independent renji abarai.

private and selective.


"Would a possibility of such a thing involve a demonstration of the sheer lunacy you seem to produce? If so, unfortunately— I’ll have to pass.



"Perhaps such queries are best suited towards Kurosaki."

          "Hey, that’s rude, y’know. Ya’ can’t just call people who
              helped save your life crazy.


          “‘Sides, Ichigo’s busy, and Karakura’s got a Hollow
              problem. Were you plannin’ on just ignorin’ it?”



                                    ☠ ▸With the flick of his wrist, it suddenly
                                    changed shape. She tried not to act completely
                                    surprised, but she was.
                                    “Zabimaru, huh? How’d you come up with that?”
                                    she teased, unaware of the truth. When
                                    unsheathed, it was as big as her rifle, proving to
                                    her he was indeed right about having a big weapon.


          "Oh—I didn’t name him."

He hefted Zabimaru up onto his shoulder, grip firm around the
broad hilt; the last thing he needed was his zanpakuto getting
the idea to show off. His other hand found the cool silver of
the blade and rubbed along it almost fondly, no blood drawn
from the brush of metal against skin.

          "He’s different than the kind a’ swords ya’ see in
             the human world. Zabimaru told me his name
             when he decided he could trust me.”

mxntis like this post for a starter


Awareness prickles along his scalp, tiny hairs on the back of his neck
raising as vaguely familiar reiatsu slides against his own. The energy
espada give off feels like nothing else, a stitched-together mess of
both shinigami and hollow that he hates. Yet, he has no reason to
raise his sword, has no desire to fight; instead, he crosses his arms
over his chest, scowling openly at the man.

          "The fuck do ya’ want, espada? Human world’s no
             place for your kind.”


crawls out of the hole i’ve been hiding in for the past few days to ask if anyone wants a starter.

crawls out of the hole i’ve been hiding in for the past few days to ask if anyone wants a starter.

"Kiss me, quick!"
SAID mubouna




                     Renji…    He was her composite beast, all at once the devoted
                     warrior, yet her snarling, biting, kissing thing when he wanted
                     to be — and  that  is  the  difference, he  b i t es and g r o w l s
                     when he wants to. For her it is not a choice. 

                     As now,   she  has no control over the chuffing purrs that leave
                     her lips,       plush lips pressed to the side of one knee — quiet
                     contemplation, fluttering freckled fingers over bare hips. Ochre
                     eyes  watch  him,  carefully,  take in his form with a curiosity of
                     an  artist and a muse, a predator and prey — but sadly, for her
                     dear heart,    he means more than muse or meat to her, sets a
                     fire in her chest much more than art or blood. 

                     Knuckles  would  knead,  gently,  into  the bones of his hips as
                     lips pepper down the inside of his thigh.    Just one, as if its the
                     one she favours. In the dip of a muscle she pauses, nips at the
                     skin — he tastes like sweat and sweet things and it only serves
                     to make her press her nose to  his flesh and grin, serves to set
                     her chest alight and muscle twitch.  She’s probably left soft red
                     trails  where  she’s  been,   but  she  doubts he’d mind. Doesn’t
                     sound like he minds. In fact,   his sounds are her f a v o u r i t e. 

                     Her purring turns more akin to a playful growl, vibrating against
                     the muscles in his thigh for a moment, before simply trading, to
                     the other, to  { b i t e } down — never hard enough to harm nor
                     hurt,  immediately  followed  by  several  pecks.    Leftover  red.

                     She’s close to his hips,       close enough to know how much he
                     wanted her. A swoop would send now paler, though no less full
                     mouth to plant firmly at the muscle of his pelvis, sunglow optics
                     fluttered through lashes. Mumbles against his skin —- l i c k s. 

                                              ❝ Mmm…

~ღ B)
SAID mubouna


Send ღ for a first kiss between our muses.

     They shouldn’t.
     They really shouldn’t.
                                                             But how could either resist?

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