He Arose Wishing For The World To Burn With Him

RULES || ABOUT || VERSES

Indie, Private, Selective Arima Kishō from Tokyo Ghoul ✗ Approximately 10 years of RP experience ✗ Dark themes ✗ 18+ only ✗ Penned by Fex (They/Them)

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑.     jaw clenching.   hands balling into fists.   teeth grinding.   yelling.   going non verbal.   stuttering speech.   rushed speech.   slow concise speech.   rambling.   quiet.   arms crossing.   shaking head.   tearing up.   animated.   expressionless.   projects.   internalizes.   vents.   withdraws.   passive aggressive.   direct.   physical outbursts.   verbal outbursts.   gesticulating.   baring teeth.

𝐉𝐎𝐘.     easy smiles.   fighting back grins.   suppressed laughter.  loud laughter.   giggles.   chuckling.   smirks.   whole body laughs.   covers mouth when laughing / giggling.   throws head back when laughing.   slaps leg.   touches people around him when laughing.   looks down when laughing.   looks for eye contact when laughing.  sparkling eyes.   bubbly happiness. quiet subtle happiness.   obnoxious happiness.  wants to spread joy.   quietly savors joy.

𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒.     crying.   bottling it up.   seeks distractions.   wallows.   meditates and processes.   avoidance. seeks out comfort.   withdraws.   talks it out.   internalizes it.   sad smiles. depression naps.   uses alcohol.   uses drugs. seeks out sources of joy.   fidgets with sentimental item.  sits in silence.   broods.   gets moody.   wants someone to share the misery.   tries to hide negative emotions.   nurtures others to make themselves feel better.

𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 / 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄.     blushing.   looking away.   rubbing at back of head.   covering face.   laughing nervously.  laughs it off.   overthinks.   lets it go.   self deprecating humor.   deflects.   gets irritated.   smiles.   withdraws.   crossing arms over stomach.  crossing arms over chest.   hands in pockets.  shoulders sinking.   shrugs.   falling into silence until comfortable again.  talking a lot to compensate.

𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓.     avoiding eye contact.   shoulders sinking low.   head hanging down.   crying.   chest aches. lashes out.   internalizes.   apologizes.  deflects.   communicates.   withdraws.   grand gestures for forgiveness.   accepts fault easily.   punishes themselves.   martyrdom.   victim complex.   guilt complex.  healthy conscience.   internalizes even after forgiveness. seeking redemption.   moves on easily.   denial.   lack of guilt / conscience.   sorry they got caught more than caused harm.   can’t handle knowing they hurt others.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 / 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘.     trembling.   crying. sarcasm / sass to cope.   rambles.   goes silent.   gets angry.   fidgeting.   clenching jaw.   picking at nails.   chewing at lip.   pulling at clothes.  adjusting jewelry / clothing.   swallowing thickly.   eyes widening.   over-reacts.   under-reacts.   calm.   logical.   panic.   irrational.   overthinks.   carefully analyzes.   talks to themselves.   breathing exercises.   fight.   withdraw.   fawn.

The explanation was bizarre, yet the Dragoon was not granted enough time to fully process the meaning behind such an odd ritual. A muscular thigh came between his legs instead, cutting away any possible thought to replace it with an intoxicating sensation. Black Reaper could feel an uncomfortable knot in his underbelly as the pleasure made his lower parts react with a faint twitch. He gasped, clutching the thinner fabric of the tight undershirt beneath as the ropes were now pronounced to the eye.

With his brows twitching and arching back, the younger man parted his lips, shuddering at Arima’s soft voice as it spoke of such sinful actions. Desires of the flesh weren’t something he was meant to ever taint his spirit with, but right now he felt desperate. So much so that he failed to question how one can enjoy rope burn. His mind focused on how good the agent tasted in the back of his throat each time he inhaled. On how his hips were squirming against the foreign limb between his own for more of that sensation.

“I want to see…”

That’s what Arima hoped to hear.

Feeling Reaper’s hips attempt grinding on his thigh made Arima press it against his groin harder as he removed his undershirt and remained topless, bright red ropes adorning his muscular body, going down his torso and disappearing into his pants. He tossed the undershirt into the pile with the rest of his clothes and tugged on a rope closer to his waistline, showing that the rest of it went around his genitals, accentuating the bulge which was by now a small tent already.

“What do you think?” Arima breathed softly and ran his lips over Black Reaper’s ear as he spoke into it again. “Do I make you hard?”

He moved his hands to touch Black Reaper’s body, starting at his hips, to which Arima gave a squeeze.

There was close to no resistance when his hand was pulled up and towards Arima’s chest. When his palm felt something hard underneath the otherwise soft fabrics, it almost had the instinct to recoil. He was confused, staring down at the area as he cautiously traced the material.

Utterly oblivious. His emotions mixed as he could feel Arima’s increasing heartbeat next, as well as a new odor rising from his cooling sweat. Black Reaper couldn’t help trying to catch a whiff, which reacted to something he hadn’t even known he possessed within him.

Something one may call… Primal.

In a response to that scent, Black Reaper’s left eye changed, the sound a giveaway to him that his human disguise slipped. He exhaled sharply, feeling his own body heat up. This was so new and overwhelming to his senses.

“What… Is that, Arima?”

The fact Black Reaper didn’t resist only excited Arima more. He wasn’t forceful with his actions, guiding Reaper’s hand slowly and gently across his chest and down his body, where ropes could clearly be felt. He put the ropes on for fun this morning, thinking it will just be his private little secret for the day and maybe jerk off in his office while wearing them. He didn’t figure he might actually get the opportunity to show them to someone.

Well, Fura was always on the list, but he was a hopeless dream by this point.

“They’re ropes.” Arima answered quietly, staring intently at Reaper. “Decorative ones. I put them on sometimes because I enjoy it.”

He watched Reaper’s kakugan activate and hummed, getting closer to Reaper until the point their bodies were pressed against each other, with Arima’s thigh nestling itself snugly between Reaper’s legs. He let go of the suitcases, placing them on the ground, and started removing his coat. As he began undressing his top half, he leaned to Reaper’s ear.

Black Reaper gasped, his eyes shooting up towards Arima’s face as his body was pinned to the wall with strength he did not assume him to posses. The Dragoon was a warrior, of great balance and might. Not some merchant to be tossed around and handled like some rag. Yet the agent has appeared to have possessed such ability, forcing Black Reaper to face him when he did not wish to do so.

His own hand grabbed upon the man’s wrist. Fingers not as elegant and long as Arima’s, and neither as Haise’s, for that matter. The back of his hand had bold veins and it was clear the man operated some heavy duties in his short life.

Yet he didn’t try removing the hand from himself. He didn’t push Arima away or call his weapon out for now. All Black Reaper did was shake his head with an expression of denial and grief.

“I have never hurt anyone, Arima… We don’t have to do this.”

‘Please don’t make me hurt you.’

Arima exhaled quietly, looking Black Reaper up and down without saying a word. He could feel heat spreading through his core and between his legs, the circumstances bringing back memories of when he already fucked in an alley before. Arima liked adrenaline, he liked risk, and so it turned him on to think about fucking this ghoul senseless right under his workplace.

“I’m afraid it’s...inevitable.” Arima nearly cooed, as he moved Black Reaper’s hand to his chest, making him feel for the shibari ropes beneath his clothes.

THIS SORT OF ANSWER WAS NOT AT ALL COMFORTING. In fact, if the Dragoon was allowed to say it so, he was in utter dismay at not only reality but the C H O I C E of words coming out the agent. He looked very much upset, yet as oddly as it was, not at all enraged. Black Reaper was hurt more than he was wrathful at that moment, hearing such things, knowing what he missed on.

WHAT COULD POSSIBLY ENTAIL THE FUTURE. So lost in thought he was, that it didn’t even occur to him just how close Arima has gotten to him, and neither he had noticed of him mistake just yet. His head was still repeating the same terrible sentence in his head.

“ W E   E X T E R M I N A T E   T H E M . “

“What sort of realm you live in, where one wouldn’t be upset by such things? You don’t exterminate P E O P L E . Bugs and pests are things you exterminate, not someone else of our kind. We’re all the same underneath…” He went quiet, eyes looking over Arima’s shoulder only to now realize just how close he was. Black Reaper paused and tried to push past the older man to get away.

“This conversation is O V E R . “

“Here, it is simply the norm.” Arima blinked slowly, and when Black Reaper tries to push past him, he grabs him by his shoulder and pins him back to the wall. “And the conversation will be over when I say.”

‘ I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO GO. ‘ He wished to say, moving his hand away along with the shrug in a futile attempt to make himself appear nonthreatening. The tone of voice that shifted between the two of them indicated to him their interaction was not going to remain friendly for long, no matter how much the Warrior of Light would prefer himself not to bring harm upon an innocent. Not that he was too sure whether or not someone of such stature was whole hearty innocent of all crime. Then again, he wasn’t either - and so his eyes darted around for the least busy corner he could find.

HE ALMOST EXTENDED HIS HAND to grab the other’s wrist, only to have caught himself moments before. Instead he gestures with his nose, urgently taking the quickest path to the alleyway with a faint shade and a darker depth to it. Good for if or W H E N things went south, what with the way the man was glaring at him.

WITHOUT HAVING REALIZED IT, Black Reaper cornered himself. Once inside the darker corner, he was the one who went further into the depth to be better concealed even if he was not in fact fully hidden. There were plenty reasons for this sort of action but he was blind to the possible downsides of placing Arima at between himself and the only exit.

“This isn’t Eorzea. Not ancient, not of the future. And you say there are man-eaters around?” He nearly-damn growled. In his head he’s thought, that it could indeed be a distant past even with the odd tenchonoly strewn around and about so carelessly. But he was reluctant to entertain the idea that this could be the realm which he’s come from, a dimension in which he was the sole survival of some G E N O C I D E . “What do you do with them, counter agent?”

Arima followed Black Reaper into the alley at a leisurely pace, taking the time to absorb all the details he could about the other man. The way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he dressed. He was slowly closing the distance between them, not tearing his eyes away from him, even when he ended up cornering Black Reaper against the wall somewhat unintentionally and somewhat...fully intentionally. Arima’s every move was calculated, and while Black Reaper might have operated on instinct without knowing why he did certain actions, Arima knew. Arima always knew.

He stopped a short distance away from Black Reaper and stood close, almost uncomfortably close, giving him a look that indicated he was waiting for words to come. But when they did, Arima didn’t find any answers in them. Only more questions.

What kind of place was Eorzea? Where was it? And how come this man seemed to be surprised and taken aback by the ghoul situation? Alarmed, even?

“N…o?..” The natural one-eyed almost W H I S P E R E D , though the name did resonate with an experience he was anything but unfamiliar with. It was true that at times that word was used for haunting creatures, ugly and monstrous if not dreadful to look at… but the true translation, as far as he knew, was always “ M A N - E A T E R “ .

WAS THIS SUPPOSED TO MEAN that there were others like him out there? That his kind had something to do with this Arima, or that - counter… Was the man he looked alike working A G A I N S T against him? Some sort of an evil half, like the Dark Knight? A stray piece of him, hurt and furious which walks around planting seeds of destruction…

“Wait wait -” He sharply turned around after Arima, firmly grabbing at his shoulder in an attempt to force him to stop. “We need to T A L K . “

WHERE? What exactly about? Black Reaper didn’t know but he was desperate to get some answers. And now, that he was even closer to the pale man he caught a whiff of something unnatural, something that he has never encountered before with any other Hyur or Highland back at home.

“Away from here.” He then added, his voice seemingly less patient. Almost dark.

The moment Black Reaper’s hand made contact with Arima’s shoulder, he immediately tensed up and became very ready to activate Narukami. He held himself back and didn’t, since he didn’t wish to alarm the civilians around them and make a scene unprovoked, but every muscle in his body told him that he was unsafe.

And that he was going to be uncharacteristically late for work.

Arima turned around to face Black Reaper once more, his expression unreadable, shrugging the other’s hand off his shoulder. Not violently, not rudely, but jerking hard enough to make it clear he didn’t want to be touched.

“Pick a place and we’ll talk.” He said coldly, eyeing Black Reaper with the gaze of a predator sizing up its prey.

FLUSHED LIPS PARTING SLIGHTLY, the Warrior of Light found himself speechless for a long moment. His brows further knitted together as a grimace and a twist of his nose were added to the confusion clear on his face. He’d think that if he would ever come across someone looking like this he would remember, the man couldn’t be much older than himself so all assumptions he was of his distant past -

“ M Y   N A M E   I S   A R I M A   K I S H O . “

WHILE KISHO WAS MEANINGLESS, A R I M A was the name his Morpho came with. It was a name he spontaneously came about when he’d first laid his eyes upon the glow-y winged companion. It was often told that the ethereal appearance of those butterflies was much akin to a soul’s… However it was an urban legend at most.

SOMETHING, STILL, FELT TERRIBLY WRONG. Black Reaper pressed his lips together as he drew in a breath, shaking his head once. His fingers tapped on his blazer beneath their positioning folded in.

“I’m being rude… but yes. I am extremely lost - I was looking for an inn, or a tavern. Even a restaurant to eat something will do? Oh and. I’m Black Reaper, Mr. Arima.” He nodded his head in a small bow. “Where do I “ W O R K “ , if I may ask?” His eyes locked on the other’s albeit their difference in height and weight, his look one with uncertain intent.

The slightest frown formed on Arima’s sharp features and he looked around them momentarily before returning his gaze to the one calling himself “Black Reaper”. He even used the same damn moniker, how come his brain got fried to the point he didn’t recognize the 1st Ward? Or Arima himself, for that matter?

Arima wondered if this was supposed to be some sort of ambush, but if it was, whoever’s orchestrating it probably counted on Arima being either extremely stupid or extremely sleepy, and neither was the case. Attacking him in broad daylight so close to the CCG’s main office would also be ill-advised, though there were still a few daring enough to attempt. Against his better judgement, and maybe with some morbid curiosity mixed in, Arima decided to humor this Black Reaper. But...

Did he say he was looking for a tavern?

THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT REMAINED FROZEN in his defensive position, palms facing the other man as he blinked a couple times, confused. Black Reaper’s brows arches slightly as he made a weak “ E H ? “ noise, lifting his gaze up to meet the other’s gaze.

HE APPEARED… Very much unfazed, yet confused at the same breath. On top of it all - the man didn’t simply pass by him and instead remained planted in place as if expecting a conversation to roll. That name he used on him… it felt distant, forgotten, yet so-very familiar. And it almost felt R I G H T coming from that man.

NOW FROWNING CAUTIOUSLY, Black Reaper slowly folded his arms tightly across his chest, cocking his head slightly to the right. Was this one of the key people he was meant to find on this journey, or were things as simple as him simply appearing like someone the stranger knew?

RARELY WERE THINGS THIS SIMPLE IN HIS LIFE.

“…I’m sorry, do I know you?” He perked a brow.

Now Arima was completely baffled. Has Haise’s memory really gotten this bad? Did one of the voices take over? He spent a good few moments simply staring at the other man, letting other people pass them by. Cars drove past them on the road, and the rays of early sunshine reflected off of Arima’s glasses. He was sweating a little under his coat, but that would improve the moment he could get into a building with air conditioning.

For a brief moment he contemplated sniffing the air to try and make out Haise’s scent, but his senses weren’t that sharp. Plus, it would look weird. He already looked weird.

“Yes. We work together?” Arima tried jogging the other man’s memory, but the longer he stared at him the more he noticed small differences between him and the actual Haise. For starters, this one looked more alive and less like a pale, bruised husk.