starring: nerd uryuu, alt renji, frat boy grimmjow, jock chad, campus golden boy ichigo.
⸝⸝ dear y/n, we are pleased to inform you that your application at shinigami university has been accepted. welcome to our institution! ⸝⸝
to say you were excited would be an understatement -- your dream university, in your dream degree, but more importantly your dream of being surrounded by unbelievably attractive men has come true. you see, shinigami unviersity was #1 in the state for academics, and also good-looking people. anytime a new achievement would break out about the unviversity performing well in any academics, the discourse on the internet would be about how goodlooking their principal aizen was or the cute smiles of the students in lab coats.
you accept the invite link for the group chat, to familairse yourself with the people in your cohort, and boy were you pleased. you scroll, and scroll, and scroll -- looking at the faces, the accolades, the background of all the people going.
there were a couple names which stood out...
hottie one: uryuu ishida, the nerd
uryuu ishida has deep blue eyes, square glasses that look a bit outdated, and hair that always sits perfectly even when he’s rushing between classes. he got into shinigami university on a full scholarship without needing any help. in high school he was the dux, the school leader, and the student teachers used as an example when they wanted everyone else to try harder.
at uni he hasn’t slowed down. he’s the manager of three societies, the top student in pre‑medicine, and the person everyone goes to when they need clarification on lecture content. he never brags about any of it. he just does the work and moves on.
no one talks about his dating history because there’s nothing to talk about. he keeps to himself and doesn’t get involved in drama. the only thing people mention is that he studies too much and never misses a deadline.
you eventually learn more about him than most people do. after scrolling through his instagram, which is mostly photos of textbooks and neat notes, you find a few old posts of sewing projects and crochet pieces. they’re simple, but you can tell he put effort into them. it’s the most personal thing he’s shared online, and it makes you curious about what else he does when he’s not buried in coursework.
hottie two: renji abarai, the alternative boy
renji abarai stands out on campus without trying. he has bright red hair, tattoos that run down his arms, and a collection of guitars he rotates through depending on his mood. most people know him as the alternative guy in engineering who somehow passes every unit even though he skips half the lectures because he's unbelievably talented.
he got into shinigami university through a mix of decent marks, a strong practical portfolio, and a reference from a teacher who believed he’d do well if he actually applied himself. he’s not top of the cohort, but he’s the one everyone wants in their group because he can build anything and fix anything.
he’s loud in tutorials, laughs at his own jokes, and always has a guitar pick in his pocket. he plays at small gigs around campus and sometimes at bars near the uni. people recognise him before he recognises them.
there are plenty of rumours about him. some say he’s dated half the arts faculty, others say he’s too focused on band practice to bother with relationships. no one really knows the truth because he doesn’t talk about it.
you find out more by accident. his instagram is full of photos of guitars, band posters, and half-finished engineering projects. buried between them are a few older posts of him practising chords in his bedroom, long before the tattoos and the confidence. it makes him feel more real, less like the loud guy everyone assumes he is.
hottie three: grimmjow jaegerjaquez, the frat boy
grimjow jaegerjaquez is one of the most popular people at shinigami university. everyone knows him, even if they’ve never spoken to him. he’s loud, confident, and always in the middle of whatever is happening on campus. he’s majoring in international business, mostly because it sounds impressive and he likes the idea of travelling for work later.
he’s a key member of his frat. he’s not the president, but people treat him like he runs the place. he’s the one who gets everyone to show up to events, the one who talks his way out of trouble with campus security, and the one who somehow convinces lecturers to give extensions when the whole group needs them.
his tattoos are impossible to miss. they cover his arms and back, and he adds new ones whenever he feels like it. he doesn’t explain them. he just says they look good, and no one argues.
he skateboards everywhere. to class, to the shops, through the courtyard, even inside the frat house. he’s good at it too. he jumps stairs, grinds rails, and never seems to fall. people film him all the time, and the clips end up on uni meme pages. some say he’s dated half the business faculty. others say he’s impossible to keep up with. he doesn’t confirm anything. he just laughs and keeps moving.
his instagram is full of party photos, gym shots, and videos of him skating. if you scroll far enough, you find older posts from before he joined the frat. he looks less polished, less intense. it’s the only sign that he wasn’t always the centre of attention.
hottie four: chad [yasutora sado], the jock
yasutora “chad” sado is known across shinigami university for one thing before anything else: his size. he’s tall, built, and famous for his strength. he’s a boxer with an impressive record, and the sports faculty treats him like their unofficial mascot. even people who don’t follow boxing know who he is.
he’s majoring in sports science, because it lines up with his training and he actually enjoys learning how the body works. he’s not loud in class, but he pays attention and hands in every assignment on time. tutors like him because he’s respectful and doesn’t cause trouble.
he’s part of the uni boxing club and trains almost every afternoon. the gym staff know him by name. he helps new members without being asked, and he never shows off even though he could. he’s the type who lifts heavy weights without making a scene.
people say he’s too focused on training to date, or that he’s impossible to read because he doesn’t talk much. he doesn’t correct anyone. he just keeps to himself and looks after the people he cares about.
hottie five: ichigo kurosaki, the campus golden boy
ichigo kurosaki is the campus golden boy. he gets good grades, plays basketball for the uni team, and somehow manages to stay on top of everything even with a packed schedule. people know him as the guy who always shows up, works hard, and doesn’t make a big deal about it.
he’s majoring in psychology. he picked it because he wants to understand people better and because it felt right. he’s not the type to brag about marks, but he consistently sits near the top of his classes. tutors like him because he participates without taking over the room.
on the court he’s fast, sharp, and competitive. the basketball team relies on him during big games, and he handles the pressure without acting like he’s above anyone else. he trains early in the morning, goes to class, then trains again in the afternoon. it’s a routine he sticks to without complaint.
he dresses simply, usually in hoodies and team gear, but he still stands out. he has bright hair that makes him easy to spot in any crowd. people greet him everywhere he goes, and he always gives a quick nod back even if he’s in a rush.
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synopsis: life becomes increasingly complicated after a seemingly one-night stand with grimmjow extends way past the one-night mark.
as it turns out, arrancars become very clingy, very fast.
Opening your eyes to an arrancar laid next to you in your bed was not your idea of a happy wake-up call. He was still asleep; his gentle snores break the silence as you spring up, scrambling to retrace last night’s memories. A soft groan leaves you as it all comes flooding back.
The break up. The violent sobbing. The tissues and excessive consumption of bottom shelf tequila. The violent puking. The rebound that was currently still in your bed.
Oh, you are so thoroughly, completely fucked.
You curse yourself. How could you be so stupid as to drunkenly hook up with—
Your thoughts stutter as your brain fully catches up to last night’s memories. You remember the screaming and anger when you found out about your ex’s infidelity, which led to a night of reckless abandonment at a nearby bar, which further led to your very worried friends picking you up and bringing you home. Grimmjow was there for reasons you can’t remember. What you can recall, definitively, is that you did not sleep with him. He had carried you up to your apartment, settled you in bed, and was about to leave when you dragged him into the sheets for cuddles, refusing to let go until he conceded.
Embarrassing? Yes. As bad as hooking up with him? Not by a long shot.
A shift in movement beside you jolts you out of your thoughts. Grimmjow mutters something, voice still groggy with sleep. You freeze and ignore him, pretending not to hear. You pray that he goes back to sleep. Your prayers go unheard.
“[Y/N]?”
Silence.
He blinks one strikingly blue eye open and settles it on you. With a roll of his neck, he stretches out—lazy and languid. You stare straight at your bedroom door, hoping to avoid eye contact—and his incredibly sculpted muscles.
Why the hell is he shirtless?!
“Good morning,” you say with as much casualness as you can muster. It isn’t a lot. Your words come out more strangled than you intended. You want to weep.
Grimmjow doesn’t seem to notice—or care. “Morning. You want coffee?”
“I…” you swallow, unsure of how to navigate this situation. You decide to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I think you should go.”
Grimmjow opens his mouth to say something, but something in your expression stops him. He just gives you a slightly perplexed look before nodding slowly.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Are you serious?” He scoffs, unbelieving. “You realize the entire reason why I barely slept a wink last night was because you kept tossing, turning, and crying so hard I thought you’d shrivel up from dehydration?”
You feel your cheeks flame.
“You didn’t have to stay!”
Grimmjow moves closer to you, angling himself to face you directly. The proximity makes you dizzy among such tension.
“What was I supposed to do, sweetheart? Leave you to drown in your own tears? I’m not that cruel.”
You repeat yourself, quieter this time. “You still didn’t have to stay.”
“I chose to.”
He moves away, leaving you speechless and confused.
“Get dressed.”
“What?” You reply, still reeling from his words. “Why?”
“I’m taking you to breakfast.”
Dumbfounded, you can only manage another: “What?”
“Breakfast. To replenish all those fluids you lost.” Grimmjow swings his coat over his shoulders before tossing a hoodie on your head. “And to fuel up before killing that ex boyfriend of yours.”
He leaves the room before you can process his words. Once you do, you jump up from the bed with a wince—the hangover still piercing—and scramble after him in alarm.
“Grim! Don’t you fucking dare! Get back here, you overgrown lab rat!”
୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧
“I need help.”
Ichigo barely looks up from the eggs benedict he’s scarfing down. If you didn’t know him any better, you’d be scared he’d choke.
“Wow. You must be desperate if you’re coming to me for relationship advice.”
“First of all, it's not a relationship. Second of all, I know enough embarrassing things about you to ruin the rest of your very long life if you ever decided to speak of this to someone else.”
He shoots you a sideways look. “Noted.”
You anxiously drum your fingers on the table. “It’s about Grimmjow.”
Ichigo wrinkles his nose. “What about him?”
“He’s been acting weird.”
The shinigami bites into a piece of bacon. You already regret bringing him to brunch to sort this out. Sadly, it was the only way to get him to bail on his college club meeting.
“Weird how?” He asks between chews.
You sigh. “I don’t even know. Ever since that night, something’s been different. He’s weirdly clingy—the other day, I was running errands and ended up with a six-foot-one tag-along for every single one. It made my bank visit and hair appointment interesting, to say the least. Does he have a crush on me now or something?”
“Oh that’s not new.”
You look at Ichigo in puzzlement. “What are you talking about?”
“The crush? That’s not new. Whatever this thing is, it’s worse,” he answers nonchalantly.
The news makes your head spin. Grimmjow has a crush on you? Why? How? Since when? Was it when he moved to the human world?
Ichigo’s voice pulls you from your spiral. “Have you watched any vampire or werewolf movies?”
You balk at the insinuation. “Are you saying he imprinted on me? Like some kind of giant freak baby duck?!”
“More like he’s simply gotten attached to you… maybe it’s some weird arrancar mating thing?” Ichigo offers.
You deflate. “That is so not better.”
He shrugs. “You’re the one that decided to get into bed with an arrancar.”
“We didn’t do anything!”
“...Would you want to?”
You open your mouth for a firm rejection, but for some reason the words lodge in your throat. Grimmjow is rough around the edges, without question. He’s stubborn, reckless, and a pain in your ass. Regardless, you’ve been privy to his genuinity firsthand. You can’t recall a single time he hadn’t been there for you when you needed him.
“I don’t know,” you sigh.
“You should figure that out then. It seems you both have some complicated feelings to sort out.”
୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧
Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for the last twenty minutes. Your ex has found another number already—the last one was blocked only two days ago. You have half a mind to throw your phone into the pond in front of you. The koi fish probably wouldn’t be too happy about that, though—and neither would their owner. Out of respect for the wildlife—and Rukia—you settle for shutting the device off entirely. A temporary fix, yes, but at least you’ll have some peace and quiet for the rest of the night.
The party inside is in full swing—crowds of people mill around the house with drinks in hand and inhibitions loose. The music is so loud the bass shakes the foundations of the building; four stories of flashing lights, hazy vapours, and drunken stupors thrum a few hundred feet behind you. Rukia’s place is huge—perfect for a summer send off for a bunch of rowdy college students. You only hope Byakuya doesn’t find out about this one. The last time that happened… you cringe at the memory.
The garden is far enough from the main part of the house—mansion, more appropriately—that you only hear muffled beats of the blaring stereos and screaming students. A good thing too as you feel a headache coming on from the events of the night. You sit on a soft patch of grass a few metres from the edge of the water, watching as shining fish circle each other in colourful rhythms. The solo cup in your hand has long run dry. You prefer to stay sober from now on; you don’t need a repeat of what happened two months ago.
The moon is high against the dark canvas of the sky. It should be half past one by now. From your experience, the partygoers won’t filter out until hours later.
The sound of footsteps makes you turn. Grimmjow saunters towards you, a beer in hand. You aren’t sure how to act around him. You haven’t ever since you found out about his crush on you. You aren’t even sure you believe it to be true; it’s Grimmjow, for heaven’s sake. A crush? Romantic feelings? Such concepts don’t even exist in the lives of people like him.
Regardless, it’s been an awkward couple of weeks—for you, at least. It’s not easy trying to ignore an arrancar hellbent on pestering you every second of the day.
You’d be lying if you say you haven’t missed him though.
“Drink?” He holds out his bottle to you in offering.
You wince. “Better not. I have plans tomorrow morning.”
He takes a seat next to you in the grass. You shuffle over slightly, still wary of his closeness. The movement makes him frown, but surprisingly, he doesn’t comment on it.
“What plans?”
“I…” You hesitate. For reasons you don’t want to understand, it feels uncomfortable to tell him. “I have a date.”
Grimmjow’s beer bottle shatters in his hand, spraying him with alcohol. You jump up in alarm, panicking at the mess of glass and foaming liquid.
“Holy shit! Are you okay?! What the hell was that?!”
“I’m fine,” he grits out between clenched teeth.
You stare at him in bewilderment. The liquid drips down his forearm, pooling at his feet. Glass shards litter the grass around him as he wipes his hand on the front of his jeans.
“Let me see your hand.”
He pulls away from you as you try to take his hand in yours. “I said I’m fine.”
“Your hand, Grimmjow. Give it,” you insist.
He grumbles in annoyance but eventually relents. He was right—there’s no cut in sight. His skin is unbroken and… really, really warm. You yank your hand away, flustered at the heated contact.
“A date? Seriously?”
“Huh?” You look up, embarrassment forgotten. He’s looking straight ahead towards the pond and garden fixtures, avoiding direct eye contact with you.
He’s beautiful.
You startle yourself with that sudden thought. When did you start noticing the little things? Like the curve of his lips and the vibrance of his eyes. When did you start viewing him… differently? You ignore these dangerous thoughts—pushing them aside to maintain a semblance of control.
“What’s wrong with a date?”
He grunts in answer. He still hasn’t looked at you.
“It’s just this blind date thing I promised a friend I would try. It’s not like it’ll go anywhere,” you ramble. You’re not quite sure why you feel the need to explain yourself but you do it regardless. “Anyway, I’m still dealing with the break-up so it’s not like I have time or the mental capacity to actually date.”
“You still haven’t moved on?” He asks, disgust lacing his tone.
You shrug. From your asshole ex? Absolutely. From the emotional turmoil of the relationship’s aftermath? Not so much.
“I’m dealing with it.”
Grimmjow does not like that answer. “For fucks sake, [Y/N], how are you still hung up on him? How is he worth this? Any of this? That bastard hasn’t deserved you since the day he got you!”
Your jaw drops at his outburst.
“Why are you getting so worked up about this?”
“Because you’re being fucking stupid!” Grimmjow stands up and starts pacing. The unexpected argument sends you spiralling into a fit of anger matching his own.
“Excuse me?” You stand up too and narrow your eyes at the arrancar.
He whips around to you, all six-foot-one of him towering over your frame. The heat emanating off of him is palpable in the chilly night air. His gaze is sharp—cutting into your own with intense emotion.
“You’re stupid because you don’t realize you deserve better.”
“And what? Who the hell is better? You?” You’re pushing him for a reaction.
He gives it to you.
“Yes!”
The word makes you both freeze. Grimmjow looks shocked at his own response; his eyes are so wide you can see your own surprise reflected in their icy blue.
“So you do have feelings for me,” you whisper.
Grimmjow’s head drops, his gaze now boring into the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was embarrassed.
“Was that not fucking obvious?” He grumbles.
“Apparently not to me.”
He rubs his neck and lets out a long breath. “Well…” His eyes focus on you. “Now you know.”
Your heart is beating so fast it feels like it’ll burst out of your chest.
“Are you gonna say anything?” Grimmjow asks uneasily. He fidgets with his hair, anxiously waiting for your reply.
“You’re one of my closest friends, Grim. I don’t like change. I’m not very good at it,” you note.
“But what if the change is good?”
You cough out a dry laugh. “Are you saying you’re good? You? Mr. Almighty Espada?”
“Depends who you ask.”
You pretend to think. “Hmm… how about Ichigo?”
“Who cares what that moron thinks.”
“Well, considering he’s my best friend—”
Grimmjow scowls. “Still not thrilled about that, by the way.”
You smile at his indignation.
“I’m not cancelling my date.”
“What?” Grimmjow’s face falls and you try not to giggle at how easily he resembles a kicked puppy.
“Tomorrow. 5pm. Pick me up then?”
It takes a second for him to register what you mean, but when he does, he smirks and throws an arm around you, pulling you in for a side-hug that nearly suffocates you. You don’t mind at all.
“Or we can just start the date now.”
You laugh. “Slow done, cowboy. I have to change my number first thing tomorrow morning. He hasn’t stopped blowing up my phone.”
Grimmjow growls. “You know, you shouldn’t have stopped me from killing him last time.”
“Sometimes, I don’t know if you’re joking.” You tilt your head in concern. “It’s worrying.”
He shoots you an irritated look. “Why would I be joking?”
You merely shake your head, looking at him in amusement. For the first time in a long while, you have a feeling that everything will work out just fine.
𓇬 jealously is unbecoming, but sometimes unavoidable. and shunsui needs to remind his wife she’s the only one for him 𓇬
❤︎ pairing: shunsui kyoraku x f reader : readers physical appearance is not specified
𓇬 for anon ❤︎ i kinda meshed your request with another idea i had wanted to write about, for me these themes are part and parcel when you are with a man like shunsui. hope you like this, writing it had me bricked tf up 𓇬
warnings: 18+ smut. kids don’t fucking read this. light angst, established relationship, traditional themes, reader is jealous, safety’s off (raw), cock warming, crying, pet names, praise, the only thing that pulls out is his couch. word count: 4k
Shunsui was not an aggressive lover, passionate certainly, and above all else, persistent. His yearning adoration for you was always prevalent, like a quiet, simmering hunger. Never sated.
His gaze always found you, in every room, everywhere. Sometimes you'd catch him looking, and you'd see it in his face. He looked at you like it meant I love you.
He told you every chance he got; sometimes, it was with tooth-achingly romantic confessions; other times, it was lustful whispers that made you go hot in the face.
He also loved to touch you, casually or intimately; it didn't matter. For him, it was just another way to show you his love.
He'd play with your hair, hold your hand and draw circles against your palm, rub your back as you fell asleep, or come up behind you and press his face against your neck, breathing in your scent like you were the sweetest-smelling flower.
Almost every night you’d find yourselves wrapped up in one another. Much like his personality, he liked to fuck the same way. Always patient and gentle, he had no qualms about who took charge and never demanded—it was a complete surrender to you.
He was not one for quickies; if it could be avoided, he preferred to draw out your time in bed. A slow, leisurely pleasure, languid touches, and deep kisses.
He liked eye contact; at first it made you feel self-conscious, but the way he marvelled over you like a man obsessed, you soon learned to love every second he had his gaze on you.
Sometimes he praised you with sweet words; other times he'd say the filthiest things, but he made them sound like prayers when he spoke to you.
Even those rare times either of you were too tired to fuck, he’d lay you on your side, holding you close against his chest. His scruffy face nuzzled against your neck, skillful hands caressing your body with no real motive.
Slowly, he’d rut his hips against you, sliding back and forth against your core until you were dripping wet. Then, and only then, would he push inside you, burying himself to the hilt.
He wouldn’t move, though; he'd keep himself there, stretching you out to feel comfortably full, and you'd lie in his arms, feeling him breathing slow and deep at your back until you'd both fall asleep.
It was intense and passionate, borderline addictive. Even after so many years together, those feelings never dwindled. His penchant for slow and steady was one of the things you enjoyed most about him. It taught you to stop and enjoy the little things, you found you were less anxious and more easygoing.
It wasn’t without its criticism, though; as a captain, he was chastised for being too relaxed; few even questioned the decision of him being promoted to head captain. He was often mistaken for being lazy and apathetic, but you saw beyond that.
His humble disposition and easy nature allowed him the ability to choose his moment; he decided what to worry about and what took space in his mind.
He’d worked long and hard to hone his skills over many centuries, becoming an exceptional fighter and problem solver, which gave him the freedom to spend more time enjoying life's pleasures: napping, drinking, playing games, and, of course, fucking.
The latter had been no secret; even before you had been together, you'd heard plenty of stories from his younger days, chasing women and frequenting the yūkaku district—he'd had his fair share of experience, and it earned him a reputation that made him very popular, especially with other women.
It was to be expected; he was handsome, charming, and had a flirtatious demeanour that drew people in. He was generally well-liked amongst the squads, always friendly and eager to make others feel good with compliments or kind words.
In the early days of your relationship, it was a little difficult for you to stomach. Watching how women fawned over him when he passed or how they batted their eyelashes when he spoke to them made you feel uneasy.
It helped that he seemed to be unfazed or at the very least uninterested in the attention he received from others, and when you finally admitted how you felt, he listened intently.
Never bothered or upset by your feelings, his focus and motivation were only on you and your affections. He may have been a womanizer, but he was also very faithful, and eventually your concerns eased.
But sometimes, no matter how you tried to avoid it, it still secretly irked you.
This day had been one of those days; it started out with a letter. It was early; you and Shunsui had been in his office drinking your morning tea—a daily ritual for you both.
You were reclined in your usual spot, the lounge chair by his desk, while he mulled over his paperwork for the day. He’d been busy sorting through the piles when he noticed something.
"Where'd this come from? I've never seen it before," he said, prompting you to look over to the red envelope he was holding up in his hand.
You couldn't see anything written on the outside of it as he flipped it over; your eyes fell to the sea of papers scattered about his desk, stacked from end to end, and you laughed lightly.
"How can you keep track of anything in that mess of a desk?" you teased, taking a sip of your tea. Shunsui tapped the envelope against one of the stacks of papers, giving you a lazy smile.
"I'm almost certain I don't remember it being here yesterday," he shrugged, ripping open the envelope.
Curious, you stood up and walked around the desk to stand at his side; he absently reached an arm out, wrapping it around your waist, and you leaned in closer to see what it was.
The letter inside was addressed to him, from a member of the fourth squad, Chiyo Nakamura. You thought you recognized the name as one you'd read on the list of new squad admissions from the previous month.
Your eyes skimmed over the neat script and then widened when you saw that it wasn't merely a letter but a romantic confession.
Your initial reaction was surprise, followed by a tiny, fleeting feeling of jealousy, which didn't last long. It was clear she was unaware of the head captain's marriage, and it was an innocent enough admission, nothing vulgar or flagrant.
You respected that and her nerve—a new squad member, not even at an officer's level, propositioning the head captain took serious guts.
Shunsui let out a huff of air as he set it down, a noise falling somewhere between disbelief and humour.
"You have an admirer," you said, giving him a sideways glance.
He laughed, pushing the letter away, and turned to you, his hand reaching for one of yours.
"Flattery, nothing more. Looks like she hasn't met my beautiful wife yet," he said, giving you his most charming grin.
You smiled, and moving to sit in his lap, you pulled him in for a kiss.
That afternoon, the two of you took a walk to the markets. Shunsui was sitting by the sake hut; he sipped on his drink, admiring you from a short distance as you continued walking through, looking at all the goods.
You were looking for a gift for Nanao, and you’d stopped at an inkstand full of beautiful stationery. You then heard some excitable chatter coming from the sake hut, and you looked back to find Shunsui surrounded by a cluster of students from the academy.
They were talking animatedly, and you paid them little mind as you busied yourself with picking out a new inkpot and brush for her.
After a few minutes you heard them say their goodbyes; some of the girls from the group walked past the inkstand, close enough you could hear their conversation.
“He’s so handsome!” One of them whispered, and the others nodded in agreement.
“I know, I can’t believe it! Oh, I hope I can get into squad one,” another said, clapping her hands together.
“Do you think he’ll take on another lieutenant? I might apply for that position under him."
That last comment was more than a little suggestive, and they all giggled amongst themselves. You felt that jealous streak jabbing at your emotions like a sharp knife again, only stronger now, making you feel irritable. You sighed in frustration, and after paying the vendor, you made your way back over to him.
“All finished?” He asked, turning to look at you fondly.
You suppressed the urge to snap at him; you knew it wasn’t his fault the girls were fawning over him, just like it wasn’t his fault that young woman from squad four wrote him that confession.
They were young, and it was harmless crushing, but you couldn't quite hold it together, and you didn't want to tell him either. You needed some time alone to calm down.
“Yes. I’m going home; I have some things to take care of,” you said, tight-lipped. Shunsui raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t object.
“I will be there soon then,” he replied, kissing your hand before you turned and flash-stepped away.
True to his word, he arrived home shortly after, and you purposely busied yourself with several things that certainly didn’t require your attention as urgently as you made it seem, but you needed to stub out the sour mood you’d found yourself in since being at the market.
Shunsui was no fool; he picked up on it almost immediately but didn't impose. He kissed your cheek when he came in and then went off to do his own thing, giving you the space he knew you needed, damn him.
It just made you more frustrated, his thoughtfulness and patience. Just once you wished he'd get annoyed back so you could feel justified at being angry with him, but it wouldn't happen.
The rest of the evening went on about the same; you kept to yourself, avoiding him like the plague. At some point while you were making dinner, you'd started to feel a little silly. You were practically hiding from him at this point, and it didn't make you feel any better.
You were upset with those girls, upset at him for not being upset, and now, more than anything, upset with yourself.
You could've just told him how you felt, but you'd been stubborn, having wanted to rid yourself of this mood all on your own. It had only made things worse. You shoved those thoughts aside, focusing on preparing and serving dinner instead.
The Kyoruku family, being a noble family, had servants, but you didn’t allow them to serve meals. You prided yourself on taking on that role; having come from a common household, you admired your mother's dedication to caring for the family and your father.
You maintained that in your marriage with Shunsui, even a little jealous flare would not disrupt that.
Dinner itself was quiet; you didn't speak much. The whole time he didn't push, didn't prod, just left you be, occasionally speaking out about his day or matters that you could listen to without having to reply.
Afterwards you bathed and retreated to bed early, while he lounged outside drinking sake.
The moon was full that evening; you’d left the fusuma cracked open, and the light of it cast bright streaks across the floor of the room—both you and Shunsui liked to leave it open on warm nights; your bedroom overlooked the gardens and the koi pond.
The sounds of crickets chirping and the flowing of the water were normally a perfect combination to make you fall asleep, but you’d been in bed for nearly an hour, wide awake.
The truth was, you were accustomed to being held. Shunsui always held you when you went to sleep, but his side of the bed was still empty, and you were too damn stubborn to go find him and drag him into bed. So you turned over onto your side, facing away from the vacant spot, and willed yourself to sleep.
When Shunsui finally came to bed, you were fast asleep. He moved silently, taking off his hairpins and eyepatch; he then stripped down to his samue. Padding lightly across the floor, he kneeled down next to the futon where you were lying on your side, your back to him.
He lay down next to you, curling an arm around your waist, and you stirred, becoming aware of the feeling of his lips pressing against your bare shoulder where your robe had slipped down. He hummed against your skin when you let out a soft whine.
“Mhmm, I’m sorry, did I wake you, sweet girl?” He asked, his deep voice soothing. You rubbed your eyes, slowly waking up.
His hand was tracing patterns along your belly, kisses trailing up to your neck. You leaned back into him unconsciously, finding comfort in his presence despite the tiny flare of anger still burning quietly in the back of your mind.
“So…” Shunsui continued, his hand moving down to the curve of your hip, pulling the silk duvet back with it as he did.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” He murmured, tugging the tie at your waist loose to let it fall open, and he slipped his hand underneath to rest against your bare thigh.
Your breathing hitched, but you still wouldn’t speak; instead, you tilted your chin up to allow him more access, and he began to press open-mouthed kisses right below your jaw. You could feel yourself getting wetter the more he continued, heat spreading throughout your body.
The calloused hand on your thigh slipped between them now, and you felt him pull your leg back to hitch over his own, opening you up for him.
You held your breath as his fingers trailed down your stomach, inching lower and lower, until they just barely skimmed over your core. You arched into his touch, trying to get him where you wanted him, and he chuckled against your skin.
“Ah, ah, ah… Only good girls that use their words get what they want,” he said playfully.
He pulled his hand back and moved to cup one of your breasts instead. You whined then as he gently tugged on one of your nipples.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t speak that easily; you’re far too stubborn for that,” he grinned as he pressed himself closer to you, and you couldn’t help but moan when you felt his hard length against your ass.
You reached behind you, snaking a hand down between your bodies, and cupped him outside of his pants.
“Please…Shunsui. Don’t tease me,” you whispered, looking back to see his face.
His gaze was intense and hungry, you could feel him throbbing against your hand. You watched him then bring two fingers up to his mouth, and wet them, before finally tracing them along your slit.
He swiped them back and forth a few times, sending little sparks of pleasure pulsing through you each time, and you let out a soft moan as he slid them inside, two at first, and then, with some effort, three.
Your body opened up with ease as he worked them in and out of you. Your pussy greedily pulling his fingers in deeper, the wet squelching sound would’ve been embarrassing if it didn’t feel so good.
Your head dropped back against him as his thumb pressed against your clit. You could feel yourself getting close, your body clamping down around his fingers.
“Look at you, squeezing me so tight,” he murmured.
You couldn’t even muster a reply as you felt your orgasm teeter on its edge, your breath coming in shallow pants. You felt his mouth at the shell of your ear, and it sent chills up your spine.
“That’s it…that’s it…” He whispered, feeling you pulse around him as you tipped over the edge.
He didn't stop until you were squirming, pushing his hand away, and gasping for air. He pulled them out, bringing them up to his mouth once more, and a broken moan left you at the sight of him licking them clean. He chuckled softly at that, pressing a kiss to your temple.
“Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. I just wanted a taste," he said, leaning down to kiss you.
It started sweet but turned hungry fast, a mess of tongue and teeth, and when you pulled away, you were breathless.
“Get on your back,” you panted.
He did, and you wasted no time sitting up and pulling open the shirt of his samue; your own robe lay discarded on the floor. His clothes swiftly followed, tossed haphazardly to the side.
“Come here,” he whispered as he laid back against the pillows.
You moved over him, straddling his waist, and he gritted his teeth at the feeling of your warm, wet pussy pressed against his stomach.
His cock jumped in anticipation, pulsing eagerly against your ass. You ignored it for the moment, leaning down to pepper kisses along his neck and jaw, your hands roaming over his body.
His hands found your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, and when you began to rock your ass against his neglected cock, he tsked disapprovingly.
“Mhmm, now who’s teasing?” He said, his voice husky and strained.
He leaned forward and caught one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking greedily.
You felt yourself clench around nothing, your core dripping against his toned stomach; you needed more. You kept your eyes on his face, watching his reaction as you lifted your hips to line him up with your entrance and slowly sank down on his length.
His hands gripped your hips, eyebrows knitted together, mouth parted slightly as you inched further and further down until you sat flush in his lap.
Shuddering at the stretch of him. He dropped his head back against the pillow, cursing under his breath at the feeling of you fully wrapped around him.
“Oh, my girl, you feel like heaven,” he groaned.
You leaned down against his chest and began to grind against his length, slow at first, until soon you were rocking against him in earnest. He moved in tandem with you, hips driving up in short, shallow juts.
“Shun…sui…harder…” You gasped, desperately.
He obliged you, his arms wrapped around you, and then he was flipping you both so you were on your back, with him above you.
His hands found the backs of your thighs, pushing them against your chest, and he leaned forward so that your calves were resting on his shoulders, his weight not crushing but firm above you. Your hands grabbed at the futon as he slid back inside you.
It was deep, so much so it felt like your breath was punched out of you as he bottomed out, the angle enough for the tip of his cock to brush against your cervix.
It wasn’t painful, but it left you with an overwhelming feeling of fullness, like he was everywhere.
You sobbed as he began to move, your head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. It felt like you were being split open now in the most wonderful way. The sound of his throaty moans drew your attention back to him, and you looked up at his face.
His brow was furrowed, his good eye squeezed shut in concentration, as if fucking you was an art. His hair was down, falling around him in loose tresses that framed his near-perfect features.
From his full lips to his hooked nose, even the glaring scar that ran through what was left of his right eye, he was so handsome. You reached up to stroke the side of his face, and he turned his head to kiss the inside of your palm; the gesture made your chest ache.
You felt so lucky to have a man so wholly enthralled by you that the jealous bubble popped, and soon it was replaced with a sinking feeling of guilt.
Tears pricked your eyes, and you turned away, trying to hide them, but it was no use. Shunsui stilled above you; one of the hands that was braced against your leg moved up to cup your cheek, concern painted over his features.
“What’s wrong, my love? Is something hurting?” He asked between heavy breaths.
His tone was so sweet, and you let out a quiet sob. His face was now very worried, and he tilted your chin up to look at him.
“Hey, hey… What is it?” He asked.
You shook your head, reaching up to wipe your eyes, feeling a little embarrassed.
“It’s nothing... I’m… I’m just being silly…” you said admittedly, stifling any further cries. He didn’t look convinced.
“Nothing is silly if it makes you feel this way,” he said knowingly, and you sighed.
“I just… I was a bit upset today…” you started.
“Was it the letter?” He asked, and you shook your head.
“That only bothered me a little bit, it was when we were at the market,” you said softly. His brows pulled together in confusion.
“What happened at the market?” He asked earnestly.
You looked away again, feeling a little ashamed. He thought back to the afternoon, replaying the events over in his head.
“Was it the students?” He finally asked.
“Yes… The girls said some things about you as they passed me… and it just… I don’t know… It’s ridiculous. I know I shouldn’t care; it’s just…” You trailed off.
“It made you feel jealous,” he said, and you nodded. He tutted softly and hugged you to him. A warm laugh rumbled in his chest.
“Oh, my love… I’m sorry it upset you. It’s okay to feel that way sometimes. If it helps, I can’t even recall their faces; I was too busy looking at you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
You laughed a bit and opened your mouth to speak, but then he started moving again, and your words caught in your throat.
“Mhmmm… Don’t even remember what they looked like… How could I when my pretty girl was standing right there…looking like a goddess?” He continued casually, his pace picking up until you were being jolted with each movement.
Your hand reached down between your bodies, and you fisted it around his cock, making him slide through your fist and into your pussy with each thrust, the added friction making his own orgasm approach fast, and he sucked in a breath at the feeling.
“Does that feel good, Shun?” You whispered, and he groaned out some semblance of a reply as he felt that tingling sensation at the base of his spine.
“Do I make you feel good?” You pressed on, squeezing him harder.
It made you preen hearing him fall apart for you like this, that familiar feeling inside you building up once more as he fucked into you.
“Yes…so good… Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum,” he panted out, pressing his forehead to yours.
“Please, I want it… I want you,” you said desperately, your arms wrapping around his neck.
“I’m yours, my sweet, I’m yours,” his voice shook as he spoke and when his hand reached down to rub your clit, it sent you careening over the edge once more.
You cried out as pleasure ripped through you, pulsing hot and fast, and Shunsui followed, only seconds after.
Pressing himself deep inside you, burying his face in your neck as he spilled into you. His voice in your ear, chanting over and over again.
“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”
Soon, the waves subsided, and you both lay tangled up in one another, sweat-soaked and utterly exhausted. Shunsui was dead weight on top of you, but you didn’t mind. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent.
After a few minutes he shifted to move, and you clung to him desperately, not wanting to be pulled apart.
Rather than pull away, he held you against him as he rolled over, pulling you to lie on his chest, your knees tucked against his sides. His now-softening cock still inside you.
He pulled the blankets back up over the two of you, and you tucked your head under his chin, pressing one last kiss against his throat. You both drifted off to sleep.
alternative ending to the shunsui open marriage collection | bleach week masterlist | main masterlist | bleach masterlist
nsfw // minors dni
Shunsui used to be a man that craved sunlight, but ever since she died, he found that shadows suited him better, afterall.
During the day he hid in his office, pouring what little energy he had left into rebuilding the legacy that his mentor left behind. At dusk he poured sake and spoke to the visage of Jūshirō, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure that Unohana wasn't lurking in the shadows, preparing to pipe in and freeze their beating hearts.
In the inky hours of night, when all was silent except for his spiraling mind, his hand found his cock and his mind wandered to her.
It was filthy and depraved. He should be mourning his dead wife with tears and flowers … not with desperate strokes and strangled sobs. His mind should wander to how he missed her smile, not how he missed her heat, but alas … her shape was the last loved thing he'd held, and he'd rather die than forget it. When he came it was both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because he could still remember her face … could still recall how her skin felt against his own … the sweet noises she'd make beneath him. A curse because she was not there, and the illusion of her faded as soon as he found his release.
After many months of this self-inflicted torture ritual, Shunsui felt compelled to sink deeper, still. With a bottle of sake tucked beneath his arm, he headed toward Muken. The chill that used to bother him as he descended no longer had any impact; now, the earthen damp that collected on his skin warmed him, like a cloak of shame and sorrow.
He could feel Sosuke Aizen before he could see him. He remembered the night his wife spent between their two bodies … the night that could have tipped him off to Aizen's true nature if only he'd been paying more attention. But it was too late, now … and he couldn't even blame the monster underground for what had happened. Instead he sought it out for company … to defile her memory further as he dragged her into the depths of purgatory, just so he could flaunt it before someone who might remember her as Shunsui did.
He felt no fear as he stepped into the cell. On this night there could only be three outcomes, two of which ended in his death: a fate that, at this point, would be a mercy killing. If he had the displeasure of making it to morning, there would be more ramifications for his actions — the Central 46 did not give him permission to reminisce with Sosuke Aizen about the sweet cunt of his dead wife, after all — but that was neither here nor there: a battle for tomorrow, only to be fought after a sunrise he loathed to see.
He unlocked Sosuke's mouth, first, ripping the bandage off of whatever smart remarks the man had locked and loaded on his tongue.
Sure enough, the utterance "you reek" was the first thing that passed his lips. Shunsui huffed, amused, shrugging.
"No one t'impress."
"Of alcohol," Sosuke clarified. "You reek of alcohol."
Shunsui grumbled something illegible as he undid the lock burdening Sosuke's ankles, then wrists. Sosuke tracked his movements suspiciously, wondering if this was some kind of trick, but again … the Captain-Commander reeked of alcohol, not deception. His intentions became obvious rather quickly, grief seeping from his pores just as steadily as his reiatsu.
"I don't think I'm the right person to cry to," Sosuke dryly stated, massaging his wrists as they loosened, "though I suppose it would be more entertaining than staring into space, so I shouldn't complain."
"I won't cry. Got that outta my system before I came down," Shunsui's poor attempt at a joke fell flat, and even he couldn't contain his grimace, "though it's good t'know they'd bring ya such enjoyment. I'll keep that in mind the next time I need a favor."
As Sosuke grew reaccustomed to having agency over his own limbs, Shunsui paced to the wall, sliding down it with the grace of a newborn colt. He tilted his bottle to his lips — his third of the night — observing his former comrade's outline through glazed eyes.
"Dunno why I didn't come here sooner," Shunsui slurred, "I like it down here."
Sosuke let out a laugh. It was short, but genuine: a display that was rare even for Sosuke himself to behold. But his understimulated mind was firing at all the wrong cues, and the idea of the Seireitei's most flamboyant, most … sybaritic shinigami finding comfort in this hell was something that even he couldn't have foreseen.
"Ya want sake?" Shunsui offered after a long minute of sulking silence. Sosuke lifted a brow, still maintaining his distance, weary of his visitor's palpable instability. Shunsui's reiatsu was fluctuating at levels unbecoming of a shinigami, nevermind a Captain-Commander, and while Sosuke held no concern for his life, he had no intention of getting cried and slobbered on.
"If I get too close to you, you'll —"
"Eviscerate me, yeah, yeah," Shunsui wove a lazy hand before reaching it up to his hat and tossing it across the floor. "Would that be such a bad thing, though?"
"Never knew you to be so careless with your life, Kyōraku."
"Ah, well, that was me then, and this is me now." Shunsui opened the box of keys that held Sosuke's fate, plucking one out and tossing it in his direction. "But if y'r so concerned … here. This'll let you breathe a little bit."
Sosuke retrieved the key with nimble fingers, keenly aware that, even with his reiatsu released, there was no way of escaping his current circumstances. But it would at least feel nice to not be crushed beneath his own weight every waking moment, so he eagerly slotted the key into position and —
"It's the wrong key," he muttered, biting back an insult. Shunsui blinked slowly as he registered his mistake, then laughed to himself as he fished another one from the container and sent it Sosuke's way.
Luckily, this one worked. Sosuke's mouth parted in relief as his reiatsu surged outward, entropic in its release. If Shunsui were anyone else, his life would have been snuffed by that violent first wave of freedom … but the man simply remained slumped over his bottle, too strong for his own good.
"So you came to visit me … to unchain me … for what reason?"
Shunsui squinted up at the shadowy ceiling. "There's not many people topside I'm … familiar with these days."
Sosuke quirked a brow. "Familiar?"
"Familiar."
"Ah. So you're talking about her."
"Who else?"
"I don't know. Your dear friend Ukitake, or the man who declared you a son, Yamamoto…"
"I mourn them, too," Shunsui snapped, temper flaring briefly before he quenched it with more liquor. "But…I just…"
"I only spent one night with you," Sosuke cocked his head, "there are others that have spent multiple … yet you risk your reputation to come visit me. Why?" He didn't wait for Shunsui to answer as he continued, "and if I recall, neither of you particularly enjoyed that experience."
"Well ya were bein' a dick."
"So the question stands: why are you here?"
Despite having the upper hand, Shunsui felt very much like Aizen's prey in that moment: weak and pathetic and at his mercy. He cowered behind the glass in his grasp, defeated posture sagging further.
"Y'were such a dick 'cause y'understood us," he mumbled, "y'knew just how to play us. How to please her … how to take it away."
"I didn't please you?"
The look Shunsui flashed him was too tired to be dangerous. "Ya crossed a line."
"But you did it anyway … for her."
"I'd do anything for her."
"I know that."
All the pieces fell into place. Sosuke exhaled, defensive stance softening when he realized what levels of desperation had dragged Shunsui to such depths.
"And you'd do anything .. to see her again."
Shunsui remained silent: a rare thing for a man that liked to hear himself talk. He eyed Aizen suspiciously as the prisoner began to walk over, shadows clinging to his form like a second skin.
"You refused to beg me for your wife the first time…but maybe…" a seamless transition; in Aizen's place stood a woman, nude and radiant and achingly familiar, "maybe you'll beg her."
Something ugly caught in Shunsui's throat. Just as he thought, Aizen's sharp mind recalled every detail, each curve just as smooth … each move just as fluid. He…she?…bent before him, breath cool across his warm face.
"You don't look too good, Sunny."
A piece of him — large and jagged — broke upon hearing that nickname…falling from those lips. He didn't even try to fight the illusion, accepting it wholly as he let Aizen cup his cheek, stroking the gentle pad of her thumb across the wet flesh beneath his eyes. "Heh," he sniffled, "Sorry. Promised I wouldn't cry on y—"
Aizen shut him up with a kiss.
His was a little rougher than what haunted Shunsui's dreams, but the shape of her lips molded to his just as they used to. Shunsui's pulse thrummed in his ears as he met her mouth with fervor, letting the sake bottle roll from his grasp, his precious vice spilling across the cold earth.
Sosuke broke away first, sitting back. Her lips twisted into a crooked smile … one that reminded Shunsui who was beneath the façade … but he chased the thought away as he craned forward again —
"Beg."
Shunsui grit his teeth. "Aizen, don't—"
"You don't have to beg me," Sosuke dipped a hand beneath the loose fabric of Shunsui's shihakushō, tracing nimble fingers down the broad Commander's torso, "beg her."
Shunsui's head pounded as he stared down at his wife's hand — so soft, her touch gentle and familiar. His, however, was aggressive as he gripped her wrist, stopping its descent. "I've begged her already," he whispered hoarsely, "every night. Every morning. Every … second." Shunsui yanked Sosuke forward, "so fuck you, Aizen. I'm not begging for my wife."
If Sosuke weren't so amused he'd be annoyed, but seeing Shunsui descend into madness was reward enough for his little games. He let Shunsui connect their mouths once more, though this kiss lacked its earlier desperation and had devolved into depravity.
Shunsui knocked Sosuke over onto his back, tongue lapping at the exposed flesh of his neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. To Sosuke's own ears his moan was low, but to Shunsui's it held that addicting lilt he'd dreamt of too many times to count.
Sosuke shrugged off his own clothing as he maintained the image of Shunsui's nude lover. Feeling his wandering hands over fabric wasn't enough … and Sosuke was not so generous as to grant the grieving man this gift without gaining something of his own.
Where Shunsui felt soft curves beneath his needy touch, Sosuke felt callouses against his taught muscle. His cock twitched as Shunsui's fingers dipped between his wife's wet folds, and he lifted himself onto his forearms to watch The Commander's head dip between his legs. He'd felt his tongue on him before — brief and unwilling — but now Shunsui ate him like a man starved. The poor Commander didn't even realize his mouth was stuffed with cock, believing it to be a sopping cunt — one that Sosuke remembered well, because, to Shunsui's credit, he did marry a sweet creature that would drive any man insane with lust.
Shunsui whispered sweet nothings against Sosuke's thighs, his spit mixing with his tears as he devoured. A pathetic display of codependency, but not a surprise. Sosuke's fingers tangled into his curls, frizzy from the damp environment and a lack of proper maintenance on the surface, as he rolled his hips deeper, head falling back as his tip nudged the back of his throat. As Shunsui began to pull back Sosuke lazily attempted to keep him there, but Shunsui knocked his hand away and spread Sosuke's legs apart, untying his hakama with thick, clumsy fingers.
Just as it had been that night many years ago, when Sosuske was still a Captain of the Fifth, Shunshi's size was formidable in both length and girth. He remembered watching him spear into his wife's ass as Sosuke took her cunt, wondering how it could possibly fit, and the same thought occurred to him as he watched the monstrous shaft inch closer. While the phantom pussy he controlled was slick and ready, Sosuke certainly wasn't. Sure, some of Shunsui's spit had slid down to the hole between his legs, but it was nowhere near ready for that which approached him. Sosuke kept the illusion's hands clasped onto Shunsui's shoulders, distracting him by tracing a finger down his face and whispering 'I miss you…' as he spat into his palm and prepared himself as best as he could, smearing the saliva up against his entrance with quick precision.
Shunsui pressed his sweating brow against Sosuke's forehead, patience nonexistent. Sosuke gasped as he felt the leaking cockhead press up against his tight ring of muscle … and of course Shunsui was eager — a slave to his cunt of 900 years — as he buried himself to the hilt in one forceful motion.
Sosuke's only saving grace was the Hōgyoku. If it weren't for that, he'd probably be split in two; and while he managed to avoid such a fate, the Hōgyoku did not erase the initial burn, nor did it quiet the humiliating yelp that tumbled from Sosuke's lips. Shunsui's hands — rough and calloused — traced a sensual path from the backs of Sosuke's thighs to his ankles as he lifted his legs, tossing them over his broad shoulders as he fucked into Sosuke as if he were something precious, his strokes deep and desperate and reverent.
Sosuke's hands grasped at the thick muscle of Shunsui's back, fingertips curling into the fabric of his kimono as he tried to claw his way back into some semblance of control. He didn't realize how overwhelming it would feel to be fucked passionately. He didn't account for how quickly his mind would scramble … at how the only thought he could cling to was 'more'. And he certainly didn't foresee his concentration being so shaken that his Kyōka Suigetsu would start to fail.
Shunsui's brow creased as his beloved's face — blushing and beautiful — began to distort and swell. The peaks of her breasts flattened into solid planes of muscle as the slick velvet of her cunt dried and tightened. He choked back a sob as Sosuke's face appeared, slamming his hand on top of the prisoner's throat and squeezing it with every ounce of strength he had. "Give her back," he begged, "Sosuke, give her back — please, give her back —"
Sosuke watched as tears slid down the shinigami's cheeks. Eyes — once darkened by lust — were now clouded over with murderous intent. "You're fucking her like an ape. It's not my fault I —"
Shunsui's free hand smothered Sosuke's mouth. He thrust meanly, knowing that if the fit was uncomfortable for him, then it was certainly uncomfortable for the man beneath him.
Eager to get the last word in, Sosuke batted Shunsui's hand away. "How far you've fallen, Kyōraku," he wheezed, "the first person you fuck in 900 years … other than her … is me."
With a sudden violence, Sosuke drove his hand into Shunsui's chest. Blood poured from the gaping wound, coating Sosuke's fingers and streaming down his forearm as he fished the key to Muken from the widower's body. Where a normal man may have looked betrayed, or scared, or angry, Shunsui looked … relieved. He wretched crimson, body lurching forward … cock softening as his bloodflow ceased. Sosuke watched The Soul Society's strongest shinigami accept death with open arms … and as his gaze teetered between full and empty, Sosuke re-instated Kyōka Suigetsu.
Shunsui Kyōraku died in his wife's embrace. With him, he took Muken from The Central 46 … and Sosuke Aizen won again.
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A/N: I think I've been in a writer's block for like two years, maybe more. But I finally got enough motivation to rewrite this, which was long overdo. And I'll actually write a part II, I promise. It's actually already in the making ;).
S: Byakuya Kuchiki, who once had strong ambition and dedication and a true competitive spirit, has become a shielded and cold man after his first wife died. He eventually remarried, but is that enough to revive his spirit?
W:Angst, Unresolved, Singular use of Y/N, Reader is called wife, Byakuya is a meanie, not proof read so please correct me if needed
1.04k
Part II
❤︎
Byakuya was a cruel, cruel man when he wanted to be. He prides himself on family, but not in the typical way. Not in the sense that he would make time for his sister and his wife. Not in the sense that he'd actually show he cares for them in any way but the extreme bare minimum, so minimal that most wouldn't believe it at all. He's family oriented in the sense that tradition, class, and the elder's wishes hold first priority. He will always have some sort of symbol of status on him, something that shows his upbringing and the way he holds himself.
But you know him. You know him beyond this meticulously created facade that he wears for the world. Or at least you thought you did.
He's been your husband for a long time. But it doesn't always feel that way. Before he forced you to retire as a soul reaper for the 'sake of family', as he put it, he'd walk past you in the halls, undermine the amount of work you did as a soul reaper, and most affection was out of the question. You've heard tales of the past, how he used to treat Hisana, what he meant to her, and how he hasn't been the same since her death. But you didn't know that man, and you never will. And as a result of this, you've had your doubts on what his true feelings are with you. What if you simply served as a way for him to make a next generation? What if the sliver of humanity he showed you was nothing but false, just to draw you in?
You've been spending the last few months of your life holed up at the Kuchiki Estate, being a traditional wife in a sense. But you can't help but miss the thrill of being a Soul Reaper and the sense of responsibility, the sense of meaning. And so, you decided to go off to his office to visit him for the first time, to see if you could try and bring some excitement into this relationship.
But he was less than thrilled.
"What are you doing here?" He snarls, not looking up from paperwork.
"I just wanted to come check on you. It's boring at home, you know."
"And you thought it was appropriate to come bother me, knowing I'm busy, for what? Entertainment?"
"Byakuya, you can't seriously expect me to be okay with being a housewife when I used to be in battle all the time. It's not a fulfilling life style," You huff, placing your hands on your hips.
"You knew what you were getting into. Don't be ridiculous." He finally sets his papers down and looks up at you, with that sharp unwavering gaze. You swallow and hold his eye contact, knowing if you back down it'll only make this worse.
"Ridiculous? You're saying I'm the ridiculous one when you've turned my whole life upside down, and I rarely even see you. What do I look like? I had a life before you, and now I feel like we're 'Mr. And Mrs. Byakuya Kuchiki'. I barely exist outside of you," You retort, taking a few more steps forward to be standing right up on the other side of his desk.
"Lower your voice. You're getting worked up, it's not a good look for you,"
"You're so worried about how we're perceived. You care more about the looks than us as a bonded couple. I gave up my life for you. You wanted me to stay home and be safe, right? So is it so wrong for me to just want you to be home just a little, or for me to have some sort of fulfillment?" You yell as you circle around his desk to him.
He sighs deeply and finally stands in front of you, towering over you as if he has to assert himself to you of all people.
"Hi- um, y/n. You have to understand that I have duties, I have responsibilities. I can't drop everything for you. I can't afford to miss important work for minuscule matters," He replies sharply. But even in his quick correction, you caught his slip up. You caught the way he almost called you, Hisana. After all this time, you're still just a replacement to him. It only serves to push you to your breaking point. Your hand slams on the desk beside you. He glances at it and back up at you. The perfect picture of composure, he is, as always.
"Why can't you see that she's gone, Byakuya? I'm the one that's here. And if you consider me, my feelings, my life, to be a 'minuscule matter'. Am I only a replacement to you?" You snap. You look at his face, searching for anything in his face that would give you an answer, and all you saw was a hint of guilt. You scoff, smoothing down your hairs and anything else that may be out of place.
"Don't answer that, I've found my answer," You say, turning away from him and exiting his office. As you're walking you see Renji.
"Oh hey! Been a while since I've seen you, how have you been?" He grins, walking right up to you.
"Are you going to Byakuya?"
"Yeah? What's up? Is he in a bad mood?" He sighs, already dreading the meet with his notoriously grumpy captain. Instead, you slide off your wedding ring and hand it to him.
"Give this to him, I can't even face him right now," You mutter and continue on your path.
"Hey- Wait-!" He calls out behind you, but you don't stop, not now that your tears are threatening to fall and the weight of the situation is starting to settle in.
Inspired by @villainsrtasty 's writing week for Jushiro (check out her stuff, she is an icon). This starts of sexy and ends... Pretty sad. Apologies for any of ya'll's hearts!
CW- MDNI 18+ ONLY!!! Oral (fem!recieving), unprotected piv (wrap before you tap irl!!!), angst towards the end, spoilers for TYBW
Word count- 1,272
That night was one you couldn’t forget. Amidst the chaos and the devastation the Quincies had already raged against the Seireitei, Jushiro still found time for you.
You collapsed in your shared futon as Jushiro had been under the covers for a while. He’d used up a significant amount of reiatsu and physical energy. What little he had left, he knew he had to rest. But when he turned to hold you closer, you were surprised when his face nuzzled your neck and he began peppering kisses. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he kept kissing your neck and shoulder.
“What’s gotten into you, Jushiro?” You teased as you stroked his side up and down.
“Can’t a man love his wife? Is it a sin to want to hold her close and feel her body?” He waxed as he playfully nibbled your ear lobe. You giggled before turning to face him. Lips melded together as he slowly caged you beneath him. He explored your mouth with his tongue as if it was the first time.
Jushiro was always like this. Slow, intentional, passionate. You cupped his pale cheeks before moving your fingers to card his silver locks. Jushiro pulled away, panting slightly before kissing your neck again.
“Darling, we don;t have to-” You were about to say you don’t have to go further. Truthfully, you were always happy with whatever small affections Jushiro gave you (and he gave you PLENTY). But he cut you off with a peck to the lips. Emerald eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled lovingly down at you.
“I’m alright. More than alright. I’m with you.”
Jushiro’s kisses ran down your body, over your shihakusho. He pressed a kiss to your stomach, then your clothed pussy as he looked up at you with begging eyes.
“May I?” He asked so politely. You bit back a grin as you nodded.
“Please.”
That was all he needed before his head disappeared under your robes. The warmth of his breath hit your entrance as he moved your panties to the side. His tongue ran through your folds as your head fell back in pleasure. His lips captured your clit, sucking on it gently. Your breath hitched as his tongue flicked expertly over your bud. A moan escaped you as you began to writhe underneath him. Your legs spread wider to give him more access. Wet slurping noises began coming from underneath your shihakusho. His tongue teased your entrance before entering you. Fog descended in your mind as lust clouded your thoughts.
“J-Jushiro-ah! Please, please put it inside me. I need to feel you!” You begged and whined as you felt your orgasm building. Jushiro came up for air, panting as his face came into view.
He looked ethereal. A cloud of silver framing his face in the candlelight. Pink flush across his cheekbones. A sinful sheen to his lips as he licked them.
“Anything for you.” He whispered as he undone his robes and his robes fell away. Despite Jushiro’s sickly disposition, he had a body that seemed to have been sculpted for a Greek god. Defined pectorals, broad shoulders, a ghost of defined abs across his abdomen. All leading to a cock that stood to attention. Not too long, not too girthy, just enough to keep you pleased everytime. Curved upwards ever so slightly that naturally hit spots you could hardly reach.You hadn’t even touched him yet and the tip was already reddened and dribbling precum. Jushiro leant forward, one hand beside your head and the other guiding his cock to your pussy. The moment the tip entered, you both groaned in bliss. Your legs wrapped around his hips as you guided him to bottoming out.
“Shit… You feel so perfect.” He whispered as he buried his head into your neck. His other hands gripped the sheets beside your face as he braced himself for movement. Slowly, his dick inched back out before thrusting fully inside again. You couldn’t help it as you gripped his hair with one hand and his back with the other. Jushiro picked up speed. He wouldn’t get wild like previous partners. He preferred slow, practically methodical thrusts that would drive you deeper into pleasure than anyone else could. Whimpers and moans escaped his lips and felt like music to your ears.
“J-Jushiro~” You careened as you felt your orgasm building to the edge. Walls tightened around his cock as his thrusts began changing rhythm.
“I-I know. I’m close too.” He replied “Cum with me, darling.” Jushiro begged. It was all you needed as your nails scratched up his back. The wave of pleasure crashed as you came with a cry. One final thrust was all it took as you felt his warm seed filling you up. Jushiro let out a strangled gasp as he came.
You both laid there, panting. The smell of sex and sweat hung between you both. Jushiro slowly pulled out. You whimpered at the emptiness. He shushed you gently as he pulled you into his chest. He always loved spooning you, holding you by the waist with his chest to your back. Fingers intertwined as he squeezed your hand gently.
“I love you.” He whispered as he nuzzled the back of your neck “More than anything.”
“I love you too. More than life itself.” You responded. But you noticed the sadness in his tone.
Silence fell between you both, an unusual occurrence after lovemaking. You normally giggled and talked for hours or would comfortably fall asleep in each other’s embrace. But Jushiro’s steady breathing didn’t indicate he was sleeping.
“Love? Is everything alright?” You asked gently as you turned to face him. Jushiro’s eyebrows were furrowed as he pursed his lips.
“No… I’m sorry to bring such a damper to our happiness but…” He exhaled deeply “I worry I’ll have to go soon.”
“Go?”
He cupped your cheek with his slender fingers.
“You know of my illness. You know, Mimihagi cured me and took over my lungs.”
You nodded.
“Mimihagi… There’s always been rumours of the deity being the Soul King’s right arm. And I worry, with this war going on, the Soul King will be harmed. Or worse, killed. If that happens…”
“It won’t.” You cupped his cheeks back “The Soul King can’t be killed.”
“You can’t be certain of that.” He sighed. A seriousness you rarely saw bore through his eyes and into your own.
“If it does happen… I will become the Soul King’s right arm. To defend the Soul Society and help us keep the balance of the three worlds.”
Your eyes widened.
“Y-You can’t… Jushiro, you can’t sacrifice yourself!” You could feel emotion build in your chest. Your hands curled into tense fists that rested against his chest. His heart beat was steady against your fingers.
“We’ve already lost so many comrades… Head Captain Genryusai is gone too… Shunsui agrees-”
“I don’t care what he thinks! You can’t sacrifice yourself, Jushiro! Please…” Tears spilled from your eyes, anger and heartbreak swirling in unison.
“Please… You can’t leave me…” You begged through sobs. He held you closer, head pressed against his neck. His usual green tea and sanitizer scent enveloped you as your arms wrapped around his waist. Your hug tightened. One of Jushiro’s hands stroked your hair gently.
“I have to, my darling. The Soul Society has given me purpose beyond words. It would be an honour to defend it with my dying breath. For the Soul Society. For you…”
Jushiro’s hand ghosted your stomach with the gentleness of a feather.
Perhaps something Toshiro Hitsugaya. Reader is a noble young woman from Soul Society. She found Toshiro when he was a baby and raised him as her son.
— ★ FROST AND BLOODLINE
fluff , angst at the end , (toshiro hitsugya x mother figure reader)
—————————————————————————you remembered the wind that night. bitter and sharp, the kind of cold that settled in your chest like grief. the rukongai districts were always quiet around that time of year.
too cold, too hungry, too forgotten. you had no reason to be there, really. as a noble, your place was behind the walls of the seireitei, not wandering the 79th district with a scarf wrapped over your face and a satchel of medicine slung over your shoulder.
but that’s when you found him. curled up beneath a broken shrine, barely more than a baby, hair white as fresh snow, eyes too alert for someone so small. he wasn’t crying. he wasn’t shivering. he just looked at you like he’d been waiting.
you stopped in your tracks, snow crunching under your sandals, and met his gaze, and for a second, you swore the world went still.
no one knew where he came from. no parents, no siblings. it was strange… he was just a boy who didn’t belong anywhere. the few in the district who noticed him spoke of strange things.
frost forming on walls where he passed, water freezing mid-pour, the air around him colder than death.
you should’ve turned away. should’ve reported him to the gotei, to the academy, to anyone who could “handle” a spiritual anomaly.
but you didn’t. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, knowing that the system was already messed up.
instead, you picked him up. your arms wrapped around his tiny body, and the cold bit into your skin immediately, but you didn’t let go. you drew him close, warmed his face against your chest.
“ it’s alright. i’ve got you now.” you whispered softly. you named him toshiro.
you raised him within the walls of your family’s estate, one of the older noble families in seireitei, known more for medicine and history than for politics. until toshiro came along.
even as a toddler, the frost clung to him. servants murmured about things breaking, ice forming where it shouldn’t. your father called him
“ a walking threat.” and demanded you send him away.
you stood your ground. “ he’s my son,” you said.
“ whether you accept him or not.” toshiro clung to you when he was young. he was shy, suspicious of strangers, but you were different. he never flinched from your touch.
he’d fall asleep beside your desk when you worked late, tiny hands curled in your sleeves, breath fogging the paper lanterns around him.
you taught him everything, how to write his name in perfect calligraphy, how to brew tea, how to meditate under the camellia trees. he picked up kido faster than any child you’d seen. he was brilliant.
but the other nobles whispered. a boy from the 79th? that much power..? he should be kept in a cell, not given a noble’s crest.
toshiro heard them. you knew he did, though he never said anything. so you started reminding him, again and again.
“ you’re my son. not by blood, but by soul. that’s stronger.” and he would nod, even if he didn’t quite believe it yet. which just makes your heart ached.
by the time he was ten, he could silence a room with just a glance. cold and composed, with a sharp tongue and sharper mind. you saw how the academy scouts watched him during family ceremonies, how the captains exchanged quiet glances. you knew it was only a matter of time.
one night, when the camellias were just starting to bloom, he stood at your door in silence. his hands were clenched at his sides, jaw tight.
“ i want to join the academy,” he said. you didn’t speak for a long time.
“ i thought maybe… you’d want to stay,” you murmured. “ take over the household eventually.”
“ you always told me i had power for a reason. that i should use it for something.” he looked up at you then, something uncertain behind his eyes.
“ i did..” you mumbled. he hesitated.
“ i want to protect people. the way you protect me.” you pulled him close, arms wrapped around his still-small frame.
“ then i’ll support you. no matter what.” you wanted watched him go. and when you returned to your chambers that night, you cried for the first time in years.
he graduate, and did much more. he broke records. by the time most students were halfway through their first year, toshiro was already being trained to lead. at thirteen, though he looked barely older than ten, he became captain of the tenth division.
you heard the crowd cheer as they pinned the haori across his shoulders. saw the pride in their eyes. but all you could see was the little boy who used to sit in your lap and read poetry aloud, mispronouncing the hard kanji.
he changed. the haori sat heavy on his shoulders. his eyes grew colder. his visits home came less and less. and still, he never stopped sending you camellia seeds every year. a quiet reminder that he remembered.
years later, you fell ill. It wasn’t battle wounds, just the slow wear of a body long tired. you refused to see any of the seireitei’s royal healers.
and yet, the moment you collapsed in the garden, your estate was blanketed in a sudden frost. he came home that night. toshiro walked into your room like a ghost, his uniform still bloodied from a mission, expression hard.
but the second he saw you, lying there under silk covers, cheeks pale and body weak, he froze.
“…hey,” he breathed, voice cracking.
“ you should’ve told me.” you smiled faintly.
“ you’re busy.” he sat beside your bed, gloved hands gripping yours carefully, afraid he might break you.
“ you’re the reason i’m anything,” he said softly, almost angrily. “ you made me who i am. i just… i thought if i got strong enough, i’d never have to watch you fade.”
“ i’ve never needed you to be strong for me, toshiro. just to be happy. just to live.” you squeezed his hand. for the first time in years, he laid his head on your lap like he did when he was small. his reiatsu blanketed the room.
cold, yes, but no longer distant. just quiet. just familiar.
“ i’m staying tonight,” he murmured. you brushed his hair back gently, smiling. “ you’d better.” outside the window, snow began to fall. light and slow. in the garden below, the camellias began to bloom.
