmjow answered, procuring something from his sleeve and holding it between two fingers, the grin on his face widening.

Between index and middle finger sat what looked like a building pass, complete with a lanyard strap dangling down, the corporate logo at complete odds when contrasted against the worn leather of his jacket sleeve. You hadn’t even noticed him lift it from your pocket, too busy getting flustered over him touching you. You’d pay for your lack of observational skills later.

“She’ll be wanting this back.” Grimmjow said, a feral spark lighting the blue of his eyes.

Let the hunt begin.

[happyely4]

Grimmjow, Trying a new position, Confession, Jealous Lover 💥

smut. nsfw. alot of dialogue and some minor smut at the end. New position is the Lotus position if it wasn't clear.

"Hey isn’t that your crazy boyfriend?" "Ya, I’d recognize that blue hair anywhere! What is he doing here?" 

Your body tense up at the mention of your boyfriend. And they were right. You can’t feel any reiatsu but you can feel his intense gaze on you. Your perfect lunch date with your friends was ruined. And he couldn’t bother to tell you in advance when he would drop by so you could plan accordingly.

You turn your head and sure enough there he is, standing across the road on the other side just boring his blue eyes into the back of your head as you try to enjoy a nice lunch on the patio. Well, let him bore. Dig a tunnel while he was at it. Because you were not leaving until you finished your meal.

That didn’t sit well with Grimmjow. He knew you knew that he was there. So he decided to walk over, caring less about the traffic rules, and was now looming directly behind you. You could see his shadow grow, now towering over the table. 

“Hey babe”, he greeted casually. “You done here?”

You grab an empty chair beside you and pull it over. Might as well have him join you if you can’t get rid of him. He ain’t going anywhere anyway.

“I ain’t sitting. I asked you if you're done?”  

“Grimmjow. I just got here and half our food hasn’t arrived yet. Just sit the fuck down and shut up or wait for me at home”. You gotta treat the man crudely sometimes.

“Nah. Your house is boring. Unless it’s the bed”, he grinned and you stomped his foot once he took a seat beside you. “What? It’s all we do when I’m over”.

Your friends giggle and you sink in your chair.

“Grimmjow! What did we say about acceptable conversations in public!”, you remind him.

“That ya don’t lie?”

“Ok, friends. I think we are done here! I need to take my uncivilized cat and give it some attention”, you sigh in defeat.

Grimmjow was happy. He didn’t come over often but when he did, you ain’t leaving your house for days. 

You picked up some groceries and called in sick from work for the next few days. He just followed you around as you ran your errands, like an overly attached lost kitten, breathing down your neck and glaring at any man who dared to step into the invisible circle he mentally created around you. 

“Chill!”

“Why ya gettin’ condoms?”, he sniffed the back of your neck as you stood in the sex health aisle of the drug store. He could tell you weren’t ovulating.

“Oh, I wonder why!! It's for when you knotting and pumping me full of seed for hours until my belly hurts….shit!”, you covered your mouth and looked around, making sure no one heard.

You quickly got your things and scurried out of the store. You had sustenance, supplies and even first aid to make you last for a few days. 

“How long are you staying for?” You asked as you entered your house.

“Why? Ya got another man coming over? Who is it!?”

“Grimmjow! Like enough! You got some trust issues!”

“Maybe. So wanna fuck?”

“No! In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t eat because you dragged me away from my friends!”

“You don’t need them babe. Ya got me!”

“Just let me heat up some leftovers and you sit on the rug like a good boy”.

“I ain’t a pet! But fine”.

Of course, he didn’t let you enjoy your meal. He was breathing down your neck and there goes your appetite. 

“Grimmjow! Sit boy!”

“You aint even horny! Whose the guy? Who ya fuckin’ when I ain’t around?”

“Grimmjow!!!!”

“Tell me? I wanna tear that bastard up!” 

“Why are you taking your sword out! Stop! It’s because of you I ain’t wet! Learn to create a romantic mood once in a while! And learn how to trust your lover! Or your mate! Whatever you want to call me!”

He sat down next to you as you ate your dinner, tapping his finger and foot impatiently. “I trust ya”.

“Then show it. Because right now, you look like an idiot”.

“Who ya callin’ an idiot?”

“I’m calling an idiot an idiot. Stop with the fidgeting”.

You finish your meal under his protective and possessive gaze. He is trying to smell another man’s scent off you or around this place. But all he can sense is your perfume and the laundry detergent.

“What the hell are you doing? Ain’t we going to your bedroom?”. 

You walk over to the living room, strip off your clothes until you are in your underwear and plop down on the floor, the fluffy white rug cushioning your butt.

“No. Come sit here”, you pat the empty space in front of you as you sit cross-legged.

“What we doing? Naked yoga?”

“Just shut up, strip and sit”.

“Alright alright”.

Of course, he took everything off, his semi-hard dick ready for action anytime. You grab his hands and place them on your knees. He looks at you a little confused but your warm touch calms him down. And you just sat there and stared into his eyes.

“What ya doing? Kinda creepy”.

“It’s an exercise to strengthen our bond. Just sit quietly and stare into my eyes.”

“For how long?”

“5 minutes.”

“Fuck! That’s long!!!”

“Fine. We will start with 3.”

3 minutes dragged on for an eternity. Endless thoughts racing through your mind. If you were struggling, you could just imagine poor Grimmjow was probably a complete mess in his head as he impatiently waited for the timer to go off. But in truth, he was handling this exercise better than you.  His mind was clear, his expression oddly serene. His beautiful blue eyes pierced into your soul, claiming it- and seizing your heart as his own. 

As the three-minute timer went off on your phone, you sighed in relief. 

“I love you”.

“Huh?” You swear you heard him say exactly what he said but the phone chime made it seem like you misheard him. 

“I love you…”

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it the third time!!!”

His eyes were at peace. His confession is truly authentic. It makes your heart throb. And Grimmjow rarely says or does anything to make your heart throb. He mostly makes your clit throb. 

“Wow, that was some deep ass soul-searching right there.”

“Whatever. Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“Nope”.

He passes you a glare and you wouldn’t dare.

You pull off your panties and slowly crawl onto his lap as he sits there still cross-legged. You stroke his cock with one hand while you cup his chin with your other hand. “I love you too”. You continue to pump his shaft, sharing a passionate kiss to make your love convincing enough so he would stop with his jealousy rage fits.

You pull away from the heated kiss so you can readjust yourself and slip him into your unprepared sex. 

“We gonna fuck like this?” 

“Sure. Think of it as part of our little exercise”.

“Who ya callin’ little! I mean… you ain’t wet”. 

You let out an uncomfortable moan, nails scratching his back and his cock slowly stretching your insides. 

“Babe stop! Lemme finger ya first!”

You finally settle down on top, hugging his body tightly, chin resting on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I’ll be fine. We are going to sit like this for a few minutes. That's ok?”

“Ya. Sure.”

1 minute later. 

“Can I move now?”

You just shake your head and smile, kissing his cheek. “Go wild, my feral beast.”

“Gonna wreck that pussy good”. He starts moving his hips, this new pose testing his patience as he couldn’t go too animalistic on you. You move your hips forward, matching his pace. Both entangled, kissing and moaning, confessing your love and devotion in your own feral ways.

[happyely4]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ you knew grimmjow had a temper. knew he was an arrogant, reckless brute of a man, all muscle and sharp teeth, an apex predator who never learned to share. so when you caught the warning growl rumbling in his chest the moment another arrancar so much as let his eyes linger on you for too long, you knew you were in trouble.

his fingers twitched at his sides. that electric-blue hair bristled like a beast about to pounce. you barely had time to react before he grabbed you by the wrist and yanked you away, dragging you down the dark corridors of las noches, his grip bruising, his jaw clenched.

"grimmjow—" you barely got the words out before you were shoved against the cold stone wall, his towering frame caging you in, chest heaving.

"the fuck was that?" his voice was a growl, his breath hot against your lips. "you think i don't see the way those weak-ass bastards look at you?"

you swallowed, your pulse hammering. "i wasn't—"

"shut up." his hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head back, forcing you to meet those wild cerulean eyes, burning with something dark and primal. "you're mine."

the way he said it—no hesitation, no question. just absolute certainty. like the idea of you belonging to anyone else was an insult to his very existence.

you barely had time to react before his lips crashed onto yours, teeth nipping, tongue shoving past your lips, claiming, taking, owning. his hands were everywhere—fisting your hair, palming your waist, sliding down to your ass to pull you against his rigid body. you gasped when you felt his arousal pressing into your stomach, thick and needy, already straining against his hakama.

"grimmjow—" you tried to speak, but he didn't let you. he spun you around, pressing your chest against the stone wall, his body flush against yours. one hand yanked down the top of your uniform, exposing your breasts to the cool air, while the other shoved between your legs, cupping the heat there.

"you're fuckin' soaked already," he growled, fingers dragging over your damp panties, rubbing just enough to make you whimper. "you like this, huh? you like when i get all pissed off, when i show you who the fuck you belong to?"

your breath hitched as he shoved your panties aside, his fingers sliding through your slick folds, spreading the wetness. his other hand found your throat, squeezing just enough to make you dizzy with it, the possessive grip igniting something feral in you.

"say it," he demanded, his voice low, guttural. "say who you fuckin' belong to."

you barely had the breath to speak, your body trembling under his touch. "you—grimmjow—!"

a sharp smack landed on your ass, making you yelp. "tch. damn right you do."

then he was undoing his hakama, the rustle of fabric barely registering over the pounding in your ears. you gasped when you felt him press against your entrance, thick and hot, teasing your soaked pussy before he slammed inside, burying himself to the hilt in one rough thrust.

"fuck," he groaned, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he stretched you open, splitting you on his cock, filling you until there was no space left inside you that wasn't his. "so tight—so fuckin' wet for me."

you clawed at the wall, your legs shaking as he pulled back only to thrust hard, forcing a strangled moan from your lips. his hands gripped your hips, holding you still as he pounded into you, each thrust brutal, punishing, claiming.

"say it again," he demanded, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, marking you.

"grimmjow—"

another slap to your ass, harder this time. "louder."

"you! fuck—grimmjow, i belong to you!"

"that's fuckin' right," he growled, rutting into you like a beast in heat, his breath ragged, his cock driving deeper, hitting that spot that made you see stars. "ain't nobody else gonna touch you. nobody else gets to see you like this. only me. only me."

you could barely keep yourself together, every nerve in your body set ablaze, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting that spot with precision, over and over. your orgasm was building, tightening in your core, heat pooling low in your belly.

"you gonna cum for me, huh?" his hand slid between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight, brutal circles that made your body jerk against him. "gonna cum while i fuck you stupid? while i ruin this pretty little pussy so nobody else can have it?"

you were too far gone to answer, your body trembling, heat crashing over you as you came hard, crying out his name, your walls clenching around him, milking his cock.

grimmjow groaned, his rhythm faltering, his grip tightening as he slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, filling you to the brim with his release.

for a long moment, the only sound was heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling against your back. then he pulled out, and you gasped at the emptiness, at the feeling of his cum dripping down your thighs.

his hands turned you around, forcing you to face him. his expression was still dark, but his lips curled into a smirk, satisfaction written all over his face.

"next time some bastard so much as looks at you wrong," he murmured, dragging his thumb over your swollen lips, "i ain't waitin' to get you alone."

you shivered at the promise in his voice.

you belonged to him.

and he was going to make damn sure everybody knew it.

[happyely4]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ he didn’t just fuck you. grimmjow claimed you.

every time he got you underneath him—or over him, bent, straddled, pinned, slammed into a wall—it ended the same. deep. raw. messy. and so fucking full.

it started as a challenge. that cocky sneer, sharp canines flashing as he threw you down and said, “bet you can’t take it all.” you proved him wrong. again. and again.

but tonight?

tonight, he wasn’t playful. he was feral.

your legs were already locked around his waist, the room thick with sweat and sex, his cock rutting into you so deep your toes curled and your throat gave out on words. all you could do was moan, sob his name as he fucked you with brutal purpose—hips slamming into yours, thighs flexing, the bedframe knocking hard against the wall with every damn thrust.

“you feel that?” he growled against your ear, breath hot, voice wrecked from low grunts and growls. “that’s my cock hittin’ your fuckin’ cervix. ain’t lettin’ you off easy tonight.”

you gasped, body twitching from the pressure, the overwhelming stretch. he was too thick, too deep, dragging against spots you weren’t sure existed until now. you could feel how soaked you were, your cunt swallowing him hungrily, slick leaking down your thighs and his balls.

“fuck—grimm—too much—”

he grabbed your hips, pulled you back down harder on his cock, forcing you to take every inch, his voice a gravel-slick snarl in your ear.

“shut up. you take it so fuckin’ well, like your pussy was made for this cock. you love it.”

you did. gods, you did. you were addicted to the way he split you open, the way your stomach bulged every time he bottomed out, the way your cunt clenched around him like it wanted to be bred.

and he knew it.

“i’m gonna knock you up,” he growled, biting down hard on your shoulder. “stuff you so full you’ll drip for days. leave you leaking all over my fuckin’ sheets like a good little bitch in heat.”

“i can’t—!” you cried out, choking on the words, not sure if you were begging him to stop or never stop.

his laugh was dark, cruel, cock slamming into you harder, faster, like he was chasing something—chasing release like a predator on the hunt.

“you can. you will. i’m gonna fuckin’ breed this tight cunt ‘til it knows who it belongs to.”

your orgasm slammed into you like a punch to the spine, loud and messy, body convulsing, cunt milking his cock in pulsing waves as you screamed his name. you felt your walls tighten, squeeze him, pull him deeper.

and he lost it.

grimmjow snarled—wild, animalistic—and thrust one last time, burying himself balls-deep as he came with a violent growl, cock jerking inside you as he painted your insides with hot, thick cum. you felt it flood you, rope after rope spilling into your womb as he pressed you down, grinding into you, making sure none of it leaked out.

“fucking take it,” he hissed, panting, teeth still on your skin. “take every fuckin’ drop. that’s mine. you’re mine.”

he didn’t pull out.

just stayed there. cock twitching inside your spent cunt, cum dripping down between your thighs, his weight pinning you down like he was scared you’d get away.

“you’re gonna be so full,” he murmured against your neck, voice rough and low. “gonna stuff you every night ‘til it takes. i want you round, leaking with my seed. i want everyone to know who fucked you stupid.”

you whimpered under him, still trembling, cunt fluttering around his cock.

and he just grinned.

“good girl.”

[happyely4]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ grimmjow fucks like he's trying to prove something.

hands bruising your hips, dragging you down onto his cock so hard the head slams against your cervix, and he loves every twitch, every sob, every shatter of your voice. you can barely breathe with how fast he’s going, how deep, like his only goal is to rearrange your guts and make sure you never even think of another man again.

and that body—fuck, that body.

he’s over you, all carved muscle and tan skin, sweat dripping off his abs, his hair wild, sticking to his forehead as he snarls down at you. his hips roll with a violence that makes the headboard slam the wall again and again and again.

“you fuckin’ love this,” he growls, watching your tits bounce with each thrust, cock driving so deep it’s like he’s trying to stay inside forever. “say it. say you love this cock, baby.”

“y-yes,” you sob, eyes rolling, legs trembling, your pussy so wrecked around him. “i—i love it, i love you—!”

“that’s right,” he snaps, fingers digging into your ass to angle you up more, grinding in with rough, punishing strokes that leave your toes curling. “only mine, right?”

he hits that spot again and you scream. your mind’s going white, your voice dissolving into desperate whimpers—and that’s when it slips. breathless. broken.

“ah—aizen—!”

the world stops.

grimmjow freezes.

his eyes go black. his cock twitches inside you, still buried to the hilt—but suddenly still, dangerously still. the kind of still that makes your stomach drop.

“…what,” he says, quiet.

your heart lurches. “i—i didn’t mean—”

his hand’s around your throat before you can blink, not choking—yet—but holding. firm. dominant. his grin is feral, all teeth.

“oh. you didn’t mean it,” he mocks, his voice low and dripping venom. “funny, ‘cause you screamed it like you wanted him to come watch.”

you squirm. panic bubbling up through the haze of fucked-out bliss.

he laughs.

“ohhh, baby,” he hisses, leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear. “you just fucked up.”

he pulls out—rough—and flips you face-down like you weigh nothing. your ass is in the air before you can protest, your cheek pressed into the mattress, his palm smacking down hard on your ass with a crack that makes you cry out.

“wanna say another man's name while i’m inside you?” he growls, lining up again. “then let me show you why you only moan mine.”

he slams back in, no warm-up, no warning—just thick, hard cock spearing into your soaked cunt like a punishment. you scream, arching back, nails tearing at the sheets.

“that’s it,” he growls. “cry for me, baby. scream. let aizen hear who owns this pussy.”

his hand fists in your hair, yanks your head back. you’re drooling, moaning, already shaking, and he’s not slowing down—just hammering into you, over and over, rough enough your whole body jerks with every thrust.

“say it,” he snarls. “say my fuckin’ name.”

“g—grimmjow!” you sob.

“louder!”

“grimmjow!”

he groans, hips slamming into your ass, cock battering your cervix, his voice filthy and ragged. “yeah. that’s fuckin’ right. you’re mine. my filthy little slut. no one else gets to fuck you like this—no one.”

his hand slips between your legs, finds your clit, and rubs tight circles—fast, relentless. your back arches. your scream rips from your throat. you cum so hard you black out for a second, legs giving out, body shaking like a leaf.

and he still doesn’t stop.

“gonna fill you up,” he growls. “let him see my fuckin’ cum leaking out of you next time he looks your way. let him know who you belong to.”

you sob, wrecked. used. owned. and when he finally cums, he shoves in deep, cock twitching, spilling thick and hot inside you until it’s dripping down your thighs.

he leans over you, lips brushing your ear, voice soft now. mocking.

“say his name again,” he murmurs. “and next time, i’ll fuck you in front of him.”

[happyely4]

The witch lovingly brings you to her home to meet her pet. A wounded dragon suddenly crashes outside the door. You're scared but then anguished for her. "Mango!" she shouts furiously, "stop bringing your hunts home!!" Sitting atop the kill, an orange cat purrs, licking its blood-stained paws.

[happyely4]

ꨄ Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez Headcanons ꨄ

Grimmjow absolutely goes crazy when you suck his dick. Especially when you are acting like a little sweet kitty, crawling at his feet, drooling and gagging all over his cock till you look up at him with teary begging eyes and mouth stuffed with his cum.

Grimmjow loves your tits. and your ass. But especially your tits, he would grope and touch them all day, he would also oil them up at any chance. he would tease your nipples and sucking them like he would on a lollipop. He would also definitely fuck them.

Grimmjow loves it seeing you all dressed up in a cute kitty lingerie. Cat ears, tails and all the stuff. Bonus point if you meow and crawl around to get his attention to him finally fuck you.

Grimmjow is an mean, rough bastard, this is a fact but he will always take care of you. No matter what you need or when you need him, he is always there for you.

Grimmjow loves when you ride his dick. He loves being the one in control but he can’t resist when his favorite kitty bounces his dick up and down.

Grimmjow will be rough when it comes to Sex but he can also be gentle sometimes when he‘s in the mood for it. Cuddles and Aftercare he will always do after the act just for you.

Grimmjow has fucking endless Stamina, he would pound your poor pussy all night and even longer. He won’t stop until you tell him to stop.. but only after you and him are fully satisfied.

Grimmjow is jealous as hell. Even if a man only looks at you he will go nuts, he hates it when you talk to any kind of man and if he catches you, he’ll definitely punish you.

Grimmjow could eat your pussy all day. He loves it so much but what he loves even more when you are doing 69. So you can suck his fat long dick and he can eat your sweet pussy.. and maybe your ass. And trust me, he eats you out like a starved animal.

⋆˚ lunaeanima 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[happyely4]

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. frat boy! grimmjow, who was struggling with his english course and had his professor recommend you; the pretty smart good girl who was at the top of her classes. he didn’t know what to expect. he’s seen you at the front of the class, coming early every lecture. you have a pretty face and was a fucking know-it-all, having him think he’ll be annoyed. however, even though you wore the baggiest clothes imaginable, he felt his eyes entranced simply at the way your hips swayed every time you walked and composed yourself.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. frat boy! grimmjow, whose ego got the best of him, showing you his prideful smile. you were gentle. too gentle, with your thoughtful explanations to him, even if he was a little stupid compared to you. he was practically wrapped around your finger due to your actions, demeanor, and the fact that he’s passed every test since you’ve started tutoring him. your utter kindness was alluring, speaking ever so softly to him like he didn’t terrorize rushees and the the way you softly said his name drove him insane.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. frat boy! grimmjow, who fakes being confused in order for you to lean closer and explain it. the smirk on his face when he “suddenly gets it” is a dead giveaway, making you giggle, “ohhh, so that’s what you mean. guess i need you to repeat that… one more time, though”. he suggests studying at the frat house for fun. he slightly impressed you when he was able to do a keg stand while you were teaching him something — answering your questions about your lecture excellently. his bros eventually caught wind of his certain fondness for you and teasingly called him a ‘nerd by association’.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. frat boy! grimmjow, who once he began trying to flirt with you, invites you to every party his house hosted. he stays by your side for almost the entirety of the party, with the only time he doesn’t, he tries to impress you with push-up contests or drinking games. he “accidentally” bumps into you on campus, making a big deal on you being “the best fuckin tutor at this school”, earning amused looks from your friends and causing them to leave you.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. frat boy! grimmjow, who gets jealous easily (even though you’re not dating). who sees you casually tutoring somebody else in the library and texts you saying he needs “help. urgent. right now”. and when he does see you, he just happened to see you in the library with somebody else, “teach, you got other students now? i thought i was your favorite” (insert teasing sad face). when in secret, he’d stare daggers at whoever you were tutoring, especially if they smiled at you too much.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. frat boy! grimmjow, who, once he does (surprisingly) ask you out, he shows you off at every party, arm around your waist and chin brushing your shoulder. you don’t need to ask, he’ll give you his fraternity jacket and sweatshirts to wear to your classes and on campus (purposely sprays a shit ton of cologne for his signature scent to be noticeable). he may be very much of a brute to others in his frat, especially in parties with his winning streak in drinking games—but he would be a complete dunce when it comes to romance. he asks his friend from high school, ulquiorra on what to get a girl (who also doesn’t know) which causes him to ask ichigo, who starts making fun of him. overall, to you, it’s the effort that counts.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. frat boy! grimmjow, who likes for you to still tutor him every now and then, even for random classes such as his stats class. he takes enjoyment at the obvious closeness you two have and encourages study dates, only to take you from behind in the library. he enjoys the idea of getting caught with you as you take his cock quietly but surely in a secluded part of the library, enamored with the way you could be so quiet and nerdy yet so alluring. luckily for the both of you, you’re friends with the librarian who lets you borrow the keys for the closet. (if not, he also is into the idea of playing a game where either one of you strip if he gets an answer right).

—

lowk wanna indulge more into this but idk … “requests are open!!” i scream as i get taken back into my cell

[happyely4]

Wait.... hear me out 📣‼️ MDNI

Teaching Grimmjow how to kiss.

He sits down on the couch, his arms outstretched on either side of the back of it. His eyes glued to yours as you strattle his lap.

You watch his movements. He's tense. Every muscle in his body tight. You find it amusing, seeing him so nervous and he hates it. A mere human girl, having the upper hand on him.

But, he also wouldn't dare push you away.

You raise both hands, slowly inching them towards his face. "You don't have to but, when you kiss someone, it feels good to be held like this," you explain, cupping his face in your hands. His body jolts a little at your gentle and ever so soft touch.

And then, you lean in. Closer and closer. Slow, careful. Your lips melt into his.

Grimmjows heart never beat so fast.

And once he actually got a taste of you... that was it. That was all he needed to become completely addicted.

You pulled back with a deep flush in your cheeks. A whoosh of air brushes past your head as his hand shoots out, gripping the back of your neck.

"Wait, one more time."

You smile, leaning in again. This time a bit more deep. More intense. He's quick to understand, mimicking your movements. His lips copying yours as his grip tightens on the back of your neck. Unable to hold back, a moan accidentally slips from your mouth and Grimmjow perks up with curious eyes.

"S- sorry," you stutter. "I didn't mean-"

"Do that again."

You blink at him and this time, it's Grimmjow that pulls you in. His lips messily exoring yours, wet and hot.

"Wait," you pant out between kisses, hoping to grab his attention.

He pulls away, saliva connecting your lips. He cocks a brow. Your body heats up, as you lean in a bit more.

"Like this," Instead, you sensuously nibble and gently suck on his lip, giving him a tender surface lip kiss. Then, you start to set the pace for a more intense make-out using a shallow tongue and tenderly touch his face so it keeps you both at an intimate distance. If he starts to get overzealous, you seductively pull back and make your way to his ear as a segue to reset, giving his neck a wet trail of kisses.

He gets frustrated, sure, but his rock hard cock tells you he actually loves being teased and he never wants this to stop.

[happyely4]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 | (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Hitsugaya Toshiro, Kuchiki Byakuya, Shuhei Hisagi, Aizen Sosuke, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Coyote Starrk

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

➳❥ Hitsugaya Toshiro

Your cheek. It was subtle, carried enough warmth that words couldn’t convey and easy for his height. He wasn’t one for grand displays of affection, but in those quiet moments, his actions spoke louder. When he returned from long captains’ meetings, his expression often tight with stress, he’d come up behind you and press a feather-light kiss to your cheek. “I’m back,” he’d murmur, his voice soft but steady. It wasn’t rare for him to do so during your shared conversations either, especially when you’d said something that made his lips twitch into a rare smile. Sometimes you’d tease him, feigning shock, and he’d huff in response. “It’s not a big deal,” he’d grumble, though the slight blush on his pale cheeks betrayed him.

➳❥ Kuchiki Byakuya

It would be your wrist and hand. It wasn’t an obvious choice, but that made it all the more meaningful. In private moments, he’d reach for your hand and press a featherlight kiss there, before turning it delicately so your wrist was exposed and pressing more kisses there. His movements were deliberate, almost worshipful as if he were handling something precious. “A courtier’s honour,” he once commented when you jokingly asked why he chose such peculiar spots. You couldn’t help but laugh, but there was no denying the flush of warmth that spread through you whenever he did it. During formal events, his subtle kisses carried even more weight. In a room full of people, he’d lightly brush his lips over your wrist, a silent claim that only you could interpret.

➳❥ Shuhei Hisagi

Your shoulder. It was an intimate yet casual gesture that perfectly matched his laid-back personality. Whether you were standing at the window or rifling through paperwork, he’d approach silently, sliding his hands onto your waist and leaning down to plant a warm kiss on your shoulder. “Missed you,” he’d say with a boyish grin. Sometimes, he’d rest his chin there afterwards, enjoying the closeness while cracking jokes or chatting about his day. You often accused him of using it as a distraction, especially when you were trying to focus. “Can you blame me?” he’d reply, shamelessly planting another kiss before retreating with a chuckle. But it wasn’t always playful. On nights when the weight of his responsibilities bore down on him, his kisses lingered a little longer, as if drawing comfort from the connection. “You keep me grounded,” he once confessed, his voice barely audible.

➳❥ Aizen Sosuke

The back of your neck. The intimacy of it thrilled him, as did the way it always made you shiver and how your pulse jumped under his touch. He had a habit of approaching from behind, his hands lightly grazing your waist as he leaned in to press a soft, lingering kiss there. “Do I make you nervous?” he’d tease, his voice all smooth and velvety, even as his lips ghosted over your skin. You’d scoff, trying to play it cool, but he always noticed the way your breath hitched and sensed your pulse becoming erratic. Whether it was during a quiet moment in his study or a rare break in his meticulous plans, those kisses were deliberate, and calculated. “You’re mine,” he’d murmur against your neck, not as a declaration of dominance but as a promise, his tone equal parts tender and possessive.

➳❥ Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

Your throat. It was bold, aggressive, and undeniably him. He’d often catch you off guard, wrapping his hand firmly but not harshly around your throat and giving it a tilt with a crooked smirk before leaning in to press a firm, heated kiss there. “What? You look too damn good not to,” he’d say unapologetically. His kisses weren’t always demanding, though. On quieter days, when the world seemed to calm around him, he’d surprise you by being uncharacteristically gentle, his lips brushing over your throat in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “Don’t get used to this,” he’d mutter, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed him. You knew better than to call him out on it, instead threading your fingers through his hair as he kissed you again.

➳❥ Coyote Starrk

Straightforward and to the point, your lips—slow, deliberate, and unhurried. He wasn’t one for grand gestures or over-the-top declarations, but when he kissed you, it felt like time itself paused. Whether you were lounging on the couch, either departing, visiting or walking together in the moonlit desert of Hueco Mundo, he’d lean in with a lazy smile, capturing your lips in a way that made you forget everything else. “You’re too distracting, you know that?” he’d mumble afterwards, resting his forehead against yours with a quiet chuckle. Sometimes, his kisses were playful, like when you poked fun at his tendency to nap all the time. “Careful, or I might just kiss you into silence,” he’d warn, following through with a smirk.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @edensrose

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[happyely4]

Happy MasterList - Bleach Fandom

Hi, I’m Happy, a writer in my free time, for the moment you can find me on these fandom (My Hero Academia, One Piece, Jujutsu Kainse and Bleach), each has its own profile (happyely ; happyely2 ; happyely3 ; happyely4).

|AO3| - You can also read me here on AO3!

Valentine's Day - [ComingSoon]

Halloween’s Night - Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x FemWitchreader! [Work in Progress]

[happyely4]

cat always follows you