BLEACH SMUTfest 2025

"Are you actually going to wear that?" Tatsuki asked, wrinkling her nose at the mask you'd just settled on your face. "It doesn't exactly scream Halloween."

She picked up something that looked like a deflated sack of skin and yanked it over her head, huffing as she struggled with the stretchy, floppy material. Her voice came out muffled from behind Michael Myers' sagging rubber features.

"This is a Halloween mask."

Light snagged on the delicate gold scrollwork of your masquerade mask as you turned to adjust the fit in the mirror. Your eyes looked different, shadowed by the almond-shaped cutouts. A little more mysterious, like they belonged to a stranger.

"You have a very narrow definition of appropriate Halloween costumes," you said, adjusting the mask one last time.

"Witch, demon, serial killer, ghost," Tatsuki retorted. "Maybe a pumpkin if you're under five."

"One of those things is not like the others."

Thankfully, she was too busy wrestling with her sagging face to offer any more critique. The college party you'd been invited to didn't exactly fulfil your daydreams of a costume ball or a masquerade, but hey, you weren't going to let an opportunity to dress up and be someone else for the evening slip you by.

Reaching up, you brushed your fingers across the mask again, feeling the delicate whorls of tiny golden stitches and the small glass beads, cool under your fingertips. It had caught your eye a week ago in an eccentric little antique shop down a side-alley that you'd never seen before.

The black cat loitering outside the door had attracted your attention at first, sitting and grooming itself in a patch of sun, the warm rays turning its fur from pitch black to auburn. It paused its ministrations, and turned to watch you with large green eyes, which seemed far too intelligent for an animal.

Intrigued despite yourself, you'd deviated from your normal path to the library, and walked down the cracked paving stones of the alley instead. To your surprise, the cat was sitting outside a shop. Urahara Antiques & Curios, according to the sign swinging above the door.

Something in the window glittered, drawing your eyes toward it. Your breath caught. Resting on a black velvet cushion was the mask; intricate, beaded, embroidered, and definitely vintage. It looked like it had been plucked from the face of an eighteenth century noblewoman attending a masquerade in Venice or Versailles.

A bell jingled over the door as you entered, bright and cheery, though you didn't even remember pushing open the door. Tables, shelves, and cabinets rose up around you almost to the ceiling. Clocks moved on the wall, pendulums swaying, catching the light. You had to blink to focus your gaze on the back of the shop, with a thousand things threatening to snatch your attention at any moment.

"Maa, a customer?" drawled a voice, male, low, amused, before someone ducked out of the bead curtain separating the back room. A man with messy blond hair emerged, sleepy eyes peering at you from beneath a bucket hat. You'd been expecting a natty old man, not a handsome stoner-looking dude in a yukata, but who were you to judge? He peered at you, then gave a low, interested hum. "Something's already caught your eye, hasn't it?"

How did he know that? You pointed back toward the window. "The gold mask—"

It was as if you'd confirmed his suspicions; his face split into a lazy grin. "Really, now. Very interesting."

Why was that interesting? Whatever. You stood back as he bustled out from behind the counter, fanning himself idly. You expected his flapping sleeves to send any of the numerous small trinkets flying, but somehow he managed to avoid all of them on his way to the window, deftly manoeuvring between end tables and cabinets.

He leaned past you. Curiously, he plucked a white handkerchief from inside his voluminous sleeve and used that to pick up the mask, rather than touching it with his bare fingers. He held it up to the light, letting the sun catch on its beadwork, before carrying it across to the counter.

"Is it vintage?" you asked, before remembering what kind of store you were in. "Uh, I mean, antique?"

"Yeah," he said, laying it on a stretch of polished mahogany counter. "More than you know. There's a great story behind it."

You waited patiently for him to elaborate, but he just...didn't. I mean, what could you expect from an antique store owner wearing a yukata and a bucket hat?

"So, how much is it?"

"Fifteen-hundred yen," he said, examining the small, handwritten tag. He angled his head, as though considering something. "Buuut, it's been sitting there for years. You're the first person to ask about it. I can let it go for seven-fifty."

¥750 was still a good chunk of change, especially for an impulse purchase. Three hours' pay. You considered walking out and leaving it. Being sensible. Your stomach dropped, a hot, uncomfortable itching in the tips of your fingers. The urge to snatch the mask from him rose hot and urgent.

You needed that mask.

"...I can do seven-fifty," you blurted, shoving your hand in your pocket.

Now, leaning against a kitchen counter, a bottle of some weak, fizzy alcopop in one hand, you wondered if you'd just wasted your money.

Heavy music thumped through the house of someone you didn't even know, every room a sea of strobing lights and writhing, shadowy bodies clad in cheap polyester costumes.

Everything felt so...tawdry. It wasn't like you had anything against parties, but your head was filled with images of gilded ballrooms. Flickering candles and swirling gowns. String quartets. Masquerade masks.

Not plastic cat ears, heavy bass, and hands that strayed too close to your ass when you had to fight your way toward the bathroom. Tatsuki had vanished earlier to get another drink and not resurfaced, not that you'd be able to find her in the crush of costumed college students.

Squeezing past a couple shoved up against a bookcase, so entwined in each other that you couldn't tell where one ended and one began, you struggled toward the front door to get some fresh air. If Tatsuki didn't answer your next text, you were jumping in an Uber and going home to watch Labyrinth instead.

Why did I even come? I don't want to be here.

Before you could touch the door handle, something glittered in the corner of your eye. Your peripheral vision was blocked by the mask, so you figured it was probably the cheap-ass strobe lights the host had dotted everywhere, trying to turn their townhouse into a nightclub.

You reached for the door; it happened again.

Finally turning your head, you found yourself staring into the full-length hallway mirror. You should have been a LED-limned silhouette, but you could see yourself clearly, see the golden mask covering half of your face.

The mirror looked out of place, the frame gilded, heavy. It hadn't been there earlier. You were sure of it. Surely, you would have noticed it? It belonged in a museum, not a mid-sized townhouse in Karakura.

A faint ringing sound filled your ears, chasing away the throbbing, bass-boosted music that had been giving you a headache for the past three hours. It rose in pitch to a whine, like the harsh drawing of a bow across a violin, then dropped.

Drums. Music?

You looked into the mirror again, and startled. Your reflection wavered around the edges like a heat haze, cast in a golden light that didn't match your surroundings. As if you stood in candlelight, while everything else strobed in neon. How much had you had to drink? Not enough to be hallucinating.

Stretching out a hand, your fingers brushed the cool, smooth surface of the mirror. It felt more like water than glass.

A ripple ran through your reflection.

"What the fuck?"

Your voice was hushed, even though you didn't think anyone else would be able to hear you over the party music. No one was even paying attention to you, as if they saw nothing wrong with a masked girl tripping in the hallway. Or as if they couldn't see what you were seeing at all.

Hand trembling, you reached out and touched the mirror again. The surface rippled, distorting your features. Silver clung to your fingertips like liquid mercury when you tried to draw your hand back. It crawled down your skin, enveloping your hand to the wrist. You were face to face with the mirror, holding hands with your own reflection.

Then, your reflection vanished.

Something else, someone else, filled the space. A man, slender and golden-haired. A mask of white bone hid everything from you, save for his eyes, and a the grin that spread slow across his mouth, curving up more in one corner than the other.

"Found ya."

The stranger's voice echoed in your ears. His hand lifted, white-gloved, rising to where yours was still trapped by the mirror.

Strong, slender fingers closed around your wrist, and pulled.

The Halloween party disappeared in a kaleidoscopic whirl of golden light and flashing silver.

Sound crashed over you in a wave of urgent violin strings and soaring flutes. Spots danced in your vision as you staggered forward, strangely unable to catch your breath. If not for the strong hands that caught your waist, you would've collapsed in a heap on the polished marble floor.

"Well, that was quite an entrance," drawled a voice above your head.

The man from the mirror. Solid. Real. Holding you by the waist. His grasp tightened just before you could lurch away, then relaxed as you steadied, though he didn't let you go.

"Who are you? Where the hell am I?"

The masked man tilted his head. He was a little taller than you, more lean and languid than imposing, dressed in a cream and gold tailcoat, a golden half-cloak pinned at his shoulders, like some kind of fairytale prince. Golden brown eyes glinted at you from between the narrow apertures of his mask.

"Exactly where ya need to be."

...what kind of cryptic bullshit was that?

Finally, you tore your gaze away from his to take in your surroundings. A chill crept across your skin. The house, the party? Gone.

You were in the heart of a opulent, glittering ballroom. The vaulted ceiling hung heavy with chandeliers, candlelight and crystals pouring light down on the revellers below. Mirrors lined the walls between elaborate sconces, throwing reflections of the swirling dancers back at you, as if you were in an enormous zoetrope.

You didn't even have the chance to wonder at it, because when you looked down... The gown was a vision of palest gold. The bodice was heavy with the same starbursts and whorls of golden stitches that made up your mask, lines of beadwork running down the seams to scatter across the grand cascade of the skirt. It was a dress from a dream, a movie, a fairytale.

"What is this?" Your voice came out more breathy than you might have liked, running a hand down the gown. You were laced in tight, sculpted and arched into a regal posture you'd never had in real life. Silk and beads felt all too real underneath your fingertips.

"Looks like a dress to me," said your host, that grin coming back into play. "Ya were a little underdressed for the occasion."

You had to be daydreaming. that was the only logical explanation. A combination of booze and boredom, alcopops and fantasy fizzing in your blood, sweeping you away into a world of string quartets and spinning dancers.

"This isn't real."

The masked man tilted his head in a curious, almost bird-like gesture. "Not real, huh?" He seemed amused by your denial. "If that's what ya need to tell yerself, sweetheart."

He offered his hand, palm up, gloved in thin white leather, and bowed slightly at the waist. His voice was low, smooth, laced with amusement at your expense.

"If it ain't real, then what's to stop ya enjoyin' it? Care to dance?"

You stared at his hand as if he was offering you a knife and telling you to grab it by the handle. Dance? You were out here having a full on hallucination, and he was asking if you wanted to dance. He remained in that half-bow, palm extended. The dancers around you never ceased movement, but you felt eyes on you, hundreds of gazes watching you through the eyeholes of fantastical masks. Waiting for you to join them.

...would it be so bad? Wasn't this what you had been daydreaming of? If this was a dream, it would be stupid to turn down a chance to live out even a piece of your fantasies.

Slowly, you lifted your hand, and settled it in his.

His grin turned sharp, his fingers closed on yours, and you were pulled into the dizzying maelstrom of the dance.

The music changed immediately, as if the musicians had been waiting for you to join, rising and falling in time with your footsteps. You expected to stumble, to trip in your heels or over the swirling hem of your gown. You didn't know how to dance like this.

But with the stranger's hand in yours, his other pressing firmly against the small of your back, your feet moved as if they had a mind of their own. Push and retreat, spin and repeat. His masked face was the only fixed point in a blur of gold.

"Who are you? What's your name?"

"Isn't anonymity the point of a masquerade?" he asked. You got the feeling he was teasing you. "Ya can call me Shinji, dollface."

Dollface?

"Shinji," you repeated. It wasn't the most unusual name, but he was not a normal man. None of this was normal. "Sure you're not Jareth?"

He barked a short laugh, pulling you flush against him as he swept you backwards. Hi "See any goblins?"

"No, not yet."

His gaze, his grin, the sharp features you could see that weren't obscured by the mask, were all magnetic, but you finally looked around, catching snatches of the other dancers. Strange hair colours, fantastical masks, opulent suits and gowns that would break Pinterest. A familiar figure caught your eye for a split second.

A man with shaggy, ash-blond hair, wearing sage green. His face was masked, but you recognised the dusting of stubble down his jaw, the lazy eyes meeting yours across the dancefloor. The stoner dude from the antique shop! The lithe, dark-skinned woman in his arms had a river of long dark hair, that threw off glints of purple in the light of the chandeliers. She turned her face toward you. Green eyes winked at you through a cat-eared masquerade mask.

Then the music rose in tempo, and Shinji's hands on your waist lifted you, air whisking under your feet before you were set down again. The antique dealer and his feline dance partner were gone, vanished into the crowd.

"They were—"

"Friends," Shinji responded smoothly. "Mutual ones."

Had that Urahara guy set this up from the start? The golden mask had to be the key. Finally, the music reached its crescendo. Shinji's hand shifted, the world around you tilted, and you found yourself draped backward over his forearm as the last note wailed from the violins.

Breath heaving against the tight confines of your gown, hands grasping his shoulders for support, you stared up at him. Straight blond hair framed his face, cut blunt level with his jaw.

"Where is this place?"

"Full of questions, aren't ya?" His mode of speech was deceptively casual for someone dressed like a prince from a fantasy film. He eased you upright, laughing as you blinked rapidly, blood draining from your head. "Easy now. Ya wouldn't be here if ya didn't want to be."

Was that true? This was like something pulled straight from your daydreams. You'd wanted to buy that mask enough to throw away half your week's food budget on it.

"…is there a way for me to go home?" you asked, realising you were still grasping Shinji's shoulders, and forcing yourself to let go.

He chuckled, though his mouth turned down a little at the corners, as if disappointed. "Yeah, there is. Ya wanna leave me already, doll?"

"No! No, not yet," you blurted, stomach dropping at the thought of all this vanishing suddenly. At being back in that sweat-and-booze soaked house party. At Shinji vanishing into motes of dust and light. "I'm not ready to go yet."

His grin returned, sharp as ever. "Good."

Dance after dance passed, and though other pairs changed partners, Shinji wouldn't allow anyone to cut in. You lost count of how long you spent spinning in his arms, the shoes on your feet seeming enchanted, given that you never tripped or stumbled.

Finally, when you looked liable to drop, he drew you to a halt while the revel continued to swirl around you.

"Tirin' on me already?" he chastised playfully. "Tch. Let's get you somethin' to drink."

He guided you across the ballroom floor. Dancers parted around you, and closed up again in your wake. There were more guests against the walls, fanning themselves, drinking and talking. You caught whispers of a language you didn't understand. Eyes followed you, obscured behind silk and velvet.

Finally, you reached a table covered in finger foods, and a great glass bowl shaped like a conch shell. Clear peach liquid filled the punch bowl. Shinji took a small crystal cup shaped like a clam shell and dipped it into the punch. He offered it to you, before taking one for himself.

The punch was sweet, yet crisp enough to sting a little. Peach and mint and honey pooled on your tongue, and you found yourself gulping it down as if it was water in the desert. Your dancer partner watched you with unbridled amusement.

"Here ya go. I can't have ya faintin' on me."

In his gloved fingers was a small morsel. You went to take it, but he tutted at you, and fed it to you instead. Tender, savoury meat and delicate herbs, wrapped in crisp, paper-thin pastry. It was as delicious as the punch. As though every sense was heightened. Shinji's thumb brushed across your lips, as though to remove any crumbs.

Heat flared in your cheeks and the pit of your stomach at the same time, embarrassment and arousal a potent cocktail.

"That's better," he praised, refilling your punch. "Things taste better here, don't they?"

They did. Every bite he fed you, whether savoury or sweet, tasted like the Platonic ideal of food. Like what food should be. You remembered, briefly, all those old wives' tales about not eating food offered to you in other worlds. Faerie fruit. Pomegranate seeds. But you couldn't bring yourself to care.

By the time your stomach was full, your mouth was tingling from the touch of his fingers, from the deluge of overwhelming flavours. You found your gaze straying to his mouth, wondering how that would taste…

He tilted his head, the glint of his golden-brown eyes almost leonine behind his bone-white mask. He clicked his tongue at the sight of your wandering gaze. Was that a flash of silver in his mouth?

"Shall I take ya somewhere quieter?"

Your nod was immediate. A break from the noise, from the heat, a chance to find out more.

The chamber was dim, candles scattered across various surfaces throwing long shadows across the walls, hinting at painted murals, long faded into suggestion. Books covered many of the surfaces, instruments picked up and abandoned at a whim. A violin laying beside a series of scrolls. Books splayed open across the top of a grand piano.

Shinji's hand pressed agains the small of your back, guiding you deeper in. There, hidden behind a screen, stood the mirror. The same one you'd seen hanging on the wall in the hallway, before he'd pulled you through.

Beyond it lay a bed, covered in brocade quilts and tasselled pillows, artfully disturbed, as though he had been lounging earlier.

Your heels clicked on the marble floor as you approached the mirror, drawn inexorably toward it, skirts whispering across the floor. Would it show you visions of the real world? But when you stood before it, it only reflected yourself, wreathed in gold and bright eyed, hair tumbling free from its updo from the dancing.

Behind you, glass clinked. In the mirror, you watched Shinji pour two glasses of wine, the liquid spilling rich and dark into narrow metal goblets. He gathered them up and approached, his footsteps silent.

He appeared behind you in the mirror, one hand extended, offering the goblet. The wine was dark and sweet, ripening across your tongue and sliding down your parched throat. Gloved fingers grazed your throat, lifting away a tendril of hair. His voice was low, breath warm on the whorls of your ear as he spoke.

"Admirin' yerself?"

A shiver crawled down your spine, a single skittering line of electrified nerves. Goosebumps broke out across your bare arms and shoulders, despite the heat of the candles.

"This mirror…"

"It does what ya think it does, sweetheart."

Following this declaration, his hands bracketed your waist, holding you in place as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the side of your throat. Soft, blunt ends of his golden hair tickled your skin, the edges of his white mask a contrast to the warmth of his mouth, moving down your throat to the slope of your bare shoulder.

Your spine curved forward, breath catching in your throat. Shinji's hands slipped around your waist to your stomach, drawing you back against him, your skirts bunching against his legs.

"That's it," he praised, as you leaned back into his hold. "Give in to what ya want, dollface. This is all here for you."

"How can it be here for me?" you asked, still not quite willing to believe it, to believe that any of this was real. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" He propped his chin on your shoulder, meeting your gaze in the mirror. "Stop assumin' ya don't deserve this."

It would be wonderful to let yourself believe that. To believe you were the heroine of some fantasy where the masked stranger wanted you, where a magic mask whisked you away from the sepia-tinted real world into another, technicolour universe. To give into the feeling of his mouth on your skin, his hands running up your bare arms.

"If ya want to go home," he said, pausing, "just say the word. Anytime."

"…I don't."

His gaze was piercing in the mirror, candlelight rippling in the depths. "Then what do ya want?"

The answer was on your lips before you even realised it. "This. More of this."

You felt his mouth curve up against your skin, followed by a lazy kiss to the base of your throat. "Good answer."

His turned you by the hips, skirts rustling across the floor. His gloved hand cupped the nape of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive hollow behind your ear. Tilting your head back, he leaned in, head canted, and his lips found yours.

It was as dizzying as the dancing, warmth coursing through you. He tasted of the peach punch and wine, like fruit and honey. Reaching up, your hands ghosted over silk and leather, until your fingers carded into thick blond hair. Shinji grunted quietly at the sensation of your fingernails on his scalp.

Your fingers found his mask, grazing across the edges. It was cooler than you expected, almost marble in quality. You looked for the string or ribbon to untie it.

"Don't," he murmured against your mouth, a quiet command.

You froze for a second, worried you'd committed some kind of faux pas, but then he was kissing you again, his lips soothing away any sting. He pulled away after a while, cupping your chin and turning your head so you were looking in the mirror again, meeting your own gaze.

"Watch, dollface."

You were going to ask him what you were supposed to watch, but then he slipped behind you. You felt his hands running down your waist, dragging across the scrolling embroidery of your bodice. Warm breath ghosted over the nape of your neck, followed by one or two experimental tugs at the lacing of your gown.

He paused, giving you time to stop him, but no word of protest left you. He hummed in approval, deft hands unravelling the champagne-coloured ribbons binding you into the gown. Bit by bit, the gown loosened around your breasts, your ribs, your stomach. Holding the front of the gown against you, you sucked in a deep breath, sighing in relief as the pressure eased.

"Why'd ya imagine yerself in such a tight gown?" he teased, slipping the last of the ribbons through the gold eyelets. "Not that it doesn't suit ya."

You watched his gaze rove over your back, the slope of your shoulders, his intrigue and approval evident in how his gloved hands stroked your skin. Bit by bit, he freed you from the gown, bodice and skirts and all. Your heels clicked quietly as you stepped free of the skirts. All that was left was a satin chemise, rippling like water in the candlelight. And the golden mask. He hadn't sought to remove it, so neither did you. It was almost comforting, to feel it resting against your face.

"Better," he muttered, pulling you back against him again. You could feel him now, lean and warm and solid, through a thin layer of silk. One hand rested against the curve of your stomach, holding you against him, and his free hand slipped up your side, caressing you through the silk. He brushed over one silk-covered breast, drawing a sharp inhale out of you. "Much better."

There was something decidedly erotic about watching yourself being undressed. In another moment, in a different place, you might have been self-conscious, but here you felt…chosen. Wanted. Shinji's worshipful touch added to the effect.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, dusting kisses along the taut skin, tongue slipping out to taste the throb of your pulse. You felt something cool against your skin, but didn't have time to ponder it; he palmed one of your breasts, massaging it gently, thumb sliding across a stiffening nipple. Silvery sparks of sensation shot through you.

"Shinji…"

"Mmm? S'okay, sweetheart, just relax."

Seeing it happen in the mirror made the sensations more intense, every touch heightened by being a witness to your own seduction. The warmth of his mouth, the faint scrape of his teeth, the cool glide of silk across your nipples as he slipped the straps down off your shoulders.

Gloved fingers brushed over your knee, curling under the hem of the chemise, then rose, gliding up the insides of your thighs. You watched, rapt, as his hand disappeared between your legs in the mirror. Soft leather, warmed from his skin, brushed over the outer edges of your core. A hitched breath, the gleam of his grin in the mirror, and then he slipped deeper to find your clit.

Gentle touches at first, exploratory, almost tentative. Nudging, stroking, circling with maddening lightness. Your back arched, and he wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you standing, murmuring praise in your ear.

"That's it…"

The fine leather of his gloves grew slick, moving against you with ease. Your clit pulsed in his fingers, a slow burn working its way through your veins, a hollow ache in the pit of your stomach as he worked two fingers back and forth, one either side of the aching bud.

"Nnh…Shinji…"

He preened at the sound of his name in that breath-caught, pleasured tone of voice. He leaned forward, tongue brushing the shell of your ear, before he nipped at the lobe. You met his gaze in the mirror, your own hazy, lips parted in pleasure. You looked softly debauched, seduced. You might still be wearing that mask, but he was stripping away your defenses bit by bit.

You made an embarrassingly pleading noise as his hand withdrew. He chuckled at you, skimming his hands up your thighs to lift the hem of your chemise. Up it rose, revealing your hips, your stomach, your breasts. A moment later, it was a silky puddle on the floor, and Shinji was lowering himself to his knees in front of you.

Your hands flew out as if to stop him, but he was undeterred. Placing your hand on his shoulder, his grasped your ankle and lifted it. The glittering high heel slipped free and clattered to the floor as he lifted your knee over his lean shoulder.

That Cheshire Cat grin crossed his face again, before he tilted his head up. Warm breath across your sex, gloved hands grasping your hips, and then his mouth, hot and wet. His tongue glided across your clit, and you finally realised that yes, there was a piercing in his mouth. It caught against the sensitive bundle of nerves like a delicious punctuation to each stroke of his tongue.

"Fuck..."

The word felt crude and entirely fitting all at once. You looked up and snagged your own gaze in the mirror. There you were, naked, painted in shades of gold and shadow, with some kind of fairytale prince or trickster god (at this point you didn't really mind which) kneeling between your thighs, feasting.

You sank your fingers into his thick golden hair, gripping hard enough to send prickles of pain across his scalp. He groaned into you, gloved fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He sucked your clit into his mouth in retaliation, and suddenly it took every bit of wherewithal to keep standing.

The combination of hot tongue and smooth, firm tongue ring had you swaying, rocking your hips into his mouth, trusting him to keep you upright.

He couldn't voice his encouragement, but his low hums of approval and the way gripped your hips like a lifeline spoke volumes. Waves of pleasure rocked through you, and on the final crest, you finally broke your own gaze, head tipping back, throat working as you cried out.

The candles flickered as if in sympathy. Shinji laved his tongue over you one last time, before wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He rose up from between your legs, scooping you up before you fell.

"Want to leave yet?" he asked, his voice rich with satisfaction, knowing full well you weren't going anywhere.

Your answer was to point imperiously to the bed. Shinji laughed.

A moment later, you were sprawling into cool silk brocade and softest linen, delicious against your heated skin. Your other heel clattered to the floor to join its abandoned twin, and Shinji settled himself over you.

"Are we still...?" You touched your mask.

He pulled your fingers away from it, kissing the backs of them. "Yes, dollface."

"How can you call me that when you can't even see my whole face?"

"Ya can criticise my pet names later," he said, with an amused tsk. Right now he had much more interesting things to focus on. As did you. Namely, getting him out of his princely attire so you could explore him the same way he had you.

There were numerous toggles and ties that the pair of you tugged and unlaced. At one point, his suave veneer cracked a little as he got his cloak half-on, half-off, though his annoyance faded quickly in the face of your laughter. Finally, you were peeling him out of his white shirt, getting at the smooth, slim torso underneath.

He leaned into your touches like a cat, mouth capturing yours in a kiss heated enough to press you down into the silk bedding. He was a warm weight settling between your thighs, skin smooth against yours, his golden hair tickling your face.

You trailed your hands down his back, grasping his hips to press him tighter against you, to recapture a little of that friction. He leaned back just enough to catch your eye. When he saw nothing but want staring at him from behind beaded golden silk, he got his answer.

The head of his cock brushed across your clit once, twice, enough to tantalise, before he pressed carefully against your entrance. A deft twist of his hips, and Shinji slipped inside an inch or two, drawing sharp inhales from you both. He rested on his forearms, either side of your head, as he pushed forward, filling you in a slow, delicious glide.

Your legs rose of their own accord, wrapping around his lean hips. Shinji groaned at the change in angle, at the heat of your body sucking him in. The mask shadowed his eyes as he leaned down, candlelight flickering across the planes of his cheeks and jaw, the hollows of his throat as he swallowed.

"Knew ya'd feel good," he praised, leaning down again. "Feels as good as ya look, love."

It took all his self control to draw his hips back slow, and push back inside with the same glacial pace. You could feel every inch of him, not too much, not too little, as tailor-made for you as everything else in this place.

"More..." If this was all for you, then you weren't afraid to ask for what you wanted.

"Music to my damn ears," he muttered, rocking harder into you. He gripped the silk pillow under your head, hips rolling smooth, every push and pull creating a hot, tingling friction.

Shinji hitched your thigh higher around his hip, opening you up more so every forward thrust pressed up against your clit, still sensitive from his earlier ministrations. His head dipped, mouth finding your neck again, teeth biting down with enough pinch to make your cunt tighten around him.

"Shinji!"

The sting only served to heighten your sense of pleasure, blurring the line. You lost track of time, between the ever-growing heat and pressure between your thighs, between your tangled bodies and urgent breaths, between his lips locked with yours, lips and teeth and tongue.

Moans and sighs punctuated the hush of the room, the rustle of bedding and the brush of skin against skin. Your feet dug into the mattress, hips pushing up against his for more, for that tiny nudge that would send you crashing over the edge.

"Please—"

Shinji gave a sharp snap of his hips, driving himself home. Your thighs clenched around his waist, toes curling hard into the soles of your feet. Fingernails digging into the meat of his shoulders, you released a series of soft, breathless moans as release finally crashed over you, sweeping you away.

He followed swiftly, thrusting into the clutch of your body, shivering at how you gripped him. His back bowed, his face pressed to the curve of your throat as he found his own climax, cock twitching in the confines of your body.

After a few strained minutes, you finally caught your breath, legs settling to the bed, boneless. Your hands slid up his sweat-slick back, pushing damp golden hair out of his face. Your fingers lingered on his mask again, but you didn't try to take it off, not wanting to break whatever spell it held.

"What is this place, really?" you asked, unable to resist your curiosity, now that other appetites had been sated. For the time being anyway. "Is this real, or am I just having a really good dream?"

"Could be either," he said, toying with a strand of your hair. "I might be a figment of yer imagination."

You went to frown, not liking that idea at all, but he cut you off with another kiss, lazy and lingering.

"I'm real," he reassured you. "Yer gonna wake up in yer own world, but if ya wanna come back, just put the mask on. I'll find ya."

The last thought you had, before you drifted to sleep, was that you were going to hunt down Urahara Antiques & Curios and shake some answers out of that antique dealer. And then, you were going to put on the mask and come right back the next night, and the one after that.

MEGA VOCABULARY !

wet, sloppy, soaked, slippery, gushing

hard, firm, rigid, stiff, curved, straight, hooked, pinkish/purplish/crimson/etc., red hot, flushed, swollen, pulsating, throbbing,

graze, hover, linger, brush

grab, grope, squeeze, tease, test, overstimulate, stimulate, encourage

spread, pry, split, shape, mold, press, squish, grind

smack, slap, hit, spank

roughly, softly, sweetly, nastily, heavily

sweat beading (off forehead), trickling, squelching

rub, circle, sweep, flick, curl, fingering

rolling, grinding, stuttering, staggering (hips)

panting, heaving, gasping, huffing

hiccoughing, sobbing, weeping

clamp down, constrict around, milking

clawing, scratching, digging

hug, cling, wrap, locking (legs around waist)

squirm, wiggle

obsessively, feverishly, thirstily, hungrily, lustfully, needily, greedily, desperately, sensually

tantalizing, addictive

horny, lewd, erotic

abuse, pummel, beat, bully (G-spot)

(of balls) taut, tense, full, empty, drained, milky, heavy

(of cum) pungent/salty, thick, creamy, frothy, leaky, juicy, gooey, stringy, smeared

dizzy, drunk, delirious (from lust/pleasure)

dirty, sloppy, nasty

abused, swollen, pounded, bruised

speeding it up/slowing it down, quickening (pace)

flushing, blushing

plush/pursed/pressed (lips)

unrestrained, restrained, strained

repressed, suppressed, stressed

instinct, impulse

animalistic

movement, motion, action

writhe, thrash, twist, turn

ㅤFOREPLAY !

ACTS — breast play, dry humping, heavy petting, hickey-giving, grinding, lap dance, body worship, massaging, kissing/make-out, sexting, reading smut, mutual masturbation, bathing/showering together

ㅤORALJOBS !

VOCABULARY — Salivate, drool, suck, suckle, slurp, kiss, lick, lap, choke, gag, spit, swallow, drink, gulp, pressing, swirling, rub, sweep, dribble, ooze, leak, throating it, bobbing on it

VISUALS — Saliva/(pre)cum rolling down chin/neck, jerking what can't fit, making out with... (cockhead, shaft, balls, clit, etc.), cheek bulging with cock, hollowing out cheeks while sucking harder, rolling eyes back in ecstasy, tasting them, pulling in for a dirty kiss afterwards, juices smeared across cheek, lips glistening with slick

DEEPTHROATING — watery/glossy/dewy eyes, choked up, throat constricting, throating the length, tip prodding the back of the throat, choking, gagging, spluttering, coughing, gasping for air, using hair as a handle to control how much is taken, headrush when coming off for air, being held down on it, feeling bulge in throat

CUNNILINGUS — buttery soft tongue sweeping circles, flicking, nipping and kissing at clit, sinking inside, wriggling around, feasting on pussy, thumbing clit while tongue-fucking, curling against sweet spot, lapping at slit/folds, long strokes, squirting on their face

ㅤHANDJOBS !

VOCABULARY — fingering, jerking, stroking, thumbing, weighting, pressuring, pump, thrust, stuff, shove, prod, push, glide, slip into

VISUALS — wetting palm/slicking fingers with juices, stroking at g-spot with fingertip, stroking his length, grazing fingertips down, eye contact as they ruin you with their handiwork

FINGERING — warming up with teasing, working at the clit simultaneously, using their whole arm, tensing their biceps the more they exert pressure, switching up techniques (stroking back and forth, sweeping/massaging circles, 'come hither'), curling fingers inside, sucking/tasting sweet slick off fingers

JERKING — cock hanging heavy or drooping from its weight, jumping in anticipation to be touched, throbbing hot in palm of hand, wielding at the base, brisk/quick or languid/slow strokes, balls jiggling each time wrist meets the base

ㅤPENETRATIVE SEX !

VOCABULARY — pump, thrust, stuff, shove, pound, prod, push, glide, piston, fill up, (jaw) slacking, aching, falling/locked/wrung open, curve, arch, lean, wobble, jiggle

VISUALS — the skin of the base of a cock wrinkling up when bottoming out, getting balls deep, skin sticking/slapping against skin, sweat dripping down, balls tightening up and muscles flexing (when a cock is about to cum), abs flexing, leaky cockheads and sticky precum oozing, splitting open hole on a big cock and watching it stretch into a wide O shape to accommodate its girth, holes twitching and spasming like they're aching to be touched or are overstimulated or have just orgasmed, heavy-hitting thrusts or short, quick strokes and which spots the tip is rubbing against, giving it to you/taking it/letting you have it, blissing out/pulling a lewd face/feeling high off an orgasm and rolling your eyes back, hissing through gritted teeth when it feels too good, the way your ankle wobbles over a shoulder in certain positions while getting pounded into, wet sounds getting sloppier/getting wetter and sweatier the longer it goes on, being splayed/trapped underneath them, letting you feel the stretch

SEX TYPES — hate sex, car sex, gentle/rough sex, phone/cybersex, shower sex, (un)protected sex

POSITIONS — mating press, doggystyle, spooning, cowgirl (riding), prone bone, holding ankles, standing, against wall, standing in front of mirror, pushups on top of you, side split, etc.

ㅤDIRTY TALK !

VOCABULARY — moan (duh), groan, seethe, hiss, rasp, mewl, croon, coo, murmur, coax, grunt, scream, rasp, purr, hoarsely, breathy, feathery, reverberating, quavering, quivering, whimpering, needy, high-pitched, staccato, commanding, firm, cheeky, cocky, playful, teasing, muddling, babbling, garbling, gargling, gurgling, speechless, breathless, incoherent, inaudible

DIALOGUE IDEAS — behave, do as i say, watch that attitude of yours, let me guide you, watch me fuck you, don't take your eyes off me or I'll stop, use your words, on your knees, open wide, you love it don't you? filthy slut, don't hide your face, let it all out on me, fuck me like you mean it, all for me?, dirty mind you've got there, need me to take care of you?, just like that, you take it so well, then come and get it, you like that huh?, i know you're into it, cum with me, say my name, who's fucking you this good?, can't resist you, irresistible little slut, take it, spread your legs for me, try a little harder for me

SWEET PET NAMES — baby, bambi, angel, darling, bunny, doll, babydoll, sweetheart, butterfly, good girl/boy, little Aphrodite, goddess, baby girl/boy

VULGAR PET NAMES — (nasty, dirty) slut, whore, bitch, toy

ㅤORGASMS, CUM, 'N CREAMPIES !

VOCABULARY — whipped cream, frothed up/frothing (after creampie), cream, milk, release, baby batter, seed, sticky, gooey, thick, pungent, potent, spilling, spurting, squirting, shooting, dripping, oozing, bubbling (out hole after creampie), running (down slit), decorating or marking (body), salty, nasty, bitter, sweet

VISUALS — ropes of cum, trickling down the shaft to the balls, balls tightening/tensing during release, squirting, creaming/gushing all over cock/hands/toy/etc., shuddering or caving into yourself, buildup to an orgasm being stronger or weaker, stopping or not stopping until their orgasm is over, creampie dribbling out hole

ORGASM TYPES — clitoral, vaginal, cervical, blended, hands-free, cumshot/facial, in panties, etc.

CREAMPIES — warm, dripping, nasty, frothed up, leaky, juicy, deep, rushed, taboo, risky, shallow, oozing, gooey

ㅤCONSENT & AFTERCARE !

VOCABULARY — let me have you, can we...?, is it alright?, unless you don't want to, do you like it?, go faster/slower, let's take a break, are you okay (in the middle or after an act), can you take it?, is your jaw not sore like this?

AFTERCARE IDEAS — getting cleaned up together (bath, shower), carrying you, pillow talk, cuddling, having food, giving water, massaging numb/sore/tired parts, soothing bite/hit marks, brushing hair out of face, kissing forehead, praising for taking it so well, helping put clothes back on, making jokes, petting hair, telling you how much they love you, confessing their feelings

ㅤKINKY STUFF !

LIST — praise, degradation/humiliation, overstimulation, consenting multiple times, dom/sub, breeding, rough sex, voyeur/exhibition, size difference, somnophilia, dacryphilia, nipple play, body worship, anal play, threesome/gangbang, impact play, spanking, slapping, spitting, hair pulling, choking/holding neck, pinning down, cockwarming, age gap, virginity loss, double penetration, infidelity/cheating, jealousy

TROPES — one bed, brother's best friend, office romance, enemies/friends to lovers, forced proximity, fake relationship, playboy in love, ex-partner/spouse, mafia romance, toxic relationship, friends with benefits, professor/student, pornstar au, sugar daddy, arranged marriage, unresolved sexual tension

BDSM — safe words, cuffs, collars, leashes, tying wrists, primal play, knife play, brat play, edging, etc.

ㅤTOYS !

VOCABULARY — buzzing, humming, whirring, maximum, toying

VIBRATORS — rabbit, vibe, egg, bullet, suction, thrusting, app-controlled/remote/etc.

DILDOS — hot pink, plum purple, curved, ribbed design, thick, long, real-feel, glass, transparent, etc.

PLUGS — for plugging a creampie, (bunny, cat) tails, heart-ended

OTHER STUFF — aphrodisiacs, clit stim gels (cooling/heating effects, heighten sensitivity, etc.), lube (flavored or not), nipple clamps, blindfolds, (fluffy) cuffs/ties/ropes

ㅤXTRA RESOURCES !

Minnie's 500 nouns, verbs, and adjectives for sex scenes

KJ Scott's lewd vocabulary survey

Ever had the fear (or thrill) of getting locked up inside a supermarket?

Ever had the fear (or thrill) of getting locked up inside a supermarket on the night of Halloween?

You were last minute costume shopping and jammed yourself into the tight fitting room to give your costume a try. You got stuck in all the nets and moving parts of the costume and got all worked up.

It was a mermaid costume (caught in a net) and your legs got stuck inside the tail part. Your plan was to attend one of those adult kinky Halloween parties and lay out on the couch all night long, trapped under a net. It was a kinky orgy party you got invited to by your friends. It was your first time and you were definitely nervous.

You opened the door to the tiny fitting room, squeezed your way out and crashed into walls and clothing rakes, toppling over everything around you. You lost your balance and fell forward, gaining a sudden appreciation for bipedal evolution.

As you lay on a pile of clothes, that is when you noticed the abandonment. Aisles deserted of any life form. Luckily, you were not in complete darkness as the store was dimly lit for the night. Normally, the night staff would be filing in, but because it was Halloween eve, no night staff was in sight.

Speaking of Halloween, you were missing the party! All the good men and women were probably already taken. Panic struck, you frantically tried to look for your phone but couldn’t find it as it may have gotten buried beneath all the mess. You tried to pry the tail off again but failed.

You could scoot across the store on your bum and head towards the doors to activate the security system and maybe that would trigger your rescue.

But…. You hesitated.

After all, it’s not every day you get locked up in a store, right?

Why not do what they do in the movies — indulge a little, eat some tasty snacks and test out the beds. Naturally, you’d pay your dues before you leave, as it’s the morally correct thing to do.

But first, you had to break free from the tail.

You squirmed around, knocking down a few more clothing racks and creating complete chaos around you.

As you continued with your struggles, you failed to notice the approaching footsteps.

“Whatcha doing here? You a mermaid thief?” came the voice of a man who was fated to be your hero, while you lay there like a damsel in distress.

You stopped your thrashing and looked up. That piercing blue gaze caught you, stealing your breath and the rhythm of your heart.

“I- um I got locked up.” You explained, laying pathetically in a mess of clothes and merchandise. Your heart was pounding — either from the guilt of being caught, or from the fact that you’d been caught by a ridiculously good-looking man.

Or both.

“Ahh naughty mermaid” he grinned when he noticed the mess around you.

“Can you help me out of this outfit so I can be on my way?” You pleaded, although hesitant because he called you ‘naughty’.

He looked at your pathetic state and clicked his tongue. “What do I get outta it? You doubled my work here”.

“I will help clean it up!”, you offered.

“Tch. It ain’t that easy to negotiate with me. What you think I am? A push over?” He suddenly grew defensive, as if pent-up tension was forcing its way out.

“Calm down. Listen. I will do anything if you get me out of this tail”.

“But you look so pretty and helpless in it”. His defensive walls came down as quickly as they had gone up and now he was on the offence, ready to pounce on his prey. “Come on. It’s Halloween. Let’s share a little treat while we are at it”.

“I don’t want your treats. I want to leave”.

“I can’t let ya”.

“Why????” Your heart was accelerating, your feet were sweating within the thick suit and you felt ill and claustrophobic.

“Well you see, I can only open the door from the outside. Once I am in, the morning staff will hafta unlock the doors from the outside. You trapped with me until then”.

“That’s a stupid security system!”

“I don’t make the system. So what will it be, mermaid”. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a wrapped condom.

“Wow! No thanks”.

“Oh? So you like a creamy filling?” The idea seemed to have perked him up even more.

“No! Wait!” You looked at him and realized he was the type to think with his other head rather than his actual head and you knew exactly how to deal with suck horny men . “If you want to cream anything, you will need some access. And for that, you will need to pull me out of the tail”. And once he pulls me out, I’ll run towards the doors and trigger the alarm!

Grimmjow studied you closely with amusement. “But I wanted to cream a mermaid today”.

“How?”

He pulled a box cutter from his back pocket and exposed the blade. “Make some slits here and there”.

Your eyes widened, the panic grew. “I don’t even know you!!”

“Oh yea. Hi. I’m Grimmjow. I like to fuck naughty mermaids. Nice to meet ya”, he squatted down and ran his hand through his gorgeous blue hair to make his point. He even proceeded to take off his shirt to reveal his sexy but scarred chest. He stood up for a moment to pull off his pants but kept his boxers on for the dramatic effect. The giant protruding bulge was hard not stare at.

He was hot. You felt hot. Your flushed face gave him enough encouragement to continue with his pursuit and antics.

“So whatcha say? We free this pretty little mermaid?”

“Fine. But don’t cut anything important”.

“Don’t ya worry. I know how to slice my way through clothes”, he grinned and squatted back down. He didn’t touch your mermaid bra but instead went for the waistline of the tail. He ran the edge of the knife across the elastic band, feeling it snap and slowly unravel. He tossed the knife aside and used his muscular grip to rip through the rest, making a jagged perpendicular cut along your midline.

He opened up the tail enough to reveal your….pussy!

“What! You naughty mermaid tried on a Halloween costume without panties? What it for? A kinky party and I ain’t invited?!”

You looked away— you couldn’t meet his eyes, the shameful admission written all over your face.

He eyed your pretty pussy and watched your clit harden before his eyes.

“And ain’t I lucky, found myself a big and pretty pearl”, he grinned with pride, his fingers resting on your lower belly and slowly trailing downwards to feel the pearl.

You instantly tensed up, his touch sent a shock up your belly and you tightened your core. You tried to rub your thighs together to fight off the growing arousal.

“Relax. I ain’t a criminal”.

“But we just met”.

“And you were ready to take a room full of random dick at a party. What difference it makes? Besides, ain’t gonna find a fine dick like mine in this town”. He lowered the waistband to his boxers and out bounced his long hardened dick, beaming in all its glory.

“But….” You had nothing further to say— defeated by his logic and his cock.

“You missing the party anyways. Why not we have our party here? Inside your pussy” He pressed the tip of his mushroom cock against your clit. It felt like being poked by a hot iron rod. His cock was hot to the touch, you could feel it pulsating against your nerves.

He parted your thighs slightly, careful to still keep you wrapped up in the tail. He slid his cock head down towards your folds, leaving a trail of precum behind.

Your back arched and you finally let out that suppressed and strained moan when all he did was push the tip past your folds. You instantly squeezed around very little he offered.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, appreciating your eagerness. “Hungry for my cock?”

You went silent and placed your hand over your mouth to swallow back any more lewd sounds that threatened to escape past your lips.

“Come on babe. I love dirty talking. Don’t take it all personal. You are beautiful and gorgeous. Just my luck to have caught a pretty mermaid”. His voice softened for a moment and that did help ease some of that tension. But that easiness and tenderness didn’t last long.

With a swift and forceful thrust of his hips, he was all in. All 9 inches.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull like a slot machine hitting the jackpot and you let out a lengthy gasp considering he just knocked the wind out of you.

“Fuck so tight. Your pussy feels so good”, he groaned, pausing for a moment to feel your insides contracting around him.

He began his rhythmic thrusting, loving the way you wrapped around his length. His hand went back to your mermaid pearl. He rolled it around under his fingertip, watching you shudder beneath him.

“That’s it. Milk that cock you mermaid slut. Fucking a sailor off shore hmm? Fuck fuck fuck”. He got caught up in his own sexual fantasy and it wasn’t long before he packed his cum deep inside you.

“Should have worn that condom. Damn. Ya gonna get knocked up or not?”, he asked, his cock still twitching inside you as it sat limp in its own mess.

“It’s fine. But I didn’t cum yet”. You reminded him.

“And who said I’m done just because I came? It’s a long night ahead. We gonna fuck around until the morning shift shows up. Think your slutty pussy can handle my load?”

“You are cocky for someone who lasted only 5 minutes”, you gave him a smug look.

“Ah, that was just a warm up. Don’t get so cocky. You gonna be begging for me to stop once I am done wrecking your pussy. Unless you rather go to that stupid party”.

He had you pinned from above, his cock still anchored deep inside you.

“I’m not going anywhere now that you made a mess inside me. No one is gonna want a messy pussy”, you replied with a lifted sense of confidence. Afterall, this halloween party had only begun.

And you were about to cum.

Not once or twice. You lost count after thrice.

He lived up to his words.

You were left leaking and sore.

He pulled out with a wet pop, your abandoned hole leaking and gaping, molded to the shape of his cock.

It took you a moment to regain your bearings. You were so fucked out of it that it felt as though your body had slipped into another dimension. You had become blissfully unaware, suspended in a strange, intoxicating limbo between reality and paradise.

You took your time to fight through the nausea and prop up. You looked around and came to realize, he was nowhere to be found.

It was always on the nights you weren't looking for trouble that it found you, like a moth, or rather in this case, moths, to a flame. 

The night had divulged into chaos, as it often did in your circle, and with the tricks-and-treats holiday, the disarray only intensified. Amongst the flurry of costumes and lights and sweaty bodies, one friend had too much to drink and gone home sick, another was off in another direction, following a lover to a different bar, this one cranky over an ex, that one off in another world entirely, dancing the night away. And as for you…

You needed another drink.

Different characters and creatures crowded around the bar, as thirsty as you had been. You snuck and shoved your way through, determined to refuel and hit the dance floor again. The mission was a near success as you caught a glimpse of the bartender over a few shoulders, so close, yet so far. Just a few more bodies to get past and you’d be home free. That was until the ones directly in front of you spun around to leave with their drinks, one of them knocking into you and some of their beer spilling down your cleavage in the process.

It was a cop. Obviously, not a real one, but he and his posse were dressed up as them - uniforms, badges, handcuffs. 

He flinched, an apology sputtering out of his mouth like a reflex. “Whoa, sorry-”

"You spilled your drink on me," you stated monotonously, staring at him with a poker face, playing your own little trick in the spirit of the evening. 

Of course, you hadn’t actually been mad or bothered in the slightest by his accident. It was crowded, and shit happened, nevermind that it was only a drip he spilled. But getting a reaction and watching him squirm could be fun.

His personality seemed at odds with his look - dark hair, face tattoos that looked real enough, scars and alternative jewelry opposing his fake, orderly uniform, but he panicked and stammered and his eyes went wide at the sight of your potential offense, in a hurry to correct his mistake. "Oh. Yeah. I'm - I'm really sorry about that. Can I-"

"You have to give me a drink of it," you interrupted, suppressing a smile as you strained to keep that same, impassive expression.

The cop froze, waiting for another trick or perhaps processing your words, trying to make sure he heard you right under the blaring music. When you continued to stare, a smile ever-so-slighty twitching at the corner of your lips, he smiled too, easing into your playfulness and lifting his beer to your lips, tilting it back to allow you a sip. 

For your next trick, you wanted him to see what you looked like sucking on something. You took a generous gulp, not because you liked beer, but because you were starting to find him attractive.  

"You like it?" He asked when you lifted your head again.

You wiped a drop that had missed your mouth and dribbled down your chin, grinning. "Not really."

He chuckled, his eyes following the movement before settling on yours again. "Can I buy you something better, then?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You may as well have been the cop, because he was under arrest. "Sure."

“Hey, Shuhei!” One of his fellow cop friends reappeared, red hair and more face tattoos, realizing a member of his squad hadn’t followed them back out onto the floor. “What are you doing?” He shot you a curious glance, and your black-haired cop a follow-up questioning look. 

Something seemed to pass silently between them before he inched closer to you, his hand ghosting over the small of your back. “Go on without me. I’ll meet you guys later.”

The redhead smirked, his eyes darting between the pair of you. “Oh, I see.” He smacked your cop on the back proudly, remarking “have fun, big guy,” before disappearing back into the crowd. 

Shuhei laughed it off, shaking his head. You followed him back to the bar he came from with his hand on your back, a gentle guidance to keep you close. 

"So, what'll it be?" He asked.

You confidently gave him your usual order, smiling victoriously as you leaned in closer, your lips inches from his ear purring, “thank you, by the way."

"It's the least I could do.” He had a handsome smile, sweet, tender. It made you all the more curious about those tattoos on his face, about what else there was for you to discover. “So...what's your name?"

"(Y/N). And you’re Shuhei, right?"

"Right."

You reached out to shake his hand, anything to see him chuckle and flash that pretty smile of his again. "Nice to meet you, Shuhei."

He grabbed your hand and shook it, chuckling lightly at the traditional gesture. Success. "Yeah - yeah you too.”

"You always dump your drinks on girls?" You teased him, pushing his buttons, keeping him on his toes. 

"Only the pretty ones,” he commented flirtatiously, immediately backtracking when your eyes widened at him. “I mean - it really was an accident. I hope I didn't ruin any-"

"I'm just giving you a hard time,” you giggled at him, his proclivity for nervousness endearing. “But I'm glad to know you think I'm pretty. I think you're pretty too. Pretty handsome," you complimented, growing shy as the bold words left your lips. 

He smiled and looked down at his drink. Now the both of you were shy, blushing fools, feeling each other out, tricking, experimenting. 

You hurried to fill the ensuing silence, a nervous habit. "They're taking awhile with my drink, huh? You'd better give me some more of yours."

Shuhei looked at you again, playfully scoffing at your audacity. "I thought you didn't like it?"

"Yeah.” You shrugged, feigning innocence. “But I like when you take care of me."

You hadn’t needed to say any more than that. Shuhei gladly took care of you, not even letting you grab the glass for yourself. He lifted the bottle to your lips again, watching you press your lips to the top, taking another sip of the liquid you didn’t care for, but it hadn’t mattered because it was his and he was giving it to you. 

The bartender interrupted your little show, finally returning with your drink and taking Shuhei’s name for the tab. You both flushed like you’d been caught, and you again hurried to put a stop to the awkward moment, lifting your drink and offering it to him.

"You want some? It's only fair."

"Sure.” Shuhei grabbed it from you, taking a small sip before handing it back. “Not bad." He nodded. 

You grinned, excited for what awaited the two of you. You hadn’t expected to go for a small drink and to come back with that and a tall glass of water.

You reached for that glass’ bicep, curling your hand around it and acting oblivious to his slightly-panicked expression and the muscles that hastily flexed beneath your touch. "Go on,” you nodded towards the floor away from the bar, “take me away."

Regaining his composure, he smiled, pulling you closer. "Alright. Stay close to me."

"Why, so you can spill on me again?" You joked as he began to pull the two of you along.

"I'll never hear the end of that, will I?" He laughed over the music. 

"Nope." You grinned wickedly, in the end, glad that he had spilled on you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You didn’t take him for the dancing type, and he seemingly confirmed that theory by tucking the both of you into a corner booth, away from the swaying sea of bodies, not that you minded. Away in a dark corner, far from prying eyes, seemed exactly the spot the two of you ought to be. 

"Soooo…” You swirled your straw around in your drink, batting your lashes, smiling mischievously. “You're supposed to be a cop?"

Shuhei averted his gaze, hanging his head abashedly. "Yeah, it's stupid. I know. It was my friend's idea." He scratched the back of his neck.

"It's hot at least.” You shrugged, sipping your drink casually as you observed every little unique, handsome detail and the way your compliments made him get all flustered. “What does your tattoo mean?"

"Oh, this?” He pointed to the numbers decorating his cheek, continuing when you nodded. “It's just something I picked up from someone I admire…" He smiled to himself, a smile that had your stomach bubbling with jealousy, wondering who exactly that someone was.

"Someone you 69'ed with?" You teased, a bit of that envy trickling into your tone, though he didn't seem to notice.

"No!” He laughed and shook his head at you disapprovingly. “You're pretty naughty, aren’t you?"

A surprised and affronted blush crept onto your cheeks. "I'm not naughty! Something like that, it's easy for people to get the wrong idea about you!” You defended, unable to contain your laughter at being busted for your perverseness. 

"An idea like what?" Shuhei challenged, raising an eyebrow.

The way he looked at you made butterflies flutter nervously in your chest and stomach. Naughty. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, feeling impossibly more perverted.

"That you're an edgy pervert,” you projected. 

“Is that right?” He observed you closely. "Well, that certainly didn't scare you off, did it?"

He had you there. You refused to admit it aloud, that the ‘edgy pervert’ look lured you in. But you didn't need to. You were the one who sipped from his drink in the first place, after all. 

"Anyways,” he filled the silence. “It's a thing from a sort of mentor figure. Not perverted,” he affirmed, smiling teasingly at you. 

"You're all kinds of tatted and scarred up,” you commented while your eyes wandered his marked face, mesmerized. “From the looks of it, I was expecting you to be a little more…” you searched for the right phrasing, “rough around the edges."

"Is that your type?" He questioned, tilting his head at you.

He may have looked it, but in the short amount of time that you’d spent with him, you already knew that definitely wasn’t him, too sweet and soft for his own good. “Nah,” you humored him, taking a slow sip from your glass while he watched.

"Then what is your type?" He looked at your lips, then back up at your eyes expectantly. 

You giggled knowingly before taking a moment to compose your thoughts, deciding to relinquish the tricks and give him something genuine this time. "I don't think I really have one,” you told him. “I think every person has something that makes them special, and as long as they know what that is and they own it, whatever it may be, that's what makes a person attractive."

Shuhei nodded slowly at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile you couldn’t read - satisfaction? Amusement?

“Sorry, that probably didn’t make any sense,” you laughed nervously, letting some of your composure slip through the cracks under his intense, dark gaze.

“No, no,” he quickly assured, shaking his head. “I understand. I think it's sweet,” he admitted bashfully.

You’d become bashful too, deflecting the question onto him with your usual air of mischief to save face. "Do you have a type? And by the way, if you don't say me or give a description that's exactly like me, you're dead to me." 

"It's you, obviously,” he responded immediately, smiling ear to ear. “Only you."

"Aww you mean it?" You tilted your head and batted your lashes dramatically, relishing in the way he laughed at your antics.

Somewhere between now and when you first sat down, you'd gotten closer, your thighs bumping against one another under the table, your crossed leg practically entwined with his. There was something beautiful about these kinds of nights, nights full of tricks and surprises and strangers, strangers who were just individuals you hadn't gotten to know yet. Shuhei had no idea of the existential thoughts swarming your mind with him at the center, tonight's stranger turned friend, or maybe something else. You often spent so much of your life trying to come prepared, to have a plan, setting expectations that were never to be met, and then nights like this, men like Shuhei, came along. They thwarted your plans in the most magical of ways - spilling drinks, injecting chaos and spontaneity into your world. And they reminded you to be proud of the fire that you are. While some fear the heat, and some get burnt, others follow the light, your light. As the flames danced along him now, Shuhei did not fear. He pressed closer and he stared into the light, as if there existed only him and you. 

Until his red-haired friend came back around.

You hadn’t caught what he said to Shuhei, only Shuhei’s hand gripping your thigh protectively and his flat response, “I'm busy."

“It’s Izuru,” his friend pressed on. “I can’t leave Rukia, and someone has to take him home. He’s trashed.” 

You watched Shuhei, watched his expression shift from irritation, to concern, to frustration. “Damn him…” he cursed under his breath, sighing deeply as he lifted his police cap to run a hand through his black hair. 

"C'mon,” his friend smirked. “You can come right back to your girl after," he laughed mockingly.

Shuhei shot you an apologetic look before standing, sidling out of the booth, the beverage he’d dripped onto you, the one that started it all, in hand. You had run out of witty things to say as you helplessly watched him go. The spontaneity you had been so grateful for moments earlier turned into a hideous force, a force that threatened to transform Shuhei back into a stranger just as quickly as he had become someone you wanted to know. Bitterly, you let this moth slip through your fingers, knowing better than to cling desperately to a man you just met, especially if he was keen on disappearing like nothing ever happened, glad to become a stranger once more. 

But just before he left, he turned to you, standing at the edge of the booth. He hesitated, seemingly searching for the right thing to say. 

"You're under no obligation to wait for me..." 

Obligation. Of course, you'd been strangers. He wouldn't expect a stranger to stay, to wait alone. That would not be according to either of your plans or expectations.

But you knew his name and he knew yours, and you'd decided to renounce sticking to expectations and plans and norms for the night, even if you had to do it alone. "But I will, Shuhei." You smiled at him, no more mischief, no more tricks, for now. “Go ahead. I'll be here."

Shuhei hesitated one last time, and you had an inkling that you both felt the same way, that you had the same fear - I’ll never see them again. As you had let the chaos of the night unfold in your favor, you could only wait and hope that it would continue to do so. Acting out of fear never did you any good. You refused to dull your flame. 

He seemed at war with himself, trying to decide on something. His friend impatiently urged him to “c’moooon,” again, and he nodded once at you, turning away for good this time, leaving. 

“Please come back, edgy pervert,” you whispered after him, making yourself smile. Though you meant it, truly. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Alone again, you instinctively reached for your phone, checking to see if any of your friends had resurfaced. You had no notifications, typical.

Nothing to do on there, you set the device down, sipping your drink and curiously scanning your surroundings you’d been neglecting, too preoccupied with the handsome man in front of you. You pondered your next move and found yourself daydreaming about Shuhei, questioning how long you'd wait before giving up on him, though hoping he wouldn't put you in that situation. You mentally kicked yourself for not asking for his number, something, anything, too busy contemplating the nature of the night. The less secure part of yourself began to work up hurtful theories, wondering if that had been his plan all along, to play it nice and humor you, just to get his friend to help him slip away, never to return again. After all, he hadn’t asked for your number either. 

You found yourself guzzling your drink down and anxiously checking the time every few minutes, feeling more and more like an abandoned loser as each second passed. Forcing yourself to breathe, to not jump to conclusions, you looked around at the senses Shuhei had dulled, at the bright lights and costumed community. You tapped your foot to the beat of the music, remembering who you were again, your boundaries and what you valued, your fire. You intended to have fun tonight, even if he never came back.

So lost in your thoughts, you hardly noticed the two new men inviting themselves into your booth until it was too late. One on either side, they effectively trapped you in, and like a cornered animal, in the way a woman always knows, you could tell these guys were nothing like your sweet Shuhei, but strangers you were not hoping to become acquainted with. 

“Hey there,” the one to your left started, instantly invading your personal space in a way that made your skin crawl. “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I’ve been watching you, and I think you’re beautiful.” You jumped when he grabbed your hand, inspecting your fingers. “And I don’t see a ring - no husband or wife. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing here all alone?”

“Oh,” you laughed uncomfortably, pulling your hand away and tucking it into your chest, curling in on yourself. “I’m waiting for someone, actually.” 

You hated the way they immediately made you feel small, afraid, pathetic, like they knew Shuhei would never come back and that they were free to do whatever they wanted with you, to you, dousing your flames. Instinctively, you reached for your phone, pulling it into your lap, preparing to sneak a text to your absent friends, a cry for help, if need be.

“That's alright,” the same man continued, grinning proudly like he was doing you a favor. “We can keep you company until they get back.”

“You’ll have to excuse my friend.” The man to your right nudged you, leaning in when you looked his way. “He’s got no idea how to talk to women.”

That makes two of you, you thought. 

“And you do?” His friend scoffed.

“Look at her.” He gestured to your figure, and your body knowingly responded by sending a chill down your spine. “She’s practically getting into my lap just to get away from you.” You wanted to vomit, subtly leaning away when he leaned in even closer, so close you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Cute costume, by the way. What’s it supposed to be?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to relax, refusing to be scared off by a pair of creeps. Let them get burnt. Lifting your glass, you took your time with responding, slowly finishing off your drink before slamming it back down onto the table to give a short reply.

“It’s an anime character.”

“Oh.” He raised his eyebrows in a way that indicated he had no idea what you were talking about, but that he’d pretend to anyway. “Which one?”

“You probably don't know it,” came another short reply. 

“Try me,” he challenged, nudging you again. 

The tiniest amount of physical contact had your insides twisting with hatred, wondering just who the hell he thought he was to be touching you like that. You not-so-subtly checked your phone, looking at the time, wondering how long it’d be before Shuhei returned, if he did. Selfishly, you wished he’d show up any second, find these dudes, and tell them to piss off, but the more rational part of yourself reminded you that’s not how these situations usually turn out. Rarely ever did someone else come to your rescue. You were your own savior.

You could leave, tell them you needed another drink, but the less rational part of yourself worried what would happen if Shuhei did return. If you chickened out now, you may never see him again. Decisions, decisions. Where will the night take me next? 

“Take a hint, dude,” the guy to your left laughed meanly at his friend. “She likes me better.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They seemed to be having a who’s-more-delusional contest, one you weren’t enjoying being in the center of. Your body flinched and twitched with the desire to escape, and you mentally began to weigh your options, the risk of never seeing Shuhei again or the risk of one of these losers pushing you over the edge. 

“You look thirsty,” the one to your left suggestively joked, pointing at your empty glass.

Like hell I’d let you buy me a drink. “I’m fine,” you answered swiftly, monotonously. 

“You sure?” The one to your right raised an eyebrow. “I’d love to buy you a drink.”

The one to your left scoffed again. “Didn’t I tell you to take a hint?”

“Were you bums born yesterday?” 

The three of you looked up, a new man entered into the equation. One glance, and in the other way a woman always knows, this was a stranger you were hoping to become acquainted with. Not quite a white knight, but you decided you liked whatever he had going on better anyway. The night continuously tricked you, pivoting in one direction and then back in the other. Someone else had come to your rescue after all, no need to be your own savior this time.

He wore a black toga, clipped in place with a skull, that hardly left anything to the imagination, his broad chest, muscled arms and chiseled abs on near-full display. Under the erratic lights, his electric blue hair still stood out proudly, as exciting and feral-looking as the rest of him. Shuhei may not have been the rough-around-the-edges type he looked, but one look at this guy, at the way he stood and smirked like he owned the place, and you knew - he didn't just look it, he was it. 

"Can't tell when a woman’s clearly not interested?” He continued on, drawing closer, his voice as rough and scrappy as he. “Or are you just that desperate?"

While you suppressed a giddy smile, one of the men beside you spat, “who the hell are you?” Which one that was, you didn’t know or care. The difference between them no longer mattered. They sounded the same, they were the same, to you. Strangers.

"I should be asking you the same,” the blue-haired man laughed in their faces. “What makes you think either of you clowns would have a chance with a girl like that?" He nodded towards you, not without giving your seated figure a once-over.

One of the men stood abruptly, his chin lifted, chest puffed out, and fists clenched at his sides. It was a sad display in comparison to the opponent, who made the both of them look small and weak without having to do much. By the way he smirked viciously, you knew he knew it too.

"Don't make me laugh,” he snickered mockingly. “I hope you’re standing to leave and not to try anything stupid.”

“And why’s that?” The man scoffed.

“Because I’ll kill you.”

At that, the other man stood too, though two against one still didn’t look to present any real competition. Blue hair didn’t stand down, his grin growing wider. His words should have bothered you, frightened you, but they only exhilarated you more, had you crossing your legs and leaning back in your seat, thoroughly enjoying the show.

“Why don't we ask her?” He suggested, looking down at you before lifting his fiery stare to the two men again. “Go on,” he challenged. “If she wants you to stay, then I'll go, but if she doesn't you will."

The men glanced at each other, knowing they were beat. Your mind had been made up long before this new man had come to your rescue. When they looked your way, a pleading, hopeful expression on their faces, you already had your words prepared.

“Sorry, boys.” You shrugged, the corners of your mouth twitching into an amused smile. 

One of them opened their mouths to say something, but the other grabbed him by the arm and started to tug him away before he could. “Let’s fucking go.”

Blue hair chuckled as they left, rubbing salt into their wounds remarking, “no hard feelings, huh?” as they passed.

“Screw you,” one of them bit back before turning to you. “And screw you too, bitch.”

Your dark knight prepared to defend your honor, lunging towards them reflexively. Your eyes went wide, and you scrambled to your feet before he could reach them, grabbing his large, hard bicep to stop him from making an impulsive decision out of anger.

He shot you an irate look, eyes wide and nostrils flared, but you didn’t let go or cower away. “Calm down,” you drawled. “They’re not worth us getting kicked out.” After he deflated slightly, you let go. “And they’re right. I am a bitch.” You grinned and winked.

Slowly coming to his senses again, he huffed a laugh at you. “Doesn’t give them the right.” 

“Yeah, well…” you trailed off, shrugging before facing him again, drinking in his appearance more deliberately now that there were no longer distractions. 

Trouble incarnated, his costume fit him like a glove. He certainly had the face, bone structure, body, and muscles of a Greek god, and the unruly behavior of one too. Assertive and protective as well, you found yourself falling for the second time that night, whether due to the alcohol, the power of Halloween, or nothing but the existential, chaotic forces of nature at play again, whatever those truly were. 

Shuhei still hadn’t left your mind entirely, but his failure to return stung a little bit less with this new man in the picture. Maybe he hadn’t been as sweet and calm and collected, but he certainly piqued your interest. He had come to your rescue, after all, and you meant it when you said you didn’t have a type, just that a person own whatever they are. This man certainly owned whatever he had going on, hell, he likely owned a lot of things, and you were hoping to be one of them. 

“What’s your name?” You asked him, deciding to bite. No sticking to plans, right?

“Grimmjow.” He didn’t ask for your name, but waited, expecting it.

“I’m (Y/N).” And you gave it to him, enjoying his commanding presence more than you’d like to admit.

“Where’s your drink, (Y/N)?” The way he emphasized your name made you feel like a cat in heat. Had you been animals, you imagined you’d be purring and arching towards him by now.  

But your animalistic urges would have to hold off for the time being. “Waiting for you to buy it.” You plopped back down into the booth playfully, crossing one leg over the other. 

“Do I look like wait staff?” He scoffed at you. “If I’m buying, you’re coming with me, woman.”

As prideful as Shuhei was cautious, you were going to enjoy toying with this one, testing his limits, pushing his boundaries. So long as you could control the heat flooding into your lower region with every little thing he said and did, his fire rivaling yours.  

“I can’t leave,” you told him with a pretend-coy smile. “I’m waiting for someone.”

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, mentally assessing you, weighing his options, his next choice of words. “...a man?” He asked after a time. 

You bit your lip. “Maybe…”

He smirked, lifting his chin, all too pleased with himself. “He left you?”

It shouldn’t have mattered, you were a woman of the night, a fire - hot, bright, fierce - but despite that fact, his question and the accusatory tone behind it embarrassed you. You hung your head, looking at your empty glass, the one Shuhei had bought you. 

“He said he’d come back.” You hated the way it sounded leaving your lips, nothing like fire. 

At that Grimmjow laughed harshly, shaking his head at you, at your naivety. “He’s not coming back, sweetheart.”

You looked up at him with a burning gaze, prepared to defend your case, your ego, to tell him he’s got the situation all wrong, and what would he know anyway? But before you could, he stepped closer, leaning down over the table to whisper in your ear.

“He’s an idiot,” he growled quietly, the baritones of his voice rumbling through your chest and stomach, all the way down in between your legs. 

He pulled away, straightening up, leaving you momentarily stunned. “What do you want to drink?” He asked seriously, no longer a mention of you coming with him.

“You’re not making me come with you?” You had to confirm, needed to hear him say it, to kiss the bruises left on your ego.

He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction, too much pride of his own. “Your order,” he demanded impatiently, avoiding admitting that he’d caved for you, even if out of pity. 

You told him what you were drinking, and in a slightly desperate manner, a slip-up, moment of weakness, put your hand on his forearm before he could leave. “You’ll come back, won’t you?”

He grinned, knowing he’d gotten what he wanted. “I’m not an idiot,” he said before commanding, “don’t go anywhere.”

It was “you're under no obligation to wait for me,” and now, “don’t go anywhere.” If you’d been willing to wait for Shuhei, who had failed to come back, you certainly didn’t plan on getting up now. You watched every second of Grimmjow’s fleeting figure, already impatient for his return. You’d been so preoccupied with scanning the crowd for his blue hair, you hadn’t noticed the man you were glued to the booth for in the first place approaching, not registering his presence until the cop stood before you, playfully swinging his cuffs around his fingers. 

“Ma’am,” he tapped the table with the cuffs. “Have you been drinking tonight?” He joked, smiling satisfactorily as your eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“You came back.” You grinned like an idiot, your ego restored, though you should have known better by now. This hadn’t been an ordinary night. In the same way you were under no obligation to wait, Shuhei was under no obligation to return. Still, he knew your name now, and you knew to expect the unexpected.  

“Of course I did. I’m not an idiot.”

Your smile fell. Another man knew your name now too. His words, the exact same as Grimmjow’s, reminded you that you’d been busy while Shuhei was gone, and he’d be finding that out soon. 

He seemed oblivious to the inner alarms going off in your mind, to your rigid body and wandering eyes, sliding back in next to you with a soft smile. “Do you need another drink?” He asked innocently, politely, gesturing to your empty glass, another reminder of Grimmjow.

Shit. “Oh, no,” you stammered, sliding the empty glass away and twiddling your thumbs in your lap. “That’s alright, really.”

He raised his brows at you, surprised to see you decline his offer. “Are you sure? I’d be happy to get you another one.”

It was only natural a flame that burned so brightly attracted more than one moth. Still, with how thoughtful and sweet this particular moth was, you felt ashamed setting fire to it. 

“Mhmm.” You nodded, avoiding his eyes as guilt began to eat away at you. “All good.”

“Alright then.” 

Shuhei shrugged it off, ignorant to the worries that plagued you. Your muscles had gone tense, subconsciously bracing for the moment that blue-haired lord of the dead returned and you fumbled one, or both, of these men, a wicked ending to a tumultuous night.

“So - so how did things go with your friend?” You hoped a change of subject would ease your nerves, though you could hardly think straight, your mind in two places, on two men, at once. 

“He’ll be alright,” he laughed quietly. “In time, anyways. Anything happen while I was gone?”

“Hm?” A lump formed in your throat, and the night laughed as it cast trick after trick on you. “Oh - uh - not much,” you giggled nervously, scooting closer. “Just waiting for you…” And some other stuff…

“Would you look at that? The bastard did come back.”

Aaaand there’s the stuff.

Grimmjow stood in front of the table, a drink in each hand, his eyes trained and narrowed threateningly on Shuhei. Shuhei looked between the two of you before his eyes settled on you, realizing what had happened, why you hadn’t wanted him to get you another drink. He did not fly towards your flames alone. 

He scoffed, his cheeks turning pink, and his hand tightening into a fist around the handcuffs. "Seriously?"

You panicked, hating to see him upset with you, a stark contrast to his usual soft, sweet demeanor, not that you didn’t deserve it. Laughing nervously and attempting to make light of the uncomfortable situation, you joked, "what was I supposed to do, sit around here and get thirsty?"

Shuhei stood abruptly from the booth, not sparing you another glance as he started to shuffle out. You lunged for him in a desperate last attempt, grabbing ahold of his forearm, a sweeping sensation of deja vu.

"Shuhei, don't go!” You pleaded. 

He came back. That meant something to you, and it meant even more when he stopped and waited for you to continue. 

“Can't we all sit here and be friends?" You directed the question at the both of them, hoping neither would reenter stranger territory. 

"Friends?" They questioned, offended, in unison. 

"Please?” You batted your lashes. “I'm still here, right where you both left me, aren't I?"

Each man hesitated, eyes darting from each other to you, back again. Anything was possible, one, both, neither. After an eternity, at least in the chaotic confines of your mind, Grimmjow was the first to sit, shrugging his shoulders and sliding in next to you. He set both drinks on the table and leaned back casually, throwing an arm to rest on the booth behind your shoulders, watching Shuhei expectantly, smugly, silently daring him to walk away. 

He stood for a long moment, observing you, observing Grimmjow, taking you in as a pair. You expected him to walk away, too sweet to put up a fight, or maybe too proud to compete, or both, but you knew all too well, expect the unexpected. Your eyes, like beams of light, fiery, enticing, never strayed from him as he swayed where he stood, conflicted about which direction to go in. A moth couldn't resist what was in its nature.

"Ha!” Grimmjow laughed at him while he sighed and resentfully slid in on the other side of you. “Still here? You must be smitten. How sweet.” He smirked, purposely antagonizing Shuhei.

"You're still here too, aren't you?" Shuhei shot back smoothly. 

"I don't back down from a challenge.” Grimmjow side-eyed you, still grinning arrogantly. 

"Well, I don't either." Shuhei glared at him.

"I'm challenging?" You asked them, looking between the two handsome men. They both ignored you, hellbent on arguing with each other instead, though you didn’t mind the show, or the fact that it was you whom they argued over. 

“The hell are you supposed to be anyway?” Shuhei scoffed, so different now from the kind and gentle man you met earlier. 

“King of the Underworld,” Grimmjow replied casually. “And you’re what, a cop? That’s original,” he snorted.

“Gentlemen!” You attempted to interject again, tapping your glass on the table and suppressing a smile at their petty behavior. “Why can't we all just get along?”

“I was supposed to have you all to myself.” Shuhei frowned.

“You were supposed to not come back,” Grimmjow growled.

All mischief aside, you did pity them. Had you been in their shoes, competing with another for one of them, you’d be lying if you said you wouldn't be throwing a fit, or better yet, walking off. They’d been more than generous to stick around for your sake, and your dirty mind had been conjuring all the filthy ways in which you could make it up to them. 

“What can I do?” You feigned innocence, dealing delicate, feathery touches to their arms. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything for what?” Grimmjow snickered, entertaining your act, using it to his advantage.

“For both of you…” to get along, but the rest never came. They could bicker all they wanted as far as you were concerned, as long as they took their frustrations out in the way you desperately needed them to. 

“Anything?” The lord of the dead smirked viciously, ideas that could only be trouble forming in his mind. 

Still, you nodded, ideas likely just as perverse forming in yours. 

“Then spread your legs,” he said instantly, as if he had it prepared, queued up knowing you’d never tell him no. 

“What?! Here?!” You laughed nervously, though weren’t entirely perturbed by the suggestion, seeking fast relief for the growing ache between your legs.

“You said anything, brat,” he laughed meanly. “So spread ‘em. Now.”

“Hold on,” Shuhei interrupted at your side, leaning in and staring daggers at Grimmjow. “You don't have to do what he says.”

“You want to play good cop bad cop?” He only chuckled at him.

“You’re not a cop,” Shuhei seethed, and you realized you liked, no, loved, seeing him angry, protective, losing his composure. Between the legs you had been ordered to spread, you grew hotter, wetter.

“You're right,” Grimmjow leaned in too, the both of them caging you in, much to your delight. “I’m a fucking king.”

The so-called king roughly grabbed one of your thighs, lifting your leg over his lap and sticking his hand up your skirt. You gasped and arched instinctively when he shamelessly stroked your clothed pussy, hissing at the damp material against his finger.

“Grimmjow!” You squeaked, nervous and excited all at once to be touched so improperly out in the open, nothing but the table to hide what was happening down below as the sensitive area throbbed for more. 

Your eyes darted about, making sure no one was watching. No one but Shuhei.

A sound of surprise came from him too, his eyes blown wide, and his cheeks reddening, obvious even under the low, flashing lights. He looked down at what was happening before averting his eyes, appearing anxious to leave, but simultaneously reluctant to do so. You grabbed his bicep, hoping to encourage him to stay, to let him know that he had a place here too. 

The hand wrapped around him squeezed at the same time that a flurry of whimpers escaped your lips. Grimmjow had pulled your panties aside and pushed past your entrance, stretching you apart ever so slightly. Your thighs spread further apart while heat flooded into your cheeks. You looked around frantically as you clenched and gushed around Grimmjow’s finger, both humiliated and turned on at the lewd act you participated in. 

He watched you with a satisfied, feral grin, looking away only to indulge in the panicked expression on Shuhei’s face. “You wanna be good cop?” Grimmjow offered. “Kiss her. Get her to keep quiet.”

Shuhei looked your way uncertainly, eyes falling to your parted lips. 

“Please, Shuhei,” you mumbled, hardly able to keep your eyes open. 

He furrowed his thin brows. “Are you sure? It - this - feels wrong.”

“It is wrong.” You smiled lazily, crookedly as Grimmjow continued in and out, a little deeper each time, grinning and chuckling quietly to himself as he watched you struggle to speak. “I - I still want your lips on mine, even if it’s wrong.” 

And still, he hesitated, attempting, and failing, not to watch ‘the king’s’ hand moving under your skirt. 

You lifted his chin with your hand, forcing him to look you in the eye, repeating, begging, “Please.”

He shook his head once, grabbed your drink, took three large sips, and then crashed his lips onto yours clumsily, anxiously. You cried into his mouth and placed your hand on his lap while Grimmjow twisted and curled into you, experimenting. He groaned against your lips as your fingers trailed upwards, getting closer and closer to where his pants started to tighten. He placed his hand on top of yours, slowing you down, but guiding you there, tenderly, inch by inch, until Grimmjow used his free hand to grab your neck and rip you away.

“Don’t get fucking greedy,” he barked, a playful lilt in his voice that told you he was still grinning behind you. “You’re lucky I’m sharing at all.” Without warning he sank his canines into your neck, eliciting a piercing whine, your hips squirming helplessly between the both of them. 

“I can be worse,” Shuhei warned the both of you in a hoarse voice, his lips swollen, eyes a little hazier than before, glancing around cautiously. “But not here.”

Oh? Your eyes widened, shining with curiosity and an intense desire to see just how much worse he could get. Even Grimmjow seemed momentarily shocked, his finger’s pace slowing and faltering inside of you. You’d become sickeningly greedy, desperate for more, more, more - both of them, more kisses, more bites, more of a stretch, more pain, more pleasure. You knew they could feel it too, Grimmjow’s chest rising and falling erratically behind your back, and Shuhei’s right before your eyes. Your flames reached new heights, and these strangers turned moths kept chasing them higher. The tension built, the pressure rose, preparing to explode. 

“Then where?” Grimmjow asked, the impatience evident in his ragged tone.

“We can go to my place,” you quickly offered with a similar quiver in your voice. 

They looked at each other, nodding, coming to a silent agreement, possibly the only one they’d have all night - you.

“Fine,” Shuhei said.

“Fine,” Grimmjow agreed. 

They both stood abruptly, Grimmjow pulling his hand from between your legs as if it had only been resting on your thigh. He sucked your juices away absentmindedly, hardly skipping a beat as he snatched your drink up from the table to dangle it in your face.

“Wasted your drink that I bought,” he complained teasingly, sneering at your inability to pull yourself up from the booth without swaying side to side.

“Get over it,” you rolled your eyes with a grin, though your standing on wobbly legs betrayed your smug smile.

Shuhei reached out to keep you balanced. You allowed him to lead you away, his hand hot on your hip as you anxiously pulled your skirt down, self-conscious about the damp mess between your thighs. Grimmjow swaggered forward, wrapping his arm around your other hip and yanking you away from him, catching you when you stumbled. Shuhei glared at him, pulling you back more roughly than you expected from him, only for Grimmjow to grab you again, your shaky legs struggling to keep up with the both of them vying for your touch as you staggered out of the bar.

“Enough!” You finally snapped, swatting the two men off to lead the way on your own. “Save this for the bedroom…” You winked over your shoulder.

Breathing in the cold, crisp air, and walking under the glittering moon and stars, you pondered how this next trick, this next series of unexpected events, would end - a cop, a king, and a girl walk home from the bar… Premonitions of a little healthy competition, of strangers tangled together, of muscles and fangs and tongues and nude flesh came to you - visions, like magic, as you burned on and as your moths fluttered after you, chasing the light. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ 

“So this is the kitchen,” you tossed your bag aside, gesturing around. “The living room-”

“We’re not here for a tour,” Grimmjow interrupted, eyeing you ominously, like a lion ready to devour a lamb. 

You knew that already, and though you were just as anxious to skip to the good bit, you couldn’t help but to be a tease. Something about seeing the both of them, chests heaving with frustration and impatience and vexation, like ticking time bombs ready to explode, exhilarated you. Watching their eyes dilate, dark and hungry, gave you the instinct to run when deep down all you wanted was to be caught and manhandled, tossed around in between them like predators fighting to see who gets the prey. Metaphorically, you skipped around in front of them, drawing out the meaningless conversation before the real chase began. 

You turned to Shuhei, fake pouting. “He’s so mean, isn't he?”

Shuhei didn’t receive a chance to respond. Grimmjow moved so quickly behind you, you hardly heard or saw him coming, his hand making contact with your ass, hard and fast. “Yeah, and you like it,” he laughed while you squeaked. He smoothed his hand over the sting, dipping lower and lower until he was practically cupping your heat from behind, groping you. “Or at least some part of you does.”

After the initial shock wore off, you continued with your devious plans, pulling away from him and wrapping your arms around Shuhei. “You’ll be sweet to me, won’t you?” You asked him, pretending as if Grimmjow wasn’t there, knowing your actions would have consequences.

Shuhei’s throat bobbed as he swallowed down the growing lump there, blinking nervously at you. “Of course I will,” he promised, blushing like a virgin. 

As expected, Grimmjow didn’t take kindly to being neglected. Full of aggressive surprises, one moment you were on your feet and the next being thrown through the air, hoisted over his shoulder and moving into the hall. 

“Which one’s your room?” He barked.

And you obeyed without hesitation, grinning like an idiot. “Last door on the left.”

You yelped as your back met with the plush of your comforter, the room temporarily spinning with Grimmjow towering over you. Shuhei came in moments later, looking just as disoriented as you felt.

“Was your costume expensive?” The king asked, claws at the ready.

“Yes,” you giggled.

“Then I’ll pay you later.” He smirked viciously, ravenously as he started forward. 

“Hang on.” Shuhei put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from getting any further. 

His expression contorted with anger just before he shrugged Shuhei’s arm off. “Don’t get in my way!” He snapped, fangs bared, territorial over his prey.

“Relax,” Shuhei returned sternly, explaining no further, but showing what he meant all the same as he removed the handcuffs from his belt. 

Curiously, you remained still, observing and squealing with surprise as he came forward and pinned your arms above your head, latching those cuffs onto you. I can be worse. Perhaps you'd misjudged him all this time, and on the inside of that gentle, calm man lurked someone who was indeed rough around the edges, an inner beast to rival that of Grimmjow’s.

He too appeared delightedly surprised by Shuhei’s idea, his eyes widening with their usual feral glint. You never expected him to be on the same side, but then, this was an unexpected night. “Alright, good cop! That’s the way!”

“Shuhei?” You raised your eyebrows.

At the question in your voice, his bad-boy attitude faltered. “Is this okay?” He worried. 

“It’s perfect,” you purred in affirmation. 

“Don’t let her fool you,” Grimmjow chimed in, climbing onto the bed to slap your bare thigh punishingly. “She’s a naughty little thing, and she deserves to be treated as such,” he explained, devouring you with his eyes as he added, “she wants to be treated as such.”

“Thought you were gonna pay for my costume?” You taunted him, confirming his assumptions about you. 

“You see?” He glanced at Shuhei over his shoulder while reaching for your top with one hand. “Naughty,” he declared, roughly ripping it down the center in one swift tear, your breasts spilling out into the open. 

You gasped, your nipples hardening under his hungry gaze. Stood at the edge of the bed, Shuhei blushed deeply, his gaze darting to the side and back again, conflicted as to where to settle. He couldn't look away as Grimmjow reached up to pinch one of your nipples, chuckling sadistically while you squeaked and squirmed helplessly beneath him, thighs brushing together impatiently. 

“Don’t just stand there,” Grimmjow growled at Shuhei as he began to rip at the remains of your top, leaving no scrap of fabric on or near your body. “Take off the brat’s skirt. I’ll bet she’s got something slutty on underneath.” He grinned at you. “Red, or maybe black, am I right?”

“Go on, Shuhei.” You nodded for him to do as Grimmjow demanded, to reveal the color of the lacey fabric adorning your most intimate area. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Shuhei mumbled to himself as he came forward with shaky hands, clumsily taking hold of the waistband of your skirt. 

You wiggled your hips as he pulled, assisting him in his efforts and encouraging him, a gentle reminder that you wanted this. Grimmjow laughed callously as he took hold of your underwear, pulling the fabric back to let it snap against your hip. 

“Black,” he and Shuhei said in unison, more in sync than they'd like to admit. 

While they ogled you, their hands ghosting over your body teasingly, you became frustrated, overheated. They were toying with you, and you didn't like being on the receiving end of any tricks. You writhed and squirmed and quietly whined, hoping they'd give in to their urges and fulfill yours. Nevermind what color your damn panties were. You wanted them off. Now.

You targeted the softer of the two, locking eyes with Shuhei as you clamped your thighs together and twisted your hips. “Shuheeeiii,” you slurred needily. 

“(Y/N),” he answered breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

“She wants fucked, that's what’s wrong,” Grimmjow huffed. “Don’t give her what she wants. Not until we hear her say it.”

Shuhei glanced uncertainly between the two of you, undecided. You could see the gears turning in his head, the realization lighting up in his eyes that he liked hearing you pleading for him, seeing you trapped and helpless and arching for his touch, even if that meant listening to his competition. He was the one who put the handcuffs on, after all.

“Please!” You cried out to the both of them now, afraid of what continuously neglecting Grimmjow might do for your case. “Please, somebody touch me!”

Of course, it wasn't enough. “Touch you where?” You were surprised to hear Shuhei ask, not Grimmjow, who only watched your pathetic pleas with a satisfied grin. 

“Anywhere!” You told him, lifting your hips toward him eagerly.

“I don’t like being told what to do,” Grimmjow spat at you, smirking devilishly. 

“You tricked me!” You whined at him.

He grabbed you by your cheeks, hard, as he taunted, “It’s a cruel world, isn't it, sweetheart?”

Meanwhile, Shuhei had busied himself with crawling over you, his eyes heavily lidded and fixed on your chest, in a sort of trance. “How about here?” He asked, palming one of your soft tits. 

“Yes!” You gasped at his touch, moaning loudly when his tongue darted out of his mouth curiously, delivering a kitten lick to your nipple. 

“Shit,” he sucked in a breath before taking you into his mouth completely, licking and sucking with his eyes closed while his hand found your other breast, ensuring it received attention too.

He flattened his hand over your chest, murmuring against your skin, “your heart’s beating really fast,” before moving to press a gentle kiss to the place where it pounded, overcome with a slew of emotions. 

While you whined and twisted beneath his mouth and his hand, Grimmjow had his eyes narrowed at the sight, his eyebrows and nose scrunching up with offense. He wasn't the type to stand by and watch, wasn't the type to idle. You’d been distracted, eyes closed and nothing but the sound of your own cries, the wet noises of Shuhei’s tongue and lips exploring you, and the rapid beat of your heart filling your ears, too distracted to notice Grimmjow had dropped the black toga that made up his costume as well as his boxers, crawling back onto the bed even more naked than you were. He’d change that.

Your eyes popped open to watch him rip your panties down your legs, along with your shoes and socks, leaving you completely bare as he was. You practically drooled at the sight of his cock, huge, veiny, angry, just like him. Your legs seemed to part of their own volition, spreading in hopes to accommodate him. 

“Yeah, you like what you see, baby?” He chuckled at you, grabbing his shaft and tapping your entrance with it teasingly. 

You flinched at the contact, already beyond soaked and swollen, aching for him. “Please, just fuck me,” you begged pathetically, no longer caring how you sounded. 

“Oh, I’m going to fuck you alright,” he grinned deviously. “But not like this.” He shook his head. “Not here,” he said as he slapped your pussy. 

Shuhei lifted his head from your breasts to see what was going on, giving Grimmjow the chance to retake control. “This position sucks,” he growled at the both of you, yanking you down the bed aggressively and flipping you over onto your stomach before either of you could stop him. “Give me the keys to the cuffs,” he demanded Shuhei.

“What are you doing?!” Shuhei protested. “I was-”

“Relax,” Grimmjow interrupted, using his own word against him in a mocking tone. “I’m doing you a favor. Now give me the keys, and you go up there.”

You turned your head to the side, attempting to see what was going on, what Grimmjow had planned. He responded by placing a hand on your back, pinning you down with a warning glare. 

“Why?” Shuhei asked him. 

“So you can get your dick sucked, obviously,” Grimmjow grumbled in annoyance. He grabbed your hair and lifted your head, freeing your mouth to let you respond to him as he asked, “you want that, princess? Want to suck your cop’s cock?”

“Yes, please,” you answered sweetly, just to hear Shuhei curse under his breath.

Furiously, Grimmjow pushed your head back down into the mattress, crushing you with his weight to lick and nip at your shoulder and neck. “Why’re you so nice to him and not to me, huh?” 

You wiggled your bare ass against his naked torso as you replied in a fake pout, “you’re mean.”

“Yeah, and it gets you fucking soaked,” he chuckled gruffly into your ear as he pushed one finger into you from behind, collecting your juices to bring up to your lips. “Open. Suck,” he ordered, emitting a low groan as you immediately obeyed, licking your essence from his middle finger and continuing to suck as he pulled it in and out of your mouth, making a show of it for Shuhei. “See this?” He asked him, laughing as his jaw dropped. “Think you can last?”

“Fuck,” Shuhei moaned, fumbling for the keys to the cuffs. 

“Good cop,” Grimmjow praised, retrieving the keys and removing the cuffs to pin your wrists to your back, re-cuffing them there. 

He slapped your ass and lifted you up, holding you against him and teasingly grinding into your hips from behind while Shuhei hastily undressed himself, eager to free his hard dick. Though he may not have been as big as Grimmjow, he still had considerable length, and even more considerable thickness. Thankful that he was the sweeter of the two, you worried about how you may fit all of him into your mouth, even as you salivated at the thought.

He laid at the top of your bed, against the pillows and plushies, taking his throbbing length into his hand. Grimmjow was at least generous enough to lower you down towards him gently, still holding you up by your arms, however harsh the grip. 

“Go on,” he encouraged tauntingly.

Just as Shuhei slowly acquainted himself with your breasts, you gently licked the tip of his wet cock, an initial tasting before taking the whole load. He gasped at the feeling of your tongue against his swollen shaft, aligning the tip to meet your lips as you took him into your mouth, moaning at the sheer size and bittersweet taste of him. Grimmjow slapped his hips into you from behind, forcing you further down onto Shuhei and causing you to deep throat him with a gag.

“Ah, fuck!” Shuhei twitched and squirmed as his tip hit the back of your throat. He lifted your head by your hair, his voice shaking with barely contained restraint as he inquired, “you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, sweet boy.” 

You flashed him a sloppy smile, your own drool dripping from your lips, before going in for more. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you held eye contact while sucking him into your mouth again. 

While you whined and gagged on his cock, Grimmjow had other plans of his own, plans you could only feel and hear. Knowing you couldn't see what he was doing behind you brought an element of fear fitting for a night like this, and it made you all the more wet and needy for him, curious and afraid all at once as you awaited his next move. 

You squealed around Shuhei’s dick as you felt his teeth sink into your ass, biting one cheek harshly before spitting a glob of his saliva in between them and fingering it into your hole. You twisted your hips, instinctively protesting the foreign stretch, and he massaged and squeezed your ass in response, spreading it further apart to accommodate another finger, a bigger stretch. Though you’d been dazed and distracted, busy at work, you now understood his plans unfolding behind you, something you hadn't expected, of course.

“Still okay?” Shuhei kept asking you, his head thrown back and mouth parted, low grunts and groans tumbling out one after the other, like music to your ears.

“Mhmm,” you hummed in affirmation, mouth too full for anything else.

You bobbed your head as you attempted to crawl towards him and away from Grimmjow, another part of you getting to be too full to handle. Grimmjow pulled his fingers from you and spit onto your ass again, smearing it around with the tip of his cock and pulling you back towards him, not allowing escape. 

“You’ll be alright, naughty girl,” he assured before pushing his way past your tight hole, a stretch unlike any you've experienced before. 

Your cries of pain were muffled by Shuhei's cock, an uncomfortable stretch at the other end. Both proved rather challenging to take. While you struggled to breathe and your jaw began to tire, Grimmjow broke you in half from the back.

“Is she okay?!” Shuhei asked, a tremble in his voice. 

Tears sprung from your eyes, but you opened them wide at Shuhei and took him deep into your throat again, as much of an answer as you could give him. It didn't appear so convincing from his point of view as your legs trembled with each of Grimmjow’s slow thrusts in and out of you, shattering your body each and every time. You felt each inch of his in your entire lower region - your legs, hips, waist, all the way up your abdomen - while you felt every inch of Shuhei in your throat and chest, the both of them filling you completely at each end, bruising your insides. 

“Didn’t I tell you before not to let her fool you?” Grimmjow growled at him. “Do you think she’s weak?” He questioned.

“N - no,” Shuhei stammered. “But-”

“Then stop treating her like she is,” Grimmjow demanded, groaning as he buried himself deeper into you. “Fuuuck,” he grabbed hold of your arms again, anchoring himself as he began to pound away at you, proving a point. “I love hearing my balls slap against you, fucking brat.”

While your pussy fluttered at his words, Shuhei whined and whimpered, twisting his hand into your hair as his hips twitched forward. He panted, trying, and slowly failing, not to fuck your face. As Grimmjow slapped into you from behind, you continuously took him deep into your throat, choking and sobbing.

But Grimmjow was right, despite your ruined appearance, despite your cries and whines of pain, you enjoyed the challenge, the impossible stretch at both ends, the overwhelming sensation of fullness, the lack of control and the fear that accompanied it. You’d completely surrendered yourself to them both, at their mercy, strangers turned moths, a cop and a king. It was better than anything you could have imagined or expected. 

“If those creeps could see you now,” Grimmjow panted proudly, “taking my cock. Ha!”

“Creeps?” Shuhei mumbled, his words slurring together as he neared his climax. “There were creeps?”

“Oh, yeah.” They conversed casually while they stuffed you, like old friends. “While she was waiting for you, these two losers were hoping to get into the position we’re in now.” Grimmjow laughed wildly, drunk off your tight ass. He spanked you, shouting, “you see how lucky you are, cop?! Don’t take this for granted! You better fill that pretty little mouth while you have the chance!”

“There were creeps?!” Shuhei continued to fret while you blinked up at him, tears rolling down your cheeks. He wiped them away, apologizing, “fuck, baby, I’m so sorry!”

You hummed against him contentedly, a reminder to the both of you none of that mattered now. Don’t take this for granted. You certainly weren’t and you made sure Shuhei wouldn't either, hollowing your cheeks out and taking him in wholly each time. 

His grip on your hair tightened while his cock spasmed in your mouth, nearing the edge. Grimmjow pounded into you faster, holding your arms so tightly you knew you'd have vicious bruises for days. Pressure built in your core with each splitting thrust, with hands in your hair, on your arms, eyes full of tears and ears full of grunts, groans, and moans. 

“Sh - shit!” Shuhei cried. “I’m - I’m gonna cum!”

You hummed and widened your glistening eyes at him enthusiastically. His hips jerked and stuttered erratically as he held your head in his lap. Grimmjow hammered into you, purposely pushing your body forward as far as it would go, forcing Shuhei’s tip to the back of your throat. He cursed and cried as he shot his seed into your mouth, pulling himself out with a string of his juices and your saliva attached. 

Immediately after watching you swallow, Shuhei collapsed onto the pillows. Grimmjow forced your head into the mattress to continue pounding away at you, unrelenting. Your thighs quaked with exhaustion as you sputtered for air, your mouth finally free to squeal and moan loudly, panting for a break but receiving none. 

“Almost there, gorgeous,” Grimmjow grunted, wiping your hair from your sweaty, flushed skin in an uncharacteristically soft manner. 

He offsetted the gentle gesture by grabbing your hips and jack hammering into you, leaving more scrapes and bruises. You clawed at the sheets and screamed so loudly you feared your already ruined throat may break. The bed creaked in protest with each thrust and plap, plap, plap of his skin on yours, faster and faster until like Shuhei, his hips were stuttering against you in a disorganized pattern, his claws digging into your hips as he rode you out to the end. 

He pulled out and collapsed over you, pinning you against the mattress and biting down on your shoulder as he came. He coated your backside - your ass, your back, your cuffed arms - and rolled off to the side only when he finished painting you. It was then as you caught your breath you'd realized Shuhei was missing.

“Shuhei?!” You jolted up tiredly, looking around for his dark hair and lean frame. 

“S’okay,” he chuckled, reappearing at your side with a warm, wet towel. “I’m right here.” He pet your hair away from your face, wiping at your swollen, spit-coated lips. 

“Get her back too,” Grimmjow mumbled drowsily, still coming back from his little death.

Shuhei rolled his eyes but obliged for your sake, gently wiping away the king’s remains. Your eyes fluttered closed at his soft touch, the warm towel caressing you in a way you hadn't known you needed, soothing your sore muscles and bruised skin. He rubbed out the tension left behind with his hands, massaging over various knots and pains. After a moment of that, he left to toss the towel somewhere in your bathroom, returning to search the bed for something. 

“Where are the keys to the handcuffs?” He asked Grimmjow.

You opened your eyes and turned to watch them, Shuhei with his brows furrowed impatiently, and Grimmjow with his arms resting behind his head nonchalantly, relaxed. 

“What?” He scoffed “You're not both tapped out already, are you?” 

“You lost them, didn't you?” Shuhei accused.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Grimmjow replied, crawling back towards you. He pulled your legs apart, just to smack your soaked pussy. “This needs some love too,” he chuckled as you yelped.

“Are you capable of that?” You teased, smiling lazily. 

To that, he sprung back into action, pushing your face into the mattress and lifting your hips. Your screams of protest, swallowed by the mattress, transformed into cries of pleasure as his big mouth licked up your drooling slit from behind, only once, just to taunt you. 

“I’m not usually this generous,” he stated, and you hadn't realized it wasn't to you until it was followed by, “you wanna try her ass?”

You lifted your head, gasping for air to watch Shuhei’s eyes light up, reigniting for round two. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Grimmjow scoffed at him.

Shuhei looked to you for permission. “Are you okay with that?” 

You grinned deviously. “More than okay.”

He hesitated, looking between you and Grimmjow. “Could I try something else, too?”

“What is it?” You asked.

Shuhei reached for a bandana sitting on your dresser, something he must have spotted when searching for a towel to clean you up, something that clearly sparked another idea. Grimmjow hoisted you up onto your knees, and he came forward, raising his eyebrows in silent question. You nodded, giving him the go to tie the bandana around your eyes, blindfolding you. 

“You know, cop,” Grimmjow chuckled into your ear. “You’re not so bad.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Shuhei grumbled in return, the mattress sinking at your side. “You’re in my spot.”

The king growled, though you could feel him moving from behind you. “Don’t push it.”

Cuffed and blinded, you hadn't a clue as to what was coming next, nothing but assumptions to go off of. Maybe you were assigning meaning to where there was none, in a drunken and lustful haze, but maybe you weren't. Maybe the night continuously fed chaos to your fire, fate disguised as spontaneity. Metaphorically and physically blinded, you were forced to abandon expectations one last time, the way you had been over and over again, the perfect close to the wicked, wild, and wonderful night. 

A rough pair of hands pulled you into their owner’s lap, manhandling you into place, hands that could only belong to Grimmjow. As his cock teased your aching pussy, another body pressed into you from behind, one shaky, excited hand holding your waist. 

“Ready?” Shuhei whispered softly from behind, his hot breath tickling your neck.

You leaned your head back, smiling, panting in anticipation. “Yes.”

A bit of a thicker stretch, you leaned forward, digging your nails into the chest in front of you as Shuhei entered you slowly from behind, growing back to his true length inside of you. As you screwed your blindfolded eyes shut, crying and mewling helplessly, Grimmjow pushed into your other hole without warning, truly splitting you apart now. You tensed between them, full in a way you hadn’t known to be possible, drooling, shaking, clawing at his chest and whimpering like a wounded animal. 

“You’re alright,” Grimmjow comforted, stroking your thigh while Shuhei made similar noises behind you, more bruises forming on your waist from the way he held you. 

You shook your head in disagreement, whining. “So full!”

He took a mouthful of your breast into his mouth, licking, sucking, biting, a rather pleasant distraction that had you arching into him. While humming in approval against your chest, his other hand pressed to your clit, rubbing soothing circles into the throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“I know it is,” he mouthed against your tits while you twitched in his hold. “You’re gonna be a good little brat and take it though, right?” He nipped.

You squealed and nodded dumbly in response, only a few minutes in and already overwhelmed with pleasure. 

“You want to give me a kiss?” You were surprised to hear him ask.

Without a second thought, you squeaked out an enthusiastic, “yes!” It was too late that you realized it could have been one of his taunts, his tricks, but adhering to the unexpected nature of the night, he crashed his lips into yours, catching your cries. 

Stuffed beyond belief, tears started to roll down your cheeks again, and Grimmjow caught those too, lapping them up in between bites to your jaw and neck. He and Shuhei were everywhere, their hands, mouths, cocks, pressing into you and consuming you whole, three turned to one, the moths conquering the fire so expertly they became it. Your mind had left you completely, and operating on nothing but animalistic urges and desires, your teeth barred and bit down on Grimmjow’s lip. 

A gasp of shock left his mouth, shooting a jolt of pleasure through your core. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, before leaning in to devour you even more.

“Grimmjooowww,” you breathlessly slurred his name, making him laugh, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, faster.

“Again,” he demanded, slapping your thigh.

“Grimmjow!” You cried.

“Louder!” He shouted.

“Grimmjow!!!”

He laughed euphorically, triumphantly. “Give cop boy some love too!”

“Shuhei!!!” You screamed.

“Oh, God, (Y/N),” he returned, wrapping his arm around your waist to pick up the pace. 

They mercilessly hammered into you, holding your limp body up. Grimmjow continued applying pressure to your clit and overwhelming you with his mouth. You gladly let them both take control, the pressure building, prepared to snap at a moment’s notice. Though you knew it was coming, it still took you by surprise, rocking through you abruptly, uncontrollably, your body spasming and twitching in between the two men while you howled like a creature of the night, clawing, biting, one last time while they fucked you through it. They didn’t stop, piercing you over and over again until they shared the same fate, Shuhei first and then Grimmjow, coating your back again and your front this time too. They made a mess of you, your sheets, everything - a chaotic mess of teeth and tongues and limbs, just as you had wished for, just as you had foreseen.

Paralyzed, you would have tumbled onto the mattress without Grimmjow guiding you down onto the pillows. Each moment after blurred into the next, only bits and pieces registering for you to recall later - floating in bliss, your sight returning, your restrictions removed, Shuhei toweling you off again, Grimmjow holding you, hands caressing your sore body, fingers running through your hair, the room going dark and the moon setting on an unexpected night full of fire. 

“Another one bites the dust, huh? Little brat’s kinda cute when-”

“Just go to sleep.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, cop!”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ 

It was sometime very early in the morning, before the sun had even risen, that you awoke still sandwiched between them, the expect the unexpected theme bleeding into the next day. Your sweaty, naked bodies clung together, warm amidst the cold night, blazing in the aftermath.

You quickly discovered you could hardly walk, and soon after, the scratches and bruises that littered the near entirety of your figure, from your neck all the way down to your hips. A human canvas, you secretly adored the beauty of it, the two artists snoring away in the room over. There was something special about those creatures who followed you home. Maybe you had a type after all. Everyone loved butterflies, but you preferred moths.

Shuhei was the first to rise, finding his way back to the flames. Back in his cop’s uniform, he did the walk of shame out into your kitchen. Sheepish and timid, as if he was not inside you just hours prior, you fed him water and breakfast pastries and sent him on his way. 

With the cop gone, it left one moth to spread its wings. Grimmjow did not wake until late in the morning, much less shy and much more snippy. Definitely not a morning person, the big bad lion king was reduced to a grumpy cat, claws out like he started every morning looking for a fight. You made him a coffee with cream and sugar, which he reluctantly admitted to wanting, before he escaped back out into the wilderness, shamelessly sporting his toga.

Neither man left without getting your number, a thought that made you smile to yourself, knowing any moth truly meant to withstand your flame would come back. They always did.

That same day, you had two new messages, the first from Shuhei Hisagi, a simple, sweet “Hey, how’s the rest of your day going? :)” and another from Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, no text, just an image, a souvenir he had taken without your noticing amidst the chaos - your black panties. You answered them both, an equally sweet text to Shuhei, and a sassy one to Grimmjow, to which they both replied almost instantly. You’d always be trouble, and you’d always attract trouble. May you continue to trick and be tricked, and may your flame continue to burn, always sure to bring moths, your creatures of the night. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Author’s Notes: I FELL IN LOVE WITH SHUHEI WRITING THIS (we been knew I’m already in love with Grimmjow). I also NEED you @kryptoniteforsale to know that I had this document named “Kinky for Krypto” HAHAHHA. I hope you liked it and that I fulfilled your Shuhei x Reader x Grimmjow fantasies <3

What a sight this is. 

Your large bedroom is suitable for royalty, with lights dimmed, candles lit, and a large king bed with black silk sheets.

On top of the bed lies your lover, cuffed to the bed with a tie in his mouth.

This is absolutely not the norm. Typically, you would be the one bound and gagged.

You would be in trouble for being a brat, no doubt, but you've been good lately. When you brought up a certain Christmas wish, Aizen reluctantly agreed.

You wear a dark purple set, lacey and see-through. Thigh highs run up your calves, hooking to the bottom of the set.

"Who's pathetic now?" You taunt, biting back a smirk.

He rolls his eyes, adjusting himself. The way he's lying reveals his thick print through his underwear.

Standing at the edge of the bed, you dangle the keys to the handcuffs in front of his face, taunting him.

Obviously, he could get out of the cuff. He could do anything he wanted to, but that's what makes everything so much more exciting.

He's letting you do this.

His eyes narrow at your gesture, as his jaw flexes.

You smirk, placing them on the bed before turning around and bending over slightly.

You pull your panties to the side, giving him a direct view of your dripping cunt.

You look back as you run your finger up and down your slit, gathering your wetness.

"What's wrong, hun?" You hum, "Cats got ya tongue?"

He groans, bucking his hips, begging for friction he's not gonna get.

It gets you impossibly wet knowing you can do this to the most dominant and assertive man you know.

That's what you do to him.

He may grab your hips in public, or he may maintain a dominant hand on your neck, guiding you through crowds, but here, in the privacy of your home, you have the power right now.

Turing back around, you crawl onto the bed.

Slowly making your way up his long, slender body. You kiss his thighs, his abs, his forearms, his biceps, his chest, and finally his neck.

You kiss and lick, no doubt giving him a large bruise, which makes you laugh.

Aizen may not be the biggest fan of hickies, often calling them trashy, but with how your warm tongue feels on his jugular, you doubt he really minds.

He yanks his arms slightly to get your attention, and you look into his dark brown eyes.

They're darker than usual, like he's daring you to do something.

You understand, obeying him despite your position.

Biting your lip, you make your way back down his body to his underwear.

God, he's hard.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you pull down his underwear, tearing them off his ankles.

His long cock pops out, dripping with precum.

He groans, the sound muffled by the fabric in his mouth.

Every sound he makes is motivation to keep going.

Placing your hand on his strong thighs, you position your mouth over his sensitive and neglected tip.

You maintain eye contact as you take him in your mouth slowly, licking around his slit.

He bucks his hips up to fuck your mouth, but you force down his hips. He lets you hold him down, glaring into you.

You can't help but have a small smile spread across your face. You love it when he allows you to take control.

You hollow out your cheeks as you take him deeper, sucking him to his base, gagging at the feeling of his tip lodged in your throat.

You know he wishes he could grab you by your hair, fucking your mouth, and using you as he pleases.

With such things in mind, you take your time, coming up now and then to flick your tongue over the tip.

You take your mouth off just to replace it with your hand after spitting on it, the heavy glob landing on your palm, assisting you in lubricating his rock-hard dick.

You gaze up at him in admiration as you stroke him slowly, reaching your other hand down, you palm his balls, rolling them and squeezing slightly.

He tries to stay still so you can't know just how crazy you're making him right now.

He absolutely loves it when you suck his cock. The sight of your pretty eyes looking up at him as you wrap your lips around him. There's nothing like it.

You arch your back, giving him a good direct sight of your round ass, swallowing your purple thong.

His chest rises as he falls as you take care of him, taking him just how he likes.

Tears run down your cheeks as you continue your movements, stroking him with your hand when you need to come up for air.

Based on how he grunts through the te and how his legs twitch slightly, you know he's about to come.

You keep up your pace, but you stroke him harder, a tight grip around him like he's going to escape.

The last few sounds he makes before he comes sound something like a whine. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was begging.

He shoots his load down your throat with little to no warning, filling your throat.

Moaning around his thick dick, he probably feels the vibration of your throat greedily taking everything he gives you.

You swallow every last drop, sucking him dry.

He shifts in overstimulation when you continue to suck him.

You pull off his cock with a loud plop. He's still hard as you climb up his body.

You need him to fill you so bad.

Removing the gag, he huffs as he inhales sharply, yanking on the cuffs again.

'Why don't you go ahead and remove these?" He asks, but this isn't really a question; it's more of a demand.

You bite your lip, not really knowing what you're in for.

"Hmm, gorgeous," he tsks. He sports a fake pout on his face as he scans yours. "Why so hesitant?"

"Scared I'm going to hurt you." He grins

You snicker, reaching back to grab the keys.

"If I'm lucky." You taunt back, reaching up to his wrists, sticking the key in the small hole, freeing him.

You can't be dominant for too long.

Winds rustling through the trees and a distant tune from a yet-unpacked record player are the only sounds that cut through the strange silence. The Fifth Division's barracks is largely empty today, its usual occupants sequestered away in mourning after a most terrible tragedy.

Not you, though. No, you have a meeting scheduled today, beyond a familiar pair of double doors that, until yesterday, belonged to Captain Hirako Shinji.

But the hand pulling on your hair reminds you once again that Shinji is no longer here.

Instead, you're on your knees before Lieutenant Aizen Sōsuke (you had insisted on reminding him of his current title) who stands clad in a captain's haori that doesn't belong to him as he watches his cock slide between your lips.

"Wouldn't you agree that this is a much better use for your mouth when addressing superiors?" he hums as he bucks his hips to force himself deeper into your throat. He pulls himself back and then pushes you down until your nose is brushing against his skin and you're coughing around his length. "You're struggling so much, dear. But you'll have to get used to this."

Aizen has your face bob up and down on his cock for a while longer before he pulls you off of him by your hair. Then he looks down at you, delighted to find you out of breath, with tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Exquisite. His eyes glimmer deviously behind his glasses. "Had enough?"

"Y-yes."

His hand tightens in your hair, a wordless correction.

"Yes, Captain!" you whine, and then that wicked spark lights in his eyes as he pulls you to your feet. "Much better."

He crowds you against Shinji's- no, his desk, hands already pawing your hips to prop you up on the surface. Finally catching your breath, you speak. "Your eagerness might give someone the wrong idea, Sōsuke..." you coo in his ear. He doesn't answer, but the warm rumble of laughter you earn in response has the corners of your lips twisting upward. You're terrible, you realize, for smiling in these circumstances, but you can't help but feel proud of your beloved for his success.

Aizen presses himself into the space between your thighs, reaching down to line himself with your weeping cunt. Dark eyes flick back up to you from above the rim of his glasses. "Say it again," he murmurs.

"Please, Captain!"

He finally, finally pushes into you and oooh, it's maddening. The rhythm of his hips slapping against yours echoes in the quiet room as you lose yourself in the feral glimmer in his eyes. He's obsessed with you in this moment. Needs to see how many ways he can break you apart on his cock. "S-Sōsuke..."

"Again. Say it again." His hand slips back between you two, digits rubbing on that needy pearl between your legs and it's too much.

Your eyes roll back and you cum around him with a toe-curling, brain-breaking orgasm. But he just watches you. His body keeps rocking back and forth, steady despite the low groan that leaves his lips, despite the way his eyes melt with satisfaction as you squeeze and flutter around him.

"Again."

He won't stop until "captain" is the only word falling from your lips.

At times like this and the day he left Soul Society, I've imagined that Aizen was just a bit more gleeful than usual. Why wouldn't he celebrate after finally disposing of his pesky captain and Urahara Kisuke to boot? Let him revel for a day.