Bleach Drabble (450)
HA FINALLY.
Though I suck. >>
450.
Title: Rebels
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: GrimmjowxIl Forte, vaguely Il Fortexlots of Arrankar.
Word Count: 719
Warning/s: Vague pron and vague spoilers for the early part of the current Arrankar/Vizord arc.
Summary: Grimmjow and Aizen don’t always see eye to eye.
Dedication: kino_scythe- I guess the cuddles helped. XD
A/N: FINALLY this word doc is done!! Now I just have to decide if it’s even worth making and naming one “Bleach- Drabble (451-500)." I guess we’ll see. ^^;;
The pretty ones are for everyone’s enjoyment, Aizen says.
Grimmjow makes a face at that, thinks it’s a fuckin’ waste of time. The hell is the point? Doesn’t make you stronger. Can’t feel as good as fightin’. Pathetic.
He thinks Aizen-sama’s just a goddamned pervert and is trainin’ everyone else to be just the same.
Thinks it right up until the moment he sees Il Forte sliding effortlessly between Gin and Luppi on the polished floors of Hueco Mundo, all white skin and soft sighs and graceful arches between two sinisterly smiling pairs of lips.
The pretty ones are for everyone’s enjoyment, Aizen says.
Something about that still doesn’t sit right with Grimmjow, though those are his fingers tracing over one sharp shoulder blade, even though it’s his cock sliding in and out of Forte’s ass, his teeth covered in blood from biting down on a pale, perfect throat. The taste is dark and sweet on his tongue and Forte hisses underneath him, long curtain of hair obscuring his face as he submits on hands and knees, fingers fisted tight against his palm and nails digging into pink-flushed skin.
He cries out when he comes and Grimmjow wraps an arm around him to keep him from collapsing onto the floor beneath them, holds him up until he finishes too, manages to pull out and roll Forte on top of him after, while he waits for his breathing to even out.
“Hmm,” Forte murmurs tiredly, and touches the wound seeping blood on his throat with a small frown. “Why…”
“Shaddup,” Grimmjow grunts, and Il Forte complies, though he still looks perplexed.
The pretty ones are for everyone’s enjoyment, Aizen says.
And it doesn’t sit quite right with Grimmjow when he walks in and sees other Arrankar climbing on top of Forte, when he has to walk by a room and sees the long-haired bull surrounded by disgusting bastards like Yammi and Di, or bent over Aizen-sama’s chair, or with cruelly smirking Ulquiorra pinning him by the throat to the wall even when he’s got that bruise there, that mark that means keep the fuck away.
It really pisses him the hell off.
Everyone’s enjoyment, huh?
Tch. Bullshit.
“You like what those filthy bastards do to you?” he asks one day, idly toying with long strands of white-blond hair in the moments of calm that come only after they’d fucked.
Forte sniffs, delicately. “Of course not. They’re disgusting. Yammi hurts.”
Grimmjow winces at that mental image a little, makes a disgusted face. “Yeah.”
Forte’s idly touching the bloody mark Grimmjow’s left-on his chest this time-and it almost looks like he’s smiling a little.
“Guess Aizen-sama,” Grimmjow starts, ironically, “lied when he said everyone was supposed to have fun, eh?”
“Hmmm,” Forte murmurs, but doesn’t say anything.
Grimmjow pauses then, shifts slightly so he can look down at the pretty face of the pretty Arrankar in his arms. “Hey,” he says, and smirks as he does, “wanna come with me to do something really fun?”
Forte pauses to blink at him, recognizing something in Grimmjow’s tone that probably means trouble. “What are you planning?”
Grimmjow outright grins then, and his hand absently trails down to trace the blood-oozing wound on Forte’s chest, right below the jut of his collarbone where he’d bit down hard a little while ago. “Plannin’ a little trip,” he explains, and digs his fingers into the wound, causing Forte to hiss, though not in an entirely bad way. “Whaddya think?”
The long-haired Arrankar arches a bit as dark blood begins to seep down the front of his stomach. “Aizen-sama won’t like it,” he purrs, and moves his body in a way that makes Grimmjow want to leave bruises in the shapes of hands all over it.
“C’mon, Il,” he says, voice low, “Ain’t you sick of being told what to do? ‘Sides,” he adds, rolling them both over, “it’ll be fun, promise.”
Forte tosses his hair over the back of his shoulder and smiles, breathlessly. “We’re gonna get in trouble, you know.”
Grimmjow laughs and licks blood off of his fingertips. “Yeah.”
“We could die,” Forte adds, though his voice is dreamy enough as Grimmjow touches him that the words don’t really matter.
“Like I said, fun for everyone,” Grimmjow grunts, and shoves Forte’s legs apart.
END
And as per usual, MS fic. It'll make sense when you join us over at mercy_street_rp I promise. SO GO APP PEOPLE GEEZUS. I'm beginning to feel unloved for all the recruiting I do that no one apps for. ;_;
Title: Painted Over
Characters: Komamura
Timeline: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Some things can’t be washed away quite so easily.
A/N: Ganjyu App? What’s that?
Painted Over
Though I suck. >>
450.
Title: Rebels
Rating: R
Pairing/Character/s: GrimmjowxIl Forte, vaguely Il Fortexlots of Arrankar.
Word Count: 719
Warning/s: Vague pron and vague spoilers for the early part of the current Arrankar/Vizord arc.
Summary: Grimmjow and Aizen don’t always see eye to eye.
Dedication: kino_scythe- I guess the cuddles helped. XD
A/N: FINALLY this word doc is done!! Now I just have to decide if it’s even worth making and naming one “Bleach- Drabble (451-500)." I guess we’ll see. ^^;;
The pretty ones are for everyone’s enjoyment, Aizen says.
Grimmjow makes a face at that, thinks it’s a fuckin’ waste of time. The hell is the point? Doesn’t make you stronger. Can’t feel as good as fightin’. Pathetic.
He thinks Aizen-sama’s just a goddamned pervert and is trainin’ everyone else to be just the same.
Thinks it right up until the moment he sees Il Forte sliding effortlessly between Gin and Luppi on the polished floors of Hueco Mundo, all white skin and soft sighs and graceful arches between two sinisterly smiling pairs of lips.
The pretty ones are for everyone’s enjoyment, Aizen says.
Something about that still doesn’t sit right with Grimmjow, though those are his fingers tracing over one sharp shoulder blade, even though it’s his cock sliding in and out of Forte’s ass, his teeth covered in blood from biting down on a pale, perfect throat. The taste is dark and sweet on his tongue and Forte hisses underneath him, long curtain of hair obscuring his face as he submits on hands and knees, fingers fisted tight against his palm and nails digging into pink-flushed skin.
He cries out when he comes and Grimmjow wraps an arm around him to keep him from collapsing onto the floor beneath them, holds him up until he finishes too, manages to pull out and roll Forte on top of him after, while he waits for his breathing to even out.
“Hmm,” Forte murmurs tiredly, and touches the wound seeping blood on his throat with a small frown. “Why…”
“Shaddup,” Grimmjow grunts, and Il Forte complies, though he still looks perplexed.
The pretty ones are for everyone’s enjoyment, Aizen says.
And it doesn’t sit quite right with Grimmjow when he walks in and sees other Arrankar climbing on top of Forte, when he has to walk by a room and sees the long-haired bull surrounded by disgusting bastards like Yammi and Di, or bent over Aizen-sama’s chair, or with cruelly smirking Ulquiorra pinning him by the throat to the wall even when he’s got that bruise there, that mark that means keep the fuck away.
It really pisses him the hell off.
Everyone’s enjoyment, huh?
Tch. Bullshit.
“You like what those filthy bastards do to you?” he asks one day, idly toying with long strands of white-blond hair in the moments of calm that come only after they’d fucked.
Forte sniffs, delicately. “Of course not. They’re disgusting. Yammi hurts.”
Grimmjow winces at that mental image a little, makes a disgusted face. “Yeah.”
Forte’s idly touching the bloody mark Grimmjow’s left-on his chest this time-and it almost looks like he’s smiling a little.
“Guess Aizen-sama,” Grimmjow starts, ironically, “lied when he said everyone was supposed to have fun, eh?”
“Hmmm,” Forte murmurs, but doesn’t say anything.
Grimmjow pauses then, shifts slightly so he can look down at the pretty face of the pretty Arrankar in his arms. “Hey,” he says, and smirks as he does, “wanna come with me to do something really fun?”
Forte pauses to blink at him, recognizing something in Grimmjow’s tone that probably means trouble. “What are you planning?”
Grimmjow outright grins then, and his hand absently trails down to trace the blood-oozing wound on Forte’s chest, right below the jut of his collarbone where he’d bit down hard a little while ago. “Plannin’ a little trip,” he explains, and digs his fingers into the wound, causing Forte to hiss, though not in an entirely bad way. “Whaddya think?”
The long-haired Arrankar arches a bit as dark blood begins to seep down the front of his stomach. “Aizen-sama won’t like it,” he purrs, and moves his body in a way that makes Grimmjow want to leave bruises in the shapes of hands all over it.
“C’mon, Il,” he says, voice low, “Ain’t you sick of being told what to do? ‘Sides,” he adds, rolling them both over, “it’ll be fun, promise.”
Forte tosses his hair over the back of his shoulder and smiles, breathlessly. “We’re gonna get in trouble, you know.”
Grimmjow laughs and licks blood off of his fingertips. “Yeah.”
“We could die,” Forte adds, though his voice is dreamy enough as Grimmjow touches him that the words don’t really matter.
“Like I said, fun for everyone,” Grimmjow grunts, and shoves Forte’s legs apart.
END
And as per usual, MS fic. It'll make sense when you join us over at mercy_street_rp I promise. SO GO APP PEOPLE GEEZUS. I'm beginning to feel unloved for all the recruiting I do that no one apps for. ;_;
Title: Painted Over
Characters: Komamura
Timeline: N/A
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Some things can’t be washed away quite so easily.
A/N: Ganjyu App? What’s that?
Painted Over