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Entry tags:
Monthly word count - December
TOTAL: 5 467
POSTED: nope
IN PROGRESS
-Bleach: suburban OT4 (4 024 words)
-Naruto: cherry wine - madatobiizu ABO (1 438 words)
-Bleach : pack fuckening ABO (5 words =_= BUT! i plotted things out. why is getting grimmjow dicked down so complicated.)
qsdgnbsghhh.
--
Suburban OT4
--
"Oh, oh, I almost forgot, give me the little brush, I've got to touch up my eyebrows."
"Oh! You do your eyebrows too! That must make your eyes look so much greener!" Orihime peers at her face as Nelliel cautiously applies brush to brow, leaning close. "They're already somewhat green--"
"Green-gray-hazel-whatever," Nelliel replies, and then -- she can't help it, she smirks. "Usually I also dye downstairs but considering I can't see it right now--"
"Nel-chan!" Orihime splutters, cheeks blooming a beautiful coral pink.
Nelliel doesn't know how she does it, how she looks so adorable -- so ravishable -- the more flustered she is, but... "--I'm not gonna ask you to dive down and do it for me," Nel finishes, just for the pleasure of seeing her lower lip jut out with a tremble in pouty, embarrassed protest.
--
Ichigo has had a very long day at school. His kids were demons, he had to supervise two after-class clubs unexpectedly, and the director made unsatisfied little hums every other sentence during their noon meeting. He has had a long day, he is sweaty, he is grumpy, and he is very glad that Orihime and Nel have decided to take Kazui to the park, because it means nobody will barge in when he sets up camp under the shower and simmers down for a half-hour or so.
Okay, maybe just ten minutes, because the water pipes situation is still shit and the leaks and the guests have already made their bill skyrocket. But fuck it. It's that or smoking a joint, and he hasn't had access to that stuff since college, or whenever the last time Rukia visited was.
He gets rid of his shoes, his jacket, his socks, his button-up shirt, and marches up to the bathroom in shorts and a tanktop, towel at the ready.
He yanks open the door to find a naked man sitting on a stool, stained towel draped over his shoulders and falling down his back so that Ichigo only sees, oh, maybe an inch and a half of ass crack in between the bottom of the towel and the stool. The gluey-blue, slick mess on his bowed head and the shoulders-waist ratio indicate that this is Grimmjow and not a random stranger come to indecently expose himself to Ichigo's faucets, so he doesn't screech somehow.
The way Grimmjow curls forwards, back rounded under the towel, head bowed--
"What the hell are you doing?"
Grimmjow doesn't even bother to straighten up, just sneaks him a glance from the very corner of his eye over his toweled shoulder.
"What, did you think my pubes were blue naturally?"
Ichigo might, perhaps, screech a little bit. Or choke. Or something. He's sure it doesn't warrant that fucking look. "I never saw your pubes! How the hell should I know?!"
"Oh right," the man muses, finally deigning to tilt his head back, neck arched, to look at him with perfect unconcern. His eyebrows are glued together by dye too, and he should look ridiculous, but his lack of concern is so total that he actually-- "You wanna?"
Ichigo slams the door so hard when he storms out of the bathroom that it bounces off and opens wide again, so he has the great fortune of being able to hear, before he locks himself away inside his room, that fucking asshole Grimmjow go "Hehehe" to himself like a smug tool.
--
Naruto - Cherry Wine - ABO
--
"Izuna?"
"When I mentioned the two attacks didn't fit together," Izuna said, staring down at the rather simple knot he was fiddling with.
"Yes?"
"He implied he didn't understand why I thought so."
"Hm?"
"He was lying." Izuna looked up to meet his eyes, red and whirling; tugged him into a quick flash of a genjutsu, perfect memory of every twitch and tell, highlighted with echoes and echoes of older, similar memories. "And nervous about it."
"...Ah."
Madara's pleasant mood started to sink. Their omega was gone now, too far to hunt down and demand answers out of.
"He knows more than he shared," Izuna concluded, tssking in annoyance. "Not like he did it, but--"
"Knows who did -- suspects who did, and won't share that."
Madara scowled. The token was tied securely and didn't fall after an annoyed tug; he took in a deep breath of that scent, reminding himself of... pleasure, touching, so much skin-to-skin contact. It wasn't like he'd forgotten Tobirama was a Senju, with different allegiances. He didn't owe them the truth in full.
Madara could want to fuck him and not trust him.
"Let's go," he ordered, straightening his back, letting a scowl settle on his face. Izuna fell into step with him, and they went.
POSTED: nope
IN PROGRESS
-Bleach: suburban OT4 (4 024 words)
-Naruto: cherry wine - madatobiizu ABO (1 438 words)
-Bleach : pack fuckening ABO (5 words =_= BUT! i plotted things out. why is getting grimmjow dicked down so complicated.)
qsdgnbsghhh.
--
Suburban OT4
--
"Oh, oh, I almost forgot, give me the little brush, I've got to touch up my eyebrows."
"Oh! You do your eyebrows too! That must make your eyes look so much greener!" Orihime peers at her face as Nelliel cautiously applies brush to brow, leaning close. "They're already somewhat green--"
"Green-gray-hazel-whatever," Nelliel replies, and then -- she can't help it, she smirks. "Usually I also dye downstairs but considering I can't see it right now--"
"Nel-chan!" Orihime splutters, cheeks blooming a beautiful coral pink.
Nelliel doesn't know how she does it, how she looks so adorable -- so ravishable -- the more flustered she is, but... "--I'm not gonna ask you to dive down and do it for me," Nel finishes, just for the pleasure of seeing her lower lip jut out with a tremble in pouty, embarrassed protest.
--
Ichigo has had a very long day at school. His kids were demons, he had to supervise two after-class clubs unexpectedly, and the director made unsatisfied little hums every other sentence during their noon meeting. He has had a long day, he is sweaty, he is grumpy, and he is very glad that Orihime and Nel have decided to take Kazui to the park, because it means nobody will barge in when he sets up camp under the shower and simmers down for a half-hour or so.
Okay, maybe just ten minutes, because the water pipes situation is still shit and the leaks and the guests have already made their bill skyrocket. But fuck it. It's that or smoking a joint, and he hasn't had access to that stuff since college, or whenever the last time Rukia visited was.
He gets rid of his shoes, his jacket, his socks, his button-up shirt, and marches up to the bathroom in shorts and a tanktop, towel at the ready.
He yanks open the door to find a naked man sitting on a stool, stained towel draped over his shoulders and falling down his back so that Ichigo only sees, oh, maybe an inch and a half of ass crack in between the bottom of the towel and the stool. The gluey-blue, slick mess on his bowed head and the shoulders-waist ratio indicate that this is Grimmjow and not a random stranger come to indecently expose himself to Ichigo's faucets, so he doesn't screech somehow.
The way Grimmjow curls forwards, back rounded under the towel, head bowed--
"What the hell are you doing?"
Grimmjow doesn't even bother to straighten up, just sneaks him a glance from the very corner of his eye over his toweled shoulder.
"What, did you think my pubes were blue naturally?"
Ichigo might, perhaps, screech a little bit. Or choke. Or something. He's sure it doesn't warrant that fucking look. "I never saw your pubes! How the hell should I know?!"
"Oh right," the man muses, finally deigning to tilt his head back, neck arched, to look at him with perfect unconcern. His eyebrows are glued together by dye too, and he should look ridiculous, but his lack of concern is so total that he actually-- "You wanna?"
Ichigo slams the door so hard when he storms out of the bathroom that it bounces off and opens wide again, so he has the great fortune of being able to hear, before he locks himself away inside his room, that fucking asshole Grimmjow go "Hehehe" to himself like a smug tool.
--
Naruto - Cherry Wine - ABO
--
"Izuna?"
"When I mentioned the two attacks didn't fit together," Izuna said, staring down at the rather simple knot he was fiddling with.
"Yes?"
"He implied he didn't understand why I thought so."
"Hm?"
"He was lying." Izuna looked up to meet his eyes, red and whirling; tugged him into a quick flash of a genjutsu, perfect memory of every twitch and tell, highlighted with echoes and echoes of older, similar memories. "And nervous about it."
"...Ah."
Madara's pleasant mood started to sink. Their omega was gone now, too far to hunt down and demand answers out of.
"He knows more than he shared," Izuna concluded, tssking in annoyance. "Not like he did it, but--"
"Knows who did -- suspects who did, and won't share that."
Madara scowled. The token was tied securely and didn't fall after an annoyed tug; he took in a deep breath of that scent, reminding himself of... pleasure, touching, so much skin-to-skin contact. It wasn't like he'd forgotten Tobirama was a Senju, with different allegiances. He didn't owe them the truth in full.
Madara could want to fuck him and not trust him.
"Let's go," he ordered, straightening his back, letting a scowl settle on his face. Izuna fell into step with him, and they went.