鏡花水月

independent Kyoka Suigetsu penned by Sabby

[omonoshojo-blog]

Whoopsies. I disappeared again! But life is a thing, I guess. Anyways activity is currently a little sketchy. So possible semi-hiatus here and on my other two??

[omonoshojo-blog]

CREATE AVATAR

Tagged by:  stolen from @hanayomemomo Tagging:  just steal it

[finroads-m]

good night, sweet prince: and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

[shinigamiillustratedpicturebook]

Thanks Kristie <3  “ http://bleachlists.tumblr.com/ ”

Selected scenes based on

 “ http://bleachlists.tumblr.com/post/141086132577/child-aizens-notes-taken-while-shinji-is “

Younger Shinji and this adorable little shit <333 Just too cute!

[omonoshojo-blog]

@shinkakuka​ [xxx]

A scornful frown faltered beautiful features. What a laughable situation; for his sake it seemed. Never would she live a day without this stain.

“I would much rather just leave this place.” Her chest heaved with a huff. “It’s dreadful and unsightly... Mostly a bore. If I were not trapped either here or our world it destroyed, I wouldn’t waste my time with the wrenched.”

But he was the one to fall in battle. He was to be sentenced. And yet she shared his horrid punishment, but with limited freedom.

One may as well make the best of it. “Aside, would you rather remain ignorant of surrounding events?”

[omonoshojo-blog]

Why does she feel like something’s missing.

[aizen-is-everything]

[omonoshojo-blog]

So miss Lily Girl is calling me today. Thus I shall be here for now.

[omonoshojo-blog]

Her wardrobe is mostly kimonos with floral patterns. Colors mostly muted or dark, but in greens, blues, or purples with gold accents.

[nouvelledecadence]

[omonoshojo-blog]

Of course, she has to put up a fight. His vessel is a charmer, remember? He’s not quite as much an animal as Ozymandias, even if he wants to be. No, Shinji has to seduce, he has to show off, he has to woo his conquests to trick them into thinking he’s some kind of sweetheart.

He keeps a hand pressed to her clavicle, hard and bruising, and the other trails down her rigid body, searching for her pleasure. His fingers are stiff and cold, so unused to a woman’s touch. His damned vessel has kept him from this for so long, selfish bastard. He reaches between her legs to brush his knuckles against her sex, lowering his head to suck upon her shoulder, her neck, breathing heavily all the while, hot saliva dripping down the curve of her.

“T h a t   b e t t e r ?” he asks grimly, turning his palm up, rubbing his fingers against her, teasing that entrance like Shinji knows how to do. At least the bastard’s good for something. “H e ’ s   a l w a y s   w a n t e d   t o   f e e l   y o u r   c u n t . . .” And Ozymandias, too, notes the joy of it, and he laughs sickly against her skin, tilting his hips into her leg.

Disgust grimaced on such flawless features. This man-- this creature dared test her. To dominate her body, and attempt a break of her spirit. Foolish, as if he forgot whom he toyed with, who she belonged to, who's soul she reflected.

And yet, all the same she began to hate her own self. How each touch brought some reaction, subconsciously and unwilling. She despised the heat that stained her skin pink from chest up. How there was a flutter in her chest, choking the words in her throat. And how his hand, even as nothing but a tease, brought an anticipated wetness.

“Hirako-- whatever you are, un-- hand me,” Is what she tried with such force. Instead it came out faltered with a need to gasp. White teeth bit at perfect lips.

Still her leg hooked around that hip. But it was unclear the intent as hands too pushed at his. “Get-- off!” She wanted to scream. Oh, did she want to lash out. Even if she belonged to a god, she still remained below him. The humiliation at this realization. She wanted to hit the blond; kick him, bite him.

To think she would though, blunt incisors sinking into the flesh of his arm.

[omonoshojo-blog]

[omonoshojo-blog]

 i mean - you’re nice to me so i assumed. 

You’re special.

[juuheart-a]

omonoshojo‌:

juuheart

a-yeong vc; s TOP IT RN

Ew, feelings.

   STOP HAVING FEELINGS. THEY EVENTUALLY HURT YOU.

[omonoshojo-blog]

And what makes you think I want them in the first place?

[omonoshojo-blog]

juuheart

a-yeong vc; s TOP IT RN

Ew, feelings.

[omonoshojo-blog]

When you return to this muse with the intent to fuck with @syncopxtc​‘s Shinji. But they end up having this complicated ¿¿love-hate?? relationship fueled by a forbidden lust for each other. Like ¿¿¿¿Kyoka you ok????

[syncopxtc]

She thinks she can just come in here, all put-together, striding through his goddamn bedroom like she belongs there. She thinks she can, and it’s because he lets her. It’s because he’s never turned her away, despite all his scowling and complaining. He lets her lay on his bed and become an ornament, one he looks at and has been told not to play with. Delicate, only for show. But she begs to be touched. He knows how she wants him, but how she doesn’t know quite what that means.

Shinji wonders if she’s been sent. If that man bids her to come here and torment him. It’s been keeping him up nights, and he foolishly worries for the bags beneath his eyes, if he’s still handsome, if she’ll still wake up from her light slumber and turn away, toward his window. He yawns. He twitches. He ought to throw her out, but goddammit, she’s laying there like Venus in a painting. And she’s just as arrogant, just as aware of her perfection. She lays there with her kimono parting over her knees. He grips the edge of the counter on which he leans— fucking bitch. He shakes his head. None of that. She’s taunting us. Take what’s yours. Aren’t you angry? You never got to kill him. You can’t kill either of them, so what’s better?

He scrunches his lips and pushes himself off from the counter, rubbing his tired eyes. It always happens when he’s exhausted, this. The other guy threatens to break through the wall Shinji has so carefully constructed and do whatever the hell he wants. He’s so good, he’s been good for over a hundred years, at burying him. Keeping his bloodlust quiet. Finally he’s comfortable and certain: it’s not him. It’s a part of him, but it’s not him.

Look at her, she’s begging you.

She stirs in her sleep and turns onto her back in full, one lithe arm cast over her waist. Her fucking slave driver put me here. He owes you. She’s so pretty, isn’t she? And you know she wants you. She’s probably dreaming of it! Go! Go!

He’s ambling slowly toward the bed, posture worse than usual, feet slipping lazily along the floor until he can sit on the edge of the mattress. He grins wide and chuckles. It’s slipping away, the control. He’s so fucking tired. She’s so fucking pretty, her clothes are so askew.

He watches as his hand reaches for her thigh, and everything turns all black-and-white. All he can feel is skin, how soft it is, how warm. He is parting her kimono, he is laying down beside her, and he’s gone.

Ozymandias licks his lips. He feel empty with hunger, like he’ll devour her entirely if he doesn’t get what he wants. And he knows what he wants, so much he’s drooling. Drip, drip, onto the sheets, and he pulls with both hands at the fabric that covers her, growling at the sight of her. She’s still sleeping, and that’s fine. If she wakes up she’ll be so goddamn thrilled, touched awake by those skinny hands. Weak, weak, Shinji is weak for not having his way with her sooner. Doesn’t he want revenge? The idiot.

With a thick, low breath, he pushes the lacy garment that covers her, up, above her breasts, freeing them. His breath is hot and misting upon her skin as he settles his mouth over her. A slow, animalistic lick, from her stomach, over her nipple, up to her collarbone. The grunting noise he makes sounds almost like his vessel. Almost.

He repeats his obsessive affection on the other side, all while rolling her onto her back, positioning himself on top of her, hands on her wrists. He buries his lips in her neck and bites, perhaps too hard, breaking the skin like he’s got fangs. He shivers as he tilts his hips against her, tightening his grip on her wrists.

Something trembles in his chest, and he stifles it best he can. That damn softie, but Ozymandias knows that Shinji only screams for control because he’s jealous. Because he wishes he had the guts to touch her like he wants to.

His eyes glow all black and yellow as he looks upon her sleepy face, and he growls anew. His hands travel downward, over her chest and down to her hips to claw at the fabric that keeps her chaste. Do it, do it! His face twitches as he fights off any measure of kindness that still sparks inside of him, but he relents.

“W a k e   u p ,” he commands roughly into her ear. “H e  w a n t s   y o u   t o   k n o w   y o u ’ r e   g e t t i n g   f u c k e d .” He thinks about it all the time, and Ozymandias is eager to tel her all about it. Every fantasy, every dirty thought.

@omonoshojo

[omonoshojo-blog]

It was late. Though her dreams were empty, void of desires and conscious. That is til she feels a tremble of emotion. Nearly instant a pleasant warmth pictures a sweet fantasy. Yet it is just as quickly shattered. A sharp pain, an unfamiliarly warm liquid dripped atop her fair skin. It all but rouses her from slumber.

Eye still heavy, unwilled to open. She wants that desired feel back, from both unconsciousness and affection. And still she manages a glance to the offender.

Shinji. Of course. “Another time, will you,” She slurs her words in exhaustion. Then those dark but reflective eyes flutter shut again. She sinks back into darkness.

But that voice--

It sparks a better awareness. Eyes fly wide open, as if startled from peace. Upon instinct, muscle struggles to move delicate hands, to shift her hips, to move in any way. A moment of panic to wash over porcelain features. It was impossible, and Kyoka cursed this foolishness.

“This best not be a game,” She hissed in defiance. Another struggle. “Hirako--” But this wasn’t him. Not those dark eyes fueled with rage and hunger. How they gauged her body, like a predator. It provided a shudder of disgust. “Enough! Release me now!” As if her demands would be heard, not with who this was.