#take my hand wreck my plans (that's my man)

[arabella0001]

bleach men eating you out - part 2

characters: ichigo kurosaki, renji abarai, tōshirō hitsugaya, uryuu ishida, byakuya kuchiki

part 1: urahara kisuke, aizen sosuke, kenpachi zaraki, shunsui kyōraku, grimmjow jaegerjaquez

cn: oral (f receiving), praising, slight degrading, edging, bondage, rough/soft, sub/dom, fingering, overstimulation

ichigo

he isn’t the best at it, but he sure puts all his heart into it—kissing and licking without stopping, making you moan shamelessly without letting you catch a breath.

“i-ichigo,” you moan, your voice barely audible.

“mm?” he stops for a second, looking up at you, his face covered in your wetness,his eyes adoring. his hands press against your legs, keeping you still as he touches your pussy with purposeful intent.

“p-please… p-please make me…”

“of course, y/n.” he dives back in, licking you all the way down “i got you” his tongue flickering against your pussy more rapidly until you reach your orgasm.

byakuya

byakuya is the type of man who takes his time, making every touch feel planned, determined, every kiss a slow-burning tease. his lips trace a path over your body, his voice smooth like a calming breeze. “my beautiful woman…”

his tongue moves with calculated precision, worshipping you, relishing each second. in the stillness of the morning, he whispers praises you’d never expect from a man like him. “you taste so good, my love.”

your mind crumbles under the weight of his words, his mouth working you over with unshaken focus. “i won’t stop until you’re satisfied.,” he murmurs, and you know he means it.

tōshirō

he takes pleasuring you very seriously—focused, precise, determined to be the best for you.

“do you like it like that, y/n?” he asks between kisses, slurping against your cunt, teasing your clit with each flick of his tongue.

“right there?”

before you can answer, he dives in deeper, his tongue pressing into you while circling your clit with his thumb in a way that has your body trembling.

“t-tōshirō, baby… f-fuck—”

he doesn’t let up. his fingers start thrusting into your pussy, moving fast and his mouth relentless. your legs try to clamp around his head, but he pushes them apart, refusing to stop until you melt all over his mouth, his abs—anywhere you want.

renji

renji is the type of man who researches before trying something new—and he always wants to try things with you. his goal? to leave you shaking after every experiment.

“renji, c-can you…”

“wait a sec, y/n…” his brows furrow  “so… i should lick like this?” he glances at his phone, then leans in and drags his tongue over your cunt. but when he looks up—sees your parted lips, the way your chest rises and falls, the absolute wrecked expression on your face—everything stops.

“shit… sorry, baby.” and then he’s all in, no more overthinking, just feeling—the way you tremble under him, the way you fall apart so easily when he does it the way you like.

ishida

he catches you by surprise when he does it—kissing everywhere, collarbone, chest, belly—before slowly kneeling in front of you. “i-ishida?”

“shh.” his fingers part your folds “be still” and his tongue flicking against your throbbing pussy while his piercing gaze locks onto yours. “oh my g—”  the intensity is overwhelming, a sharp contrast to his usual composed self. his dominant nature remains, even when he’s the one on his knees.

[neiptune]

look who it is!!!!!! (again)

[luvcentral]

How am i supposed to function normally when he looks THIS GOOD

[oscarkelfbom]

[riacte]

i strongly associate willow by taylor swift with two things: firstly, treebark; secondly, the blockage of the suez canal in 2021

[greedbent]

An innocent envelope waits atop Kaz’s desk. Attached to the outside is a single rose: thorns still intact along the stem, with petals as black as night and speckled with subtle flecks of silver that make the bloom shimmer even in the dimmest light. His name is written on the front in a delicate, looping script. Along with small doodles of flowers and birds in the margins, the letter inside bears the same writing:

Kaz, I hope this letter finds you well! The shop has been keeping me especially busy lately. A few weeks ago I received a special order that required growing some rare breeds of flowers; I swear, I have spent all hours of every day since in the greenhouse, working hard to make sure that every flower is perfect! Of course, the effort was well worth the end result. These roses made me think of you the moment they bloomed, so I simply had to send one to you. I do hope it has made its way to you safe and sound.   I know you are also quite busy, but I would love to see you again soon. I am nearly finished with a new painting—perhaps I could show you, when you can spare the time? If it is not too much trouble, of course.  Please take care of yourself.  ~ Spring

@howthesleeplesswander || screaming crying throwing up

The first thing Kaz Brekker felt was foolish.

Like he was some poor young sod gawking at women in the street, tripping over himself when one looked his way, burning bright red in the face as she giggled and passed him by. He felt bare. He felt exposed. He felt unnatural, as if his coat wasn’t hanging right, one sleeve too long or too short, one little thread out of place that he just couldn’t find. He felt . . . in that barest flicker of a moment, less like Dirtyhands and more like Kaz Rietveld: that boy off the farm; that boy who had been so naive, so innocent, so blind—

All because of a damn rose sitting there on his desk.

He swore the thing would’ve been giggling wryly at him—just like the women at the Menagerie—if it could. Somehow, he wondered if the silence was worse. —just as much as he wondered how utterly insane he had to be to wish flowers could talk.

Like he said: He felt foolish.

When Kaz set foot in the Crow Club, Rotty had told him a message was waiting for him. When Kaz had asked what it was or who it was from, the man had pursued all manner of distractions to excuse himself, mumbled something quick about it being better that Kaz see it himself, that he didn’t want to intrude— Basically, a whole blundering bunch of useless information that eventually ended with Kaz doing just that: seeing what the podge was blithering about and what sort of bomb was waiting for him in his office.

Well, he hadn’t been too far off the mark. It wasn’t a bomb, but the way Kaz froze in his steps and lingered there in the doorway would make anyone think that was the case. Eventually, he at least had the mind to shut the door behind him. And, another eventually, he made his way over to the desk on pathetically cautious steps he was glad no one was around to witness wobbled.

He read the note. And then he read it again. And then a third time, in case the first two weren’t enough. Somewhere in the process, Kaz had taken a seat, and as his eyes pored over that elegant, beautiful script, his fingers idled on the rose’s stem. The thorns didn’t bother him through the gloves. And even if they did, he was sure he wouldn’t have noticed. 

I would love to see you again.

He tarried on—no, he stumbled over—that phrase with each pass.

Please take care of yourself.

A similar effect, surely. Though, for some reason, the sentiment summoned an amused little twitch to his lips, that which nearly bled into a full smile by the time he’d finished what could have been the tenth reread. Kaz almost folded the letter back up, thumb gliding gingerly over one edge, but he hesitated. He glanced back at the fittingly black flower—These roses made me think of you. . . . That foolish hum of something not-so-novel, but old and nearly forgotten warmed his skin: maybe, just maybe, his cheeks, specifically.

But, foolish or not, Kaz let the letter rest open on his desk.

He leaned back with flower in hand, perusing—no, memorizing—the petals like they were a very part of the girl who gave them to him.

And he decided, tomorrow, to everyone else but her, he’d be occupied.

[yetanotheremptypage]

Hello. For anyone who still cares, I think I am going to have to make the unfortunate decision to cancel the planned sequel to take my hand, wreck my plans (that's my man). I've written a lot for it and was excited about it but I just don't think it's going to happen, at least not any time soon. I apologize if there was anyone who was anxiously awaiting it.

[titsbeauvillier]

NYRangers: Ryan Lindgren 🎯

[misseyres]

professor mentioned my academic blorbo in class 🥰🥰🥰

[dearreader]

me thinking of the willow chrous post break up

[whovianwholikesgirls]

I take this magnet force of a man to be my lover🥰🥰🥰😍😍😍😍

Lover, TS

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @penelopegarciaswife @selfshippery yearning and writing more letters hours. Best coping mechanism/creative outlet I’ve ever come up with ngl

I wrote letters to Kurt Cobain in high school but this is so much more fun

[divineer]

normal abt them

[nora-durst]

christian survivordavidvsgoliath </3

[riacte]

ever since i saw that martyn swiftie ask i’ve been tortured with taylor swift treebark edits. i guess. i guess he sort of gave a green light for it. should i

[whovianwholikesgirls]

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @penelopegarciaswife I know I’ve been saying s11 hasn’t been doing it for me but LOOK AT HIM he looks so good !!!!!! Also scarf🙈🙈🙈🙈

I need to watch this ep🙈

And this one that has one of my fav gifs ever:

Spencer Reid in 11.15 A Badge and a Gun

[yetanotheremptypage]

It was the policy of Mayfair Primary School that, in addition to their primary caregiver(s), every child needed to have one other adult in their emergency contact/approved pick-up slot on the contact card.

Amelia Basset had…more than that.