Send "let Me See Your Hand" For Our Muses To Compare Hand Sizes.

will be posting some drabbles i wrote on my old blog just to keep as writing sample for geto now that i've moved him here so don't mind me 🤪

@cursedfell

writing ship replies for geto feels like an instant bullet to the heart because he's the type who offers gentle gestures whether it's to make you get used to it or to make you want it he's that way and also he teases a lot and it kills me because I have to write his dumb charming smile and imagine him with so much tenderness in his eyes I'm physically ill (punches a wall) he's a lover like that.

please im begging connect me with more psycho pass blogs i am rotting in this corner

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

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

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

this was not supposed to happen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜ / gojo

&. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬. // @ak4rin

‘ when? ’

that might be a good enough answer on its own, so he makes use of the leeway presented to him and steers the conversation into a different direction, not quite feeling like elaborating on the specifics of his sleep schedule. ‘ eeh — don’t mind it. you’re a better driver than i am. ’

the muscle in satoru’s jaws slides across taut bone, suddenly too-aware of his surroundings: though he’s not revealing anything that doesn’t need to be let out, it still feels like he’s been stripped of something fundamental, like she’s seen a side that wasn’t meant to be in the first place. he clicks his tongue, masking the discomfort with something akin to nonchalance and waves a hand in front of his face.

‘  in any case, i can just teleport back to the headquarters if it becomes too much, which i doubt. ever seen me pass out on the job? of course not. ’

— Hajime Kashimo, by takeo72

シモザ | 喰種④

stay out of trouble . (Gino @ Kogami!)

perhaps it’s the late hour making him charitable.

or maybe the common sentiment shared among enforcers - masaoka and kogami specifically, that gino ought to be kept on the sidelines of all that hides in the shadows. unlike their own hues, his can still be maintained, can strive for salvation. as for the rest of them, well, they’ve already become familiar with the robotic voice dialing central, the reply back unlocking the weapon’s potential to paralyzer, at the very least, and in the worst cases, at the darkest hour of their minds, there’s no other way out but having their guts rained on ther companions. gruesome, but that’s their reality, one that gino should never know.

smoke clouds the space between them, standing side by side, and it’s perhaps the familiar ambience, like how it’d been in the past, which sapped his ability to reason when reason was the wisest thing to do. and remain quiet, for certain.

‘ trouble is a broad word. ’ he swept a hand across the air, bracelet come to view, ‘ as far as i’m concerned, i’ve been navigating in trouble for a while now. ’

guess the joke didn’t land well, he thinks, catching a glimpse of gino’s face contorting in something akin to anger, disappointment, defiance all at once. and isn’t it a dangerous feat, that he’s able to come bare with his emotions in the blink of an eye? it’s a weakness in the eyes of a predator like kogami, someone who’s always on the hunt for something, a ghost, or a memory. for any other person, honesty is freedom. it’s a distraction to himself, to let his thoughts wander. he picks up where he left off, sensing the tension embroidered in the seconds that he let the pause drag on for too long, so he offers gino a smile, once their gazes are locked.

‘ i get what you mean. it’s not the first time you’ve mentioned it. not the first person, either. you’ll probably hate to hear it, but masaoka has been insistent about it, too, in his own way. ’ 

the more you chase after something, the further away from your own skin it drives you; it’s crossed his mind that whatever becomes of him, of his raw flesh and bones, it can’t be anything pretty. when he set on this path, he accepted whatever outcome resulted of it. doesn’t mean he won’t give anything less than a calculated performance, that he’s received the devil’s gesture and returned it in kind. 

how to tell gino this, and that, and every other thing that comes after? there, suspended in air, balconies away from the other offices, it feels almost as if they were standing at the edge of the world. kogami’s gaze drops momentarily, welcoming the vertigo. he feels the treacherous birth of a smile, mirthless, and whether it’s the will of the fall - primal desperation, or the absurdity of this, bitter flavor of vengeance, he isn’t sure. but he wanted to say it no matter what.

gino deserved that much.

‘ you’re asking too much of me. i can’t give this up, you’ve known it for a long time. but i can promise you this: when the time to take the leap comes, i won’t drag you down - you, or inspector tsunemori or masaoka; you name it. think me a fool, if that’ll give you peace. curse me all you want, i’ll accept it. ’ if this hunger will be the death of me, then so be it. @lustraveil

guys im too busy to make a promo but pls recommend me blogs to follow