![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
monthly word count - january
TOTAL: 4 700 words :////
POSTED: nnnnop
IN PROGRESS:
-bleach: pack fuckening (1 033 words)
-bleach: bloodsport (grimmichi in space with psychics) (2 063 words)
-bleach: suburban ot4 (1 346 words)
-naruto: cherry wine (258 words)
hrmph.
--
pack fuckening ABO
--
"I don't believe you want me to release you now," the man observes in his ear with his low veiled uncaring voice. Grimmjow twists like a snake in his hold, trying to unbalance him.
Zangetsu is strong, and with his reiatsu his muscle mass doesn't quite matter, but he's not bulky enough, not tall enough to just lift Grimmjow off the ground, fuck him standing with his legs dangling in the air, he'd lose his balance and that is just so fucking unfair right now. Edrad can fuck him standing, why -- shit, he loves it, hates it, too exposed, he's gonna start fighting for real in a minute if--
"Whatcha looking for, partner?" the white one buzzes, voice crackling quietly with hunger-threat. He has gone still and watchful, no longer content to mock, to rile up. Dangerous--
"A sufficiently vertical cliff to pin him against," the black one replies, and Grimmjow groans, foot glancing against a toehold just long enough to push back into his crotch.
He's not hard -- not hard enough yet, and the mental picture -- being kept pinned and writhing-wet against a cold-rough wall by a single hand in his hair as Zangetsu pumps his own dick to hardness with his other hand, businesslike -- he would explode. Humiliated need and, trapped, used like -- he can't, not even with Shawlong he can't but this is Ichigo's sword and Ichigo would never mean it.
He'd never say 'you're pitiful, you're just a beast, you're worth nothing', and this Zangetsu -- this Zangetsu who has him in the palm of his hand, asking thoughtfully if Grimmjow wants to hunt him down first --
"Shh. I'll give you what you need."
Grimmjow shudders. Oh; he's stopped fighting. Fuck. He gives a yank, heels sliding and not finding purchase on his pants.
But he doesn't move them anywhere. A heartbeat, two, and Grimmjow forces his hazy eyes open.
The white one is standing there, watching his fellow blade.
"Come, then," the black one invites gently, and the white one moves in, a slow pondering step and a faster, gliding one, and traps him there between the two of them.
--
bloodsport
--
"Ichi-nii--"
'Fuck off, Karin,' he swallowed back somehow, strangling fear spiking up past the heat of his rage. She was too close, five steps behind, well in his range, and he couldn't, couldn't, fuck.
"Who was that guy?"
"Aheh, some guy we met on a mission one time! He shot me through several relatively vital organs, very unpleasant. All past now that we're at peace, of course."
Askin was there too, warier, the solid flesh of him and his dense psychic field echoing just behind Karin's more vaporous presence. Ichigo closed his eyes tight, stopped behind an aileron where the ground crew would be less likely to see him, and didn't look at her, didn't look at Askin holding his little sister back.
"Le Varr, come on, he's not gonna--"
"Of course, of course, but give it five minutes, kiddo, yeah?"
"... Ugh. Okay." A moment of silence, bar the farther-off noises of the crew unloading the luggage, as they positioned themselves at the end of the aileron, like sentries, or like warnings for other people he liked less to keep away. "So... If it's all past, why did he get in your face?"
"Iiii would suspect it's because he might be an asshole," Askin said drolly, mouth pursed. "Just a hunch."
Ichigo let out a sharp little huff, and resented the man for making him laugh now, when he was still a hair's breadth away from growing all his monster parts.
--
suburban ot4
--
"I'm melting. Quick, tell me if I sweated huge disgusting stains in my pits."
Nelliel laughs at him from the little stool she's folded herself into. Undercooked Kurosaki looks up from their kid-sized table and the scribbles they're doing, and laughs because she's laughing. Princess peeks out from the kitchen and asks to be shown, laughing more sympathetically.
"You're fine, honey. Do you want a drink with ice cubes?"
"Uuuugh yes. I don't know how that guy does it, look at him, he's barely more glistening than usual."
Kurosaki pauses in the middle of an angry wave at Grimmjow's whole body, shakes himself, harrumphs, and turns his back, ears scarlet. Grimmjow stares at him, trying to keep a lid on the shark grin because the kid might ask questions.
"G-glistening," Nelliel chokes.
"Shut the frickityfrack up and draw a little pony."
Princess is silent, back turned to the room, but her shoulders shake up and down like she's having a seizure. Grimmjow goes to beach himself on the counter next to her so he can see her scrunched-up, tortured-with-hilarity face, grinning up encouragingly, and when she loses the battle and cracks up he cracks up right alongside her.
He makes sure to strike a pose, languid as he reclines, eyelids veiled and smirk at its toothiest. "Ahh fudge yes, I'm the shiniest in this seraglio."
"Good, we'll save on gold flakes," Nelliel shoots back. "Think the look would work better with a loincloth or a black speedo?"
"I hate you all and also Grimmjow is obviously a tiger fur skirt kind of guy."
Grimmjow bats his eyelashes. "I love the thought you've put into this, darling."
"You guys keep saying this is my harem but I'm starting to think that's only in the way a circus belongs to its clowns."
--
cherry wine
--
Izuna stared at him. Oh. Right. He hadn't been there yet.
"He wasn't monitoring us," Madara explained; "he found out because someone told him."
"... And was there, barely a half-hour later."
"Mm."
"So that person was either there when it happened, or just after. And told him. So, Senju-affiliated."
"I pointed it out," Madara said, thoughtful, "and then he made sure I knew if they had done it, which wasn't certain, it was not on his or Hashirama's orders, but of their own decision. As... 'poetic justice'."
Izuna's upper lip curled malevolently.
"So he thought you'd lie to me for him."
Madara snorted. "He thought he would be as much of an obstructing little pissant as you are to him, while I told him I'd kill him if he lied to my face? Who knows. I don't understand the way you two flirt."
Izuna spluttered, his dark look gone in favor of wide-eyed discomfiture. "I don't -- Niisan! What I don't understand is how you can take him admitting to your face that a Senju got you into this situation and just nod along! Someone from his clan got you into his bed, we can't just wave it off!"
POSTED: nnnnop
IN PROGRESS:
-bleach: pack fuckening (1 033 words)
-bleach: bloodsport (grimmichi in space with psychics) (2 063 words)
-bleach: suburban ot4 (1 346 words)
-naruto: cherry wine (258 words)
hrmph.
--
pack fuckening ABO
--
"I don't believe you want me to release you now," the man observes in his ear with his low veiled uncaring voice. Grimmjow twists like a snake in his hold, trying to unbalance him.
Zangetsu is strong, and with his reiatsu his muscle mass doesn't quite matter, but he's not bulky enough, not tall enough to just lift Grimmjow off the ground, fuck him standing with his legs dangling in the air, he'd lose his balance and that is just so fucking unfair right now. Edrad can fuck him standing, why -- shit, he loves it, hates it, too exposed, he's gonna start fighting for real in a minute if--
"Whatcha looking for, partner?" the white one buzzes, voice crackling quietly with hunger-threat. He has gone still and watchful, no longer content to mock, to rile up. Dangerous--
"A sufficiently vertical cliff to pin him against," the black one replies, and Grimmjow groans, foot glancing against a toehold just long enough to push back into his crotch.
He's not hard -- not hard enough yet, and the mental picture -- being kept pinned and writhing-wet against a cold-rough wall by a single hand in his hair as Zangetsu pumps his own dick to hardness with his other hand, businesslike -- he would explode. Humiliated need and, trapped, used like -- he can't, not even with Shawlong he can't but this is Ichigo's sword and Ichigo would never mean it.
He'd never say 'you're pitiful, you're just a beast, you're worth nothing', and this Zangetsu -- this Zangetsu who has him in the palm of his hand, asking thoughtfully if Grimmjow wants to hunt him down first --
"Shh. I'll give you what you need."
Grimmjow shudders. Oh; he's stopped fighting. Fuck. He gives a yank, heels sliding and not finding purchase on his pants.
But he doesn't move them anywhere. A heartbeat, two, and Grimmjow forces his hazy eyes open.
The white one is standing there, watching his fellow blade.
"Come, then," the black one invites gently, and the white one moves in, a slow pondering step and a faster, gliding one, and traps him there between the two of them.
--
bloodsport
--
"Ichi-nii--"
'Fuck off, Karin,' he swallowed back somehow, strangling fear spiking up past the heat of his rage. She was too close, five steps behind, well in his range, and he couldn't, couldn't, fuck.
"Who was that guy?"
"Aheh, some guy we met on a mission one time! He shot me through several relatively vital organs, very unpleasant. All past now that we're at peace, of course."
Askin was there too, warier, the solid flesh of him and his dense psychic field echoing just behind Karin's more vaporous presence. Ichigo closed his eyes tight, stopped behind an aileron where the ground crew would be less likely to see him, and didn't look at her, didn't look at Askin holding his little sister back.
"Le Varr, come on, he's not gonna--"
"Of course, of course, but give it five minutes, kiddo, yeah?"
"... Ugh. Okay." A moment of silence, bar the farther-off noises of the crew unloading the luggage, as they positioned themselves at the end of the aileron, like sentries, or like warnings for other people he liked less to keep away. "So... If it's all past, why did he get in your face?"
"Iiii would suspect it's because he might be an asshole," Askin said drolly, mouth pursed. "Just a hunch."
Ichigo let out a sharp little huff, and resented the man for making him laugh now, when he was still a hair's breadth away from growing all his monster parts.
--
suburban ot4
--
"I'm melting. Quick, tell me if I sweated huge disgusting stains in my pits."
Nelliel laughs at him from the little stool she's folded herself into. Undercooked Kurosaki looks up from their kid-sized table and the scribbles they're doing, and laughs because she's laughing. Princess peeks out from the kitchen and asks to be shown, laughing more sympathetically.
"You're fine, honey. Do you want a drink with ice cubes?"
"Uuuugh yes. I don't know how that guy does it, look at him, he's barely more glistening than usual."
Kurosaki pauses in the middle of an angry wave at Grimmjow's whole body, shakes himself, harrumphs, and turns his back, ears scarlet. Grimmjow stares at him, trying to keep a lid on the shark grin because the kid might ask questions.
"G-glistening," Nelliel chokes.
"Shut the frickityfrack up and draw a little pony."
Princess is silent, back turned to the room, but her shoulders shake up and down like she's having a seizure. Grimmjow goes to beach himself on the counter next to her so he can see her scrunched-up, tortured-with-hilarity face, grinning up encouragingly, and when she loses the battle and cracks up he cracks up right alongside her.
He makes sure to strike a pose, languid as he reclines, eyelids veiled and smirk at its toothiest. "Ahh fudge yes, I'm the shiniest in this seraglio."
"Good, we'll save on gold flakes," Nelliel shoots back. "Think the look would work better with a loincloth or a black speedo?"
"I hate you all and also Grimmjow is obviously a tiger fur skirt kind of guy."
Grimmjow bats his eyelashes. "I love the thought you've put into this, darling."
"You guys keep saying this is my harem but I'm starting to think that's only in the way a circus belongs to its clowns."
--
cherry wine
--
Izuna stared at him. Oh. Right. He hadn't been there yet.
"He wasn't monitoring us," Madara explained; "he found out because someone told him."
"... And was there, barely a half-hour later."
"Mm."
"So that person was either there when it happened, or just after. And told him. So, Senju-affiliated."
"I pointed it out," Madara said, thoughtful, "and then he made sure I knew if they had done it, which wasn't certain, it was not on his or Hashirama's orders, but of their own decision. As... 'poetic justice'."
Izuna's upper lip curled malevolently.
"So he thought you'd lie to me for him."
Madara snorted. "He thought he would be as much of an obstructing little pissant as you are to him, while I told him I'd kill him if he lied to my face? Who knows. I don't understand the way you two flirt."
Izuna spluttered, his dark look gone in favor of wide-eyed discomfiture. "I don't -- Niisan! What I don't understand is how you can take him admitting to your face that a Senju got you into this situation and just nod along! Someone from his clan got you into his bed, we can't just wave it off!"