#phoenix companion

[cardboard-crack]

[crazy-valley]

GAAASP I KNOW WHAT I CAN DO

Crosses the fandom line and gives Lighter Phoenix a companion cube

"Very nice cube!"

[wyn0rrific]

Is Vitus friends with anyone from another legion?

i mean, he COULD be theoretically (written permission for yall to have him interact with ur blorbies)

i haven't really considered including other interactions ngl as vitus initially was just a self insert (i've mentioned what legions he almost was in but another option was creating a remembrancer)

its kinda why the mass (/j) amount of ppl who enjoy him overwhelms me a bit (lovingly btw im just not used to ppl enjoying something i make)

i should also point out (if anyone was wondering) that vitus is mainly around in 30k, whereas my other characters are from 40k/current universe. the only ones who interact with each other are cain and percival

[desalvar]

alright, i'll write about it at length eventually, but the type of human nik originally was are actually a neat little group of guys. called 'shadows' or 'hosts' (most often not called much of anything really) they're what happens when once in a very rare while a mundane human is born metaphysically incomplete, with their soul not fully formed. they're perfectly regular people, no extra abilities or special heritage (and if they were supposed to have any, they usually end up not having it), with zero clues about what they are besides some inherent restlessness, aimlessness and an odd sort of spiritual dissatisfaction. they don't stay clueless for long, though, usually. when there's a void where part of your soul should be, it kind of behaves differently.

one thing they unwittingly do is absorb metaphysical energy aimed at them like a sponge, making them natural conduits for the magical and spiritual, and extremely sensitive to both. it does also neatly soften the blow of any magic attacks, curses and, most importantly, possessions - which they can handle better than most, but suffer more of than the mundane human would. the preternatural just can't seem to leave them alone. unfortunately, they end up being pretty convenient for otherworldly creatures or metaphysical forces that be in need of a physical form to operate or speak through.

a lot of them are extremely talented mediums and find their calling in allowing the spiritual to speak through them. others find a source of external power or magic to borrow from, but those can only be granted by surrogacy, not taken. some bond with supernatural beings they gladly pay host to, like a live-in patron of sorts. few aren't quite so lucky and end up as 'true vessels', fully taken over by greater spirits and stripped of their autonomy. for a time, while he was still a 'host', nikodemus' fate was almost sealed as a true vessel, only he ended up eating his 'parasite'. which is a neat way to discover what you are and also how you can use it to your advantage, in the same breath (and gain some new abilities through virtue of digestion).

anyway, i just think they're neat.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Choose a favorite character whose name starts with "A"!

If you have any questions on these characters, please feel free to ask!

And if you think of someone who's not listed here that you would like to see, feel free to add a name to the comments/reblogs!

[phoenixyfriend]

Would have included Jack, but there are only ten options so... yeah. Jack falls into the same grouping as River, where "occupation at first meeting" is a bit hard to define and plenty of time travel happened solo so his companion status gets argued (also, I think his occupation was conman when they met).

Also had to conflate the medical duo (trainee doctor Martha and nurse Rory) in order to fit Graham in, though. Almost didn't include him, actually, but decided that splicing two options together made more sense than leaving him out.

[ladyofvoss]

"And from the ashes, Ala Mhigo shall rise again"

[divinationdrawings]

Viridian Phoenix - Baby Edition

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

*slides across a piano speaking into a corded microphone* if Capcom weren't such cowards, we'd get a dramatic post-7-year-gap reunion between Phoenix and Iris where, after Iris tells him that she thought the reason he hadn't come to see her in so long was because he wanted her out of his life, Phoenix tells her no and admits that the real reason was because he was ashamed of the person he had become (for all the lying and the scheming and the forgery, you get it), and he didn't want her to see him like that, and Iris looks at him and all the people around him and how he's looked after them and Trucy, and to an extent Pearly, after all this time, in spite of everything, and she touches his face and says that that was silly of him because she has always known that he is good and kind and strong and that he is, and has always been, the person she thought he was, and do you get it!!! do you get it!!!! thank you *I get off the piano and my legs get tangled in the cord and I fall over and cry*

[therisingphoenixden]

Oofies. I haven't played a dhampir in Wrath of the Righteous before, and to hear all my companions except Daeran insult undeath and the undead in front of a half-undead had me cackling.

The question is, do I want to at least unlock the Lich path before the assault on Drezen even if I don't take it?

[twinhearted]

i don't think i've ever seen anyone invent an entirely new incarnation of the doctor and try to write a fake season around them. so i'm trying to do that, perhaps against my better judgment

[weirdratblogs]

I’m watching a playthrough of the first trilogy for Ace Attorney, all because the amazing Jumpchain fic Companion Chronicles is visiting it for an intermission, and anything Companion Chronicles visits, I have to check out.

So... does Edgeworth stop being such a shitty, condescending person?

Like, he uses really underhanded methods - as befitting a lawyer - and shit talks phoenix regularly, and it’s kinda pissing me off?

[hancocksbitch]

I was appearantly not done with Mad World, the magic story-fairies visited me with some inspiration for a couple of more chapters. One of them added today. 😊

There's still nuclear explosions, beer and lovemaking, now with an extra serving of sense of community, tender love and care and peeps daring to be emotionally available. Oh my!

[lizardho]

I think the worst day I had as a missionary is hard to pin down – for comedy bad day stories, I like to talk about my cute companion who ripped three pairs of pants in one day because his ass was so fat. Literally, two in the morning, we missed 3 appointments in the afternoon because people kept cancelling on us, and we ended up far away from home visiting “Less Actives” in the downtown area. We find a family who says we can come in once their dad get home, and we sit down to wait for the dad to get in and RIIIPPP goes the third pair of slacks this man wore that day. I hand him my suit jacket and he wraps it around his waist like a bashful adolescent who just started his period at an inconvenient time. We catch a ride home on a bus and ended up home an hour early. He cried for like 30 minutes while stitching up his pants, and I got to rest a lot more than expected that day. We ordered a 4-cheese pizza and went to bed early that night, having walked probably 5-6 miles that day knocking doors and getting turned away.

Another bad day was the day the Mexico City Temple was re-opening. It was a funny experience for me because the evening before I was contacted by the Mission President and told that an elder in our district had confessed some serious sins to him and that those sins precluded him from going to the temple. The MP told me that nobody in this elder’s ward could get time off to babysit him so he was begging one of us – I didn’t want to go to the temple, it was a crappy way to spend a P-Day in my opinion, so I told the MP I’d do it. I spent the day eating popsicles and napping with an elder who, in between Bolis and naps, would shakily and tearfully confess that no fewer than half of his companions had secret phones they used to watch porn, hire prostitutes, and buy drugs. This was bewildering to me since I had been Trying So Hard my whole mission and had always felt inadequate, and these elders who were doing better than me and more respected than me were somehow out here fucking, doing drugs, and jorkin’ it.

I was actually in a “Punishment Area” at the time because in my last area one of my life-threateningly attractive companions had gone into the homes of widows to repair their electrical wirings (he was a trained electrician prior to going on a mission.) Being alone in the home of an 80-year-old widow with failing lights was “against the rules” to the extent that me mandaron a la goma, and some handful of guys I’d been told to view as role models were out here breaking actual laws and shit. Of course, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was in this area because of the Deep Evil that Lay Within My Heart (wanting to kiss Elder Electrician on his stupid himbo lips) but my MP could not have known that, just like he didn’t know that the guys he was making Zone Leaders were getting their dicks sucked and snorting cocaine. That honestly felt outrageous to me.

I feel like the stereotypical “worst day” of a mission is the last day – they take you to the airport in a big van, all melancholy and nostalgic. We sang on our drive to the airport – elders and sisters tearfully sang or hummed hymns together. I was deadpan the whole time, it was such a relief to be going home. For me the worst part of the day was the relief – the release of pressure. The pressure to perform, to be “on,” to be at your best, is omnipresent for elders. I was the only person flying to Phoenix, so for the first time in two years I felt a release from that pressure. Nobody was scrutinizing me, I no longer felt that every thought, action, and feeling was being evaluated and judged as a sign of my true character. It was hard to realize, a the pressure let up, that I had been holding all that weight for two years without knowing when it had started. I remember getting confused in Customs and needing someone who spoke Spanish to talk to me because I kept forgetting words in English. I remember getting home and my family waiting for me and feeling like it was all finally done, finally over, I could finally breath. It didn’t feel bad, but it did feel heavy. And it definitely was not the worst day of my mission.

The actual worst day of my mission, though, was about 5 months in. At the 6-month mark I was expected to make a long trip down to an area of town near La Basilica de Guadalupe to submit my visa paperwork, and the mission office had sent me an extra $500 MX to use for transportation costs. When I withdrew the money they had sent for the month, I noticed it was higher than expected. My companion, a senior companion and district leader, had the cell phone. He was talking to another elder while he waited for me to withdraw my monthly deposit. I approached and asked if I could use the cell phone to call the mission office, as I had questions. He said “no,” and ignored me. I waited until the conversation ended and asked again, and again, angrily, he said, “No.” I said “Elder, relax, I just need to call the mission office to see why they sent me more this month than usual.” His face turned red as he realized other elders were watching the exchange occur. He handed me the phone, I called and was told the money was for transportation costs, and laughingly returned the phone to my companion. He took it, told the other elders he needed to tie his shoe but they could head on over to the District Meeting, and waited until they were out of eyesight. Once that was done, he grabbed me hard by the wrist, dragged me into a hidden corner out of earshot from others, and said, “If you ever disrespect me or my authority again I swear to God I will kill you.”

I was actually shocked. This guy had spent the last month and a half being SUPER nice to me, so I thought he was kidding and I was just confused. I laughed and said “Haha, yeah, your authority over the cell phone is sacred,” and tried to walk away but he didn’t let go of my wrist. He pulled me back and said “I will literally slit your throat if you ever talk to me like that again. As senior companion my authority over YOU is sacred, and I will not let God be mocked by you.”

I realized that he was serious. Like, actually threatening-my-life serious. I could see it in his eyes, I could feel it in the way he squeezed tighter on my wrist. In actuality, the idea seems laughable now. The guy was absolutely chickenshit. He cried if his shits were too hard, he couldn’t end a human life, but I still didn’t let myself fall asleep first for the rest of our time together. And I still hid the two knives we had in a different area while he was showering the next morning.

If I’m being honest though, even that wasn’t the worst day of my mission. That was bad, and each subsequent time he told me he was going to cut my throat for minor infractions against his God-Given Authority Over Me (like not wearing a belt for morning scripture study, or not taking the path he thought was best to get to a lesson) was a bad day. Every P-Day where he read my emails over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t telling my parents about how he was treating me, every day he told me that the ward members would never believe me over him, every day he put me down in front of other elders and they laughed in agreement, every day he was in a bad mood and took it out on me was a bad day. But the worst day was the day I told the mission president about it. I told him about the threats to my life, his temper, his physical abuse, hiss manipulation and rule-breaking, and the mission president told me “The time to tell me this was 6 months ago. The time to forgive him and focus on your own failings is now.”

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as confused or betrayed as I did then. Like, man oh man, that was a rough thing to hear, but as the day went on I kept feeling more and more confused and scared – had I misinterpreted everything? Had I miscommunicated something in telling the story? Had I not been objective enough in recounting the threats against my life? Was it true that a senior companion actually had the authority to hurt me if I went against his authority? Was I wrong the whole time? I had no idea, to be honest, but it was bewildering.

Knowing now what I wish I had known then, I would have done things differently. But in the moment, on a mission, knowing that my biggest reason for going on a mission was the hope that the Spirit of God, which hymns told me burns like fire, would burn the faggot out of my heart. I think I felt like I deserved it. Like somehow that elder knew the evil I was hiding and felt compelled by God’s power to hurt me. I think that’s what made it so hard to defend myself in the moment – I did not have that problem with other elders. The companion who told me we were gonna wrestle to settle an argument lost three consecutive matches and pouted about it for like a week. The elder who threatened to punch me for making a joke at his expense got knocked on his ass just for raising his fist. But this elder got into my head first, and that made it hard to fight against it. Instead of fighting against it, I just silently lived with actual, verifiable, diagnosed, by-the-book, DSM-5-TR Posttraumatic Stress Disorder because I thought I deserved it. It took consistent supervision of my clinical work revealing countertransference with Male LDS clients (I consistently discussed addressing shame in a client’s presentation where no shame or discomfort had been reported), an awkward conversation with @inbabylontheywept after an even more awkward dinner with a cousin who vaguely reminds me of that companion, and a bad acid trip where I had visceral flashbacks to my mission, before I was able to realize that I was living with a pain that was as abnormal as it was unnecessary.

Even once I realized it, even once I got help, it was hard. I remember telling jokes about what happened to my therapist and seeing her jaw just…drop. She said she didn’t know it had been that dangerous for me. The session ended and he sent me the PCL-5 (a good, evidence-based, highly face-valid measure for PTSD) and some other measure for dissociative symptoms and I was like “Girl, I just took this class, I know what you’re trying to measure and this ain’t it.” I reported my symptoms accurately and was fully prepped to confront her the next session. She showed me my scores and the norms used, and I was like “Oh fuck, this looks really bad on paper,” and she was like “Yeah, I can’t imagine living like this” and I just sobbed for most of that session. We ended up doing 9 months of TF-CBT and ACT (largely because I am a terrible and uncooperative patient, realistically I think I could have been done in like 5-6 months if I wasn’t so stubborn) before I was discharged from treatment successfully.

The thing that was so weird about starting therapy for PTSD was that it made things feel worse for a while. I started taking edibles a lot more. I started behaving differently around family members and Mormons. I started being outright hostile to elders I could see. It took about 3 months before I could see the missionaries and not have an actual fight-or-flight response to their presence. I think the way I had made it a far as I did without getting treatment was by repressing the thoughts, feelings, and memories that made it all hurt, and a soon as I let them just be there it was like all the confusing aching hurt came back. The first few months of therapy were just spent expanding the amount of time I could feel that hurt before turning to other means (like dissociation, cannabis, repression, etc.) so I could actually address the experiences without crashing the rest of the day. It was hard. I know I ended several sessions sweating a LOT from the exertion it took to just let the feelings happen. By 6 months, however, I could go into a church building without blacking out from panic. By 9 months I could sit in the same room as elders without sweating and shaking like a chihuahua on Adderall. 3 months after therapy and me and my supervisors noticed that my work with Mormon men had improved substantially. 6 months after therapy and I was able to begin writing anonymous stories online. Now, about two years after completing therapy, I feel like I can talk about it without needing the cloak of anonymity, and that is empowering.

Again, I am not sure why I’m typing these stories out – they’re not fun to write, I don’t love that my family can find these posts, but I guess I just like to remind myself and others that it can always get better. That mind numbing platitude, the old thought-terminating cliché that “it gets better, just power through it” doesn’t give enough credit to how much it hurts to get through it, but it does get better. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. The triggers can go away with time, great effort, significant expense, and a lot of discomfort. The world can feel safe again, the hurt can feel bearable, that nagging worry that I might have deserved this, or that I did something wrong, can eventually go away too. It’s not easy to do it, and I have an incredible respect for the patients of mine who can pull it off, but it is undeniably as doable a it is difficult. If this story resonates with anyone, if it feels close-to-home, if these experiences feel shared, just know that the relief I talked about can feel shared too. Know that it’s worth it to get the help, that you deserve the help, that you deserve to live a life that doesn’t hurt you, that you deserve to be a full person and not a living prison for the pain and memories. Know that healing yourself does not involve extending forgiveness to Them, whoever They are. That the pain you felt will not be made less important by making the pain less potent. Know that taking care of yourself now is, in a way, taking care of yourself then. And Please, with a capital P, take care of yourselves.

Thank you to my family, especially my immediate family (special shout outs to @flowerologists and @inbabylontheywept) for the support and patience with me as I dealt with this.

Thank you to my therapist, Jordin Borques, who I recommend highly to anyone seeking trauma therapy in Arizona.

Thank you to my wife, @cintailed, for being the push that got me into therapy, and for taking care of me at my worst and still being here with me.

Thanks to my mission president for being such a colossal disappointment to Christianity that my departure from the church was inevitable.

And a general thanks to the queers for being so cute and making life worth living, even on bad days.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Main Masterlist

Series:

Oh, Baby (dad!Jake Seresin): You might not have been his girlfriend, but when you left town one night a month after sleeping together, it completely broke Jake’s heart. Now, a year later, you’ve returned and you’re not alone. You have a new little companion that just so happens to bear a startling resemblance to Jake.

The One I Want (Jake Seresin x Plus Size!Reader): You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Signed Away (Arranged Marriage AU): You find out about the contractual marriage your parents arranged with Jake’s when you were a baby. You’re plenty angered by it, but Jake doesn’t seem too bothered. He might even be happy.

Stolen Angel (Angel/Demon AU): You thought you were having a one-night stand with some random, normal guy. Turns out he's a winged, demon-like stalker who has been obsessed with you for years.

One shots:

Forgetting: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Can’t Let You Go: When you and Jake broke up, it hurt both of you more than you could handle. Now, after three months of barely seeing or speaking to one another, Jake walks in on the surprise of seeing you in a wedding dress, and it brings past memories and ruined dreams to the surface.

Rather Be with You: Jake has been away for six months and he just hopes you waited for him.

It’s oh so Quiet: you are in a bad relationship, and you just want to be with Jake.

Just a Little Weak:  You are Penny’s new bartender and she warns you to stay away from one particular pilot, so you do your very best to please your boss. It is only when Penny goes out of town for the summer, leaving you in charge of the bar, that the pilot finally makes his move, and you finally give in. 18+

Touch and Go: You and Jake had been sleeping together for months, and as sure as you were of your feelings for him, you were unsure of his for you. He, however, certainly knew how he felt about you, and after you decide to go on a long trip without telling him, he lets you know just exactly what’s on his mind. 18+

Lazy Mornings and Whatnot: After coming home from his last mission, Jake doesn’t want you to leave the bed and will do what he has to if it means insuring that you’ll stay, which leads to fluffy conversations.

Jealousy Game: You do a little experiment to try to make Jake jealous and it works, with unexpected consequences that change the way you thought the night would go. 18+

Jealous Jake and the Biting Problem; Jealous Jake and the Other Sleepover Buddy: You and Jake have a friends-with-benefits situation, but when he finds bite marks on you from another guy, he doesn’t handle it well. 

Split: You break up with Jake because his actions make you question everything you’ve had between you, but he wants you to take him back. 

A First and a Second: It’s soft Dad!Hangman from start to finish. And cute marriage stuff.

Wanting it all: Hangman ends up in the hospital from a very similar Phoenix/Bob/birds situation, and you suddenly regret keeping a big secret from him.  

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts: You and Jake had a history of flirting and occasionally kissing if too much time was spent at the bar, but it never went any further than that. One night, after showing up at your house and passing out on your couch, Jake wakes up the next morning only to learn he had drunkenly confessed his feelings for you.

Alive: After you get into an accident, Jake has a hard time coping with how close he was to losing you.

More Than What We Are: You and Jake are friends with benefits, and you have one rule: No feelings! Jake decides that rule doesn’t work for him anymore. 18+

Less Misery, More Company: Jake has feelings for you but you don’t believe it, so you play a little trick to get back at him for all of his flirtatious teasing. But that little trick fails miserably, and as the weight of your mistake settles in, you realize you owe him an explanation, one that requires you to admit some things you’ve long denied.

Back for More: Jake up and left you without explanation right before a mission. Now he’s returned wanting you back, but you want that explanation before you’ll be willing to let go of the pain and heartbreak from his sudden departure a month prior. 

Scrapes and Bruises:  When Rooster and Hangman get into a fight over you. Basically, Rooster is not thrilled about your relationship with Hangman, and their issues with one another bring up some fears of your own.

A Mission of Another Kind:Jake is assigned to a mission he did not think he would have to take part in, despite training for it with everyone else. Considering its high level of danger, you had been happy he hadn’t volunteered for it, until he came to your house one morning to tell you he had been assigned and would be leaving within the hour.

Drabbles:

He Doesn’t - Jake doesn’t do relationships...right?

Early - Jake’s a sweet boyfriend when reader gets her period.

Jake helps his drunk girlfriend

His Princess

“The bed is cold without you here”

Perfect for me, Baby - Jake is there for you when you have body-image concerns. 

Get Me Through - Jake helps you through the death of a loved one. 

[electronicwitchcollection]

~*Grimmjow Smut*~

“One bed trope” & Rutting/breeding

The Quincy war had ended. Soul society had began rebuilding from the ruins, like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Buildings had been rebuilt, the 13 divisions coming together in unity after the destruction and loss you all endured. The new head captain, previous captain of the 8th, Shunsui Kyoraku, had led the shinigami into the new world created. Along with the new found peace, soul society had gained some new recruits. One of them being the former Espada, Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.

A brutally gruff man with a lethally short temper and a thirst for battle that rivalled that of Captain Kenpachi. After his efforts in support of the war and the glowing recommendations given by war hero Kisuke Urahara, he had been granted a place in the goeti 13 court guards.

Unfortunately, due to your inability to say no and your constant need to appease your superiors, you had been landed with the gruelling task of "teaching Grimmjow the ropes" so to speak. The arrancar had seemed just as disappointed by this match up as you were. Arms permanently crossed over his muscular chest, he had spent the majority of the past three days of your journey glaring at you. Which was preferable to the snide comments and rumbling growls he otherwise offered you.

You couldn't wait to make it back to the Seireitei, the last leg of your journey should have you arriving back by late morning tomorrow. You would suggest walking through the night to end the painful silence sooner, if not for the angry black clouds rolling closer at a rapid pace. The temperature had lowered considerably, your brisk walking thankfully warming you sufficiently. You pulled the map from your sash, eye brows furrowed as you came to a stop and tried to figure out how far away you were from the inn you had reserved for the night.

"how much longer?" your unwilling companion grumbled from behind you. Fighting the urge to throw the map at his head, you concentrated on the markings.. it's going to be at least another three hours of Mr. Sunshine's radiant personality.

"Are you deaf, woman?! "  Grimmjow growled, testing your patience "How much longer? It's going to rain soon" 

Folding the map back up, you took your time placing it securely in your sash as the winds picked up around you. The fact that you were waiting until you were finished before addressing the crude brute, was less about the efficiency of securing your map and more because you enjoyed making him wait. "About three hours Grimmjow. Four if you keep wasting time bitching" 

"I ain't bitching! It's gunna rain! " he roared at your retreating back, you started back on your journey, not waiting to see if he would follow

"aww, is the kitty scared of a little rain?" You unkindly teased over your shoulder. You heard the rumble deep in his chest, clearly about ready to snap

"I ain't scared of nothing!" such eloquent grammar the Espada exhibited. "Damn bitch, can't you feel the storm coming? Fucking weak shiningami" 

"Listen, Grimmjow, the longer you stand there arguing with me, the longer we'll be stuck in the storm you're so desperately trying to avoid "  you turn to face him, started a little by how he looked. He looked frenzied. Blue hair sticking out as though he had been running his fingers through it. His skin looked clammy and flushed, face had a dull pink tinge, unlike the brilliant red you had witnessed during a screaming rampage. His arms tensed at his sides, bulging biceps trembling minutely as his fists opened and closed in tight fists.

His eyes looked wild. The brilliant blue seemed faded with an animalistic sheen. Blown pupils darted around erratically, avoiding looking straight at you. He must really hate getting wet. The fight left you at the sight of him. Sighing, you offer an alternative, as much as he was getting on your last neves, it really wasn't in you to be intentionally cruel, "there's a trapper shack about fifteen minutes up the side road. It won't be as nice as the inn, but providing there's no one there we should be able to survive one night" 

He clenched his jaw, offering you a tight nod. Taking the hint, you resumed your leading, teetering off the main road to follow the dusty beaten path.

—————————————————

"you've got to be kidding me"

You weren't some materialistic princess, you could slum it with the best of them. Getting your hands dirty had never phased you. The state of the shack, however, was pushing it. The howling wind ripped through the barely held together shack, forcing its way through the rotting wooden slats. Every inch of the place was covered in a sheet of dust, the muddy floor held long forgotten footprints of past hunters. A sooty fire pit sat in the middle of the room, jagged rocks forming a wobbly circle, small hole in ten roof above to allow ventilation for the smoke.

There was a helpful pile of dried logs near the beaten door, clawing onto its hinges desperately. The one saving grace, as it had been pelting down with heavy rain the past ten minutes, the chance of you finding any dry wood outside was slim to absolutely fucking impossible. What made your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, however, was the single bed pushed into the corner of the room. Thin blanket messily thrown over the questionably stained mattress, two pillows long since lost their plump plush. Two Tatami mats pushed against the opposite wall, probably stoping the wall from tumbling over.

"move" Grimmjow pushed his way into the shack, nudging your shoulder harshly. Shaking him self, not dissimilar to the way a dog would rid its fur of water. Grimmjow looked around the room, Unphased by the grimy appearance. He scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes. "Not up to your standards princess? "  he sneered in your direction, foot kicking the rocks around the fire pit. "Afraid you'll break a nail?"

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage in his snappy remarks. Closing the door behind you, silently pleading with it to stay standing at least til morning, you reached down to grab a couple of different sized logs. Stacking them near the fire pit, you pulled off your backpack, digging through your preserves to find your flint and steel and a pouch of dry kindling.

Kneeling onto the cold ground, you arranged the kindling into a loose pile, striking the flint and steel sending sparks into the bundle. When glowing embers caught, you lifted the pile to your mouth, blowing steadily until a small flame licked to life. Satisfied you began placing twigs into a teepee, watching as they caught light. Silently to built up the pile until a controlled fire crackled in the middle of the room, giving off its roaring heat.

Grimmjow had leaned himself against the wall, arms folded over his chest. Legs crossed at the ankles, he had been staring at you, watching as you created fire.

"No thanks Grimmjow, I don't need any help. Thanks for asking"  You sarcastically remark. The answering scoff you received at least let you know sarcasm was something even hollows understood. Too tired to cook yourself a meal, you pulled out some jerky and a pre-made rice ball for your dinner. Grimmjow didn't need anything to eat. While, you discovered, he could eat human food, he could also be satisfied by chomping down on smaller hollows.

That was a sight you wouldn't forget in a hurry. The animalistic way he leaped at the hollows you had encountered earlier in the day. Sharp teeth ripping into the flesh of the howling beasts with a sadistic grin on his face. Grimmjow swallowing those mouthful's of hollow flesh was something else entirely.

Banning the memory from your mind so not to completely ruin your appetite, you moved to sit on the bed, trying not to think about what that stain was. Grimmjow hadn't moved from his space as far away from you as the cabin allowed. Mindlessly chewing at your food, your eyes started to wander. His fingers had gripped into his biceps, the indents pushed into the flesh looked painful. He kept shifting his weight between his feet, crossing and uncrossing his ankles.

Your chewing slowed as you regarded him. You were in from the rain, drying nicely from the heat provided by the fire. So why did he look just about ready to claw his own skin off? Perhaps he was dreading the sleeping arrangements as much as you were

"so" you started the awkward conversation after swallowing the last of your light meal. He tilted his chin into your general direction at your conversation starter "how are we doing this?"

He jerked his head fully to you then, eyes widened "we ain't doing anything" his husky voice rumbled. It was your turn to tilt you head, this time in confusion

"sleeping arrangements? There's only one bed" you emphasised the point by tapping the bed below you. You see the realisation dawn on his face before pushing it away with a sneer. You couldn't fathom what he could've been so worried about

"pfft, you take it, don't wanna hear your bitching all night if you had to sleep on the floor." Grimmjow moved to the tatami mats leaning against the wall, throwing them unceremoniously to the ground with a thud. You were pleased to see they weren't hiding a gaping hole in the wall. Grimmjow fell backwards onto the mat, crossing his arms under his head and stared at the wooden roof.

Not letting the comment slide, you picked up one sorry excuse for a pillow, throwing it harder than necessary to flop anticlimactically on Grimmjow's stomach. You received a growl for your efforts. Throwing a couple more robust logs on the fire to ensue heat for hopefully the whole night, you felt confident to change into your sleeping gown and not freeze to death. While it showed more skin than your regulation issued shinigami uniform and as much as you didn't relish in the thought of rolling about on that dirty mattress all night with more on show, you hated the confines of clothing while you slept. You would just have to scrub extra hard in your bath the next day.

Locating your gown in your backpack, you climbed under the covers to change, folding up your uniform neatly and laying it atop your bag. Though it would've been easier staying dry in a shower, you snuggled under the blanket trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. The raging storm outside helped ease you into blissful unconsciousness, hoping that by morning the storm would've passed along with Grimmjows pissy mood

You wouldn't hold your breath though

——————————————————

When your eyes snapped open way too soon for it yet to be morning, you had first assumed it was the storm still raging outside that had woken you up. You remained staring at the wall, not wanting to risk waking Grimmjow, less you wanted to deal with his moody ass at being woken. The fire was still breathing, judging by the heat at your back. You listened to the usual sounds of the storm, rumbling thunder in the distance, they ruthlessly pelting rain hitting the roof, howling wind whipping through the trees. Yet sleep avoided you.

That's when you heard the shuffle of clothes rubbing together and a throaty grunt. You roll your eyes, of course the bastard moved around in his sleep. You tried to force yourself back to sleep, but the noises never stopped. You could hear his knuckles crack as they gripped the side of the tatami mat, puff of air escaping the spongy padding.

He squirmed around noisily, small grunts and husky grumbles accompanying his heavy breathing. You sigh loudly, the room stilling. A pregnant pause followed. Pleased with the silence you closed your eyes again, trying to drift off.

A chesty rumble and a thump that sounded suspiciously like a fist hitting the mat had you flipping over, leaning up on your elbow to glare at the Espada "Grimmjow, what the hell are you doing?" 

"Nothing". He tightly snapped at you, lacking the usual hostility. He stared at the roof, refusing to look at you "go back to fucking sleep" 

"I can't, with all your moving around and grunting."  You try not to sound condescending, but really, who could sleep through all that racket. "What's the problem? Are you cold or something? I could put another log on the fire..?"

"Its rutting season" he growled out deeply, voice so thick and sticky he almost choked on the words... Rutting season? Oh. Oh  That'll explain the frenzied look he sported earlier. You were at a loss of what to say, what could you say? Shinigami didn't go through anything so animalistic

"can't you just..? Ignore it?" You ask, ignorance showing

"The fuck do you think I'm doing?" He snapped at you, patience clearly wearing thin

"making a fucking racket" you grumble back "can't you.. step outside.. take care of it?"

He snorted at your suggestion, legs moving around on the mat "damn shinigami, don't know nothing." 

"we don't have rutting seasons"  you reminded him softly

"It don't fucking work like that. Hands don't work. I gotta knot in a pussy" the crass wording had you sucking in a sharp breath. Not quite the civilised conversation you were anticipating, yet the next words sent a rush of heat rushing through you hotter than the fire itself "so unless your offering, shut the fuck up an go back to sleep"

Offering? To have sex with him? What an absurd notion. And yet... Grimmjow was good looking.. in a demented "I'll murder you and everyone you love" kinda way. Tall and with enough rippling muscles for three men. A cocky grin with surprisingly intriguingly sharp canines. While usually spitting insults, his voice was deep and sultry. And his hair, such an unusual colour, yet it fit him so perfectly.

It had been a while since you had indulged in that cardinal desire, your throbbing cunt attested to that. You could help him out.. if only to finally get some peace and quiet enough to go back to sleep.

"Alright, I'll help you" your voice sounded strained to your own ears. Grimmjow sat up suddenly at your words, staring at you as though you sprouted another head

"the fuck you just say?" Utter bewilderment filled his voice, lilt of eagerness filtering through

"I said, alright"it pained you to admit it, twice. "I won't be able to get any damn sleep until you stop moving around" 

Grimmjow pounced across the room, literally leaping through the air and landing easily on your bed. Feverish hands ripped off your blanket, eliciting a squeak of surprise from you at his eager haste. Rough large hands ripped your gown from your body, jagged line separating the cloth covering your body. You glared at him, for ruining your favourite sleeping gown. He payed not attention, throwing the scraps of ruined material over the side of the bed.

He had a crazed look in his eyes, taken over with the animalistic urge to mate. His chest heaved with heavy breaths as he removed his own top, you noticed how he didn't rip his clothing. Surging forward Grimmjow buried his nose into your neck, inhaling deeply. Your scent filled his nostrils, eliciting a rumbling deep from his chest. You cry out as he bit down brutally, sharp teeth sinking into the flesh where neck joins shoulder.

His hips bucked against your covered core at the tang of blood seeping through to his tongue, deep rumbling escaping around the mouthful of neck he had in his mouth, reminding you of the purr of a cat. A big fucking cat. Mercifully releasing you, he swiped a strong, hot lick against the wound, cleaning up the drops of blood pulled out. Seemingly finished marking you, Grimmjow pushed away his pants, large cock bobbing heavily between you. Your eyes went wide at the sight, throat drying painfully.

He was huge. While similar to that of humans, it was bigger than any you had previously seen, by quite a few generous inches. And thick, you wouldn't be able to close your hand around the veiny girth to touch your fingertips. You couldn't tell if the weight appearing in your lower stomach was from dread or lustful excitement at the knowledge it would soon be inside you.

Ignoring your inner turmoil, Grimmjow ripped your panties off you next, throwing the scrap of material to join the rest. Angry retort died on your lips as he surged forward, attempting to thrust into you

"wait!" You nearly scream, holding him back by planting your hands firmly on his chest, twisting your leg to cover your opening. He gave you a warning growl, hand gripping your thigh roughly to move it back from denying him access, crazed instincts telling him to mount. The punch to the jaw you delivered brought him back to his senses some what

"what?" He asked through clenched teeth, finally making eye contact

"you can't just force it in" you said pointedly, glancing down at the angry purpling head of his dick. He gave you a questioning look, head tilted to the side in a feline manor. "You got to get me wet first"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, crawling down your body he crouched down to be eye level with your core, before spitting loudly straight onto your cunt. You felt the hot liquid hit you, and recoiled at the grotesque action. Your mind almost short circuited when he tried again to mount you. You planted a foot on his chest this time, pushing him back.

"fucking now what?!" he almost roared at you, getting frustrated at being denied what had already been offered.

"not like that ,you brute!"

"fucking woman! You said wet, that's wet!" He let out his frustration by pushing against your leg planted on his chest

"We aren't naturally wet inside, Grimmjow. We need to be stimulated by foreplay,". You spoke to him slowly, like teaching a child "you need to use your fingers or tongue to stretch me, your dick will rip me otherwise " you begrudgingly add, he definitely didn't need the ego boost of knowing he was very well endowed. He caught the meaning anyway, cocky smirk making a reappearance on his face. "Try and make me actually want to fuck you, for fucks sake" you add exasperated, flopping back onto the pillow.

This time you allowed him to remove your foot from his chest, letting it fall to the side, opening up your thighs. His wet, warm tongue suddenly tasted you in a steady lick up the slit of your cunt. You sigh, letting your eyes close to savour the feelings, letting yourself relax enough to enjoy it. He repeated the action, delving in between your folds a little more with every lick.

Grimmjow let his mouth salivate at the new taste, his animalistic side relishing in the musky taste of a mate. Letting his spit slide down onto his tongue to leave on your silky hot folds. A breathy moan escapes you, shooting straight to Grimmjows throbbing, neglected cock. He gave an answering growl, plunging his tongue deep into your depths, patience slowly but surly hitting their limits.

He needed to start rutting, and soon. Your own natural lubricant began coating his tongue, setting his tastebuds alight with the heady taste. Pushing his face in deeper, chasing the slightly salty tang, his nose brushed against something that made you jerk below him with a loud moan. He pulled out of you, lower face dampened by his sloppy work, in search for what made you call out.

At the top of your dusky pink cunt was a small protruding bump, inquisitively, he brushed his finger against it. Another moan ripped from you, back arching from the bed, thrusting your hips up encouragingly. Grimmjow rubbed against it again, getting the same reaction.

Not letting up on his thumb pressing against the little button that had you bucking like a bitch in heat, Grimmjow shoved two fingers inside you roughly. He could feel your tight inner walls sucking around his fingers, clenching them tightly. Thrusting them in and out quickly, gaining hardly any give in your vice like grip, Grimmjow sped up his movements, practically punching his knuckles either side of his submerged digits into the soft flesh on your pussy.

You writhed beneath him, pleasure outshining the pain he inflicted on your sensitive mound. A steady stream of appreciative moans left your lips, turning into keening groans as he added another finger, stretching you out in preparation for his even larger phallic. Lost in a sea of contradictory feelings, you didn't feel your orgasm approaching until it crashed over you, pulling you deeper into a spiral of blind bliss.

Grimmjow felt the sudden gush of liquid on his fingers, getting pushed out messily by his thrusting fingers. First he sneered, assuming you had disgustingly wet yourself, pissing all over his hand. Until his sensitive nose picked up the scent, the same heady musk he had tasted from within you. Mouth watering, wanting to taste the tangy substance once more, Grimmjow removed his soaked fingers, going straight to the source to drink down the glistening wetness.

Lust filled fog lifted slowly from your mind, feeling Grimmjow greedily lap at your spasming Cunt, you tried to push his head away. Grimmjow possessively growled into you, gripping your thighs to stop you denying him his reward.

"Grimmjow" you called to him to no prevail, he ignored your voice, lapping at you hungrily. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging sharply. Like a cornered beast he pinned you to the bed by your wrists, staring challengingly into your eyes with a predatory look. His mouth was wet with your arousal, you could smell your scent on his chin as he tumbled above you in warning.

"Grimmjow," you tried again, submissively lowering your tone, whispering meekly. "You need to leave it wet, so you don't hurt me with your cock"

The mention of his cock seemed to remind him of the aching member hanging heavily between you. Releasing you with a huff, Grimmjow fisted himself, groaning at the full tug he gave himself. Lining up with your centre, he pushed in swiftly, burying himself as deep as he could go, stopping only when the engorged head of his dick bumped against your cervix. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, painfully stretching you beyond your limits. Your inner walls protested at the too big invasion, squeezing painfully around it.

Tears stung your eyes, mouth gasping to pull air into your lungs. It was too big, too much to handle. Grimmjow didn't allow you any time to adjust to the size, rutting his hips into you feverishly, cardinal desire to breed consuming his mind. You felt the burn as his rigid cock dragged against your walls, pushing against them unbending. Small sparks of pleasure tried to push through the overwhelming stretch, Grimmjow hitting every sweet spot mercilessly with each frenzied thrust. You concluded he was too big, too thick to miss, accuracy wouldn't be needed.

Grimmjows chest rumbled with a constant primal gravel. Pupils blown wide, the Panthera focused his gaze on the vivid bite mark on your neck. Powerful hips thrusted into you cruelly, chasing after his cardinal need to procreate. Dipping his head, Grimmjows lips found the swell of your breast, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth to clamp his teeth into. The cry you gave only spurred him on to leave his mark. The jagged tenth of his broken hollow mask scraped against your nipple, spike of pleasure burst through the pain.

At your whimper Grimmjow released you, deranged look in his eyes. You flinched when he lowered himself to your face, tilting your head to the side as a strained moan ripped from your throat. Half expecting another bite, your eyes closed, bracing for the new flash of pain. Instead of the sharp bite, you felt his tongue drag slowly up your cheek. The saltiness from your sweat flavoured your skin, Grimmjow hungrily sought out the delicacy, licking at your face protectively.

Rutting instincts being satisfied, the demented haze lessened enough for Grimmjow to filter through is own thoughts and wants. Seeing you panting beneath him, squirming in pleasure, face screwed up in painful bliss was a beautiful sight. But it wasn't what he wanted, what the alpha demanded of his willing mate.

The rough withdrawal of his dick had you gasping at the reprieve, legs fell flat to the bed heavily,muscles twitching in protest. The gap in the brutal penetration was short lived, however, when Grimmjow used his superior strength to throw you to your stomach. Equilibrium fighting to right itself, two large hands gripped painfully into your hips, forcibly dragging you to your knees. Round ass held in the air, glistening cunt on full display for his viewing pleasure.

The Espada slid his hand up the length of your back, cupping the back of your neck to push your face into the mattress. Pushing your hair away from the most delicate part of your neck, portraying the Vulnerable submission the alpha so desperately seeked. He thrusted his dick back into your dripping heat, claiming his mate.

Your back arched at the reappearance of his cock stretching you sinfully. Groaning with the wet slapping of skin meeting skin. Fingers dug into the fleshy part of your ass, kneeling the swell in his palms. Grimmjow had his eyes fixated on the way your ass rippled with every thrust, his cock disappearing into your hot, tight hole. Your wetness spraying out with every plunge, wetting his lower stomach and thighs.

The smell was intoxicating, addicting. Breathing deep he could almost taste the musky aroma, eliciting a feline hiss. His hands spread your ass cheeks revealing your puckered hole. Spitting loudly he watched as his saliva trickled down the valley between your cheeks, sliding over that hidden hole. Using a finger to gather the moisture, not wanting you to bitch at him again, the arrancar pushed his way through the tight ring of muscles.

You yelped at the sudden intrusion, spent body easily accepting the new addition as you laid heavily into the mattress. His brutal thrusts hadn't let up through his curious exploration, steadily pushing you further towards the most natural of highs. Grimmjows chest swelled with pride of having calmed both of your holes, muscles squeezing devilishly tight.

The heat encasing his cock was driving him wild, with feral intensity, the instincts to breed filled him. Slipping from your ass, he gripped your hips bruisingly, snapping you back onto his rutting cock brutally. The pleasure filled scream you have had his balls tightening. He could feel the knot forming in the middle of his dick, getting caressed by the tight velvety walls with each drag of his impressive length

"m'gunna fill you full of pups" he growled out, panting harshly "gunna fill your cunt with my seed" 

You scream out in pleasure, the knot forming inside you pushing against your already straining walls, rubbing roughly against your pleasure spot hidden away in your depths. "Your mine" the growled word's emphasised with increasingly powerful thrusts. A hand left your hip, wrapping it around your throat to pull you back into a painful bend. "My mate" 

Sharp teeth sunk into the back of your neck, latching on viciously. Hot pants forced through his teeth, heating up the bruising skin trapped in their hold. A bright light burst from behind your eyes as you descended into euphoric darkness. Violent tremors raked through your body as you convulsed around the dick forcing you into the most powerful orgasm you had ever endured. The strong hold on your neck the only thing keeping you from spiralling into the darkness threatening to pull you under.

The impossibly tight, the cunt surrounding his cock clamped down. Grimmjow erratically rutted into you in short bursts, knot no longer allowing him to pull out from your sopping channel. The knot snapped in a painful burst, seed rushing from him in blinding pleasure. The Panthera released the hold his teeth had on your neck to yowl loudly into the room. Hips stilling as his seed erupted inside you, filling you with his hot cum.

The lustful instinct to mate melted away at his release. Control over his mind filtered back slowly, allowing him to see the state he had left you in. Angry teethmarks sat proudly at the back of your neck. Slumped forward in his hold, your sweat soaked body hung limply, raggedly sucking in desperate breaths.

Laying himself across your back, Grimmjow Manoeuvered you both to lay down on the small bed on your sides. Knotted cock still buried deep inside you, Grimmjow moulded himself to your back, wrapping his arm around you protectively. On the brink of sleep you squirm, wincing at the pinch in your abused pussy caused by the pull of the knot keeping him in.

"stay still" his gruff voice held a semblance care, large hand soothing over the bruises left by his fingers on your hips "y'gotta let it go down or it'll rip ya apart"

Your body pushed to the brink of what it could take started to shiver, muscles periodically twitching as they relaxed. Thinking you were cold, Grimmjow grabbed the sorry excuse for a blanket, draping it over you. Head buried in your neck, Grimmjow soothed the marks left there with his tongue, methodically licking over the wounds, soothing the dull throbbing.

Arm wrapped protectively around you, slowly deflating cock nestled deeply within you, you fell into unconsciousness with Grimmjows cool tongue lapping at your skin. Satisfied you were cleaned up enough, Grimmjow tightened the hold he had on you, savouring the feel of his cock being warmed by your hole, full to the brim with his seed. Burying his head in your hair, letting your smell fill his senses as he joined you in sleep he so desperately needed, whispering a single word as he succumbed to the pull

"mine"