Jesus, It has been a really long time. I hope you still enjoy reading these, and that my delivery has improved a bit since the last time I updated. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things so, bare with me.
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Tastes Like Salt
It’s that kind of heat that curls your spine, back arching to the point that you think it might break all together. Kiss my skin with tongue and teeth.
Sweat…
Put some iron on your tongue, blood welling under our nails.
The springs of the mattress groan painfully and we both go sprawling in a tangle of white sheets, but the love doesn’t stop. It doesn’t even miss a beat. And you laugh because I’m laughing. We’re both laughing and I can’t escape the fire in your gaze. “Baby,” you whisper, pressing sharp kisses to my jugular. “We’re already too far gone.”
Honey
They say a spoonful of honey is equal to the life’s work of twelve worker bees. When she tells him this, he scoffs. It’s just another inane fact to him, spilling past her lips, and she’s always eating something strange. But when she goes to bring her fingers to her mouth, he catches her wrist mid-way and brings them to his own. He holds her gaze and licks between every one of her fingers before she has a chance to steal all of the sticky-sweetness for herself.
Phantom Limb
The loss of their comrades means very little in the grand scheme of things. The same could be said for his reckless disregard for his own safety in the face of such powerful figures, especially that of their cold and calculating ruler. Obviously, he was a hollow through and through.
And yet, the sight of his unnecessary injuries, his missing arm, sent rage and something like anguish coiling low in her belly. He would have hated her for the wetness gathering in her eyes. Suddenly, her hand moved as if possessing a mind of its own and the sound of flesh striking flesh echoed through the hall.
Time seemed to stop all together and she went still, but her arm remained outstretched and his head forced sharply to the side in the aftermath. She shivered and the spell was broken. A savage snarl curled his lips and he rounded on her with eyes as sharp as the edge of his blade, his claws, his teeth, and his tongue. In that moment she felt he might kill her.
Instead, he spoke. It was the quietest she’d ever heard him be, but it set the hairs along the back of her neck on end. “If you ever do that again,” he said, venom dripping from every word. “I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”
That Boy’s A Blue-Eyed Devil (1950’s AU, Socs and Greasers)
His gaze sends shivers up the back of your spine and turns your knees to jelly, but you try to maintain your composure, balancing the platter in your hand like they taught you. He’s always there in that same booth, on the Thursday of every week, an hour into your afternoon shift, and you would find it creepy if it were anyone else, but it's not and you don’t.
And he’s always got that look in his eyes, all that blue in them, with his hair slicked back and the collar of his jacket turned up in that way that never ceases to make you melt. Suddenly you don’t feel so steady on your rollerblades, bare legs on display in your uniform skirt, and he grins sharply when you lock eyes because he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Lights
“Gri----mm!”
The girl’s voice carried from the livingroom to the back of the apartment even with her face pressed into the cushions of the couch where she’d decided to sprawl some hours ago. It was a pitiful cry and when it was met with silence, she repeated it again, and again, and again, fully aware of how annoying she sounded to the aforementioned person.
It didn’t take very long before her whining became too much to bare and she grinned into the cushions at the sound of a loud thump followed by a noise of exasperation mixed with rage.
"Don't. Fucking. Say it." Hissed a low voice from the back, seething from somewhere in the dark. The girl turned her head outward from the cushions so that she could be heard clearly and took a deep gulp of humid air before speaking plainly. "You forgot to pay the light bill again." Another groan issued from the back room and finally the girl opened her eyes to the darkness of the living area.
Battle Scars
It’s an ugly one, rough and jagged where it extends from his collarbone all the way down to where his navel should be. She sighs into the crook of his neck and drags her nails across it for what feels like the hundredth time, shivering in response to the dangerous rumble in his chest. His hand catches her wrist on its next run and he digs his nails into the skin, teeth locking onto the flesh of her throat.
Rubies Under Your Skin
He’ll bite you if you let him. Press your fingers to his lips, giggling like a child, and watch him bite down. He’ll make you bleed if you let him, but the fat droplets look a lot like jewels sewn into your skin and it’s much too pretty for you to ever tell him to stop.
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R&R
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Little Things
Humor.A collection of short drabbles centered mainly around Grimmjow Jeagerjaques and varying descriptions of original characters from various works. Open to suggestions (and possibly even to character submissions if I have time.) Beware of potential cr...
