Sousuke Aizen

Aizen Sousuke Roleplay Blog Affiliated with The Soul Pantheism

[chimaericrealities]

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[black--sun]

Pressed so close, Ichigo finds the contact he wants in the hard length of the cock between them. His body is drawn so tight with tension, composure stretched so thin, he feels weak with it. A constant tremor vibrates through straining muscle as he approaches his limit. 

That arm circles, and the restraint forces Ichigo still enough he can’t distract himself with a hundred other little sensations. Frustration masked as a sound so thin it can’t be called anything other than a whimper slips from Ichigo. He needs to move.

Ichigo can’t imagine Aizen doesn’t know. 

He freezes at that wording though, feeling those fingers work into his hair as the hold tightens, and he doesn’t so much as squirm for a moment while he holds his breath until Aizen moves on with those suggestions and the danger of being left this way has passed. 

He bites the inside of his mouth, taking several sharp breaths, then he jerks again at that sharp strike of palm to flesh. Electricity bolts down his legs, flares through his brain, and trips over every nerve in between. A groan squeaks out around a whirlwind of sensations that has him dizzy enough the room spins in his head. 

The tug is sudden, but on the heels of that electrical wash of pain and heat, he hardly registers it more than the stretch of muscle as a long torso bends back, spine curving around that arm and he’s brought to eye level. His hand shifts to Aizen’s arm to hold himself up, not trusting his balance even like this. Everything seems out of focus except that gaze. He wets parted lips, still breathing hard. Ichigo’s teeth tighten when Aizen says there’s nothing stopping him.

There isn’t. There shouldn’t be. Why does he care what Aizen thinks? He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him.

Only he squeezes his eyes shut at that question of whether he wants his decisions made for him, uncertainty clouding his mind as another hapless sound of want breaks free. Ichigo feels rather that sees the contact of that forehead against his and the hair that tickles his temples and cheeks. His. Aizen’s. It doesn’t matter, he shivers, can’t seem to stop shaking, teeth chattering. He’s not good. That thought comes clear through a gale of more disjointed, disordered sensations. He refuses to think about the question or the way his dick is so full and throbbing it hurts where it’s pressed between them.

There’s a sound like a sob he realizes is his and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. He always keeps it together. There’s no one else going to keep him alive. But he’s reeling, he’s out of control and starting to wonder why he ever cared. He nods, nearly incoherent. He doesn’t want to be anything else right now. He wants what Aizen has. The only question is if he’ll give it to him. 

He turns into that almost kiss. He wants it, but can’t force himself to take that either.

[chimaericrealities]

There’s triumph in every wordless whimper and whine Sousuke pulls from Ichigo, even while reminding him that control comes with choices that come with consequences.For a brief moment, Sousuke wonders if he’s pushed too far too soon, tilting Ichigo into trembling shock instead of careful instability like he intended. He never expected the sob.

But then there’s that nod, and control is a heady aphrodisiac all its own, thrilling along his nerves. He feels the tug as Ichigo tries to turn his head, and after that strained admission, he indulges the unspoken request. 

It’s a slow conquest of a kiss, Sousuke maintaining control by pulling away in warning anytime Ichigo is anything but compliant to the pace he sets. But he rewards compliance by slowly deepening in sweeping strokes, tongue flicking across the piercing, until they’re both breathless. 

He eventually pulls away with a nip to Ichigo’s lower lip and whispers in his ear again. 

“Hold on to me.” Sousuke shifts, one arm going underneath Ichigo’s ass to support him before he stands with a soft grunt of effort. It’s a short walk to his bedroom at least - and the effort is rewarding, each step subtly rubbing their bodies together. He comes to a stop next to the bedside table and let’s Ichigo slowly slide down, pressing down on his shoulder. “All the way down to your knees, Ichigo. Just like that, good boy.” 

He grabs Ichigo’s chin to ensure he’s looking up at him. “How should we let you come, hm? I want to finish spanking you while you ride my cock until we both come. I can already imagine how it will feel, you clenching around me while you work us both over the edge. Doesn’t that sound nice, Ichigo?” He pauses, stroking a thumb over Ichigo’s lips, letting the fantasy sink in. 

“But we both know you haven’t earned the reward of coming on my cock yet, have you? You certainly turned down the opportunity to even ask for it. I’m still going to let you come tonight…But first, why don’t you use your talented mouth to convince me to give us both what we want.”

[chimaericrealities]

There’s triumph in every wordless whimper and whine Sousuke pulls from Ichigo, even while reminding him that control comes with choices that come with consequences.For a brief moment, Sousuke wonders if he’s pushed too far too soon, tilting Ichigo into trembling shock instead of careful instability like he intended. He never expected the sob.

But then there’s that nod, and control is a heady aphrodisiac all its own, thrilling along his nerves. He feels the tug as Ichigo tries to turn his head, and after that strained admission, he indulges the unspoken request. 

It’s a slow conquest of a kiss, Sousuke maintaining control by pulling away in warning anytime Ichigo is anything but compliant to the pace he sets. But he rewards compliance by slowly deepening in sweeping strokes, tongue flicking across the piercing, until they’re both breathless. 

He eventually pulls away with a nip to Ichigo’s lower lip and whispers in his ear again. 

“Hold on to me.” Sousuke shifts, one arm going underneath Ichigo’s ass to support him before he stands with a soft grunt of effort. It’s a short walk to his bedroom at least - and the effort is rewarding, each step subtly rubbing their bodies together. He comes to a stop next to the bedside table and let’s Ichigo slowly slide down, pressing down on his shoulder. “All the way down to your knees, Ichigo. Just like that, good boy.” 

He grabs Ichigo’s chin to ensure he’s looking up at him. “How should we let you come, hm? I want to finish spanking you while you ride my cock until we both come. I can already imagine how it will feel, you clenching around me while you work us both over the edge. Doesn’t that sound nice, Ichigo?” He pauses, stroking a thumb over Ichigo’s lips, letting the fantasy sink in. 

“But we both know you haven’t earned the reward of coming on my cock yet, have you? You certainly turned down the opportunity to even ask for it. I’m still going to let you come tonight…But first, why don’t you use your talented mouth to convince me to give us both what we want.”

[jaegersol]

He doesn’t really notice when Aizen stop talking, just that his throat is suddenly wholly unobstructed by his jaw.

He doesn’t notive when the others leave, until Nnoitra bumps the back of his chair, big leering teeth flashing in Grimmjow’s face when he startles. Grimmjow snarls back, surges up, and gets shoved back into the chair for it. It leaves the Quinto cackling, but he doesn’t press his advantage, sauntering away through the door with his hands looped behind his giant stupid spoon collar - it was just a mocking reminder. Swinging his dick around with an audience.

An audience that includes Aizen. Bewildered, his attention whips back to the head of the table. Aizen is still there. Impassive as always, and Grimmjow grinds to a halt again. Grimmjow can never read him. Even his scent is unreliable.

In a flash of ever reliable anger, his snarls at him too. “What?! You even gonna say anything?!”

Minor altercations are common, and Sousuke merely observes from the edge of his vision without interference. He settles back in his chair, gazing contemplatively at the dancing specks of stray tea leaves at the bottom of his cup. Waiting.

At the snarling question, his attention lifts to Grimmjow directly. His head tilts - inquisitive and exposing the lines of his throat with plausible deniability. He releases his reiatsu in a pulse of warning at the rude manners.

"Hmm," he takes a sedate swallow of the rapidly cooling tea. "I wasn't aware there was anything else to be said. Did you have concerns about the briefing?"

[chimaericrealities]

Minor altercations are common, and Sousuke merely observes from the edge of his vision without interference. He settles back in his chair, gazing contemplatively at the dancing specks of stray tea leaves at the bottom of his cup. Waiting.

At the snarling question, his attention lifts to Grimmjow directly. His head tilts - inquisitive and exposing the lines of his throat with plausible deniability. He releases his reiatsu in a pulse of warning at the rude manners.

"Hmm," he takes a sedate swallow of the rapidly cooling tea. "I wasn't aware there was anything else to be said. Did you have concerns about the briefing?"

[black--sun]

He’s expecting a palm to come cracking down against his under thigh. Or against the flesh of his ass that’s somehow both burning and freezing with the lack of contact. He’s expecting more of those words that are so much like Aizen’s strikes, painful and soothing all at once. They have his head buzzing as much as that reddened skin. He isn’t expecting the bite. 

Teeth sink down and he doesn’t have any warning or resistance. He chokes out a cry, curling forward into it, gasping, breaking his grip on the couch to wrap an arm around Aizen instead to steady himself.

He’s so close he doesn’t dare move. 

Fuck. Ichigo strains into it. Nods at those words. Not because he agrees, but because it’s another anchor, and he has the strongest urge to turn his head and taste the way they sound when Aizen says them. But he’s so restless. Moreso when Aizen seems to be slowing their pace instead of pushing it faster. If anything, the delayed stimulation has him breathing harder, panting and then groaning and grinding, and shifting with his frustration. 

The contrast between that exacting care and the harshness has him stretched thin and unbalanced. He wants more, but doesn’t even know which one he should want more of. He’s greedy and starving and hard enough it hurts, and he finds he has a breaking point. Those low, soft words pull a whole body shudder from him every time. He can barely focus on them and they still make him burn, and with every strike, he tries to crawl further into the hold. They have lust slipping down his spine like a barbed, poisonous feather. Every muscle is tight and he gasps, “Fuck, I—just… please, Sousuke.“

Sousuke smirks every time Ichigo shudders at the murmured words, the expression hidden against the shivery skin he nibbles on between each set of blows and praise. Ichigo presses so tightly against him, he sinks deeper into the comfortable cushions. Every so often, the restless shifting draws a shiver of his own pleasure from him, the friction unignorable. 

The plea has him pausing, moving to whisper directly against Ichigo’s ear. “You can have whatever you want tonight. But please, what, Ichigo? You have to use your words or I might misunderstand.” He snakes an arm around Ichigo’s waist, holding him close, and consequently holding him still.

“Please stop, perhaps? I’m certainly not going easy on you. Maybe you’re at your limit already?” His arm tightens further around Ichigo and he raises the other to gently play with the hair at the nape of his neck for a moment.

“Or maybe you meant to say, please, harder? You did ask me to hurt you.” Crack. He puts a little more force behind the blow than he had been, palm aching from the contact. Fingernails gently scrape the fiery warmth blooming from the skin.

That grip at Ichigo’s nape shifts up and tightens in his hair suddenly, pulling and arching his back against the arm around his waist. Sousuke forces Ichigo to look at him, at the carefully crafted expression of gentle knowing and simmering lust, not allowing Ichigo to hide in his shoulder any longer. “Or perhaps … Hmm, were you asking to cum? You have control right now, you can come whenever you want, there’s nothing stopping you. Unless…” He hums a bit breathlessly as he trails off.

“Unless you want me to take the decision from you,” the whisper is deep and slow, Sousuke pulling Ichigo forward to press their foreheads together like they’re sharing secrets. “Is that what you’ve been asking for? For me to take control and let you clear your mind of anything but the sensations…To let everything else go until the only thing you have to worry about is being a good boy and taking whatever punishment I give until you’ve earned permission to cum?”  Sousuke presses a kiss just to the side of Ichigo’s mouth, mouthing the words. “Is that what you can’t say, Ichigo?”

[chimaericrealities]

Sousuke smirks every time Ichigo shudders at the murmured words, the expression hidden against the shivery skin he nibbles on between each set of blows and praise. Ichigo presses so tightly against him, he sinks deeper into the comfortable cushions. Every so often, the restless shifting draws a shiver of his own pleasure from him, the friction unignorable. 

The plea has him pausing, moving to whisper directly against Ichigo’s ear. “You can have whatever you want tonight. But please, what, Ichigo? You have to use your words or I might misunderstand.” He snakes an arm around Ichigo’s waist, holding him close, and consequently holding him still.

“Please stop, perhaps? I’m certainly not going easy on you. Maybe you’re at your limit already?” His arm tightens further around Ichigo and he raises the other to gently play with the hair at the nape of his neck for a moment.

“Or maybe you meant to say, please, harder? You did ask me to hurt you.” Crack. He puts a little more force behind the blow than he had been, palm aching from the contact. Fingernails gently scrape the fiery warmth blooming from the skin.

That grip at Ichigo’s nape shifts up and tightens in his hair suddenly, pulling and arching his back against the arm around his waist. Sousuke forces Ichigo to look at him, at the carefully crafted expression of gentle knowing and simmering lust, not allowing Ichigo to hide in his shoulder any longer. “Or perhaps … Hmm, were you asking to cum? You have control right now, you can come whenever you want, there’s nothing stopping you. Unless…” He hums a bit breathlessly as he trails off.

“Unless you want me to take the decision from you,” the whisper is deep and slow, Sousuke pulling Ichigo forward to press their foreheads together like they’re sharing secrets. “Is that what you’ve been asking for? For me to take control and let you clear your mind of anything but the sensations…To let everything else go until the only thing you have to worry about is being a good boy and taking whatever punishment I give until you’ve earned permission to cum?”  Sousuke presses a kiss just to the side of Ichigo’s mouth, mouthing the words. “Is that what you can’t say, Ichigo?”

[turnbackthependulum]

Aizen, to the Espadas: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone.

Grimmjow: But mine just says, "Grimmjow, no."

Aizen: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

[jaegersol]

@chimaericrealities

[funeral]

Rollo May, Man's Search for Himself

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Black and White ~

[chimaericrealities]

Sousuke does nothing to hold together the trembling creature in his arm, instead delighting as the cracks seep a little deeper with each whine and groan and cracking strike. His own palms smart a bit from the blows, but not enough to deter him. And he smirks against the sweat damp skin of a shoulder. That shuddering breath and that subtle lean was telling, and Sousuke made a split decision.

"As you wish," he breathes. Teeth clench down on a deeper, bruising bite, teasing Ichigo with pain in a place unexpected. As he releases, Sousuke brings his hand down in a firmer crack, more pressure than sting this time. He massages the spot, waiting for Ichigo to use his words one way or another before continuing.

"Good boy," he coos again softly, whispering the breathless words in the headspace after the blow. Up to now, he hadn't attempted much in the realm of praise and reward with Ichigo, but that reaction - Sousuke honed in on the telling vulnerability.

The pace is slower now. Each alternating crack and squeeze driving the heat deeper in measured increments that refuse to let the tension snap. It's regrettable that he's not inside Ichigo, feeling each clench and tremble around his length ... But perhaps it's to the benefit of his control that he's not at the moment.

He continues to pepper the skin in front of him with kisses and nibbles. Gentle, affectionate touches contrasting with the harsher fall of his hands. And he keeps up a slow drip of words in the charged, dazed pause between each blow. Always giving Ichigo a chance to call a stop before he continues.

Crack, squeeze. "Look at you, taking it so well." Pause.

Crack, squeeze. "Do you feel what you do to me?" Pause.

Crack, squeeze. "Take more for me, I know you can, Ichigo." Pause.

[chimaericrealities]

Sousuke does nothing to hold together the trembling creature in his arm, instead delighting as the cracks seep a little deeper with each whine and groan and cracking strike. His own palms smart a bit from the blows, but not enough to deter him. And he smirks against the sweat damp skin of a shoulder. That shuddering breath and that subtle lean was telling, and Sousuke made a split decision.

"As you wish," he breathes. Teeth clench down on a deeper, bruising bite, teasing Ichigo with pain in a place unexpected. As he releases, Sousuke brings his hand down in a firmer crack, more pressure than sting this time. He massages the spot, waiting for Ichigo to use his words one way or another before continuing.

"Good boy," he coos again softly, whispering the breathless words in the headspace after the blow. Up to now, he hadn't attempted much in the realm of praise and reward with Ichigo, but that reaction - Sousuke honed in on the telling vulnerability.

The pace is slower now. Each alternating crack and squeeze driving the heat deeper in measured increments that refuse to let the tension snap. It's regrettable that he's not inside Ichigo, feeling each clench and tremble around his length ... But perhaps it's to the benefit of his control that he's not at the moment.

He continues to pepper the skin in front of him with kisses and nibbles. Gentle, affectionate touches contrasting with the harsher fall of his hands. And he keeps up a slow drip of words in the charged, dazed pause between each blow. Always giving Ichigo a chance to call a stop before he continues.

Crack, squeeze. "Look at you, taking it so well." Pause.

Crack, squeeze. "Do you feel what you do to me?" Pause.

Crack, squeeze. "Take more for me, I know you can, Ichigo." Pause.

[chimaericrealities]

Fill out the angst application below.

Basics

NAME:  Sousuke Aizen

AGE:  Unknown [like 350-400 or so]

SPECIES: Shinigami hybrid

bold what applies (italicize what somewhat applies)

drinker ; smoker ; done / does drugs ; knows what a broken heart feels like  ; has committed a crime ;suffers a physical disability ; suffers a mental disorder ; has experienced severe trauma

Details

BIGGEST FEAR: Stagnation. He shaped Ichigo into something that could challenge him, that could be a foil for change within himself, specifically because the only thing he fears is becoming like the Soul King - so stagnant he's basically an object, an it, and abomination. However, he doesn't fear much else.

RECURRING NIGHTMARE: A person cannot have nightmares if one doesn't dream at all, can they? Though Kyoka has been known to use the liminal space of sleep to visit in episodes that seem like dreams. Some visits were certainly nightmarish, but not enough to qualify as a nightmare in itself.

SOMETHING YOU MISS:   Calligraphy, reading, and the smell of petrichor on a midnight walk by himself. He misses the simpler hobbies currently denied to him in Muken.

BIGGEST REGRET: Ah, but regret presumes something one would do differently, and there's not much he would personally change of his own actions and decisions. There is no choice he has made that he regrets making, even from the dark grip of Muken. He finds his failure against Kurosaki and Urahara regrettable, but he also would not have wanted to rise to power unchecked and unchallenged without ever knowing the fear of failure to motivate him. He'll reassess, he'll reflect, and he'll grow. But he won't regret.

A SECRET:  There are so many, how do you choose just one? But I'll say this: Has no one wondered who was following behind Captain Shinji all those months?

Pick one

fire                            or         water

mother                     or          father (neither)

to hurt                   or          be hurt

eerie                         or           gory

unrequited love         or           no love

TAGGED BY:@jaegersol

TAGGING: uhhh, @reservedhealer @lewdestconcubine

[black--sun]

Ichigo releases a shaky breath, eyes sliding from those heavy-lidded eyes down to snag on Aizen’s slowly forming smirk. A sound of want leaves him, and he swallows. Such a small change, but it has him flushing with heat and wetting his lips, thighs shifting with the urge to move. It’s a predative expression. Not because Aizen doesn’t usually smile, but because of what he’s smiling at. 

Ichigo isn’t a stranger to the warning signs or the danger he’s inviting. He doesn’t trust that soft tone, but he wants it, and the not-quite concealed threat has his heart picking up speed and racing in his throat. 

He leans into that palm, rests against it, and feels the pressure it creates as fingers close. He could tell anyone else it’s a bad idea. But his own eyelids lower as he relaxes. Air doesn’t even seem like a pressing issue. His teeth are still together, but fingers loosen. It’s easy. He barely has to do anything. 

When Aizen stands, he’s just tall enough that Ichigo slides a few inches down his body before his toes find the floor. He’s focused on Aizen’s features. He doesn’t resist stripping. Who knows how many times he’s undressed for him already. One out of hundred couldn’t mean anything.

It’s not until the talk of making him hurt that Ichigo tries looking somewhere else. He’s got chills and nerves that break out over his skin and leave him shivering before he’s pulled forward. But those slow motions just emphasizes how much his body drags across Aizen’s as bare flesh presses to bare flesh. The heat of the contact has him shuddering.

He’s gone lightheaded with the pressure at his throat, and his first reclaimed breaths when he’s released have oxygen and adrenaline flooding his system, making his skin and blood feel effervescent, euphoric. His thoughts turn to a buzzing, humming, pleasant heat that has him dizzy. 

The first crack startles a clipped yelp from him, muffled against Aizen’s shoulder, because he never sees it coming. The pain brings everything into sharp relief for a brief, fluttering second before he squeezes his eyes shut and groans as the flair of pain twists to heat in his stomach, spreading out to his limbs and fingers and toes before circling back and curling tight around his middle. He pushes forward but it’s not even finished. He jerks less and less with every stroke of palm connecting to flesh. Even his moans twist into whines that he tries not to voice, but the inflection creeps out on every breath and it’s hard to remember he cares.

It takes him too long to realize he’s on the edge of coming, panting and writhing. 

“Fuck…” he breathes, tries hard to focus. He’s supposed to be answering. He nods. Works for more breath. “…yes.” It’s easier to say this time. Easier to grind mindlessly into the friction Aizen’s offering. He swallows, grits out a frustrated sound, while he tries to remember how to ask. “I don’t— will you do it again?” It’s so backwards. He’s supposed to be entertaining Aizen, not the other way around, and he’s not even trying to make this about anyone but himself anymore. 

[chimaericrealities]

A thrill tickles down his own spine at the control he wields over Ichigo, even when he's offered to yield it for once. That attention focused on him while Ichigo complies and rests submissively in his hold ... that's what he finds so intoxicating. It's that half-lidded attention that has him aching along with Ichigo, testing his personal control.

But Sousuke is determined to find out just how much of a masochist Ichigo is tonight, to break some of the pieces apart so he can rebuild them how he wants them.

He releases Ichigo's hair so that both hands are free. Gently, they roam from ass to thigh and back up again, skimming strokes to sensitive skin. Pairing pleasure with the pain while he waits for Ichigo to gather his words. And giving him a heartbeat to cool down.

"Good boy," he purrs with a kiss to the side of Ichigo's head. Sousuke doesn't give an opportunity for him to protest the praise before his palm lands on the neglected ass cheek. Smack. Smack. Smack.

There's another pause, Sousuke being careful not to let the sensations push Ichigo over the edge yet. He kisses and nibbles the side of his neck, murmuring against hot, shivery skin. "You're in control of this, Ichigo. Just keep saying 'more'..." Smack, against the heated skin. "And I'll continue..." Smack, lower near the thigh.

"This ends when you tell me to stop or if you cum. I'll give you everything you want and deserve. And you can take so much more, can't you?"

[miidama]

Made a second version of the drawing I did for @keikakudori 's color scheme request since I wanted to see just how cool I could make it! So yup, color correction, textures and a filter on top of that! For once I really like the end result!

[chimaericrealities]

Question for mafia au but how did Aizen become embeded in the criminal underground? was he born into it or did he somehow fall/direct himself into it? When did this start for him? Is there a reason or purpose driving him?

Dance with the Devil AU Background

This is actually something I wrote up at the very beginning, when this verse was just budding into existence. I did my best to find parallels to canon that made sense:

Aizen started with a militarized security agency (specializing in repelling cartel, gang, and assassination threats) that protects the rich, famous (or infamous), and high profile. Aizen rises in the ranks of this agency, but eventually realizes their clients are just as corrupt, if not worse for hiding their corruption. He finds out more, digs deep into their secrets and learns that there’s one person, a kingpin, he could remove to topple several high profile families that hid their corruption and crime connection well, but that person is beyond his reach.

He recruits a few allies from the agency, and eventually decides their enemies -  the gangs and cartels - are their biggest tool. Through ruthless force and strategy, and intel from within the agency, Aizen creates a more centralized underground under the noses of the crime families he’s “protecting”, and in the process also starts designing his own drugs. Through this entire process, he is ruthless against any who oppose him or find out about his deception, even to the point of using some of his experimental drugs on his colleagues in the agency. He eventually defects and takes sensitive information with him.

His main goal now is to finalize a performance enhancing drug (think Limitless, if you've seen that show) and topple the ineffectual, high-society kingpin that's been hiding his corruption behind false acts of entrepreneurship and philanthropy.

[black--sun]

Those words ease something tight and anxious in his stomach that he didn’t even want to acknowledge. Like maybe he was worried this is Aizen’s version of pity for a paid pet that might be just a little fucked in the head. 

That nip clips his doubts short, drawing him back and pushing him under a warm wave of hormones all at the same time, and his thoughts fizzle from existence. 

“A-ah…!” Ichigo never sees that tug coming. He arches into Aizen’s mouth, his already tense stomach straining against gravity, pleasure-pain, and that puppeteer-like hold. He couldn’t help it if he wanted to. Ichigo moans with the addition of teeth, cock so hard it hurts. He’s still moving, still working closer toward release with that guidance, even while he struggles to sort himself. To put all his pieces back together between bites, while those small flicks of Aizen’s tongue scatter his every attempt.

He licks his swollen lip, works on drawing in breaths. 

“Make it hurt,” he answers, fisting hands in the fabric of Aizen’s shirt. But then stills with the realization of what he’s said. 

Is that what he wants? He shouldn’t. 

It’s too honest. He’s struck, torn open, exposed, and he doesn’t know how to take it back. Ichigo isn’t even sure that’s what he means. He just wants to feel past everything else. 

There’s a sensation like razor sharp ice dragging down his spine and sliding into his stomach. He locks his teeth together. 

But why… why does it matter? What’s to be afraid of? He’s not good no matter how many times Aizen says it. Isn’t he a monster? He probably still has the blood of a dead man under his fingernails. He’s not even sorry he did it. What does it matter if he wants this to hurt? If Aizen didn’t like it, would Ichigo still be here? He doesn’t know. Aizen’s a mirror maze, a thousand false turns and false steps, he always has been.

Admiring the sight of Ichigo the way he is, arched so his stomach ripples, skin peppered with bites and bruises, Sousuke gets to watch Ichigo's face when the words slip out. Even he pauses at the request, surprised to hear it, and the tension strains in the sudden stillness between them. Then one side of his mouth quirks up into a lazy, sadistic smile.

He keeps his grip tight in Ichigo's hair, not giving him even the opportunity to shy away from his hooded gaze. For just a heartbeat, he searches Ichigo's face. The glazed, frantic state has been replaced with the clenched jaw, clenched fists. It seems Ichigo found his way back into his head ... and Ichigo didn't necessarily want to be there, if that request told him anything.

"How could I refuse such an honest request," he murmurs, voice deceptively gentle, though Sousuke did nothing to hide the heat. He releases Ichigo's hip, wrapping fingers around that long neck again, cutting off the pulse and hopefully any other thoughts that would send his toy running. He shifts forward, using the grip of both hands and the press of his body to control Ichigo's movement as he stands. "Up."

"Push your pants off and kick them away," he orders, voice still soft. "Regrettably, the toys are all back at the penthouse, but I'm sure I can still make you hurt in the best ways." Once he's satisfied with Ichigo's state of undress, Sousuke sits slowly, pulling Ichigo back into his previous position, plastering their torsos together, and finally letting go of the choke, letting the oxygen rush back.

Smack. Before Ichigo can even think about catching his breath, even think at all, Sousuke gives his bare ass a sharp slap. As close as they are, the force he can use is limited, but Ichigo has no choice but to rut forward against him if he wants to squirm. It's odd to leave Ichigo free to grab and touch, but not unpleasant being able to watch him unravel slowly.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Sousuke pauses to rub the heating skin, bringing Ichigo's face in front of his. "I still want to hear you tell me what you need, Ichigo. Do you want me to continue? Do you want more?"

[chimaericrealities]

Admiring the sight of Ichigo the way he is, arched so his stomach ripples, skin peppered with bites and bruises, Sousuke gets to watch Ichigo's face when the words slip out. Even he pauses at the request, surprised to hear it, and the tension strains in the sudden stillness between them. Then one side of his mouth quirks up into a lazy, sadistic smile.

He keeps his grip tight in Ichigo's hair, not giving him even the opportunity to shy away from his hooded gaze. For just a heartbeat, he searches Ichigo's face. The glazed, frantic state has been replaced with the clenched jaw, clenched fists. It seems Ichigo found his way back into his head ... and Ichigo didn't necessarily want to be there, if that request told him anything.

"How could I refuse such an honest request," he murmurs, voice deceptively gentle, though Sousuke did nothing to hide the heat. He releases Ichigo's hip, wrapping fingers around that long neck again, cutting off the pulse and hopefully any other thoughts that would send his toy running. He shifts forward, using the grip of both hands and the press of his body to control Ichigo's movement as he stands. "Up."

"Push your pants off and kick them away," he orders, voice still soft. "Regrettably, the toys are all back at the penthouse, but I'm sure I can still make you hurt in the best ways." Once he's satisfied with Ichigo's state of undress, Sousuke sits slowly, pulling Ichigo back into his previous position, plastering their torsos together, and finally letting go of the choke, letting the oxygen rush back.

Smack. Before Ichigo can even think about catching his breath, even think at all, Sousuke gives his bare ass a sharp slap. As close as they are, the force he can use is limited, but Ichigo has no choice but to rut forward against him if he wants to squirm. It's odd to leave Ichigo free to grab and touch, but not unpleasant being able to watch him unravel slowly.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Sousuke pauses to rub the heating skin, bringing Ichigo's face in front of his. "I still want to hear you tell me what you need, Ichigo. Do you want me to continue? Do you want more?"

[juleteon]

θαυματοποιός

[soulless-bleach]

I really wish he had more monstrous features between transformations instead of just hot men asjskkzka

the monster features would have made him hotter

[jaegersol]

@chimaericrealities​ || Starter

Grimmjow doesn’t fidget, despite his appearance, he does have good patience for the most part, and that more often than not presents itself as an ability to keep himself remarkably still and composed when he wants or needs to be.

Right now, however, he’s failing on all fronts. He sat himself intentionally on the other side of the room, no matter that everyone knows the seat immediately to Aizen’s right is his preferred spot. He’s stolen Starrks today. The Primera is powerful, but he’s not particularly interested in - anything. So he didn’t do more than raise a curious brow when he found Grimmjow in his spot.

Aizen, to the best of Grimmjow’s knowledge, seemed to not even notice. That made it worse.

Grimmjow’s knee is bouncing under the table. He can’t keep it still, every time he forces himself to stop it starts again the second his attention returns to Aizen’s words. Something something about a sect of shinigami enemies in the living world. Hybrids. He doesn’t care.

It’s impossible to care when Aizen is right there. Almost almost in reach.

Grimmjow’s done is very best to avoid the shinigami for the past several… Days, weeks, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t need him. He doesn’t, but his body and his mind don’t seem to agree.

His mind says he’ll never bend to Aizen’s whim. His body says his teeth ache. His mouth is watering. He has to swallow, over and over, to keep it from pooling under his tongue. His stomach says he’s hungry. His knee is bouncing again, and he presses his foot flat to the floor, toe to heel.

Ah- He’s distracted again. How does he just sit there like that? Does he know what Grimmjow’s thinking? Can he read it on his face? Distracted enough that he’s found his gaze settling on the exact man he’s trying not to look at. On his throat. (Grimmjow’s favourite place to be.)

[chimaericrealities]

The meeting is routine, a simple affair of sharing pertinent information to his subordinates. Despite the lackluster occasion, Aizen finds himself masking his amusement behind business.

It seems Grimmjow is getting antsy.

Not that the extra distance Grimmjow has stolen will help any. If he so desired, Sousuke could coat the entire room in reiatsu. Instead, he continues as normal, just the typical trickle of his spiritual pressure leaking into the room. Even that small trace must feel potent after not being exposed for so long.

Shaking... Still... Shaking... Still. All throughout the meeting, fidgeting but not making any of his usual comments. Distracted.

"You're dismissed," he finally calls the meeting to an end, noticing that Grimmjow is staring intently at his throat. Not paying attention. Sousuke wonders if Grimmjow will run again, seeking control in whatever ways he can.

He sips at the remaining tea in his cup, waiting, observing without watching directly. In the end, he doesn't have to do anything else.

Eventually, Grimmjow will come to him.

[black--sun]

chimaericrealities​:

The tenderness may be an act, but Sousuke isn’t unaffected by the restless and breathless creature in his arms. Ichigo’s searching hips press the zipper of his pants almost painfully against his erection. He drags Ichigo higher up his body, relieving the sharper ache and shifting himself lower where his mouth can explore exposed collarbones. Where Ichigo is nearly vibrating with tension, Sousuke relaxes into the cushions and the growing pleasure. 

The feeling of teeth in his shoulder has his eyes narrowing where Ichigo can’t see, but Sousuke doesn’t pause in his own ministrations to reprimand him. He merely tightens his hand in Ichigo’s hair in subtle warning. The panting keening sound as Ichigo slowly comes apart is recompense enough for the lapse, for the moment. His agreement hums against the skin under his teeth, amused at Ichigo’s incredulous question.

Finally receiving a request, Sousuke bites down hard on the skin he’d merely been nibbling on, trapping muscle and skin tightly. He sucks on the flesh, pulling it taunt against unyielding teeth for several long moments. That hickey might be purple instead of red tomorrow, and there would be several more to join it. It’s no surprise when Ichigo can’t answer his other question, but it had been more rhetorical than literal, something to get Ichigo to use his words. 

His erection pulses as Ichigo’s struggles to answer him, to behave. Even now, in this unusually free moment, Ichigo is trying to follow the rules, if only subconsciously. Sousuke breaks the suction with a pop, using his grip on Ichigo’s hair to pull his head back so that he could mouth the tendons on the front of his throat. “Are you asking for permission to touch me, Ichigo? Hmm, you’re being so good for me.”

Sousuke snags a tendon beneath his teeth in a quick sharp bite, before releasing to continue. For a moment, he considers stipulating no biting. But he suspects that will be a challenge for Ichigo right now, and he doesn’t want Ichigo back in his head, pulling the defenses back in place. Better to just control where Ichigo puts his mouth, and Sousuke was happy to keep Ichigo’s neck arched back, throat exposed, and his mind dazed with need. Picking another target, he bites and sucks hard on a spot just below the jaw, shifting low so that he could reach and letting him feel Ichigo’s need against his lower abdomen.  “You may touch me.”

He groans, jaw tightening as that fist tugs at hair, and Ichigo squeezes his eyes shut. His muscles start to unlock, loosening and going pliant until he gets those harder bites. Heat lances through Ichigo’s body, amber eyes blinking furiously up at the ceiling high above, unseeing and stuck for a moment while he tries to process. Fuck. He can’t seem to breathe, but it’s hardly important compared to the mouth on him.

He’s asking permission, but Ichigo wants to deny that last accusation automatically. Only he rolls those words around and decides he’s not as bothered as he expected, though they aren’t quite right. “That’s not it…” The tone comes out rawer than he expects, and he works on swallowing his emotions. It’s not that he’s trying to be good for the sake of it. He just doesn’t want Aizen to hate this, and it has almost nothing to do with his job. “I didn’t want to be the only one that liked it.” But that’s a hard thing to explain. It sounds so similar.

Aizen nips a tender spot harder than the rest and he jolts, gritting out something between a whine and a yelp, hands grasping for purchase as he struggles to be a little less wild, a little less out of control.

Fuck. Fuck.

Some teeth and some well-placed touches, and Ichigo‘s already at the edge of his restraint as fingers move through the fine hair at the base of his neck, pushing higher to curl tight and draw his head back, leaving him angled and undefended against Aizen’s mouth. Then Aizen finds that pulse in his throat and sucks it until Ichigo is moaning and struggling to keep still.

There’s a thoughtless sound of want rising in his throat at that permission before Ichigo’s hands are pushing into his clothes. He rakes palms across the hard plane of Aizen’s chest, then shoulders, feeling his gut twist with want as he frisks buttons free to get at bare skin. He’s hardly finished before he’s shoving fabric open, wanting his mouth on him without being able to reach. He fights the impulse to drag nails across skin⏤to leave marks and welts⏤and pushes hands down his back instead, relishing the heat of it as he tries to find a better position to grind down into that hardness he can feel under him. 

[chimaericrealities]

A breathless chuckles escapes him at the raw words that Ichigo manages, some small part of him apparently still resistant to the idea of submitting. In his state, Sousuke suspects Ichigo doesn't realize how the words come across. That Ichigo would still care about pleasing him, and would hold back until given permission, even while already riled and shaken... well, Ichigo sounds like he's on his way to becoming a obedient little fucktoy, even if he's not ready to admit it.

"I'm not in the habit of doing things I dislike, Ichigo," he reprimands with another quick nip to the earlobe this time. The frantic hands are a bit irritating compared to the control Sousuke usually demands, but mostly in a distracting way. He just uses his hold in Ichigo's hair to arch him back sharply, making it easier for him to reach the bud of a nipple with his mouth. He doesn't tease like he normally would, wetting the skin only enough to get a good seal before sucking the nipple between his lips. Pressure draws the bud between his teeth, trapping it for the flicks and laves of his tongue. After a few moments, he switches to the other nipple, lavishing the same treatment. He lifts off to admire the swollen red peaks, peddling in the cool air of the room.

His free hand helps Ichigo grind against him, encouraging those twitches of his hips, likely adding his own finger prints to the bruising there. He's likely distracted Ichigo enough that he won't realize how his words are being twisted, but Sousuke cants his hips to grind back up against him anyway. "But I greatly enjoy hearing that you want to please me too. So good for me, why don't you tell me what else you need, hm?"