#retsu x reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ RAE'S NOTE. here y'all have what i mentioned last week about having written. it was funny when i began to realize how similar i imagine some of them.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ characters. ohma tokita, baki hanma, raian kure, jack hanma, kaolan wongsawat, katsumi orochi, yoroizuka saw paing, retsu kaioh, kano agito & pickle.

romantic headcanons about some kengan and baki men

Ohma Tokita shows affection in a way that’s awkward but sincere. He offers blunt compliments, unexpected gestures or quiet companionship rather than flowery words. He trusts you and your abilities to defend yourself, but his protective instincts activate quickly whenever he senses danger nearby. Training together becomes a form of bonding for him, and he adapts everything to your level so you can enjoy it. He won't mind becoming your personal trainer for the occasion.

Although he doesn’t seem like the sentimental kind, he quickly comes to remember small details about your preferences, from your favorite color to how you like your belongings to be placed. His strongest expression of love is simply being there (aka quality time): sharing meals, sitting beside you or staying close after a long day.

Baki Hanma is a deeply loyal and supportive partner, someone who pushes your goals with the same determination he applies to his own; one could even say he believes in you more than yourself (/j). He’s emotionally open, speaking honestly about what he feels, and he deeply appreciates when you do the same back.

Despite the chaos that surrounds his whole life, he treasures the simple, quiet moments you share: walks, meals, peaceful evenings that remind him of normalcy. His protective instincts are always present but never suffocating, given he trusts your strength even as he stays alert to danger (just like ohma). His affection shows up naturally in small gestures through the day, from a warm smile to his daily check‑ins that make you feel cared for.

cw : nsfw mdni ,, size kink ( nothin crazy )

fem!reader , 1k+ words , m.list

TW: fluff, ment for fem reader but can be seen as male reader

AN: guys i think this is my best one yet! ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ

yujiro hanma: lion hybrid. He likes your confidence and grace, but isn’t afraid to put you in your place. He loves seeing you in gold and absolutely spoils you. Long days with you bathing in the sun while he swims in his pool.

baki hanam: border collie hybrid. He likes how agile and light you are and likes picking you up from time to time like a teddy bear. You two would play pranks on Retsu from time to time. He likes your energy and how you’re able to keep up with him sometimes.

jack hanma: wolverine hybrid. He likes your spunk, but just like his father, he won’t stand for disrespect too much. But he is a little more lenient. He likes how you aren’t afraid to hold your ground, even if it’s someone five times bigger than you. He can see himself in you.

kauro hanayama: cat hybrid. He likes how laid-back you are and how quiet you are. He often can be found in his study with you lazing around. He would take you everywhere, holding you in his arms like it’s an everyday thing, which in this case it is.

retsu kaioh: bunny hybrid. He likes how you are both gentle and can pack a kick, but he loves your gentleness more. He can make you fall asleep with how he rubs the space between your ears and how he loves your soft doe eyes.

katsumi orochi: hippo hybrid! Now hear me out. I say this because I see him loving chubby but powerful women. he loves trying new foods and lazing around in the water under the sun. He finds your ears cute.

────────inmates ────────

biscuit oliva: rino hybrid. Just like Katsumi, I can see him loving a chubby, tough woman. I mean Maria says it all. He likes showering you in love and treating you like a god. he can definitely handle your anger.

ryuukou yanagi: komodo dragon hybrid. Due to you two both having to deal with toxins, I see you as a perfect match! He likes to watch you slowly close in on your target as they slowly get weak from your venom. I can kinda see him having a secret thing for muscular women.

gaia: geko hybrid. Likes to play hide and seek with you. He likes to run his hands down your bumpy skin. You two are a nice duo.

sikorsky: lynx hybrid. He lives in the snow. You love the snow. It’s perfect! You are quite in the snow, even, and he finds it funny how your little tail twitches when you’re about to get your target.

hector doyle: fox hybrid. This man loves your laugh, and you both like getting dirty. He likes silly women, kinda, and he likes how playful and sneaky you are.

That's all for now. And remember to drink water and eat food—even just some crackers or fruits, something small. And take breaks, guys! Have a good day/night. Luv yuh! be kind! (๑>◡<๑)

Some of the Baki men x Reader

Warnings, It’s all playful with a dash of spice.

Summary, You challenge them, not to win, but to see the world they live in. Their reaction could range from amusement to admiration.

Baki Hanma

🐾 He’d be curious and cautious. He knows you’re not aiming to defeat him, so he might go easy at first, testing your reflexes and stamina. As the sparring continues, he’d start respecting your determination, maybe even smiling when you hold your own in a small way.

—-

You step onto the mat, feeling the familiar adrenaline buzz. Baki stands across from you, smirking slightly, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Don’t go easy on me,” you say, trying to sound confident.

Baki chuckles softly, tilting his head. “Who said I would?”

He lunges forward but instead of a full strike, he lightly taps your shoulder, just enough to make you flinch. You glare and he laughs, circling you with casual grace.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he teases, feinting a punch that barely brushes past your arm. You lunge, trying to grab him but he slips past you effortlessly, close enough that you feel his presence brush against yours.

“Careful,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “You’re getting sloppy.”

You retaliate with a playful swipe, tapping his chest. Baki grins and leans in, just a little, eyes sparkling. “Better. But not good enough,” he says, dodging easily. The way he moves is mesmerizing, fluid, controlled, almost like he’s dancing around you.

Every time you think you’ve gotten close to landing a hit, he shifts, leans or teases, always just out of reach. And every near contact, the brush of his hand, a quick movement past you, makes your pulse spike.

Finally, you both pause, laughing, breathless. He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead and smirks down at you. “You’re stubborn…I like that,” he says quietly. His gaze lingers just a second too long, making your stomach flutter.

The match isn’t about winning or losing, it’s about this teasing, intimate dance, where every feint, every touch, every shared laugh draws you closer to the unspoken tension lingering between you.

—

Katsumi Orochi

🐯 Analytical and precise, treating the spar as a mental and physical puzzle. He’s not just seeing how strong you are, he’s studying your habits, timing, and adaptability. He might even offer subtle corrections mid-spar, which could be flattering or frustrating depending on your patience. If you adapt quickly, he’d smile slightly, silently impressed.

—

You stepped on the mat, heart racing, and found Katsumi standing calmly across from you. His stance is precise, deliberate, eyes carefully watching your every movement.

“Ready?” you ask.

He tilts his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Whenever you are,” he says softly, voice smooth and measured.

The first move is gentle, a tap toward your shoulder, testing your reflexes. You react instinctively and he shifts slightly, letting your energy guide him. Every movement you make, he mirrors subtly, nudging you with the light taps of his attacks without striking fully.

“You’re tense here,” he murmurs, lightly adjusting your wrist mid-spar. The touch is brief but intimate and your stomach flutters at the closeness. “Relax this part or you’ll telegraph your next move.”

You straighten your stance, eyes narrowing, trying to hold your own. Katsumi steps in smoothly, feinting left, then right, letting you chase his motion. He’s so controlled, every move calculated, teasing you just enough to make you react, just enough to make it fun.

You finally get a swipe toward him and he lets it brush past, chuckling softly. “Better,” he says quietly, voice low. “But anticipate, don’t just react.”

The match continues in this delicate rhythm, tap, dodge, subtle correction, playful feint. Your arms are tired, your breaths short but there’s a thrill in the challenge. Every time his hand brushes yours, adjusting a wrist or guiding your stance, you feel the tension spike, not from fear but from the closeness and attention he gives.

After a final light exchange, he steps back, nodding slightly. “You’re quick to adapt. I like that,” he says, the smallest smile gracing his lips. It’s quite understated but it makes your chest warm.

The spar isn’t about winning or losing, it’s about this intimate dance, this careful testing of limits and instincts, where every touch, every adjustment and every shared glance draws you closer together.

—

Retsu Kaiou

🐉 Retsu would approach it like a lesson. He’d let you challenge him but also focus on teaching you proper form and discipline. He might appreciate your curiosity about his martial arts world more than your actual fighting skill.

—

You bow lightly once your feet are on the mat. Across from you, Retsu Kaioh mirrors your gesture, his calm demeanor making your heart race just a little.

“Let’s take it slow at first,” he says, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I want to see how you move.”

You nod, bouncing lightly on your feet and he moves forward with measured steps. His strikes aren’t meant to overpower, they’re gentle nudges and taps that test your timing and reflexes.

“Try to read me,” he says quietly, circling you. “Not just my movements…but my intentions.”

You lunge, aiming a light punch and he sidesteps smoothly, tapping your side with the back of his hand. “Predictable,” he teases, his voice calm but amused. “You anticipated me too early.”

You grin, darting in again. This time, he catches your wrist gently, redirecting your momentum with perfect precision. “Better,” he murmurs, holding your arm just long enough for your pulse to spike. “But keep your guard up.”

Every time you think you’ve caught him off guard, he glides out of reach with effortless grace, letting the spar feel like a dance. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from him, the occasional brush of skin on skin as he adjusts your stance or redirects a punch.

By the end, you’re both laughing lightly, breathless from the movement, the tension broken by the playful rhythm of the match.

“Good work,” he says, bowing politely. “You’ve got potential…and a stubborn streak I appreciate.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth beyond the exertion. With Retsu, the spar isn’t about winning, it’s about movement, rhythm, and the quiet thrill of a playful challenge.

—

Kaoru Hanayama

👹 Hanayama would be gruff but gentle. He’d test you, but carefully, not to harm, just to gauge your courage. He’d probably be internally impressed if you keep trying after a few hits.

—

You felt the weight of Hanayama’s gaze the moment you stepped onto the mat. He’s massive, muscles coiled and ready but there’s a faint grin tugging at his lips.

“You sure about this?” he rumbles, his deep voice carrying both amusement and curiosity.

“I’m sure,” you reply, trying not to look intimidated.

He takes a casual stance, not overly aggressive, just solid, like a rock. You move forward and he shifts just enough to let your hand brush his chest. “Careful,” he says, chuckling softly. “You don’t want to hurt yourself on me.”

You roll your eyes and try again, swiping at his shoulders. He catches your wrists with a strength that doesn’t crush, just redirects, holding you close for a second longer than necessary. “Hmm…persistent,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing.

Every movement he makes is heavy and deliberate but not overwhelming. When he steps forward, it’s a gentle nudge, when he counters it’s precise but playful, designed to challenge rather than crush. You dart and weave, trying to anticipate him but the slightest touch from his hands, correcting your stance, guiding your arms, sends a thrill through you.

“You’re learning,” he says after a light tap to your side, stepping back just enough to let you regain your balance. “Faster than I expected.”

You grin, lunging for a playful swipe. Hanayama laughs, a deep, rumbling sound and gently pushes you back with just enough force to make you stumble without hurting you. “Careful there,” he says, smirking. “I could take advantage if I wanted.”

By the end of the session, your clothes are damp with sweat, your arms tired but the grin on Hanayama’s face mirrors your own excitement. The spar isn’t about strength, it’s about the fun of the dance, the teasing pushes and playful nudges and the rare moments when his intimidating presence feels surprisingly warm and intimate.

—

Jack Hanma

🥩 Jack would be excited and relentless. He loves a challenge and would likely go all out, not realizing that you’re not trying to win. He might also take the chance to “teach” you about strength, endurance, and what it means to fight seriously.

—

You step onto the mat, bouncing on your feet as Jack sizes you up. His grin is wild, teeth flashing, eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement.

“Ready to get wrecked?” he teases, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

“Ha! You wish,” you reply, lunging forward.

Jack moves fast but not crushingly so, his strikes are strong enough to make you react quickly but playful enough that you can actually anticipate and dodge. He swats at your arms, taps your shoulders and even feints in a teasing rhythm, grinning whenever you flinch or miss a counter.

“You’re slow!” he laughs, swerving around you. “Come on, keep up!”

You make a daring move, attempting a playful sweep and he catches your wrist, holding it just long enough for you to feel his strength. “Not bad,” he says, eyes glinting. “But you’re gonna have to try harder than that!”

Every so often, he moves in closer than necessary, brushing against you as he steps past or adjusts your balance. Each touch is fleeting but enough to make your pulse spike. “Careful,” he warns with a grin. “You might get knocked off your feet…or distracted.”

You retaliate with a quick swipe and he laughs, letting you “land” a light hit before countering in a teasing flurry of taps and feints. It’s exhausting and exhilarating, his energy is contagious and you find yourself laughing mid-spar, trying to keep up with his relentless pace.

Finally, both of you pause, breathless, hearts racing. Jack leans in, smirking, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “Not bad at all,” he says, eyes sharp but approving. “You’ve got spirit. I like that.”

The playful spar ends not with dominance but with shared laughter, adrenaline and the thrill of having danced just on the edge of Jack’s intensity, fun, teasing and undeniably intimate.

—

(I know some of you thirst for him so here he is.)

Pickle

🥒 Sparring with Pickle would be wild. He might not understand the concept of “friendly sparring” at first, reacting purely instinctually. But if you hold your ground even briefly, he’d likely show respect in his own primitive way.

—

You step into the dirt ring, feeling your heart thrum in your chest. Across from you, Pickle crouches slightly, muscles coiled, eyes sharp and predatory but there’s an almost curious gleam in them.

“Okay…just…don’t crush me,” you murmur, half joking, half serious.

Pickle grunts in response, tilting his head as if he understands. His movements are fluid, surprisingly quick for his massive frame. You dart forward, testing him and he sidesteps effortlessly, letting your hand swipe past while keeping his bulk in check.

You grin, circling him and he mirrors your movement instinctively, shifting like a jungle cat. Every feint you throw, every dodge you make, he reacts in kind, his primal energy making the spar feel like a high stakes dance.

You try a playful swipe, tapping his shoulder lightly. Pickle doesn’t strike back aggressively, instead, he gently nudges your side with a massive hand, careful not to hurt you. The impact sends you stumbling just a bit and you laugh, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

He crouches lower, mimicking your stance and you copy him back, moving in sync for a few heartbeats. The brush of his fingers against your arm as he adjusts your posture sends an unexpected thrill through you. It’s raw, chaotic, but somehow…intimate.

Finally, both of you pause, breathing hard, sweat on your skin. Pickle lets out a satisfied grunt, almost like a laugh and you can’t help but grin back. It wasn’t about winning, this was about movement, instinct, and the strange thrill of matching wits and reflexes, with a man so wild and untamed.

And in that moment, the sparring feels like something else entirely, a dance, a playful challenge and a fleeting, exhilarating connection between two very different worlds.

A true warrior

Summary: After the death of Retsu, you want to be left alone. But that loneliness doesn’t last long when the cause of your husband’s death comes apologizing at your front door.

Warning(s): Angst, Death.

I’m still so sad about his death.

This has not been edited.

You had told him multiple times not to fight that man. But his pride just wouldn’t back down. You had pleaded with him, but he had that look in his eyes. And that look told you everything.

You and Retsu have a 1 year old baby girl, she adores him and he adores her. You had argued with Retsu for weeks upon finding out about Mushashi’s return.

You’d yelled at him about how selfish it would be for him to fight someone like him, especially after he fought Pickle and almost lost his life.

But even then when you looked upon his body, lay there still warm. You couldn’t help but forgive him.

All eyes were on you as you kissed his peaceful face. They were on you when you let your daughter touch his face. They were especially on you when you walked out without another word leaving your husband’s body laying on the table.

Your boss had given you time off work when he found out, which you were grateful for. You hated when people gave pity looks.

You took the time to be with your daughter, she had felt the change in the air when it happened, she started crying seemingly out of no where. And when you had received that phone call you knew.

You consoled her from the moment you found out all the way to moment you left his body.

You hated this feeling in your chest, it made you feel uncomfortable, like you were holding onto something you shouldn’t have been.

So when the knock came to your door a few hours you were ready.

You had already put together that Tokugawa would most likely have the swordsman apologize, but you didn’t know it would be this soon.

You rubbed your baby’s back as she laid asleep on your chest, too tired from crying all day.

Your nose flared as you walked to the door, stopping just before it to pull yourself together.

The door creaked open, and there he stood.

You opened the door all the way and he bowed in respect. Your eyes never left him, even as Tokugawa began to speak.

“Y/n!” He greeted.

You stayed silent.

“Right, Mushashi had asked me to bring him to you after finding out Retsu was married.” The small man looked over at the other.

“He wants to apologize”

Your eyes finally flick to Tokugawa, your lip twitching just slightly.

“Take your shoes off” you gritted walking into the living room.

They did as told and followed you in. You sat on the floor, feet tucked under you. Your daughter shifted slightly and let out a whine before stilling in your arms.

The two men sat in front of you, both on their knees and hands in their lap.

The silence was heavy, and you let it sit, you let it sit for your husband.

Tokugawa cleared his throat, gently poking the large man in his side.

“Oh!” He looked confused, like he didn’t know why he was here.

“I came here to apologize, but I’m going to be honest” he sat up straighter. “Your husband knew what he was in for when he walked into that arena”

You stayed calm your face unmoved.

“I’m sorry you and your daughter lost him”

You watched him, his movements and his attitude. You believed him, and you understood that Retsu had some fault in this too.

“I know I shouldn’t be upset with you” you started. “But it’s hard not too when you get to walk free and my daughter no longer gets to see her father”

You see Tokugawa shift.

“It’s hard when you weren’t even supposed to be alive, what do I tell her when she’s old enough to ask?”

You hold back tears, clutching your daughter a little tighter. “You tell her the truth” your eyes widen. “You tell her that her father was a great warrior, you tell her that her father was Sea King Retsu.”

“You tell her that he fought with all he had”

You push your face into your daughter’s neck, the tears flow from your eyes. You pick up your head, your brows furrowed in anger and sadness.

“He was supposed to tell her himself” you sob.

The words broke apart in your throat like they didn’t belong there anymore. For a moment, the room felt too small to hold what was left of him.

Your daughter shifted in your arms, quiet again, as if she could feel everything you couldn’t say. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead against her head, holding on like it was the only thing keeping you steady.

And for the first time since the phone call, you didn’t wait for anything else, you just stayed there, in what was left.

[At the barracks — Unohana had called Y/N personally, which already makes him nervous yet makes her hearth race]

M!Reader : C-Captain Unohana, you called me personally?

[Unohana greets Y/N with her ever gentle smile, hands behind her back]

Unohana : I have something for you... A gift, if you will...

[Y/N immediately stepped closer towards her–She pulled out A folded card, her eyes intently staring directly into his eyes–Y/N noticed and starts blushing]

[Unohana hands him the card–Y/N of course takes it gently]

M!Reader : Oh... Wow... This is... For me? it-I Uhh... Thank you, captain...

M!Reader : I must say I'm... A bit surprised–Didn’t take you for the handwritten love note type

[Unohana still smiling calmly at Y/N]

Unohana : Only for someone special, Go on, open it...

[Y/N open the card, smiling gently as the blush on his face deepens]

M!Reader : This is really sw—….

[The letter saying : "I think about you even in the middle of battle, Your name slips into my thoughts—right between the urge to kill and the longing to kiss".... With a splash of blood on the paper—

[Y/N's mouth agape, staring at the card and then stares at unohana who still has that sweet and calm smile with her eyes closed]

M!Reader : …Is… is this real blood

Unohana : Only a little. It’s symbolic, You stir feelings in me I once thought long buried ^v^

2.2k

Warning: Smut, Biting, kissing, minor blood, oral sex (receiving).

( a/n: First time writing F/F. I'm so glad it's Unohana! Inspiration came from @yeowangies fics. ❤️ Enjoy. As always, feedback encouraged but be kind) 

Your sixth sense will become your downfall. You can not seem to shake off the feeling that your Captain is not who she appears to be. Your senses never failed you but for once you wish you never were this intuned with your intuitive instinct. You don't fear danger. You fear the unknown. But once the unknown is unveiled, your heart is taken captive.