Tahojiki - Ara !

"so how soon will kitty learn to properly wear pants and not scare my clients and kids with the unsightly sights, mm?" "fuck offff, old man!!" "don't start spitting everywhere now"

How to talk to short people💙♀️

New Nejire Hado sketch by Kohei Horikoshi

Nejire Hado-senpai

💗

yall dont understand how often i think about mirio doing the trick that tamaki taught him when they were little 😭😭😭😭 they literally mean the whole entire world to me im so obsessed wth them 😭😭😭😭😭

I've been very sick this week but I finally recovered and did his late birthday drawing!! (sorry TT) but I really wanted to do at least something for him!!!!!!

Tamaki all tiny and huggable

grimmjow x f!reader - roommates to lovers, established boundary stomping, suggestive flirting. repost from my old blog. wc 974

“Stop using my mug!”

Your voice reverberates down the hallway to where your housemate showers with the door wide open, steam filling the hallway. Grimmjow pretends he can’t hear you as he happily squeezes your shampoo into his palm, fingers massaging it though his blue hair. The smell is comforting, subtly floral, and it reminds him of you. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

“Did you hear me?” You shout through the open door, voice making him jump slightly. You can only tell his reaction by the slight rustle of the curtain and a surprised gasp just loud enough to hear over the steady pounding of water coming from the showerhead.

Grimmjow takes a breath, continuing to scrub at his strands using his fingertips and watching the foam fall down his chest. A deep sniff is the next thing he hears, a sigh accompanying the sound. “Stop using my shampoo!”

Standing in the hallway you can hear him grumble to himself but you cannot make out the words and you groan, stomping off to the kitchen to rinse out your mug that is still half full of whatever concoction Grimmjow decided to make out of various creamers, sugars, and coffee he found in your kitchen this morning. Sticky and syrupy mess plops into the kitchen sink and you gag, perplexed how the roughest man you’ve ever met can drink something so full of sugar it’s barely identifiable.

“Listen,” you hear from behind you and you roll your eyes involuntarily knowing exactly who the voice belongs to. You can also hear the telltale drips of water cascading down to the floor knowing you’ll have big wet footprints to mop up later.

As you turn to face Grimmjow, you’re caged in against the sink between his arms and he leans slightly against your back. The intimacy should make you bristle but it’s part of whatever exists between the four walls of this apartment while the two of you are in it. It’s more than friendship, that’s all you know.

Casting a glance over your shoulder, you see his wet hair dripping down his bare chest and face, your favorite towel draped around his waist snugly just as you showed him. You scoff, your chin shifting just enough to put him in your line of sight and your eyes flicking up to meet his

“Really?”

He smirks and you try to keep your defenses sound, unwilling to give into him. You feel him place his damp chin against your shoulder and you fight the urge to shrug him off as you see either of his hands brace themselves on the edge of the sink. The closeness is alarming but familiar and you glance down into the sink where his sugary sludge sits, preparing to open your mouth and ask him what the fuck was in that cup, before you hear his voice so close to your ear it makes you shiver.

“Remember what you told me when I first started staying here?”

You recall all too well what you told him with a bright smile when he was still crashing on your couch and not in your bed coiled around you every night.

“What’s mine is yours,” the two of you say in unison. His arms move closer to your body, his weight pressing you against the lip of the sink. You reach around his hands and back into the basin, water running and splashing against the ceramic bottom of your mug.

“I kind of assumed the stuff with my name or initials on it wouldn’t apply to that, though.”

Grimmjow chuckles, plucking the mug out of your hands and putting it down. You feel him nuzzle against the side of your neck and your already thin resistance snaps. Pressing your back into him, his arms naturally come up to rest around your waist. You try to ignore the sick feeling you get at your now dampened clothing.

“You’ve never told me what’s off limits,” he reminds and you nod. He’s right and arguing is futile with the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. Finally, you shrug him off and wrinkle your nose at the wet patch on the shoulder of your t-shirt and you turn to face him. He brushes his still wet hair off of his face and you avert your gaze, trying not to be caught staring at his near perfect form.

“So until then,” he grins and shrugs and you can only imagine what’s coming out of his mouth next. “It’s all for me.”

You giggle and shrug, balling the bottom of your t-shirt between your fists as he readjusts the towel (the one with your name embroidered on it, a gift from your friend) around his hips. Feeling your face grow hot, you look away and turn the water back on, preparing to finish the dishes.

“Go dry off before you get more water on the floor.”

He shrugs and you cringe at the sound of his wet feet slapping against the floor but some things simply aren’t worth the argument you reason. As you turn back toward your task, you hear the footsteps stop near the hallway and you look up, almost suspicious at how fondly the feral man turned flower scented shampoo user looks at you.

“Hey,” he says and you raise your brows in response. “Thanks.”

You nod and smile, gnawing on your lower lip as he turns to head down the hallway, giving you a near perfect view of his back. Ogling silently, you laugh at yourself and the ludicrous situation you’ve found.

You then make a mental note to get him a mug with his initial to match yours.

Hollow Heartstrings

Summary: Grimmjow misses you crazy, and he's uncertain about how to cope with these feelings... or the unexpected desires you've ignited within him.

A/N: So, remember the poll about which character you wanted to read smut from? Well, Grimmjow won! And no, I didn't forget, I was just really busy, but today is the day I finally deliver! Yei! Hope you like it!

WARNINGS: NSFW / bruising/marking / generally light and not as explicit. Grimmjow can't do soft

AO3

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Grimmjow had come to care. Although he was unable to decide if what he disliked the most was that fact, or that he had flinched back when you tried to caress his bone mask, as if a single touch of yours could ruin him. It was beyond ridiculous, something Grimmjow hated to lose his temper about, yet here he was, butchering a seemingly powerful Arrancar to vent his frustration.

The fight ended just as he was starting to enjoy it. Blood trickled down the side of his pectoral, staining what was left of his torn clothes. Grimmjow snorted as he gazed at the lifeless body of the beast he had pulverized without even using his sword. Gradually, the monstrous panther claws on his hands and feet returned to their normal state.

This had been his routine for quite a while now, eating and killing to avoid thinking. There was just one tiny problem: when the ecstasy of battle faded, his mind couldn't help but drift back to you, and that dreadful moment when he decided to let you impossibly close to him. How wrong it was, how good it felt. 

And so he sought the next fight, and the next one, and the next one, expecting— if not hoping raw flesh to wash such cravings off. However, and much to his dismay, Grimmjow found that no amount of bloodshed could wash away the lingering bites that still burned on him, making his mind spin around the warmth of your skin, the beat of your heart, your nails digging into his back.

Shit. Why wasn’t he strong enough to resist it? Ah, fuck it. He didn’t need to, you’ll have to be strong enough to take it. You started it, didn’t you? Now you’ll deal with it.

- .*.*.*.

He entered through your window, his eyes scanning the unusual darkness in your room. Your scent permeated the air, filling his nostrils, causing a twisted sensation of excitement to wash over him. His instincts tore at his back in a shudder. He shouldn't feel this way in territory that wasn't his own, and yet...

"Grimmjow?" Your voice sounded weak, trembling. "What are you doing here?"

Were you sick? He took a deep breath. Didn’t smell like you were.

You let out a shaky breath he recognized in a heartbeat. Grimmjow did his best to restrain the ironclad urge to seek out whatever was making you cry and obliterate it down to the very last cell.

"What's wrong with you?" 

"I had a terrible week. My boss is killing me, my back is killing me, and— I thought you didn’t wanna come around anymore.”

He frowned as a tense sensation churned within his gut. He had been avoiding you, and you had noticed. Grimmjow hoped you wouldn't be astute enough to deduce the reasons behind his evasive actions.

“Why not?” 

Grimmjow’s voice was strong as ever, even when he spoke casually.

“I thought you just didn’t want to after what we did.” you hesitated. He could make out in the dark your indecision to continue.  “I thought maybe it was a mistake. We won’t do it again.”

He frowned, ignoring how everything in his body throbbed in aversion at what you say. In a heartbeat, he flipped you over, positioning himself above you.

“You don’t get to decide for me.”

It caught you off guard, but as you absorbed the profound craving within his gaze, it became evident Grimmjow had been struggling to comprehend his emotions and his enjoyment of them. Hollows are not made for feelings. They aren’t supposed to yearn. Yet, he stood before you, conveying through every fiber of his being that he desired it.

Your lips curled in a soft smile. “You’re right. So, do I take it as you missed me?”

“Ha! You wish. Ya still owe me a couple's favors, y'know? I'm just making' sure ya don't kick the bucket 'fore ya pay up." 

God, how you loved that smirk. 

“Then I’ll be sure to pay,” you said softly, running your fingers gently along the edge of his jaw. Grimmjow repressed a shiver. His gaze fell to your lips just before he leaned in, trapping your mouth. He kissed you with a roughness that was undeniably his own. You sighed against his lips when he deepened it. 

Grimmjow breathed heavily against you, enjoying the flickers bubbling in his blood as you traced his sides with your hands. Your nails delicately outlined his bone mask. His instincts flitted like one of those red alarm-lights in the human world, warning him: too close, too exhilarating, too good. Grimmjow growled against your lips, his teeth piercing them as he held back a moan. The taste of blood eased him.

Your fingers entwined in his hair as he pressed your body against his, suppressing any space between you. His palms eagerly roamed your torso, caressing and squeezing. His kiss was deep, messy, and still a bit inexpert. However, he managed to make it good. You pulled apart gasping for some air. Grimmjow eyed you from above. There was a mix of slyness, desire, and a half-smile that stole your breath away. 

The veins on his hands vaulted on his skin as he exerted force through the fabric of your clothes. He tore them. You didn’t care for anything that wasn’t bringing him closer. You pulled at his clothes and in one breath, Grimmjow took them off too. 

You both let out a groan as you felt skin against skin. Grimmjow stopped short, his breathing coming down to a slight vibration that sounded like a large cat purring. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders tense.

You rested your forehead against his, silently granting him space to adjust. The cold emanating from the hole in his belly seemed to suck icy air into it, it was the only way you could think of to describe it as you felt it against your skin.

“It’s alright,” you eased.

“Shut up, I know. I can take it,” he gasped. 

His hot breath close to your ear, added to the shake of his voice gave you goosebumps. You nibbled at his ear. Grimmjow cursed under his breath. He bit your shoulder before pushing the back of your tights to settle between your legs. 

His hot breath close to your ear, summed with the shake of his voice, gave you goosebumps. You nibbled at his ear. Grimmjow cursed under his breath. He bit your shoulder before pushing the back of your tights to settle between your legs. 

This was the first time Grimmjow had taken the initiative, and although it was a bit messy and desperate, you couldn't help but feel the warm sensation spreading inside your chest. As inhumane as he was, Grimmjow had come to enjoy this kind of intimacy with you. 

You spread your folds for him and sighed as he slid in. He couldn't suppress the deep groan that mixed with a purr. 

“Shit,” he whined. 

You knew exactly how much self-respect he was relinquishing for this, as his immediate reaction was to bury his face in the crook of your neck before holding you closer.

There was no space left between your bodies, and the only audible sound aside from the rain pouring on the window was Grimmjow's hitched breath. He struggled to resist simply discarding rational thinking and surrendering to the delicious fire spreading through his veins. He lost the fight as soon you started caressing the edges of his hollow hole from his back. 

Grimmjow thrust in with a loud grunt. You whimpered at the feeling of him reaching deep inside you. A tipsy smile was drawn on your face just when he picked up a pace, rough and desperate. Holding you so tight, you may've thought letting go could end him, and Grimmjow didn’t give two damns about looking weak anymore. 

It was more than perfect: sharing moans with him, his warm skin against your own, his very self moving within you, enjoying it without holding back. 

“Fuck I love it,” you breathed. “You’re fucking hot.”

Grimmjow eyed you then, wearing the darkest expression you've ever seen on him. The intensity of his gaze seemed to convey: "I own you. You're mine. You won't leave. I won’t let you. You're mine. Mine. Mine. Mine—"

He bit your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You hissed. His thrust became erratic as he quickened his pace. Grimmjow's breath grew hastier by the second, and at this point, he didn't care for the sound of his moans. He was frantic, eager for release, unaware of the force he was placing on his grip on your thighs.

You opened your legs wider, pushing him further against you so that your front rubbed against his lower belly. It was enough to tie the knot, and you came loud and long, digging your nails on his shoulder and down on his hip.

The pulsations inside you triggered his peak. His teeth dug into the flesh of your shoulder so hard it burned. A warm liquid spreading inside you eased the pain. When the bolts of pleasure finally smothered to a wonderful feeling of after-bliss, Grimmjow replaced his fangs with his lips as he pressed them onto your bruised skin, surprisingly soft.

“I’m glad you came back.” you managed after catching your breath.

Grimmjow huffed, “I never left.”

It sure as hell wasn't his intention, but that was one of the sweetest things he told you since you met.