#writing this asap

[bangchansrose]

what if john's son visited the tower-

[eatinghemlocks]

oh damn, did i just get an idea for a story? yes.

am i going to write it? yes. hopefully.

Boston Globe, Massachusetts, May 21, 1940

[the-palelady]

when cowboy!ghost is leaving the clinic after his usual visit to his favorite nurse he always makes sure to let her know he loves her. his job is dangerous. last thing he wants is for him to go out without her knowing how much she means to him.

so one day he gives your lower back a pat, whispering a “love ya, sweetheart,” before turning to leave.

however, you don’t say it back.

simon stops dead in his tracks while you continue on about your business. for a moment he waits it out, maybe you didn’t hear him? maybe something else caught your attention and you had to take care of it before responding?

but your response never comes.

so he turns to face you, his expression nothing short of annoyed, eyes narrowed, lips pulled tight under the bandana that obscures the lower half of his face.

your back is turned to him when he stomps over towards you. he minds your hands of course, making sure you aren’t holding any of the doctor’s instruments before he turns you around, jolting you from your work.

your eyes meet a raging fire, his pupils almost dilated. your cheeks are pinched between his thumb and fingers, lips pursed.

“si-“

his voice is a deep rumble, thunder clapping in the distance.

“i said…i love ya, honey. now i know that pretty mouth of yours hasn’t forgotten how to say it, or do i need to give it a reminder?”

[moopsoup]

you said you wouldn’t let evil into your home no more. swore on it. on the bible. even on momma. but every time remmick showed up on your porch, leaning against the railing, asking real polite for permission to step inside…

you let him in. you knew exactly what he was. yet you always let him in. you could’ve said no. you were playing a dangerous game. one that could eventually get to you.

“you’re scared.” remmick says against your neck. tongue trailing slow along your pulse, like he’s testing how fast it’s running. he’s got you spread open under him, thighs wrapped around his waist, sweat slick and trembling, his cock dragging deep, slow, mean. he ain’t in no rush. never is when you’re like this. all wide eyed and shaky, trying not to look too hard at his mouth hovering right over your throat. he’s got you folded beneath him like it’s nothing.

you freeze when he mouths at your throat again, just a brush of his lips. soft, open, grazing that one spot you know he likes. that major artery. the one that always makes your heart stutter.

“’m not gonna bite ya.” his voice is gentle yet teasing, his hips rolling harder. deeper. “told ya that already, didn’t i?”

you nod. barely. breath caught halfway down your throat.

he grins. remmick can feel it. the way your body tenses. the way your fingers claw at his back.

that edge of panic tangled up in the pleasure.

“you always get like this” he murmurs, lips brushing slow across your jaw. “all jumpy right when i get real deep. like you know i could just���”his teeth skim your throat, just light as a feather, making your back arch.

you shiver so hard he groans from the way you squeeze around him. he doesn’t need your blood. he needs this. your fear. your helplessness. your trust.

you try to move your head, pull away from his mouth, but his hand holds you there—gently. not to trap you. just enough to remind you: he could.

your eyes widen, throat tight. he groans at the scent of just your fear alone. it rolls off you like perfume, and he drinks it in like he’s starving. he pulls back just enough to look at you. eyes all glowing, grin so sinister and mocking. “you trust me?”his thumb brushes your cheekbone. “reckon you must…lettin’ me fuck you like this.”

his fingers slide between your thighs, rubbing you right where you needed, slow and lazy while his hips roll harder this time, punching a gasp outta your lungs.

“don’t worry, sugar. fear tastes just as sweet as blood.”

[saiintofawe]

nona the ninth will always be one of the most beautiful and most painful books in the world to me because. it is about love in its every possible form. it's about the love you have for someone who takes care of you and the love you have for those you care for. it's about loving someone after seeing all their rough edges and ugly sides and choosing to love someone even if it hurts and even if you know it might doom you. it's about not choosing to love someone, but loving them anyway because sometimes it's not up to you to choose. it's about loving the dogs on the street and the stranger you met at the park and the child that never speaks to anyone in class. it's about loving the creases in someone's face when they laugh and the way their hips sway and how they can't stand still. it's about your love for the sea and the pang of grief at the tought that it is being poisoned. it's about the immense pain that comes with the loss of someone you loved. it's about bearing that loss, it's about letting that cut burn because its presence means that there was love. and that cannot be taken away. you have loved, you have been loved, and you always will. and the fact that it hurts and it ends doesn't erase the fact that at the end of the day, it's always love at the core of it all. in its every form and expression, by turning into rage, or kindness, or utterly destructive force, it all starts and ends in love. you can't remove that. you can't take loved away.

[tismegg]

Borrowing this

scott pilgrim if it was good

[asiatic-apple]

this isn't a request btw I've read about your caleb crying and sex & i wanna add: you know that tweet that goes "my bf fucks me until I get shy around him again morning after" bc, , the way he spoiled you with pleasure 🤤🤤🤤... is it intentional? unintentional? Doesn't matter. You def see him in a new NEW light (this turned out so much filthier i am so sorry😔 it sounded more intimate inside my head)

Anon first of all, thank you for christening my blog with the first ask 🤲🏽❤️ and it is such a good one too!! Second of all, don't apologize for being filthy bc I am a freak just like caleb and this is a safe space for filthy thoughts about our favorite pixelated man 😌

Idk what drugs you put in this ask, anon, but you caused a sudden burst of inspo and what started out as a few sentences of a reply quickly turned into +1k words…oopsies. I know you didn’t ask for this, but I hope you enjoy this random drabble :)

Caleb x female reader

content: nsfw-ish (no actual depiction of smut but it is heavily referenced), first time with caleb, implied multiple orgasms, overstim mentioned, caleb likes to tease you but lovingly, you both jokingly mimic the sounds each of you made last night

You wake to the smell of eggs and bacon, and it takes you a few minutes to remember where you are and what exactly happened last night. The answer is Skyhaven, in Caleb's bed—and after months of tension between the two of you, you finally wound up fucking each other.

No, that word doesn't accurately sum up everything you experienced last night. It was intimate, intense, and emotional for both of you. It even had its moments of clumsiness and soft laughter as you both navigated this new aspect of your relationship and took turns learning each other’s bodies. But on top of all that, you experienced pleasure like you've never felt before.

You quickly get out of Caleb's warm bed to start your morning routine, wanting to freshen up a bit before meeting him in the kitchen. And for some reason, you start to feel a bit timid as you look at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. You think about last night, how wantonly you moaned as he pulled out all the stops to make you feel good. Your cheeks burn as you remember just how many times you came on his tongue and fingers before he finally gave you his cock—and made you come around it several more times.

Thinking back to it, you can't remember exactly how many times you reached your peak, but Caleb didn't stop until you nearly passed out from exhaustion. And even then, you didn't really want him to stop. In the span of one night, you became addicted to the feeling of him inside you.

So after being faced with the filthy memories of everything you did and said last night—and all the filthy things Caleb groaned in your ear with each deep thrust inside you—it's no surprise you're feeling a little sheepish as you exit the bedroom. The worst part is that you’re sure Caleb immediately notices your shyness as he pulls you into a tight embrace. It’s just like him to give you no escape from his piercing gaze.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he whispers, running his hands up and down your back.

You know it's meant to be an innocent gesture, but your memories of last night only grow stronger as you're reminded of how he couldn't keep his hands off you. And how tightly he held you in place while you wriggled beneath him from overstimulation.

“I made us breakfast. Figured you'd be especially hungry after last night.” You're convinced he's saying that on purpose, lowering his voice in that infuriatingly sexy way of his before he chuckles a bit too smugly.

You smack his shoulder lightly, trying to hide the fact that your face is getting even hotter from his teasing. “Shut up,” you whine in mortification.

But Caleb seems intent on making you squirm. “Oh, c'mon,” he says in a playful drawl before pulling you tighter against his chest. “Are you really that embarrassed by what we did last night?”

His fingers trail feather-light touches up your back and along your neck, purposeful in finding your ticklish spots so he can turn your bashfulness into fits of carefree laughter. Once he's satisfied with you loosening up a bit, he looks down at you seriously.

“You don't regret anything, do you?” You can tell he's trying to keep his tone lighthearted, but there's a glint of fear in those wide eyes of his.

“No, god no,” you say without hesitation. “I don't regret anything.”

You swallow that nervous lump in your throat, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment as you meet his gaze to show him you're serious too. And Caleb’s smile only grows bigger. It’s like you've given him the greatest gift with such a simple answer. He gives you a chaste peck on the lips before pulling back with a different kind of grin—one that says he's back to teasing you now that you've both cleared the air a bit.

“Good,” Caleb replies. “Because I definitely want to hear those cute sounds of yours again.”

Another kiss lands on your warm cheeks, and your brain short-circuits from that suggestive look in his eyes. Still, you manage a scoff at his smug tone. He's already so cocky about his ability to rile you up, and a petty part of you wants to remind him how you weren't the only one being enthusiastically loud last night.

“Oh, yeah? And what about you?” You try to keep your voice steady, even as Caleb continues peppering lazy kisses along your cheeks and down your neck. “I'm pretty sure you were louder than I was.” You lower your voice a register, trying to imitate those broken groans he made when he was close to his climax. “Hm, pip-squeak, you feel so good!”

You barely get through your poor impression before breaking character with a snort. But at least Caleb’s onslaught of wet kisses halts for a moment as he also fails at stifling his laughter.

“Right, right,” he says between a few chuckles. Even though you might be exaggerating a bit with your impression, Caleb’s cheeks and ears still tinge pink with a blush. “Was that before or after you kept beggin’ me”—his voice pitches higher—“oh, Caleb, please please don’t stop.”

You gasp dramatically. “I do not sound like that.”

“You’re right. It’s better when you do it.”

You roll your eyes, only half-annoyed by Caleb mentioning how unabashed you were in voicing your pleasure last night. The other half of you is turned on by his teasing. But that’s only for you to know…for now.

But as always, it’s like he can read your mind right at that moment. Caleb leans closer, taking advantage of your flustered state so he can whisper in your ear. “Maybe you need a reminder of how needy you were for me last night. I don't mind joggin’ your memory, honey.”

Before you can even try to come up with a witty remark, he's pulling away and dragging you to the dining table as if he didn’t just threaten you with a good time.

“Come on,” he says with a knowing grin. “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold. And after you're done digesting, maybe I can teach you not to get so antsy every time I touch you.”

You huff as you sit at the table. It’s not fair how easily he gets under your skin with his words and sweet promises. And his promises definitely sound too good to be true. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever stop feeling shy after getting fucked so thoroughly by Caleb. Will there ever be a day when he doesn’t make your skin burn with so much pent-up desire?

Caleb interrupts your spiraling thoughts, nudging the plate of food toward you. “I can still see those gears turning in your head, makin’ you wonder if there’s still a reason to be shy. Stop worrying so much, pip-squeak,” he scolds you gently. “Or else next time, I'll have to make sure you feel so good that your pretty head can’t think anymore.”

dni banner by @/cafekitsune

[1999hiru]

୨୧ cw. strap use, degradation, rough sex

⋆˙⟡ abby anderson who likes to…

─────────────────────────

abby anderson who likes to place her much larger hand on your stomach while her strap fills you up, her unrelenting pace squeezing whimpers out of you. she likes to feel how she pokes your stomach from the inside

abby anderson who likes to lick at your ears, her thrusts getting rougher and rougher when she hears how wet your pussy is getting. she mutters a “is she talkin’ back to me?” while she sneaks a hand over to your clit, massaging it in slow circles

abby anderson who likes to see your face while you’re going dumb on her strap, your eyes in a hazy gaze as you’re manhandled in every position for her. she likes how easily she can move you like it’s nothing, using you for her own pleasure

abby anderson who likes to watch you choke on her, forcing her strap impossibly deeper down your throat. tears are running down your cheeks, but she gets wetter the more you struggle to breathe

abby anderson who likes to pretend she can get you pregnant, almost finishing at the thought of filling your soaked pussy up with her cum. “want me to put a baby in you, huh? i know you do, slut.” she puts you in a mating press, just to make sure you’d get every single drop

abby anderson who likes to force you to your limit, ignoring your small hands pushing her away. she kisses you sloppily while she lines herself up with your sensitive hole, thrusting into you. she pulls away, eyes completely dark — filled with hunger. “come on, you’re a big girl. i know you can come again bunny.”

[ruuinxs]

ferb, i know what we’re gonna do today.

Aren and Saiki where both of them sleep in coffin position and are deep sleepers so someone opens the bedroom door and just sees them knocked the fuck out. Kaido has nightmares about it for days.

[bluerosefox]

Portal Passage

Another DPxDC idea (it can be either turn into future Dead on Main or Anger Management, I'm not picky)

With Toddler!Damian~

So

When Jason was being 'trained' by the LOA in a fit of Pit Madness he somehow manged to stumble upon a toddler Damian in the base when he fought his current 'teacher' and fell into Damian's own training room at the time he was training.

Jason, even in a Pit Rage episode and not yet fully 'trained' out of his Robin teaching and his own (deeply buried) morals of protecting children, see's a toddler being trained with a legit sword and see's some of the wounds and cuts the kid has on himself from the training. He does not take it well and in a fit, fights the other teacher and gathers Damian into his arms.

This leads to Jason, in half coherent and half Pit Madness, to try to escape with Damian in his arms and get the heck out of the League with assassins at his heels.

However the fight eventually ends up with them near the Pits itself and in a single wrong move the two fall in.

The two do not resurface.

-x-x-

It was a normal day in Amity Park.

As normal as Amity Park could be to be honest.

When one of the Fenton siblings came down to clean the lab for the day when the protal suddenly flared up and for the lack of better words spat out a teen around their age and a toddler.

Both passed out on the lab floor.

[totalrager]

Bill prefers a more hands-on approach when it comes to gaming.

cw: set between late 90s/early 2000s, fem!reader, r is not a #gamergirl for plot purposes, ooc to the max bc bill isn’t allowed within 50 feet of the opposite sex :P

Nailed to the wooden door, painted in bold, red letters, is a giant sign that reads ‘NO GIRLS ALLOWED’.

“You break a single thing in here, and I’ll call the cops, I swear to god.”

“Great, anything else?"

“Touch my comics, and you’re dead.” 

The threat rolls off your shoulders as quickly as he said it.

It’s been like this ever since you walked through the front door.

After getting a call, at 2 a.m. might you add, Bill had been real adamant about you coming over; something about his usual visitors being 'too busy doing other stupid bullshit' and wanting to show off his mad skills at a new game he'd purchased.

Had you not been on the verge of falling back asleep, you would've called him on his shit and made him admit that he really just wanted to see you.

Regardless, and in hopes of putting an end to the semi-rantish call, you said yes.

Bill, having finally gone through his extensive rule list and coming close to having you sign a contract, unlocks the wooden door and pushes it open; the worn-out stairs squeak loudly as the two of you make your descent into the dark room.

As if it were second nature, he felt around in the air for a moment before yanking on a dangling cord. The only source of light reveals his magnum opus.

The basement was exactly as you pictured it.

Hanging on almost every wall that didn't have a giant bookshelf pushed in front of it, several shelves were bearing multiple miniature knick-knacks and large posters featuring what you assumed was every single sci-fi movie to have ever existed.

Towards one of the corners of the room was a beat-up table covered in a fictional map, surrounded by over a dozen mini figurines; a battle having clearly taken place the night before.

But what stuck out to you the most was that it was noticeably clean.

Y'know, for a guy.

Aside from the clutter of personal belongings that bordered on a novice level of hoarding, there was not a single speck of dust.

No crumpled papers, bits of plastic, fast food wrappers, or anything. You could be mistaken, but you’re almost positive he vacuumed, too; Hell, even the tiny waste basket shoved next to the couch was empty.

Was this all because you were coming over? Did he want to make a good impression? 

The thought alone sends your guts aflutter with some bizarre version of flattery.

As your gaze flits all around the room, you feel a heat radiating from your host’s laser-focused gaze aimed directly at your face.

“What?”

“You look… different.”

Okay, so what if you actually put some effort into your appearance, doused yourself in your favorite perfume, and put on your nicest pair of jeans?

It’s not like you wanted to look somewhat decent for the guy you were maybe-kinda-sorta seeing or anything; even if said guy couldn’t give any less of a damn about how you looked.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t see through your thinly-veiled ruse, “I always look like this. Are you just now paying attention?”

God only knows the amount of ridicule the little weasel’d dogpile you with if he found out you got all ‘prettified’ just for him.

Plus, his ego would over-inflate to unprecedented levels and take out all mankind like a modern-day version of the meteor that ended the reign of dinosaurs.

Luckily, with one last eye flicker and a low, noncommittal ‘hm’ from the back of his throat, the brief subject is dropped.

Guess you both did some light primping.

He moves further into the room, not before throwing back a witty 'You should take a picture; it'll last longer.'.

“I can’t help it; it’s not every day my pookie bear lets me into his holy sanctum to play with his little toys.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, earning a disturbed sneer in return.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Pookie bear?” you feign innocence. 

“Yes, that. Only pussywhipped normies use that cutesie crap and I refuse to subject myself to such standards.”

“Whatever you say, snookums.”

“I so loathe you.” Bill let out one last aggravating sigh before busying himself with the gaming system he’d mentioned over the phone.

As he connects a couple of wires to his TV, you awkwardly hang around for something more to do, settling on picking at a hang nail just to have something to busy your hands with.

The solution comes when you make eye contact with a nearby shelf, a couple of out-of-box action figures practically beckoning you over.

“Ooh! What if we each grabbed one and made them kiss and junk? Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

You snag a figure that had a very Baywatch David Hasselhoff-y vibe with puffier hair and a gun strapped to his hip and deepen your voice, holding it up close to Bill, “Listen to the chick, punk. She’s got the right idea.”

A certain lasso-handling heroine is also thrown into the mix as you adjust your tone to be more smooth and confident.

“I agree, Please help me declare my undying love for…” You pause for a moment in an attempt to recall the gunslinger’s name, “that guy.”

Bill scoffs 'unamusingly' at your childish display and (lightly) swats the hand holding the intergalactic smuggler away from his face, “Like Han Solo would ever be caught dead making out with a woman who wears her panties out in public to fight crime.”

“Pssh, He’d be lucky if Wonder Woman even glanced in his general direction.” 

He pauses, “How do you know who Wonder Woman is?”

“Can’t tell you; it’ll take the mystery out of our relationship.” (You thumbed through a stack of comics when he wasn’t looking.) “Are you going to show me how to play or what?”

As if on cue, the TV’s noisy static blaring through the speakers smoothens out to a more upbeat and inviting tune, making way to display the psychedelic home screen of one Mario Kart 64.

You let out a delighted ‘oooo!’ before plopping down next to your kinda-sorta boyfriend on his circular carpet as he fiddles around with two controllers, ensuring that both are fully functional and cooperating.

Bill messes around with the game select screen, making sure to pick two players before moving on to the character select screen, the more exciting of the two.

There are eight options for you to choose from, ranging from a human plumber to... you want to say a punk dragon with a mohawk? 

Before you can make a decision, you're given some unwarranted advice: "You can be peach, obviously."

“Are you saying that because I’m dainty and pretty like her?”

“Uh, no. She’s pink and the only girl.”

As appealing as that sounds, another character had already caught your eye. “Forget that. I want to be the green dino thingy.”

“Yoshi? Out of the question, I already chose him.”

“No way, I want him!”

“No, fuck off! I picked him first!”

“BILL, PLEASEEE!”

“Get off of me!”

———

After the two of you take the time to have a well-rounded and productive discussion ("STOP THROWING CUSIONS AT ME!"), you come to an agreement.

“Whatever, I wanted to be Toad anyway.” He eventually concedes.

A triumphant giggle bubbles past your lips, earning a heatless scowl from Bill, as the game finally, finally begins.

You watch as a quick runthrough of the track displays itself: a hilly, rainbow-y mess set deep in outer space; cartoon logics, who were you to argue.

As the countdown begins and the competitors rev up their engines, a previously forgotten problem makes its way to the forefront of your mind. “Wait- Bill- I don’t know the controls!”

“Can’t help you, gotta win.”

And the race is on!

As he moves freely around the map and plays out maneuvers only capable of being done by someone who already knew every trick in the game, all you managed to do was move forward a couple feet, change the camera angles, and then crash straight into a wall, where you remained until the end of the race as Bill, as expected, effortlessly places first.

To add insult to injury, right before crossing the finish line, one of the last remaining CPUs nails you with a projectile. "Oh, come on!"

He lets out a victorious and annoyingly mocking cackle as the rankings are given, placing you at dead last, right underneath a literal ape.

You jut your bottom lip out in disdain, “Does unfairly beating me make you feel good about yourself, Dickey?”

“It really does. Thanks for asking.”

"Jerk."

"It's not my fault you're so bad at this."

“I am trying my-“ a sudden warmth descends upon you as a pair of flannel-covered arms wrap themselves atop of your own, “-best.”

He’s initiating contact! holy shit, holy shit, don't make any sudden moves or he’ll get spooked. Oh my god!

Bill ‘hand-holding is for douchebags’ Dickey was willingly pulling a slightly less messy version of the pottery scene from Ghost; all in the name of showing you how to play a game meant for kids.

During all this overthinking, he's also pointing out each multi-colored button and its designated purpose. 

So it's possible he doesn't consciously realize the very intimate hold he has on your right now.

Oh well, you'll take what you can get.

Is that aftershave you're smelling? Since when has he ever worn that?

“-button to perform slides on turns so you don’t lose any speed, but it’s a move for more advanced players, such as myself, and I doubt you’d be able to do it correctly.”

Wait, how long has he been talking for?

Any sound tumbling out of his mouth sounds exactly like it’s coming from one of the offscreen adults in Peanuts.

"You’re holding it wrong.”

You blink. “W-what other way is there? I don’t have three hands.”

“The controller's only meant to be held by the middle and right part.”

You nearly swallow your tongue as Bill maneuvers your hands, which were getting embarrassingly clammier by the second, into the correct position.

He then chooses another track, one that was covered in cows, and the countdown begins once again.

Except this time, once the little guy on the cloud makes it to one, instead of focusing on winning and jetting off to remain ahead of the other racers, his cart remains at a standstill next to yours. “Okay, press A to go.”

That should be easy enough to find!

One measly little A shouldn’t be an issue.

You stare down at the controller, and a beat of awkward silence hangs thickly in the air.

“Uh...”

Unseen by you, Bill rolls his eyes. “Are you new to the English language? You’re hopeless.”

He presses your thumb down, and by some odd miracle, Yoshi is finally moving forward, this time without hitting any barriers.

Like the world's most annoying teacher, he helps remind you again and again what button serves what purpose, all while keeping his hold on you.

While it initially flustered you, you started to get used to the added heat and focused on actually winning.

When he feels that you've finally got a grasp on the controls, he gives you full-reign of the controller and drops his arms; although, Bill doesn't seem to go too far, simply choosing to hang them loosely around your waist.

You don't think much of it, too preoccupied dodging a few cows whose life mission was to be run over.

"Stupid asshole," you murmur angrily under your breathe as a green plumber bumps into your kart and nearly sends you veering off course. 

The race gets even more intense when you finally manage to catch up and riding the red plumber's ass for first. 

"Throw it already, he's right fucking there!" Bill encourages, his grip tightening from excitement.

Your arm jerks to the right as if the movement will help Yoshi avoid a banana placed by the unfair CPU racer. "I'm trying, I'm trying!"

"Then throw the damn shell!"

"Stop backseat driving!"

With the checkered finish line in sight, you make the last ditch effort to twart your opponent and toss the green shell.

You both watch with bated breath as it hits the white fences along the sides like the world's most annoying pinball, inching closer and closer to its intended target before it finally makes a-

"Direct hit!"

At the absolute last second, Mario is sent toppling over like the giant tool he is, making a clear path for Yoshi, the ambitious little dinosaur, to take first place.

"I did it!" The wide grin on your face nearly splits your face in two as Yoshi lets out his victory... cheer?

You don't dwell too much on it.

Maneuvering yourself around and then tossing your arms around his neck, you relish in the small, dare you say, proud expression displayed on your boyfriend's face,  "Did you see that?" 

This time, you can see when he rolls his eyes, "Duh, I was right here." 

"How does it feel to be dating someone with better gaming skills than you?"

"Please, I could've played better than that in my sleep."

"Is that a bet I hear, Mr. Dickey?" You twirl a lock of his auburn hair in between your fingers.

You're not sure exactly when it clicks, but the sudden realization of the extremely close proximity he's placed himself in brings an abrupt end to the light teasing between you two.

Bill's entire face turns a brilliantly bright cherry red as he scrambles back over to his side of the floor, accidently knocking you on your ass and stammering the whole way, “T-tell anyone about this and I-I’ll just say you were c-coming onto me.” 

Initially, you thought that you accidentally overstepped your boundaries and caused him some grief, knowing how weird he is with physical contact, all of which is thrown out the window when he keeps glancing over at you.

You snicker, "Don't worry, I liked it too."

He sucks his teeth in what you took as dismissal, "whatever."

The tiny smile he's fighting so hard to stamp down says otherwise.

He quietly grabs his controller and returns to the map selection screen, scrolling through the submenus until he finally settles on one.

You take the silent hint and reach for yours, keeping your distance and refocusing on the screen.

As the two of you settle back in, Bill not-so-subtly scooches himself closer to you, tensing slightly when his leg makes contact.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, you just slump further into his side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

It takes every fiber in your body and then some to not squeal in pure ecstasy when he returns the small gesture by squishing his head on top of yours.

"YEAHHH, EAT SHIT!”

“WHEN DID YOU GET A RED SHELL?!”

extra:

"Hey, freak. Have you seen my sewing kit? I got a couple grudges to- what the hell?”

Jane watches in complete shock as the whirlwind formerly known as her brother frantically shoves pile after pile of trash into a large bag.

There’s a couple more just like it in terms of size piled up in the corner; right beside them is a discarded feather duster and a tangled-up vacuum cleaner.

"I didn't touch your shit," Bill calls over his shoulder, "can't you see I'm busy?"

“Since when do you clean?”

Her only answer is a grumbled 'mind your damn business' as her brother proceeds to dump last night's leftover campaign fuel into the overstuffed garbage bag in his tight grasp.

"Is it for a girl? It's a girl, isn't it?"

The younger Dickey takes a moment to soak in the fact that her brother, the selfish bastard that couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about other people, was actively making an effort to try and impress another human being and allowing them to step foot into his ‘nerd cave’.

You really can’t make this stuff up.

"Y'know,” she drawls after a moment of complete silence, an almost cat-like smirk stretching itself across her pale cheeks, “for a while there, I thought you weren't interested in girls."

"Oh, for the love of- GET OUT!"

[richyys]

(. .*)β〃`*:;,．★ ～☆・:.,;*

[rinnstars]

4 walls!

in which itoshi rin builds a wall between him and the world and youre the only one with the key

itoshi rin x reader: fluff, drabble + not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated

to the world, itoshi rin is somehow cold, emotionless, unaffected - the way his face is fixed in the dead-panned face as though carved into it by a sculpture, the way he doesnt bother responding or dignifying jabs or comments as he walks past the desks, the way his eyes linger on only his goals over the people that surrounds him. to his first football club, he is nothing short of a disappointment, always compared to his genius of a brotehr, nothing short of dull, always hiding his report cards whenever exam season arrives, nothing short of cold, his mouth barely spoke a word during his stay there. to his classmates, he is just an average joe - just another classmate not focused in class, too busy focusing on his dream world wrapped in the football magazines he has stacked underneath his table, just another guy, albeit way more quiet and responsive than most students, just another mediocre and average student, with grades that just passed the mark to move on to the next and with abysmal club attendance.

yet, to him, he knows he is the opposite of all the things they say - he knows he’s rather soft hearted, a cry-baby at the slightest tone change, he’s rather insecure, each comparison to his brother only digs the knife slotted against his heart deeper into the already gory mess of an organ it has become over the years, he’s rather passionate, driving him to continue persevering against all odds, against his own belief and reality, against his own blood. but he rather it stays that way - maybe its better to not let them see the real him, to not let them too be disappointed at the real reflection that stares back at him in the dirty mirror, to not hurt himself more by giving them the full him.

and so he builds a wall. he builds a wall made of bricks and stones, block by block until he is trapped in his own making, until he no longer can get hurt or even see the outside world outside of the house he has essentially trapped himself in, until he wont get hurt anymore - not by his club members, not by his classmates, not by his brother. and he tries to convince himself, he likes it better this way - without others, there wont be another sae - he wont have to witness his own heart ripped out and thrown on the grassy patch of field another time, he wont have to go through nights of sobbing uncontrollably that leaves his pillow gross and wet by the time morning rolls around, he wont have to feel as though he lost a loved one to death as he occasionally open his drawer that features a photobook of him and his brother still grinning without a care in the world without knowing what would have happened next with dried tears stains that dirty those photographs.

and yet, its with you, rin thinks his walls are entirely down. to him, youre the key to the complicated lock in his heart that he without a doubt passes to you. you’ve always been beside him, even when his eyes were fixated on sae that has always been in front of him - beside him in class where you two slacked at the back of class playing your phone and him reading soccer magazine underneath the table as you two occasionally bicker whilst laughing, beside him on his bed right on top of the messy blankets he knows you dont mind with his arms around you like its second nature to him, beside him on that bus whether to and fro school or even to his training facility that takes practically hours to get to as you drool on his uniform that he doesn’t have the heart to let you know even after all these years.

you’re the bright star and sun that melts away his icy cold castles and mountains of walls as though they were nothing, rin thinks. the way you beam at him whenever you see him right at the bus stop, waving your hands excitedly as your footsteps springs towards him and he feels like he’s in those cliche romance mangas you talk about, almost seeing those cherry blossom trees and hearing that love song that repeats in his head whenever youre oh so close to him. the way you listen to him, nodding along even though half of what he’s saying are nonsense word jumbles practically sews and patches his broken heart back, warming his once ice cold atmosphere. the way you do things — passing him those sugary sweet candies that tastes just like you, letting him copy off your homework while you both laugh quietly at the back of class makes him wish this could last forever, the way your hands so gently combs through his emerald hair makes him melt into a lovesick puddle right in your hands as he looks at your eyes that he swears the whole galaxy is inside it.

and maybe youre like those hero’s and magicians he’s watched in those cartoons when he was a little kid, you must be. so enchanting: how you manage to coax him out of his room time and time again to go to wherever you want, hell rin thinks he would even go to the very end of the world if you simply asked. youre like the fire element to his ice element in those stupid games, the sun and the moon from those posts he reads about your favourite love mangas to catch up to you, the golden retriever and the black cat trope he hears you rave about, the “lalala” and “okokok” tiktok trend and everything under the sun. if youre not a secret extraterrestrial creature that he bets you are, the equivalent to his new found destroyer ego to make a team together to destroy the earth or something like that he jokes, maybe just maybe you two were destined by fate.

in another life, you would be the witch to find an abandoned familiar he thinks - warming and melting his icy exterior with both your warmth you exude and too the hot soup you always cook for him whenever he’s running a cold. in another life, you would have been the hero to have helped him out of whatever villainous organisation he finds himself trapped in in his rage and fear with your warmth and that bright cheshire grin of yours anytime. in another life, you would have been the bright and well-liked royal of the castle who finds him, a lonesome and attempting knight and make him yours he thinks. he’s sure of it — where yours and his constellations are always beside each other, where your palm fits perfectly with his like two puzzle pieces merged together, where yours and his heart and ribs and guts are shared together.

so for now, rin will sit here right beside you, enjoying the warmth you exude as he places his head right on your shoulder, smiling at your yelp at surprise and attempts to push him off back to his side of the bed: youre the only one he would let in to see the raw him, and he hopes he’s the same to you too, the one you can truly always shine the brightest with.

[daphnalia]

and they were galpals

[tacticalprincess]

könig who helps his wife get comfortable and does her skincare or makeup (to the best of his abilities with his ginormous hands) and puts on his daughter’s princess dress and brushes her hair :( just him and his favorite girls

going insane…

he loves to pamper and take care of his girls— it makes him feel needed, being able to provide comfort to and indulge you both. before you, the only thing he ever washed his face with was cold water, so he’s fascinated by all the extra upkeep and enhancement routines you have, helping you apply all the too-expensive serums and creams you swiped his card with, taking pride in the way you melt under his fingertips, how soft your skin feels against his calloused hands. his favorite activity is bathing you, pressing the occasional kiss to your ankle as he shaves your legs gingerly. afterwards he’ll rub your sweet smelling lotion into your velvety skin <3 the way you put all of your trust in him to look after you makes him feel so fulfilled.

it’s no different with your daughter :( you’ll catch them having tea parties and playing dress up (although the little princess dresses barely reach past his calf) and he gets fully submersed in it, looking comically out of place in her girly pink room with a tiny tiara on his head. you’re usually the one to get her ready for school and events because he can never say no to her, especially when it comes to clothes, so she always ends up looking like a unicorn threw her up. and then you’re the bad guy for having to break the news that she can’t wear her plastic high heels to school… the disappointment on her face has könig wanting to have a word with whoever put that rule in place.

you have a sunday ritual whenever he’s home to turn your living room into a spa, putting face masks on each other and cucumbers on your eyes. he’ll spend hours brushing and braiding both of your hair every night to your hearts content. nothing but the best for his best girls, he has an example to set after all!!

[scariusaquarius]

devotion.

Sosuke Aizen x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You and Orihime are abducted and taken to Hueco Mundo. While Orihime's purpose is clear, your purpose seems to be more...personal

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A/n: a bleach fic??? of course! I just got done rewatching Bleach and FINALLY got to Thousand Year Blood War (i'm on episode 4, NO SPOILERS PLEASEEE) and EVERYONE is serving cunt and dick. Here's an aizen (with grimmjow sprinkles) fic

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Genre: Horror, Angst, Friendship, Romance Rated: explicit Warning: Humiliation, Dubcon/Noncon, Oral Sex (male giving/receiving, female giving/receiving), Forced Exhibitionism, Forced Voyeurism

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Author: ScariusAquarius

His eyes were squinted as he stared, his gaze calculating and scrutinizing as you stood before him. His body language was lazy and candid as he rested his chin on his hand; uncaring of you and your being as you attempted to still your shaking. Like a cat, his brown eyes were zeroed in on you; watching your every move from the slightest tremble to the subtle way your throat was clenching as you held your breath.

"You must be so afraid...knowing who it is that is right in front of you."

Truthfully, you didn't know his name. You weren't kept in the loop of what was going on with your friends nor why Orihime had disappeared suddenly, but from the way everyone would quiet down when you would come around; especially Ichigo...you were certain it was all because of this man.

This terrifying man who had your body feeling so heavy, you almost couldn't bear to keep standing. This man who had your heart wanting to burst within your chest and the pressure in your head to crush your brain.

You wanted to reply; to tell him that you didn't know him nor why you were here, but you couldn't even speak. Not with the blue-haired man with the weird mask and a hole in his abdomen holding onto your shoulder so tightly that it felt like he was crushing you.

"Hey, he's talking to you."

The blue-haired man was ruthless. When he had appeared in front of you before your kidnapping, you had almost thought that he had always been there and you just didn't notice. You had continued walking until suddenly, there was this heavy pressure that was familiar yet brutal, unlike the way your friends' auras felt.

Your whole body had stopped moving; knees crumbling in the middle of the sidewalk and chest feeling as though it was caving in. Then, there was a hand tangling itself around your throat, and you were being lifted, blue eyes cruelly amused at the way you choked and struggled to breathe.

"You don't even have enough spiritual pressure to be important," he had said. "you're not even worth keeping alive, but whatever." and suddenly, you were here in this dark and desolated place; cold and barren of any light. At least, that's what you thought had happened.

Everything had been a blur after the blue-haired man had simply flicked your forehead and knocked you unconscious.

You knew these people around you were dangerous and, to be frank, not normal. You weren't sure what was going on or what these people wanted from you, and you couldn't help but to be speechless from the fear running through you.

The blue-haired man gripped your shoulder tighter, and you couldn't help but to yelp in pain from his grip as it suddenly heated up. Red light was glowing from beneath his hand, scorching your skin and burning your flesh as he yelled.

"Hey, what are you, deaf? Didn't you fucking hear me?"

"Easy, Grimmjow."

The light dissipated instantly, but his crushing grip never wavered. Tears spilled past your eyes and down your chilled cheeks, unable to look away from the ground as the brown-haired man who was sitting so uncaringly spoke; his voice calm and...almost soothing.

"We don't want to scare her now, do we?"

Grimmjow, as you had learned, just clicked his tongue and turned his gaze away from the man, saying nothing. The frightening man spoke again.

"It's not nice to not look at someone when they are speaking to you."

His tone was...almost soft; but you knew when a wolf was in sheeps clothing. You knew that whoever this man was...he could kill you or let Grimmjow kill you if he wanted to. Quite honestly, he probably was planning to do so...would being obedient prolong your life enough for someone, anybody, to save you?

You shakily glanced up at him, his cupid lips curled up into a small smirk as he spoke.

"Aw, you've made her cry, Grimmjow."

"Tch, weak bitch."

The man uttered beneath his breath, his grip on your shoulder tightening more, and you couldn't help it when more tears fell down your cheeks. The man chuckled for a moment before he acknowledgd.

"I'm sure you have so many questions...why are you here...who are you...what does this man want from me...where am I....am I right?"

To avoid having your shoulder burned again, you replied shakily, too afraid to speak above a whisper.

"Y-Yes..."

The man chuckled and placed his hand down against the arm rest of the chair. There was a moment, however, when a slight breeze kissed your face and you couldn't help but to blink. Within that second, the man was in front of you, your chin in his grip and making you look up at him.

What just happened? How did he do that? I...I didn't even look away from him...all I did was blink...what's going on...who is this man?

"You have a right to be afraid...in fact, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Even though you barely have any spiritual pressure, you can still stand up on your own two feet. That's no easy task when in the presence of so many powerful beings."

You couldn't look away from him no matter how much you wished to. You were frozen in shock and from the sheer amount of weight that was on your shoulders, inlcuding Grimmjow's grip.

"I do wonder what it is about you that had your friends trying very hard to protect you. Are you special like Orihime Inoue? Do you have extraordinary abilities as well? Or is it that Ichigo Kurosaki cares about you more than anything else?"

Your heart was racing, pounding within your chest, and you whispered to him shakily as he seemed to look you over; his gaze making you feel almost violated as the man gazed at and through you.

"I...I don't know...what you mean."

His eyes narrowed just the slightest, and it was quiet for a moment before he chuckled.

"How cruel of Ichigo to not warn you nor tell you about anything. I wonder if he truly does care about you...I mean, don't you think it's unfair that he kept you in the dark about what he is and what he does?"

Suddenly, the man let your chin go to cup your cheek, his hand warm and almost inviting as his voice deepened just the slightest.

"Don't you think it's wrong that Ichigo disregarded your feelings and kept you away? He might as well had given you to me himself.."

"I...I don't understand...who...who are you?"

The man hummed, tilting his head just the slightest as a chuckle rumbled from deep within his belly as he played with a piece of your hair.

"My, where are my manners? I can't help but to lose my tact when in the presence of women. My apologies...my name is Sosuke Aizen."

There was something familiar about the name; something that was itching at the edges of your consciousness, and while you couldn't comprehend what it was, this man...Aizen...seemed to know.

"Hm. How interesting...tell me, do you think Ichigo Kurosaki would be devastated by your death?"

Blood running cold, you couldn't formulate a thought as Aizen ghosted his fingertips down the side of your neck and to your sternum, dancing his fingertips against the chilled skin.

"Do you think he would be so overcome with despair that he would become reckless...desperate...to try and kill me?"

He was digging his fingers into your skin; almost as if he was trying to bury his hand within your chest, and you replied shakily.

"I...Ichigo cares about....all of his friends. I...I wouldn't be any different to Orihime...or Chad...Uryuu...or Rukia."

Aizen's eyes were empty, you observed as you looked at him. Not empty in terms of stupidity or boredom for your words...they were empty of light and compassion...or anything that could be considered good. Evil and danger oozed off of this man just like the crushing spiritual pressure he continued to let off so that you, a measly human with a weak amount of spiritual pressure, knew your place.

He could absolutely kill you with no second-thought, and that was what scared you.

"So, you're saying that...you're useless to me?"

There was intention and purpose now within his fingers, his eyes becoming uncaring as he leaned back just the slightest, and you panicked.

"No! No, I...I'm not! Please...please don't hurt me...or...or kill me...I...I can...I can be of use, I swear!"

Aizen's lips smirked slightly as someone within the room laughed.

"Listen to that whining and begging! I say we just kill her and leave her out front for Kurosaki to find!"

Grimmjow hummed, saying as he leaned forward, making you glance at him from the corner of your eye as you began to spiral.

"Nah, I say we rip her into pieces and leave a trail. That'll get Kurosaki pissed!"

His hand was heating up again, and you were about to scream from the terror until a voice cut through, making everyone quiet.

"That's not necessary. While they are trash, keeping Orihime Inoue and (Y/n) (L/n) alive is beneficial to Lord Aizen's cause. Until Lord Aizen gives the order, we are not to touch them."

The largest man in the room who had his chin in his hand scoffed.

"You're no fun, Ulquiorra. When are you gonna ever stop having such a stick up your ass?"

The man with the green eyes and tears did not respond, and Aizen hummed gently.

"How does it make you feel...hearing the different ways you could be killed? It's okay, you can be honest."

You were trembling again, and you couldn't help but to sniffle and whisper.

"I...I'm scared."

Aizen chuckled before his hand came up to your neck, gently grasping though you knew it was to give you a false sense of security.

"Such a poor, pathetic girl...I think I know what I want to do with you. I can take it from here, Grimmjow. Thank you."

Grimmjow was hesitant to unhand your shoulder, but shoved himself off and walked somewhere to sit; his steps echoing all around the room and deep into your mind; each step making you flinch. Aizen began to walk around you, and he murmured.

"Make no mistake: I know you are the most important person in Ichigo's life at this moment. I know that he is coming to save you and Orihime Inoue...and that is going to be his downfall."

You were holding your breath, unable to speak as Aizen continued.

"He will come here, and he will be annihilated...along with the rest of your friends. It's quite unfortunate that he didn't tell you about your impending doom...but to be honest, it makes it more fun for me."

He seemed to be observing you, looking at you from head-to-toe and dissecting you as if you were a specimen; picking you apart from the very last sinew.

A monster on the prowl.

Oh, god, what was he going to do to you?

You jolted at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your hair, tucking behind your ear and subtly caressing the skin with his fingertips; sending shivers down your spine.

"Does he know?"

His question caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but to look over at him in confusion; unknowing of what the man was implying.

"What...what do you mean?"

Aizen chuckled before leaning in slightly; just enough that your noses were almost touching.

"Does he know that you love him?"

Heat ran up your neck from the embarrassment, and you couldn't help but to exclaim.

"What? I don't have feelings for Ichigo! Sure, he's my friend...but I...I don't like him like that!"

Aizen chuckled and your shoulders caved in again, attempting to make yourself smaller.

"Oh? You seem so embarrassed."

He was taking the detail to heart, mulling over it, and you weren't sure if you were supposed to speak or to stay quiet. Aizen walked behind you, and you froze when both of his hands came to rest upon your shoulders.

"Quite frankly, it doesn't matter. You won't be leaving this room alive unless I say so...and I haven't been given a good reason to keep you alive...except for one."

There was a slight bit of hope that ran through you; a glimmer of safety that was squashed instantly by the way his hands gripped your shirt and tore it open.

You gasped and yelped, reaching your arms across your chest, and you could feel everyone's anticipatory gaze upon you. Fear and humiliation ran through you, and you were horrified when Aizen sighed.

"Grimmjow, would you like to assist me?"

Grimmjow's eyes opened wide, a huge sneer upon his cruel lips as he walked towards you.

"Oh, absolutely."

Your body began to tremble; frozen with shock the closer the man got until he was standing before you, and his hands shot out and wrenched your arms from your chest, making you screech. You tried to back away from Grimmjow, but instead, you were blocked by Aizen's own chest; his chuckle reverbing into your ear.

"How would Kurosaki react if he knew that the one he loved the most was made impure, hm? I think he'd be devasted....angry, even. I think he might even become reckless."

"Doesn't fucking matter. We'll still crush that bastard either way!"

Grimmjow responded, and you began to struggle slightly as Aizen began to peel away the remnants of your shirt, threads and buttons coming undone until you were shirtless and only in your bra. You were breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating and becoming lightheaded. However, there was another part of you that was afraid to even pass out.

You froze when you felt a blade against your back, Aizen resting his chin against your

shoulder as his voice whispered into your ear dangerously.

"I could run my blade right through you...and kill you without any second thought...but that would be such a waste, wouldn't it?"

You could feel the panic clenching your throat, your voice unable to come out as the tip of his blade glided up your back before slocing your bra into pieces. You began to struggle then, feeling humiliated and terrified as you tried to pull yourself from Grimmjow's grasp. Tears began to fall down your face as Aizen said, his tone of voice demanding and nothing short of an order.

"Beg for your life...give my Espada a reason why I should spare you...why you deserve to live. What can you offer to me that will be of value?"

Your voice refused to come out; throat clenched shut, and Aizen clicked his tongue.

"Perhaps, you need more encouragement. Grimmjow, restrain her from behind, would you?"

Grimmjow looked annoyed that he couldn't ogle at your naked chest and huffed, yanking your arms behind you and forcing you to push your chest out slightly as he held you with no remorse.

"Go on. Beg."

Despite his gaze becoming cruel and taunting you, his voice continued to sound suave and uncaring. Almost as if your suffering was a game to him.

You could feel all of their scrutinizing and hungry gazes on you; all the ones that cared, anyway. You weren't sure if these people, these...things...wanted to be a part of Aizen's game or straight-up eat you.

Both thoughts scared you.

"P-please...please stop...this is wrong!"

Grimmjow scoffed before switching from holding both of your arms with each hand to clamping down on both of your wrists with one hand so he could reach and brutally manhandle your breast. You screamed, Grimmjow's touch unforgiving as he sneered.

"You call that begging? What a pathetic fucking bitch. I've heard weaker beings beg better than that! Don't hold out on us!"

He was squeezing hard, painful and making you squirm and fight within his grasp. Grimmjow was already irritated, but he paused when Aizen held up a hand.

"Now, now, Grimmjow. Let's not resort to violence so soon. She's never been touched like this before...poor girl has no idea how to beg properly. So, why don't we show her how...in good faith that if she tries her best, maybe I'll let her see Kurosaki one last time."

Lies. You knew it was lies. This man had no ounce of compassion in him. Evil oozed from every part of his being, and there was no guarantee that you were going to get out of this alive.

He was toying with your life as if it was a game.

You froze when Aizen placed his hand upon your cheek gently, leaning down slightly until his nose was brushing against yours.

"If you bite...if you try to fight back in any way...I will string you up in front of Las Noches in pieces...after I have torn apart your friends. Now, on your knees."

You wondered if it would be the best route. You wondered briefly if death would be better than this...than whatever Aizen, and possibly Grimmjow, were going to do to you. An image of Ichigo popped into your mind, and you clenched your jaw slightly as you tried to keep from sobbing.

I have to stay strong for Ichigo and believe that he will save me!

"On your knees!"

Grimmjow kicked the back of your knees, making you yell out from pain and surprise as you fell; smacking into the ground hard in front of Aizen. Aizen moved back to sit upon his throne, and he beckoned you with a finger.

"Come here. Undo them."

You didn't have to be a genius to understand what Aizen was referring to.

But how were you supposed to undo his pants without the use of your hands?

How fucking humiliating and perverse.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bit your lip and leaned down. Maybe, if you imagined that it was Ichigo, it would make things easier. Maybe, if you imagined it was Ichigo's hakamas that you were undoing with your teeth, you wouldn't be so scared.

It's not Grimmjow behind you, but perhaps Renji...keeping a firm grip and pressing his hard cock against your asscheeks as you got Ichigo's cock free.

Aizen's voice broke the daydream once his hard cock was sprung free from his hakamas, and you felt your stomach drop when Aizen teased his fingers beneath your chin.

"Now...beg."

Suddenly, there were fingers digging into your scalp, making you gasp in pain, Grimmjow's overwhelming and terrifying presence pushing against you as he hissed in macabre delight.

"What are you waiting for, little girl? If you don't get to suckin, maybe I'll have to really ruin you for Kurosaki."

Aizen's grip became harsh, digging in enough to the point that you couldn't close your mouth on your own, and Grimmjow pushed your head down, forcing you to swallow Aizen down.

You had never done anything like this to anybody. Hell, while you had a general idea of what a penis looked like thanks to your perverted friend, Chizuru Honsho, you had never actually seen one. You were a virgin through-and-through. Hadn't even had your first kiss yet, and here you were...being forced to suck the cock of the most evilest man in the whole world.

He was salty, bitter, and the size and way you were being forced all the way down until he was stretching your throat and making you gag had tears running down your face. Aizen made no expression nor gave any indication of what he was feeling. In fact, he looked completely nonchalant when you glanced up at him in a moment of panic, and he sighed for a second when you began to gag vigorously.

"Grimmjow, if you hold her down any longer, you're going to make her vomit. I really don't want that."

There was an underlying threat within his voice that had Grimmjow freeze in place before pulling you back up wordlessly. You coughed, saliva running down your chin, and Aizen hummed.

"I can take it from here. Why don't you get her prepared for me? I think it'd be a nice reward for you."

Grimmjow laughed, and you weren't sure if you liked what Aizen was implying. Suddenly, you felt Grimmjow grab a tight hold of your skirt and yank as hard as he could, tearing your skirt straight off. You screamed out, and Grimmjow exclaimed, smacking you in the back of your head as he tightened his grip on your wrists.

"Oi, quit your whining, woman! I think you'll like this next part."

Your attention was commanded back to Aizen, his fingers sliding against the back of your head and guiding you back.

"Now, now. Don't take your focus off of me...it might mean your death. When I said to beg, I wasn't asking."

With no hesitation, he shoved you back down, forcing his cock down your throat again, and you whimpered slightly, gagging and feeling your abdomen tighten as you did so. You pulled back up, and Aizen pushed you back down.

"Just like that, but with suction. Poor girl, you've truly never been touched. A pure and innocent soul...destroyed and conquered like the rest."

There were fingers touching your legs and hips, running all along the globe of your ass before smacking harshly. Your jaw clenched slightly, teeth grazing Aizen's shaft, and the man hummed in distaste.

"Have some self-control. I would rather not kill you while my cock is in your mouth."

You were beginning to shake, almost too weak to hold yourself up, and you almost kicked your foot back when you felt Grimmjow's nose dig into your panties, sniffing deeply.

"Gods, you ain't ever had no man here before, huh. I can smell how sweet your fucking cunt is."

Aizen chuckled then, saying with an air of haughtiness.

"And that belongs to me now, Grimmjow. Don't get too ahead of yourself. I just want you to get her ready for me."

Grimmjow made a noise of displeasure before hissing quietly to himself.

"Whatever."

Your panties were torn apart, and when you went to scream, Aizen shoved your head all the way down until your nose was pressed against his skin, gagging and panicking from how deep in your throat his cock was.

"None of that. It's quite distracting."

Suddenly, there was something wet and warm against your skin, tingles and terror running down your spine as Grimmjow's big hands anchored on either side of your hips and forced you down onto his face. He was lapping at you and groaning, tonguing at your clit and making your body try to squirm.

The sensations he was forcing upon you were strange, foreign, and slightly tickled. You weren't exactly sure how to describe it other than spine-tingling. He was lapping at you desperately, suckling and groaning noisily, and you squeezed your eyes shut tightly.

It was a torturous rhythm. Up and down, in and out; breathing and not breathing. You were a cauldron of emotions and sensations that were overwhelming you to the point that you were beginning to feel light-headed and nauseous. Your eyes fluttered slightly, and it seemed that Aizen knew what was happening.

He was ever-present and ever-observant; taking in every little detail down to the way you blinked. Pulling your head up off of him, he hummed.

"Grimmjow, that's enough."

Grimmjow was hesitant at first, his licking and suckling becoming slower for a moment, and Aizen sighed.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Grimmjow was slow to get out from beneath you, wiping his mouth, and he snarled out to Aizen; seeming to be running on pure instinct as he glared at Aizen with dilated eyes.

"Selfish prick..."

Aizen just hummed before he pulled you off of his cock, his brown eyes gleaming with nefarious and fiendish ideas.

"Let's get you prepared for your reunion with Kurosaki."

part two soon

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