“P-Please… Please make me…”

“Of course, [Name].” He dives back in, licking you all the way down “I got you.” His tongue flickering against your pussy more rapidly until you reach your orgasm.

Byakuya

Byakuya is the type of man who takes his time, making every touch feel planned, determined, every kiss a slow-burning tease. His lips trace a path over your body, his voice smooth like a calming breeze. “My beautiful woman…”

His tongue moves with calculated precision, worshipping you, relishing each second. In the stillness of the morning, he whispers praises you’d never expect from a man like him. “You taste so good, my love.”

Your mind crumbles under the weight of his words, his mouth working you over with unshaken focus. “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied.” He murmurs, and you know he means it.

Tōshirō

He takes pleasuring you very seriously—focused, precise, determined to be the best for you.

“Do you like it like that, [Name]?” He asks between kisses, slurping against your cunt, teasing your clit with each flick of his tongue. “Right there?”

Before you can answer, he dives in deeper, his tongue pressing into you while circling your clit with his thumb in a way that has your body trembling.

“T-Tōshirō, baby… F-fuck—”

He doesn’t let up. His fingers start thrusting into your pussy, moving fast and his mouth relentless. Your legs try to clamp around his head, but he pushes them apart, refusing to stop until you melt all over his mouth, his abs—anywhere you want.

Renji

Renji is the type of man who researches before trying something new—and he always wants to try things with you. His goal? To leave you shaking after every experiment.

“Renji, c-can you…”

“Wait a second, [Name]…” His brows furrow. “So…I should lick like this?” He glances at his phone, then leans in and drags his tongue over your cunt. But when he looks up—sees your parted lips, the way your chest rises and falls, the absolute wrecked expression on your face—everything stops.

“Shit… Sorry, baby.” And then he’s all in, no more overthinking, just feeling—the way you tremble under him, the way you fall apart so easily when he does it the way you like.

Ishida

He catches you by surprise when he does it—kissing everywhere, collarbone, chest, belly—before slowly kneeling in front of you.

“Ishida?”

“Shhh.” His fingers part your folds as he adds. “Be still.” His tongue flicking against your throbbing pussy while his piercing gaze locks onto yours.

Sosuke Aizen, Captain of the Fifth Division, took your virginity in the May of your eighteenth year.

It was not a romantic encounter prefaced by butterflies and sealed with sweet nothings. It was cold and cruel — a birthday gift to himself, apparently — to be the first one to claim the Fifth Seat of the Ninth Division. As he shrugged off his clothing, he revealed to you that he was not one to indulge in carnal desires often; but, Captain Tōsen had offered you as some bargaining chip in who-knows-what arrangement … and you had no choice but to comply.

You still remember his heady scent filling your nostrils as he pressed his weight into you on the floor of his private quarters. His flesh was warm — solid — almost a comfort if it weren't for the thick head of his cock wedging itself between your trembling thighs.

"You're doing well," he praised lightly upon noticing the slick that had accumulated on your virgin slit. "Your body knows what it wants. Don't think … just — relax."

You tried to do as he said, submitting further to the imposing Captain. You could tell he was trying to keep a handle on his reiatsu — perhaps to lessen the fear that twisted your gut — but you'd almost prefer to suffer under its oppression if that meant you'd be distracted from the painful stretch — from the especially aggressive snap of his hips as he broke through the thin tissue of your hymen: proof of your purity, now defiled.

At some point between horror and bliss, tears of humiliation melted into tears of his promised pleasure. You felt so full — so consumed — as his cock stuffed itself into your quivering, inexperienced channel. He had you on your knees, back arched and face pressed into the cold floor by a smooth palm. While he did not speak, the room was far from silent; your overstimulated whimpers, the shlick of your dripping cunt, and colliding skin chased away the quiet.

He fucked you through what you assumed was a standard orgasm. You'd heard tales of the elusive thing, and had been told by the more experienced ladies in the Seireitei that you'd know it when you felt it. The tension building in your lower stomach released, stars swimming in your vision as moisture rushed down your thighs.

"Ah — didn't expect that from such a pretty young thing…" he murmured — the first words he'd spoken since he started. Your face, already flushed from exertion, deepened a shade in shame. You thought this was normal. Maybe it wasn't meant to be so … wet? You did make a mess on his floor ... he was right to confine your coupling to the ground.

Captain Aizen's thrusts became choppier as he slipped in and out of your sopping hole — far easier now than when he began. He moved his palm from your cheek to the base of your skull, fisting the hair there and pulling you up so your back lay flush against his chest. "Look at me as I ruin you," he ordered, and you obliged — though you realized he wasn't looking back at you — simply staring straight ahead, unmoved by the desperation in your gaze.

You didn't know why at the time, too green to have ever thought about how a man acted when he came, but he stilled suddenly—and you felt him twitch inside of you, thick veins swelling against your battered walls. One singular gasp of pleasure flew past his lips as a foreign warmth filled your core, adding to the frothy ring around the base of his cock.

As he slid out, eyes glued to the mess gushing from your now-empty, stretched hole, he caressed your cheek in a way that managed to re-instate your sanity, making you feel better about the entire ordeal.

The life of a captain must be difficult, surely. It's not his fault that he's callous … it's just a facade he presents to retain respect. Perhaps he cares for me, and that is why he singled me out…

These are the lies you tell yourself as you let Aizen return to you year after year: always on his birthday, like clockwork.

Even now, despite the fact that he has defected from The Soul Society, he still finds ways to beckon you. It is May 29th, and you are sprawled beneath what you can only describe as a God. Your senses are twisted, lulling between euphoria and anticipation, ice-cold and fire-hot, tasting his bitter release on your tongue, only for it to be chased away by an indescribable sweetness ... and he hadn't even entered your mouth. Your cheeks are flushed, brow is damp, and your body is at its breaking point as Aizen hovers above you, watching his cock — completely detached from his body and larger than you'd ever experienced — bully itself into your puffy, abused cunt. It's full and dripping with three of his loads already (this form seems to have some other-wordly level of stamina), sloshing around your insides with each violent thrust. Both of his hands — also free-floating and unburdened from his torso — hold your legs apart, and his foot applies light — but mind-numbingly noticeable — pressure to your throat. He watches the scene as if it were some piece of artwork to be analyzed, eyes ablaze with satisfaction at your struggle.

"You've been an excellent sheathe all these years," he compliments, knowing full well that these scraps of validation will keep you compliant. He is not above forcing you, but he prefers genuine devotion. "You have given me your body time and time again…and it takes me so well."

He seems to be more chatty in this form; perhaps it's because he's far removed from the act, now. You're sure he can still feel the sensation of being inside of you — his voice is strained, and he has that animalistic gleam in his eye that presents itself in the company of your servitude — but he is at least watching you. Acknowledging you. It is unusual — addicting, even — and it only heightens your desire to please him.

"You will be my vessel," he decides. His cock pumps faster; you're wrecked, hardly registering his words as your mouth falls open, lungs ragged and body limp. "I will have one child — and you will bear it."

Your closing eyes snap open, their hue of adoration blurred by shock. He lifts his foot from your neck … you foolishly think that he may decide to go gentle on you, now … but the polished boot re-lowers onto your face, covering your eyes. The amount of pressure he applies is inconsequential: not meant to harm, but rather to guide your face sideways so your cheek smooshes into the ground, reminding you of your place.

Sosuke Aizen is a cruel lover, yes…

but who are you to begrudge a God?