Hirako Shinji X Reader - Blog Posts

𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢, 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐬 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫…

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Shuhei Hisagi, Hirako Shinji, Kurosaki Ichigo

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello !! I hope you’re having a wonderful day (⌒‿⌒) may I request headcanons of Shuhei, Yumichika, and Shinji with an s/o that’s Kenpachi’s daughter? Maybe with some gap moe where she has a similar aggressive fighting style as Kenpachi then is very sweet and happy-go-lucky (like Yachiru!!)

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I just love how all the Captains are getting a chance to have a daughter who practically scares all the other subordinates >.< Since I don’t write for Yumichika, I swapped him with Ichigo (cuz it’s also fun giving him stress with anything Kenpachi) Thanks for thr request!!

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Shuhei Hisagi

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi had absolutely not a clue you were Zaraki’s daughter the first time he met you, he just knew there was something crazy, dangerous and magnetic about you, and he really shouldn’t be drawn to but absolutely was.

˚₊‧꒰ა You caught him staring when you passed him in the Seireitei gardens and shot him a grin that showed slightly too sharp teeth and zero shame, sending his brain somewhere north of useless.

˚₊‧꒰ა When he finally learned who your father was, it was from Ikkaku, who very kindly slapped the back of Hisagi’s head and muttered, “Oi, you’re sniffin’ round Zaraki’s kid, mate. Best have a bloody will ready.”

˚₊‧꒰ა That was the moment he immediately considered getting his affairs in order but realised he’d rather die than give up a chance to be near you.

˚₊‧꒰ა The first date was a mess, and he still got dragged into it; you insisted on sparring for fun, and the two of you ended up in a crumbling training yard, bruised and laughing

˚₊‧꒰ა “You know,” you called, wiping some dirt from your cheek with the back of your hand, “if you’re gonna fall for me, you better keep up.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He found it absolutely thrilling that you thought fighting was flirting and somehow adapted faster than anyone expected, even you

˚₊‧꒰ა You stole his sake once during a late night drinking session at his division and refused to give it back unless he could wrestle it off you; you won, and he still claims he let you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Other times, he would wake up to find you sprawled across his bed, limbs thrown wide like you owned it, his uniform shirt hanging off one shoulder because you tore it sometime during the night.

˚₊‧꒰ა You teased him mercilessly about his tattoo, asking if you could give him a few more “battle marks” of your own and then cackled when he flushed when you dragged your fingers halfway down his chest to show where you want to plant them.

˚₊‧꒰ა Hisagi got on surprisingly well with your father, mostly because he treated Zaraki with open respect and absolutely no grovelling fear, though he was definitely one wrong word away from getting flattened most days.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Tch. If ya hurt her, kid,” Zaraki grunted once, massive hand clapping Hisagi’s shoulder so hard he nearly face-planted, “I’ll pull yer guts out through yer nostrils.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You found it hilarious and made a point of hanging off Hisagi’s shoulders, legs wrapped round his waist, kissing him stupid in public, daring anyone to comment.

˚₊‧꒰ა He loved it when you crashed his office, flopping onto his paperwork with a loud “I’m bored. I want to be entertained,” and he pretended to be exasperated but dropped everything within minutes to curl up beside you which eventually leads to a wrestling match and a power nap.

˚₊‧꒰ა There were times he secretly enjoyed being dragged into ridiculous Zaraki family outings, like ‘friendly’ brawls, Hollow hunting, and one memorably awful camping trip where you tried (and failed) to cook a rabbit over open flame.

˚₊‧꒰ა “What are you going to do without me,” he laughed, poking your burnt rabbit corpse with a stick while you scowled.

˚₊‧꒰ა If he ever got a bad nightmare, you were both the type to pretend it didn’t happen, tangled together under thin sheets, breath evening out in the small hours without a word.

˚₊‧꒰ა You taught him how to sharpen his instincts beyond textbook fighting, how to smell blood on the wind, how to listen for the wrong kind of silence, and he taught you how to steady your rage before it burnt you alive.

˚₊‧꒰ა He wouldn’t say a word about this, but he has a secret tattoo of your name inked small and low on his hipbone where nobody would ever see unless you peeled him out of his uniform yourself.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Only person I ever wanted to be reckless for,” he muttered once against your collarbone after a near-death mission, voice rough with something he refused to call love but was anyway.

Hirako Shinji

˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji spotted you once tearing through a group of low-ranked thugs in the Rukongai with a huge grin on your face and thought, Well, there goes my bloody sanity.

˚₊‧꒰ა You met properly when you were assigned as a temporary reinforcement to the Visoreds for a Hollow hunt, and Shinji spent the entire briefing pointedly not staring at the way your hips moved each time you walked, because, “My eyed were glued to your zanpakuto.”

˚₊‧꒰ა After you almost sliced a Hollow clean in half while flipping over its back like it was a plaything, Shinji sidled up next to you, hands in his pockets, lazy grin in place, and said, “Oi, yer dad teach ya that, or are you just naturally mental?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji knew you were Zaraki’s kiddo before you even opened your mouth; it was in the swagger, the craze in your eyes, the grin that promised chaos.

˚₊‧꒰ა First date was not so much a date as it was Shinji daring you to join him for sake and terrible karaoke in some dive bar on the far side of the Seireitei. You had stole the microphone halfway through and belted out a foul-mouthed drinking song so gloriously badly that Shinji damn near proposed on the spot.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Yer a bloody nightmare,” he told you later, arm slung round your shoulders, dragging you close enough to smell the cheap alcohol on his breath, “and I’m already in too deep.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You sparred constantly, usually ending with you pinning him or he pinning you, both of you panting and laughing and occasionally snogging against the ground until someone threw a sandal at your heads.

˚₊‧꒰ა Zaraki didn’t hate Shinji, which was about the highest praise Shinji could’ve asked for, even though your father muttered things like, “At least the tosser’s got some teeth,”

˚₊‧꒰ა “If he so much as makes ya cry, girl,” Zaraki warned once, cracking his knuckles loudly enough to make the table rattle, “I’ll break every bleedin’ rib in his body.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You delighted in testing Shinji’s patience, picking fights with him in the middle of Division meetings, stealing his captain’s haori and wearing it as a dress, sneaking sake into his paperwork stacks.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Oi, love,” he drawled once when he caught you sneaking through his window at midnight, “you come here to kill me or kiss me?”

˚₊‧꒰ა Shinji was a sucker for your wild, reckless laughter, the way you treated every battle like a bloody dance floor, the way you made the world feel sharp and electric again.

˚₊‧꒰ა He let you crash at his place whenever you wanted, sprawling across his bed like a queen, yelling at him to bring snacks and sake as if you owned the place, which, honestly, you kind of did.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once dyed his hair pink as a prank while he was asleep; he wore it for three days just to piss off everyone at the Captain’s meetings and you laughed so hard you cried.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Don’t threaten me with a good time, love,” he grinned when you teased him about being whipped, dragging you into his lap with no effort at all.

˚₊‧꒰ა You’d drag him to family dinners with Zaraki and Yachiru where someone usually bled before dessert; and he never complained once, even when he lost three teeth once from a ‘friendly’ brawl.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once dared Shinji to fight you with one hand tied behind his back; he won, but only because he cheated and used his mouth to pin your wrist to the floor.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You’re bloody trouble,” he whispered into your hair once, after dragging you laughing into bed after a fight, “and I’m the idiot who loves it.”

Kurosaki Ichigo

˚₊‧꒰ა When this little strawberry found out who your dad was after you’d already knocked him flat during a training match, it made the whole situation even worse, because now he had bruises and the mental image of Zaraki’s murderous glare burning holes in his back.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Wait! Zaraki’s your dad?! Seriously?! That’s...that’s not even fair,” Ichigo groaned, rubbing his ribs while you leaned smugly on your sword.

˚₊‧꒰ა You just grinned and replied, “If you’re gonna date me, you’d better stop whining and fight harder, Kurosaki.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Ichigo thought dating you was going to be exhausting, and he was completely right, but he also never had more fun in his life.

˚₊‧꒰ა You dragged him headfirst into chaos on the regular—training in the middle of the night, brawls in underground rings, Hollow bait missions you definitely weren’t authorised to take part in.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’d show up late home with a busted lip and grass in his hair, muttering, “Don’t ask,” while you stood behind him looking smug and completely unbothered.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Your old man hates me,” he muttered after the third time Zaraki cracked his knuckles at him in the hallway; you just shrugged and said, “He hates everyone.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He (once) tried to kiss you in the hallway before a mission. Zaraki walked past, snorted like a bull, and Ichigo very calmly walked into a wall.

˚₊‧꒰ა You thought it was adorable how flustered he got around your family, especially since he could slice through a Menos like butter but couldn’t make eye contact with your dad for more than three seconds.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You alright there, Kurosaki?” you asked sweetly, resting your chin on his shoulder during dinner while Zaraki loomed five feet away, ready to challenge him to a duel.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once kicked him through a wall during a spar and offered him a hand while laughing, “You done being a wimp yet?” and he grabbed it, grumbling, “Hell no.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He never got used to how casual you were about injuries, like returning from missions covered in blood and saying, “It’s not mine” while stealing his rice.

˚₊‧꒰ა At least he was always there to patch up your wounds even when you insisted you were fine, muttering, “Stop moving, idiot, or I’m tying you down,” and you grinned because you knew he meant it.

˚₊‧꒰ა He once snuck into your room to surprise you and ended up on the business end of your zanpakuto because you were half-asleep and reacted on instinct.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Next time,” you mumbled, sheathing the blade, “knock first or I’ll carve your name into my wall with your blood.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Like typical guys, he secretly liked when you wore his black undershirt post-battle, even though it was way too long on you and covered in dust, because it meant you were still breathing.

˚₊‧꒰ა He respected the hell out of your strength but never tried to compete with it—he wasn’t interested in being stronger than you, only in being strong with you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite being constantly stressed around your dad, Ichigo somehow earned Zaraki’s grudging approval by throwing himself in front of you during a mission once and almost getting crushed for it.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Tch,” Zaraki said after dragging him out of the dirt, “Ya might be an idiot, but you’re a tough one. Don’t died cuz we still gotta fight later.”

˚₊‧꒰ა You always made Ichigo feel like the world was on fire, but in a way that made him want to run toward the flames instead of away from them.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @spellboundsuguru @cactimorada @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner @sovl-society @villainsrtasty @foxycrafterofgreenwood @carnationdoe @darthwhorecrux

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

Happy belated birthday Shinji!

Had this idea running for a while, and decided to share it for his birthday! I’ve been obsessed with Severance and it gave me an idea. You don’t have to have watched Severance for this one-shot. Also Kubo acknowledged the inconsistent timeline with jazz and TBTP arc lmao, so I’m not gonna fix it either.

Summary: Shinji learns, in real time, how much music brings people together, time and time again.

CW: Angst, mild horror, time skipping, but it has a happy ending. SFW!

Word count: 4570

For what it was worth, Shinji dreaded most of the bureaucratic duties he was tasked with since becoming captain. He didn’t quite see himself as a leader, but oddly enough, it felt natural to command the Fifth Division. There were times where he wondered if he was doing what was right, what was necessary for his squad, but those doubts left as fast as they came. He never liked to entertain any unnecessary thoughts.

But it didn’t help that Sakanade was gleeful about Lieutenant Aizen. It left Shinji uneasy around his subordinate. An immediate repulsion that someone his zanpakuto resonated with made Shinji wary.

But there were perks to being a captain, he couldn’t deny that. One such perk was visiting the World of the Living more freely. Soul Society is, understandably, too militaristic for his liking. The breath of fresh air amongst living mortals was a one Shinji readily accepted.

He envied their exploration in the arts. It was something him and Captain Otoribashi bonded over. Living mortals were incredibly creative in their short lifespans, music, visual arts, storytelling, all of it left Shinji wanting more.

It had been a few years since Shinji’s last visit. One he was looking forward to. He wondered what new things humans discovered and shared amongst themselves.

Shinji’s gigai was as stiff as ever, as he trudged down the bustling streets. He cranked his neck from time to time, scoffing at the rigidness of the artificial body, “they need to get better at makin’ these” he grumbled.

But his sour mood wouldn’t stay for long. Springtime was in full bloom in the World of the Living, as trees were dotted with buds and blossoms, signs of warmer weather to come. He took his time exploring the city. There were new art trends, galleries to visit and clothing stores to shop at. And his new Captain income was certainly another perk in coming here.

Yet he didn’t buy much at this visit, not many things caught his eye, but as he walked towards the area of where his Senkaimon gate was, he heard music playing in an innocuous-looking store.

“Sure, why the hell not.” Shinji mumbled.  

He stepped into the group of people as he tried to make his way through the front of whatever they were circled around. The music grew louder and louder the closer he approached.

In the centre of the throngs of people, stood some kind of device, it was spinning something, with a horn-like object playing music from it. “What the hell is it?”

“It’s a phonograph!” You chirped up. Shinji looked at you, but you were enthralled in the device, your eyes sparkling with wonder and enjoyment.

You seemed… friendly and you seemed to know what it was about. He scooted his way over to you as more people piled in his spot. He had questions he needed answering.

“So how does it work?” He asks, standing right next to you.

You jumped at the sound of his voice, to which he chuckled. “Oh,” you sheepishly said, “gimme a moment and I’ll get back to you.”

Shinji stood there, listening to the music, and watching you. He didn’t quite… care for the music, it sounded like a western military band for his tastes, but he enjoyed the reactions you gave to it. Well, not to the music…

As Shinji watched you from the corner of his eye, he could see your eyes dart around the device. The music was secondary, it was the device itself that you were starstruck by. He wasn’t sure how long the two of you stood there for, but he realize, the song had started again.

“Hey, so how about my question earlier?” He mumbled.

You looked at him with surprise, “I didn’t think you’d still be here!” And now you felt guilty. You took a glance at the phonograph, then back at Shinji. Maybe it’ll be quick and you can come back inside?

So you pulled him out of the shop. Dusk was settling into the streets, with the faint hum of cicadas fading away.

“You asked me how it works, right?” You asked him, finally getting a look at him. You had never seen this man before. He looked a bit unusual to you with his long blonde hair, and his straight, yet white, teeth.

“Yeah, you knew what it was.” Shinji explained, wondering if he was wasting his time.

“So that was a phonograph, the first of its kind!” You exclaimed. “That disc you saw, that was going round and round,” you twirled your fingers in the air, “has vibrations recorded on to it.” Your eyes were sparkling again, and with the glow of dusk behind you, Shinji had to admit you were pretty cute. “Those vibrations are music!”

“Wow, how do you know about this?” He asked, giving her a look.

You looked embarrassed, flustered even, “I’m a maid at the inventor’s house,” you looked at the ground.

Ah right, Shinji surmised. The few drawbacks of the World of the Living, the sorry state of women’s education.

“Well ya did a good job explaining it to me.” He ruffled your head, “you did your boss proud.”

You blushed at the compliment, “thank you!”

“I’m Shinji by the way.”

You introduced yourself as well, as you began to relax around the man. He had more technical questions about the device, and you hoped you could answer them as well as your boss explained to you.

Night was drawing near, and so was your hunger. Your stomach grumbled loudly, leaving you embarrassed.

“Hey, I took up a lot of yer time today.” Shinji drawled, “I’ll treat you to dinner, least I can do.” He shrug his shoulder, “I’m new here though, so take me to a place ya like.”

“Oh, ok!” That would explain the foreign air the man, Shinji, gave off. His accent was oddly charming. The two of you strolled down the street, enjoying the light conversation and the fading sound of the phonograph.

Shinji, the mysterious man of your youth, made frequent visits to you once he found out your days off or when your shift ended. It embarrassed you at first, for him to see you in your maid uniform, but he would give his Cheshire grin and say you looked cute regardless.

Hand in hand, the two of you would walk across the city, as you instilled in him a love for music. So much so, you would sing for him. At first, you were embarrassed, but Shinji was enamoured. You wrote lyrics to the music that the phonograph would play and eventually sang them to Shinji. “I’ll always be your number one fan, babe.” He would chuckle, kissing you on the lips.

Tonight though, you told him that your boss hoped that his invention would bring people together.

“I think he did that, eh?” Shinji chuckled, squeezing your hand.

You smiled, squeezing his hand in return, “he did, but –”

“But?”

“I hope this means we hear more and different kinds of music.” You murmured, as the two of you listened to the phonograph in store.

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, but this gives people something to think about, you know?” You said softly, wondering what kind of music, sounds, noises, people would record. “I just think it’s exciting.”

 Shinji couldn’t help but smile at your thought, “yeah, yer right about that. And that means I can hear you sing more and more.” You blushed as you shoved Shinji away, his laughter filling your ears.

Shinji decided to buy a phonograph for you (and for him). A gift from him you could hold on to when Soul Society was too demanding of him, and he couldn’t see you. His heart fluttered as you cried at his gift, shocked that he would buy something so expensive for someone like you. You wrote a particular song for him that night, a song to show your appreciation and love for him.

But you were special to him – special in a way he couldn’t say. Unlike you, his words bubbled up in his throat, to only pop and vanish once he opened his mouth. He could only hug and kiss you. Physically showing his sincerity for you.

But maybe, his gift was too much for you.

Shinji stared at the barricaded apartment – he had only been gone a few days. But in that small window of time, someone had broken into your home and murdered you, stealing the phonograph in the process.

Human lives… were short… but this was cruel.

Music filled Shinji’s office in the Squad 5 barracks. He fixed his bangs in the mirror. Sometimes, he could hear your voice, song and laughter, as if teasing him about how transfixed he was on his hair.

He made his record player louder.

How many years had it been since your murder? 20 years? 40 years? It bothered Shinji that he continued to grow and “live” (or live as well as any Shinigami could), while you were becoming a distant memory, one he dreaded losing to time.

Some days, like today, he wondered if it was worth exploring Rukongai for you. “But that’s like finding a needle in a hay stack,” he mumbled, lowering the volume of his music.

“Finding what, Captain?” Lieutenant Aizen asked, appearing at the door of Shinji’s office.

It grated Shinji to no end how his lieutenant appeared at such convenient times, as if he was trying to catch Shinji off guard.

Might as well give this dog a bone Shinji thought to himself, wondering what motive Aizen was playing at.

“Can ya get me the records of the souls that entered in the past 50 years?”

Aizen gave a confused look, “what for, sir?”

“I got a bone to pick with a human – they owe me something.”

“I see…” Aizen said, disbelief covering his face, “I’ll get on that.”

“Ya better, now get outta here Sosuke, got a Captain’s meeting comin’” He shooed Aizen away, wondering if the lieutenant would be a nuisance somehow.

As much grief as Shinji and Sosuke gave each other, Shinji hated to admit that the man did do his work diligently. After the captains’ meeting, Shinji was greeted with a stack of entries of all new souls that had entered in the past 50 years or so.

Soul Society, for all its bureaucracy and idiosyncrasies, collected information on souls that were entering, documenting their age, and if possible, their “category” of death. Shinji waded through the papers, scanning and skimming to find your name amongst the thousands that have passed.

He started with the oldest entries. He knew Sosuke would get overtly suspicious if he asked him for files from a specific set of years, so he would feign interest with the newer souls that had passed.

And within a few hours, he found your name. Shinji let out a sigh, partly of relief – knowing that you passed on without having the need for a Shinigami nor did you interact with a hollow, but sad that you were now in Rukongai District 48 South. Not as dangerous as those past 60, but he knew the conditions of many of the districts were in poor shape.

“Captain, I may be of help since you’re looking for someone specific.” His lieutenant approached. Shinji wanted to roll his eyes but wanted to mess with his lieutenant a little.

“If ya want to, sure.” Shinji responded, flipping through documents haphazardly. “I’m looking for a Taichi Suzuki, from Nakasu.”

Sosuke nodded his head and began to flip through the newer entries, as Shinji pretended to flip through others. The office began to darken as nightfall approached. Only the sounds of paper shuffling could be heard.

“I think I found them, sir.” Sosuke said calmly, holding the paper.

“Gimme that…” And Shinji wanted to laugh, there was a Taichi Suzuki from Nakasu in District 48 South.

"Great find, Sosuke!" Shinji wanted to cackle but gave a cheshire grin as he swiped the document out of his lieutenant’s hands.

“Let’s call it a day, see ya bright an early tomorrow.” Sosuke nodded his head as he made his leave.

Once Shinji was certain he was alone, he rubbed his face, sighing. It was one of the rare times in his life where he felt nervous. You had been in Soul Society for 50 years; would you even remember him?

But that was a problem for tomorrow. For now, his bed was calling his name.

Rukongai District 48 South was an inconspicuous place, like many of the other districts in the 40s. The houses were shabbier than the ones before it, but there was still some semblance of a town that people resided in, rather than the scant huts that were in the 50s and 60s.

Shinji casually strolled down the worn paths, opting to leave his captain’s haori in the Squad 5 barracks. He wasn’t here on official business, so there was no need to scare off the townsfolk of his presence. He would look like any other random fodder of Shinigami passing by.

There wasn’t anything remarkable that made the district standout. Some districts were known for their agricultural endeavours, while others for fashion or even furniture. But District 49 North was as unremarkable as they come. There wasn’t a even a flutter of spiritual pressure in the vicinity.

Shinji walked into a busy tea shop. He wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, but oftentimes these were the best places for information. Finding an empty table, he strummed his fingers waiting to be served. The conversations seemed to be irrelevant to what he was looking for.

“What nice weather we’re having.”

“We haven’t had much rain though. Not good for the crops.”

“Well the river is teeming with fish.”

He let out a yawn as he continued to wait, with nothing of interest to capture his attention.

“Sorry for the wait, sir! What would you like?”

Shinji’s eyes widen at you, deep in an apologetic bow, not yet lifting yourself up.

“Hey, doll. Long time, no see.” Shinji cooly said, a small grin on his face.

You gasped and screeched, alerting the other customers. You quickly apologized to the other patrons before heading to the back, asking for a small break.

Shinji couldn’t help but smile. You remembered him just fine.

Shinji conveniently paid the tea shop owners a hefty sum to let you free for the day, and they didn’t bat an eye. Just like when you were alive, Shinji continued to amaze you.

“How are you likin’ it here? You ok?” He asked, as the two of you sat along the river.

“It’s… fine? I guess. It’s strange not needing to eat.” You explained. “But some nights I get to sing to customers.” You gave a sheepish smile, “I think I’m getting better.”

“I miss hearin’ ya sing for me, doll.” Shinji murmured, cupping your face in his hand. You gave him a warm smile and began to hum an old tune, a song he hadn’t heard in decades. You began to sing softly to him, words long forgotten that he yearned to remember.

But once your song was over, you opened your eyes, confusion evident in them, “I don’t get it, Shinji – are you dead too?”

Shinji sighed and scratched the back of his head. He had a lot to explain to you.

“I can explain it to you if ya want, but it’s long.”

You gave him a gentle smile, as you placed your hand on top of his, “For you, I have all the time in the world.”

Shinji felt his heart flutter.

It took another decade, but Shinji was adamant on moving you into Rukongai District 2. He kept that paperwork separately, lest Lieutenant Aizen find out. But Old Man Yamamoto was a traditionalist, and moving a random soul between districts was unheard of, and almost always, immediately rejected.

Unless you were married.

Did… did you want to be married to Shinji? His mind wracked with all the ways you would say no.

There’s just no way you would agree, right? Maybe if he phrased it as a mutual, as a beneficial thing for you?

But you weren’t like that, Shinji knew as much. You didn’t ask for much, especially from him. You had repeatedly told him that seeing him again, being with him again and being together, was more than enough.

“Ah fuck it.” He grumbled, pulling an ornate box out. It was a kimono of exquisite silk and hand painted gold embellishments… his heart thudded loudly.

He made his way to District 48 North, to where you lived near the tea shop. Shinji had paid the board and rent for you, letting you keep your earnings. But as he made his way through the town, there was not a soul in sight.

Shinji grew tense with every step he made towards your home. There was no one, not a single soul present. Normally he would hear the chattering of everyday conversation, of some random children playing, but it was completely silent.

He flashed stepped towards the tea shop, dropping the box on to the ground. Blood and torn clothes were strewn all over the entrance to the shop. He could hear something inside the shop, something moving. The spiritual pressure was insignificant compared to a hollow or a seated Shinigami member, but in a district where there was no one with spiritual pressure to begin with, this was unusual to him.

Shinji quickly entered the shop and drew out his sword. He took in a deep breath as he witnessed the scene in front of him. There, in the middle of the once busy tea shop, were half eaten bodies, and some… creature gnawing on your lifeless one.

They looked hollow-like, but human sized. Without hesitation, Shinji swung his sword, killing the creature. Your body dropped onto the ground, your lifeless eyes staring at him. Shinji fell to his knees, cradling your body before running his fingers over your eyes.

His heart began to sink as your body began to fade. He quickly weaved a message to his squad, knowing that an investigation would take place soon.

But before they would come, Shinji weaved a kido spell, setting alight the kimono.

Shinji sighed as he stared at the city lights out over the horizon. Being exiled was strange. He was… free, yet not free. He could roam the World of the Living to his hearts content, but…

He hated to admit it, but he missed Soul Society.

But one thing the World of the Living did better were clothes, food and music. He didn’t care much for food, but the sheer variety astounded him. Lisa had brought pizza which he had never heard about before, but devoured immediately (much to the fury of Hiyori). Tiramisu? Hamburgers? Smoothies? He felt like he was quicker on the pulse here compared to whatever Soul Society was feeding its soldiers.

But then… there was the music. Him and Rose bonded over the different genres of music humans were producing. There were some genres he didn’t care for, but others that grabbed at him. Rose was partial to classical and rock music, but Shinji’s tastes were more “eclectic.”

He grew fond of the radio, hearing the Top 40 of any country he could find his hands on. He began to collect vinyl records of musicians he enjoyed, of unique and interesting instruments he had never heard of (Shinji immediately bought a theremin for his personal collection).

In a small part of his mind, he wondered what you would think of this. What genres would you like? The slow and calming sounds of ambient music? Or the clever and witty rhymes of hip-hop? Would you enjoy concerts? Dance clubs?

But those thoughts were becoming less frequent. He had to move on. He would hold on to his grudge for Aizen, crave revenge for not only him and the Visoreds, but also for you, but his “exile” would be to experience life for you.

 Tokyo was as bustling as ever in the night. Party goers laughing, crying and shouting, enjoying their night as Shinji walked by them. He could hear different songs play from the many shops and establishments he passed by, some were songs he recognized, others he didn’t particularly cared for.

Until he heard a familiar voice.

He swung his head to a random bar blasting a song. Shock was all over his face as he recognized that voice.

It was you!

Shinji barged inside to the few patrons enjoying their drinks and conversation. In a small corner of the bar, laid a TV with the singer, the singer with your voice.

“Oi, barkeep” Shinji shouted, trying to catch the bartender’s attention. The bartender, an older man, looked at Shinji.

“I’ll take an old fashioned and –” Shinji pointed the TV, “do you know who that is?”

The bartender looked surprised at the question but shook his head.

A patron next to Shinji, in a drunken stupor, laughed and slapped Shinji’s back, telling the name of the singer.

“She’s up and coming ya know! Got quite a following.”

“Do ya know if she’s playing a concert anytime soon?”

“Nah, but she’s got a fan club if yer interested.” The man burped, taking a pen out. He wrote the address of the fan club.

Shinji slapped his change for the drink, but bolted out the bar as soon as the song ended, his drink completely untouched.

Shinji was aware of idol culture, but he didn’t expect a similar culture for up-and-coming singers, such as you.. well was it you?

The singer sounded exactly like you, the mannerisms were eerily the same, you just wore modern clothing, your hair styled with the current trends of the time.

And you still smiled the same way that would make his heart flutter.

He had never spoke to you though, watching from a distance as you sang to the crowd. You would close your eyes at some lyrics, as if in a trance. Your songwriting astounded him, how much it sounded as if you from the past wrote it.

It had to be you. It had to be your reincarnation.

Tonight your manager, or whoever this person was organizing the event, announced that there would be a meet and greet at the end of tonight’s show. The crowd cheered as you waved politely.

Shinji took a deep breath; it was now or never.

The meet and greet was a fairly short affair. To his surprise, not many people wanted to meet with you, but that worked in his favour.

He was one of the last remaining concertgoers and he could see the weariness in your eyes. You were becoming exhausted, but you kept your smile for every fan that came your way. And now it was his turn.

Shinji extended his hand, “yer songs are beautiful.” He murmured.

You immediately grabbed his hand but jolted at the touch. Your eyes met.

“I – thank you.” You stammered, “have we met before?”

Shinji shook his head, letting go of your hand, “no, I’m just a fan of yer music.” He grinned.

You gave a look to your manager, but Shinji let go, making way for the next fan to come to you.

He slowly began to walk out of the venue before he heard yelling behind him, it was your manager. “Wait!”

Shinji stopped, letting the manager catch their breath. “I – she wants to talk to you once she’s done.”

Shinji raised his eyebrows, a flicker of hope growing inside him, but he knew better to have any expectations. He would hear you out and the two of you would go your separate ways.

He was ushered into your changing room. It wasn’t much of a room, he could see a backpack, water bottles, and some snacks. He felt guilty for some reason – should he have brought flowers?

He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Memories of you over time flashed over his mind, frustrating him. It didn’t help your voice was stuck in his head too.

“Thank you for waiting.” You barged into the room, bowing deeply at Shinji.

“It’s no problem.” He replied, waving his hand. “What’s up?”

“I just – are you sure we haven’t met?”

Shinji shook his head, “you probably saw me around a lot at yer shows.” He said softly. “I’m a big fan.”

You looked at him with confusion, “no, I swear I’ve met you before…”

Shinji shrugged his shoulders, “maybe yer used to seeing me in the crowd. This is my first time going to your meet-and-greet though.”

You sighed loudly, examining Shinji’s face. This man looked so familiar to you. His voice even sounded familiar too.

And then realization hit you, with heat spreading to your cheeks. Shinji looked at you with a curious expression, wondering what had gotten you quiet and flustered.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumbled, “but I think I remember where.”

“Where?”

“… my dreams.”

Shinji raised his eyebrows, “I mean, maybe because I’ve been in the crowd.”

“No!” You yelled, “I mean, you looked a bit different.”

Shinji shut his mouth, letting you continue.

“You had… longer hair, much longer.” You clicked your tongue, “and I don’t think you had a piercing.” Shinji grew alarmed. “You also wore… some kind of white haori with black clothing? And carried a sword.”

Shinji sighed. He could deny this, letting you wonder, and never appearing again… but what kind of chance was this? “Fate is truly a fickle woman.”

You gave him a confused look.

“How long have ya got? There’s a lot to tell you.”

“All night.” You grinned proudly, “tell me everything Mister…”

“Shinji, just call me Shinji. Ya never did call me by my last name anyways.”

You stared at him with another confused look on your face.

Momo ran down the halls of the Squad 5 barracks in a hurry. She clutched the paperwork to her chest tightly as she sprinted past her fellow seated members, down to Captain Hirako’s office.

She panted as she entered, “I have some –” as she exhaled, “papers that require your immediate signature, sir.”

Shinji placed a new record into his player, letting it play as he got seated into desk, “sure thing, Momo. Bring ‘em here.”

Momo dropped the documents on to his desk and immediately sat down on the other chair, letting the music play as Shinji skimmed through the documents. The voice sounded familiar, “sir, is this by that one popular singer in the World of the Living?”

“Yeah it is,” he said, without looking up from his paper, “I’m her biggest fan.”

“Really?!” Momo exclaimed, “I like a lot of her songs, she’s so talented.”

“She sure is,” Shinji grinned, putting down his pen.

“But I haven’t heard this song of her’s before. Is it new?”

“I wouldn’t say new…” Shinji drawled, “but a limited, unreleased one.”

“It’s beautiful.” Momo sighed, as she continued listening to the song. Shinji smiled, humming along to the song.

For just anyone, It is not, I told you, It is only just for you I do not want it to be just once I want my song to reach you right now And the next year too Let the two of us together Go watch the cherry blossoms

Reader made a special EP for Shinji's birthday hahaha. THANKS FOR READING!!! The song at the end is the translated bits from "Yamazakura" by Taeko Onuki.

Edit: forgot to explain some things LOL

Taichi Suzuki from Nakasu is a reference to Yakuza 5 (Kiryu’s alias in the red light district)

Wedding rings weren’t really a thing in Japan until post-WWII. Usually a woman wore her obi and kimono a particular way to signify that she was married. I decided to have Shinji gift her a kimono as an engagement present of sorts.

✦–professional slacker 🗣️ˎˊ˗ ——–——––--

平子 真子 - Shinji Hirako x reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: sfw // established relationship // Shinji hirako is on break day, so he can do whatever he wants with his princess.

------------- Break day for Captain Hirako means YOU aren't getting any moment of peace.

He’s lounging on the couch with you in his lap—legs spread, arms loose around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he hums some lazy jazz tune. You tried to get up to do literally anything, but nope. Not happening. Shinji has declared this a “no escape from boyfriend duty” kind of day.

“Where you goin’, huh?” he murmurs into your neck, pressing a kiss there and tugging you closer. “Break day means I finally get to harass my princess properly.”

“You mean smother,” you mumble, cheeks warm as his hands slide a little lower under your shirt.

“Tomato, tomahtoo,” he mutters, biting gently your shoulder. “You’re mine today, Name. That’s the rule.”

He ends up carrying you around the house like it’s a royal procession—on his back, in his arms, over the shoulder if you protests too much. He feeds you snacks with ridiculous “Say aaah~” antics, let you wear his big ah shirts, and insists you sit on his lap at all times—kitchen chairs, couch, bed, floor, doesn’t matter.

“You’re warm,” he tells you as an excuse, burying his face in your neck again. “Plus, your thighs are my emotional support pillows.”

if you try to tease him, maybe you'll get a pout —maybe—but it doesn’t last long when his hands are wrapped around you and he's whispering, “My pretty princess... always mine on days like this,”

random extra with ass groping 💔💔----

He’s got that shameless grin on his face - eyes half-lidded, voice low and full of mischief.

One hand stays tucked under his cheek like he’s all innocent, while the other? Firmly cupped over your ass, fingers splayed like it belongs there. Every now and then he gives it a lazy squeeze, like he's checking it’s still his. Spoiler: it is.

“Mmh… y’know,” he mumbles against your belly, lips brushing your skin, “for a princess, you’ve got one hell of a royal ass.”

You roll your eyes, though your breath catches a bit. “Shinji—”

“What?” he grins, lifting his head to look up at you with zero shame. “I’m just appreciating my monarchy.”

He props himself up, still lazily grabbing you, and presses a kiss just above your waistband. “C’mon, princess... after all the pampering, it’s only fair I give my thanks properly.”

“You’re incorrigible,” you laugh, swatting at him—but he only chuckles, letting his hand wander again.

“And yet... you still let me sleep in your lap like a spoiled mutt.”

“Because you are.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You say that like I won’t bite.”

You give him a look.

He smirks wider.

Yeah. You're cooked.

ART BY @ajuji_aju ON TWITE / X THZNK YOU IF YOU RED THIS FAR FAR

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Kuchiki Byakuya, Hirako Shinji, Kyoraku Shunsui, Ukitake Jushiro

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello, sis! I really, reallly, love your headcanons! Would you like to do a hc about reader who's very insecure about themselves or dealing with self-esteem issues? The characters could be Jushiro, Shunsui, Shinji, and Byakuya. You can add any character you want. I hope you accept it, if it's fine with you. Thank you!🥰

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Thank you for this request, anon. This one felt close to home. Hope it doesn’t sound too personal 😅. But enjoy!

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: When they guide you through your stage of insecurity and low self-esteem (like the sweet lovers they are)

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Kuchiki Byakuya

✧ Never one for coddling, but the moment he started noticing your discomfort with yourself, he began paying more attention than you'd realise. He’d catch you looking at your reflection too long with a strange look on your face, like you were trying to find something worth liking. He never brought it up directly, but he observed it in silence.

✧ You’d try to brush off compliments with a shrug or awkward laugh, and he’d tilt his head slightly, eyebrows drawing together. The next time, he’d say something simple and specific, like, “Your posture improved. It suits you.” Not said for flattery, but because it was fact, and he knew you’d believe facts over sweet nothings.

✧ He started saying things in passing like, “That colour enhances your complexion,” or “You speak clearly. People listen.” Always subtle and neutral. But there was no mistaking the intention behind it. He was planting seeds of positivity.

✧ Once, you called yourself useless during training after missing a block. Byakuya didn’t hesitate. “You are not. Do not waste my time by speaking falsehoods.” The way he said it made you stop mid-apology. “Correct yourself and try again,” he added, but it wasn’t harsh. It was almost...grounding.

✧ He’d sit beside you in silence sometimes, just so you wouldn’t be alone with your thoughts too long. You weren’t even sure he noticed the patterns, but then he handed you a book he’d chosen without asking. It had notes in the margins. Thoughtful ones. That kind of intimacy from Byakuya said everything.

✧ When you tried to downplay your efforts during a mission, he would say without looking up, “Mediocrity does not draw my attention. You should be aware of that by now.” And when you glanced up, unsure if it was a rebuke or a compliment, he flicked his eyes to you and added, “I meant it as praise. Accept it.”

✧ He didn’t indulge self-deprecation. “If you insist on belittling yourself, I cannot assist you. I work with those who see their worth, or at least wish to.” And somehow, that stung more than any pity would have.

✧ But he began requesting your opinion more often. Not just to be kind, but because he valued it, and he wanted you to know he did. “You see things others overlook,” he said once, when you pointed out a pattern in enemy movement others missed. “That is not a common trait.”

✧ During a rare evening walk, you admitted in a quiet voice that you didn’t see anything impressive in yourself. He stopped, looked down at you, and simply asked, “Do you believe I waste time?” You frowned, shook your head. “Then accept that I choose to be here. With you. For a reason.”

✧ The way he spoke your name shifted. Firmer, less formal, almost like grounding you. If you drifted into self-hate, he’d say your name like an anchor, a reminder. Not of what you were to him, but who you were.

✧ He started correcting others when they praised you too little. “They completed the task efficiently,” someone would say. Byakuya would reply coolly, “They completed the task brilliantly. Do not diminish that.”

✧ Once, you were picking at your sleeves, eyes low after a particularly bad day, and he said quietly, “You are permitted to falter. But you are not permitted to lie about your value.”

✧ He didn’t flood you with affection or comfort. He redefined your reality through steady correction, unwavering acknowledgement, and making it known that weakness was not something to be ashamed of—but false humility was.

✧ He taught you kido techniques slowly, patiently, never rushing, and never once expressing frustration. “You will learn. You do not lack capacity—only belief.”

✧ When you thanked him too meekly, he looked at you and said flatly, “Do not thank me as though it is undeserved. You earn what I give.”

✧ Sometimes, he sat beside you and just existed there. No speeches. No guidance. Just quiet presence that said, I see you. You’re enough, even when you don’t see it yourself.

Hirako Shinji

✧ Shinji had clocked how you laughed off compliments and made excuses when praised. The kind of thing you thought you were hiding well, but his perceptiveness cut right through the act.

✧ “You’ve got this weird habit of shrinking into yourself when someone says something nice,” he pointed out with that easy grin. “You allergic to compliments or just not used to ‘em?”

✧ He teased you at first, lightly, trying to draw you out of your shell. “C’mon, don’t give me that face. You look like someone just insulted your cooking, and all I said was your outfit suits you.”

✧ He started making you stand in front of the mirror sometimes while standing behind you, arms crossed, saying things like, “Look at that. That’s someone who’s survived Hollow attacks, dealt with Mayuri without losing their sanity, and still has all their limbs. That ain’t nothing.”

✧ Shinji made sure you knew that your mind was sharp. When you doubted your ideas, he’d interrupt mid-thought with, “No, no, don’t walk it back. That was a good plan. Stick with it.” He hated seeing you second-guess yourself and he always called it out.

✧ Once, you called yourself a burden and he turned to you with this incredulous look. “You serious right now? You think I’d drag dead weight around Soul Society for fun? Nah. You’re carrying more than you realise.”

✧ He wasn’t the soft, sappy type—but he did know when to lower his voice and level with you. “I’ve seen a lotta people. Been through too many wars. If you were weak, I’d know it. You’re not.”

✧ When you were spiralling, his approach was to snap you out of it with something sharp. “Stop it. That voice in your head’s lying to you. And you’re letting it. Don’t give it that kind of power.”

✧ Made a habit of pointing out the little things you did well. “You always catch details. I missed that Hollow’s movement pattern, and you didn’t. I owe you a drink.”

✧ When you couldn’t sleep and admitted it was because your brain wouldn’t shut up, he started showing up at night, leaning against your doorframe, tossing you a cushion. “Come sit with me. We’ll talk nonsense until your brain forgets it’s trying to kill you.”

✧ He’d interrupt your self-deprecating thoughts before they even finished. “Don’t even start. I see that look on your face. You’re better than you think, alright? I’m not gonna let you pretend otherwise.”

✧ One day, he found you tearing yourself down over a small mistake. He sat down beside you and said, quieter this time, “You ever notice how hard you are on yourself? Like you think being perfect is the only way you’re worth something?”

✧ “Lemme tell you something. I’ve made way worse mistakes. You don’t see me quitting, do ya? You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be real. And you already are.”

✧ He kept you grounded with humour too. If you got too in your head, he’d say something ridiculous like, “Alright, if you don’t start talking about yourself like you’re at least mildly impressive, I’m gonna list every dumb thing I’ve done until you’re too embarrassed to wallow.”

✧ He gave you nicknames based on your strengths. Called you “Hawk-eyes” after you spotted a Hollow nest no one else did. “See?” he said, grin widening. “Told you your instincts are better than mine.”

✧ Shinji didn’t let people talk down to you either. If someone undercut you in conversation, he’d casually step in with a, “Actually, that was their idea. Don’t take credit where it ain’t due.”

✧ He didn’t believe in fixing you. He believed in reminding you that you weren’t broken. “You’ve got cracks. Big deal. That’s where the good stuff leaks out.”

✧ The way he looked at you changed when you started believing him, even just a little. Like he saw the fog clearing. “There you go,” he said once, after you stood up for yourself. “That’s the version of you I see every day.”

✧ And when you relapsed into old thoughts, because it happened sometimes, he didn’t get annoyed. He just said, “You don’t have to climb the mountain every day. Some days, just standing on the path’s enough.”

✧ Shinji never expected you to love yourself overnight. He was just the constant voice that didn’t waver, didn’t falter, didn’t let you sink too deep. Because if you couldn’t see your worth yet, he’d lend you his eyes till you could.

Kyoraku Shunsui

✧ He had a lazy air about him, sure, but nothing slipped past him when it came to the people he cared about. The way your eyes dropped when someone complimented you, how you’d wave off any praise like it didn’t belong to you—it didn’t sit right with him.

✧ He’d lean over when he caught you doing it again and mutter with a smile, “You really gotta stop treating kindness like it’s a mistake. We say nice things ‘cause they’re true, sweetheart.”

✧ Whenever you tried to minimise your accomplishments, Shunsui didn’t argue. He’d just look at you over the brim of his hat and say, “You know, if you keep brushing off all the good things about you, I’m gonna start thinking you’re talking about someone else.”

✧ He wasn’t confrontational about it, but he was persistent. If you mumbled something self-deprecating, he’d tilt his head and go, “What was that? Didn’t quite catch that nonsense.” And then wink, as if daring you to repeat it. You never did.

✧ Shunsui made sure others didn’t speak over you. If someone tried, he’d casually raise a hand and say, “Hold on, I think what they were saying was far more interesting.” You never knew how to respond when he did that, but he’d just smile and go back to sipping his sake like it was nothing.

✧ You’d find him laying around in your space more often than not. He’d say, “You looked like you could use the company,” as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it felt natural with him—unpressured, calm, like maybe you didn’t have to pretend to be someone stronger.

✧ “You ever think maybe the way you see yourself ain’t the way the rest of us do?” he asked once, when you were sitting in silence too long, face drawn. “’Cause from where I’m sitting, you’ve got more strength than you give yourself credit for.”

✧ He never made it a lecture. It was always wrapped in comfort, humour, and that soft drawl that made you listen even when you didn’t mean to. “I know how heavy that inner critic can get. I’ve got one too—drinks too much and never shuts up.”

✧ When you apologised too often, he gently waved you off with a lazy smile. “If you apologise one more time for existing, I’m gonna start charging you. You’re allowed to take up space, love.”

✧ Shunsui had this way of reframing your insecurities into something empowering. “So you’re quiet? Means you’re a thinker. You doubt yourself? Means you care enough to get it right.”

✧ He never pressured you to believe him right away. “Takes time to unlearn the bad voices,” he said once, handing you a drink. “Until then, I’ll just keep reminding you that mine’s one of the good ones.”

✧ When you admitted you didn’t see anything worthwhile in yourself, he didn’t respond right away. Just stared at you for a moment, a rare seriousness settling over him. Then he said softly, “You ever wonder why I spend so much time here? It’s not ‘cause I’m bored, you know.”

✧ He kept things light when you needed distraction. If you were spiralling, he’d casually throw his arm over your shoulder and say, “C’mon. Let’s go somewhere you can remember you’re human and not a list of faults.”

✧ But when things got heavy, he didn’t retreat. He sat with you through the storm. No false reassurances, just quiet presence, maybe a hand in yours. Maybe just silence. But always there.

✧ And when you started believing in yourself a little more, you’d find him smiling more too. “See?” he said once, when you held your head a little higher. “Told you. You’re more than enough.”

✧ He never made you feel like a project. He made you feel like a person worth sticking around for, even when you weren’t sure why.

Ukitake Jushiro

✧ He was kind in the way a quiet river is kind—constant, deep, never pushing too hard but always moving. He noticed your insecurities in the smallest things—the way you avoided photos, how you apologised for asking questions, the way you laughed when you were uncomfortable.

✧ He never interrupted you when you put yourself down. He’d wait till you were done, then say, “I think you’re being unfair to someone I care about.” Just soft enough to make it sting in the right way.

✧ Count on him to never be blunt, but he was honest. “You’re harder on yourself than anyone else could ever be,” he said once. “And if someone else said the things you say to yourself, I’d ask them to leave.”

✧ He’d take your hand during quiet moments and trace little circles over your knuckles while talking about absolutely anything—tea, missions, weather—until your breathing slowed. His way of anchoring you without making a fuss.

✧ When you doubted your value, he reminded you with facts. “You saved that squad last week. You’re here, still standing, when others might’ve fallen. That means something.”

✧ Jushiro never let you dismiss your contributions. “You made a difference. You always do. Just because you don’t see it doesn’t make it any less true.”

✧ If you tried to apologise for not being good enough, he’d cut in gently, “You don’t have to apologise for being human. You’re allowed to have moments. You’re allowed to need reassurance.”

✧ He kept a calm kind of confidence in you. “I believe in your strength,” he said simply one day, when you were doubting your worth. “Even when you can’t.”

✧ When you felt unworthy of his presence, he took your hand, placed it over his chest, and said, “This heart has stood through a thousand years of war. And it still feels lighter when you’re near.”

✧ Has a talent for making you feel safe even in your most vulnerable moments. He never rushed you out of them, just stayed.

✧ He encouraged you through action more than words. He let you lead small team assignments, made space for your decisions, and when things went well, he’d smile and say, “I knew you’d handle it. I trusted you to.”

✧ The day you broke down, whispering that you didn’t see anything worth holding onto in yourself, he held you like you were made of glass and said into your hair, “Then I’ll hold on for the both of us. Until you can.”

✧ He left you notes sometimes. Folded neatly. Just lines like: You did well today. I hope you see that too. Or Your presence makes the Seireitei a better place.

✧ He never told you to stop feeling what you felt. He just helped you carry it. “Let’s carry it together,” he said once, after a particularly rough week. “You shouldn’t have to bear all that weight alone.”

✧ He never allowed your pain to feel like an inconvenience. He made it feel like something sacred—something he wanted to understand, not fix or brush away.

✧ And when you began healing, he noticed. “There’s light in your eyes again,” he said quietly one evening. “I missed that.”

✧ Being with him didn’t make you suddenly love yourself. And it made it harder to hate yourself.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @cactimorada @cookielovesbook-akie @spellboundsuguru @kennys-partner @sovl-society @villainsrtasty @foxycrafterofgreenwood @carnationdoe

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

𝐑𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖)

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Ishida Ryuken, Hirako Shinji, Kyoraku Shunsui, Ukitake Jushiro

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: hi hi!! i absolutely adore your blog, your bleach writing is fantastic 🫶🏼 could i request something smutty with ryuken, shunsui, jushiro and shinji? maybe being reunited with them after being away on missions for a while and it ends up in some soft reunion sex? i’d gladly accept anything else too, i just need them bad and there’s a lack of ryuken works :( again, absolutely love your content, thank you for keeping the fandom fed xx

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I enthusiastically enjoyed this request and squealed and laughed so much while writing this. I did Kyoraku some injustice lol, but I gave him a second chance though 🙈. Thank you for this request and letting me write for Ryuken!

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fem!reader, 18+ content, fingering, oral (f receiving), soft sex, multiple orgasms, cockwarming, dirty talking, praising, body-worship (small), wrap it before you tap it

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: Having some soft sex upon your return after being away for a lengthy time.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

˚₊‧꒰ა Ishida Ryuken ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The soft rustle of sheets and the distant hum of the night outside barely registered as you lay beneath Ryuken, legs spread wide around his waist, body pliant and needy beneath his weight. His bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a bedside lamp, and the air was thick with yearning, and the need that had lingered for months too long. He hovered above you, half-dressed, shirt unbuttoned and falling from his shoulders, the pale skin of his chest dusted with silver hair that led down toward the open band of his slacks.

Your thighs cradled his hips as he bent forward, one hand braced beside your head, the other trailing reverently from your waist to the soft curve of your hip. His gaze held yours, sharper than usual, blue eyes drinking you in like something he’d starved for.

“You finally came back,” he murmured lowly and frayed at the edges, his breath warm against your cheek.

You nodded, your fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, tugging gently as your other hand skimmed down the bare plane of his back. “I missed you so much, Ryu… I couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted to come home. To you.”

His jaw tightened, and he swallowed once, eyes dragging down to where your breasts rose and fell against the sheets, bare, already flushed and needy, nipples pebbled in the cool air. He leaned in and kissed you, slow at first, his lips soft and warm against yours, tasting the truth in your words. But the kiss didn’t stay gentle. It deepened fast, his hunger slipping through in the way his mouth claimed yours, the way his tongue pressed between your lips to explore, stroke, devour.

When you pulled away to breathe and saw his hand reaching for the drawer in the nightstand, your voice came softer, needier, your thighs flexing around him. “Don’t use a condom tonight. I want to feel you. All of you. It’s been too long…”

His eyes narrowed just slightly, but the flush along his neck deepened. His hand slid down between your bodies, fingers brushing over your mound, parting your slick folds. You were already soaked for him, your pussy glistening in the warm light, folds plump and swollen from nothing more than his presence.

“Are you sure?” he asked, but his fingers dipped lower, parting your wetness and brushing over your entrance. “You know what that means if I lose control.”

You tilted your hips up, pressing your slickness into the flat of his palm. “Then lose it.”

There was a low and primal groan emitted from him, followed by his slacks being shoved down and kicked aside. You lifted your head to look, as you always did, eyes drawn to the long, thick length of his cock rising proudly from a nest of silver curls. It was already hard, thick veins lining the shaft, the flushed tip glistening with precum. Bigger than you remembered. Or maybe your memory had blurred after too many nights spent aching alone.

He cupped himself at the base and stroked slowly, watching the way your eyes widened, your breath catching as you spread your legs wider to welcome him. “Wet already,” he murmured, dragging the blunt head through your folds. “Soaked just for me.”

You whimpered when he tapped his cock against your clit, the swollen bud pulsing with need. Each slow stroke of his tip across your entrance made your hips jerk, your body already trying to suck him in. But Ryuken took his time, drawing circles with his cock around your pussy, coating himself in your slick, watching your every shudder.

“I’ve waited too many months to feel this again,” he said, guiding himself to your entrance and holding there. “I won’t rush.”

And he didn’t. He pressed in slow, the fat head of his cock breaching your soaked entrance with deliberate care. The stretch made your mouth fall open, your hands gripping his shoulders as inch after inch filled you. You could feel your body clenching already, slick walls hugging every vein, every contour of him.

“God…Ryu…”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, jaw clenched as he slid deeper. “You’re still so damn tight…like your body never forgot me.”

He bottomed out with a groan, his hips pressing flush against yours, his cock buried fully inside you, the thick length pressing perfectly against your walls. You were trembling, legs wrapping tighter around his waist, pussy clenching helplessly around him as you tried to adjust to the fullness.

“You’re so deep…” you gasped, eyes fluttering.

His hand slid under your lower back, lifting you slightly, adjusting the angle until your moan turned into a cry, his cock now grinding against your sweetest spot. “That’s it,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. Just relax for me.”

He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed still, buried inside, holding your body close and letting you feel the full length of him, the throbbing heat of his cock pulsing against your walls. Then he drew his hips back slowly, almost teasingly, before thrusting in again, deep and unhurried.

Your nails dug into his back. “Harder, please…”

Jut hearing your pleas in-person after all these months prompted his control to slip. His rhythm shifted from slow to firm, strong thrusts that rocked you up the bed an inch at a time. Your pussy stretched and gripped around him with every movement, wet and warm, noisy in the quiet room. Every thrust made your breasts bounce against his chest, and he bent to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard as his cock drove deep.

You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair, your body overwhelmed by the dual stimulation—his cock hitting so deep, and his mouth tugging at your breast like he’d starved for it. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop—”

He drove harder, hips slapping against your thighs, your pussy making lewd squelches with every thrust. He lifted one of your legs higher, pressing your knee to your chest to open you more, to go deeper. You sobbed his name, your back arching as your orgasm crashed down, pussy squeezing and fluttering around him.

You squirted. It surprised you, the rush of wetness spilling between your thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you, the intensity making your whole body shake. He froze for half a second, staring in awe, before groaning deep in his throat and fucking you harder, chasing his own edge.

“You’re making such a mess,” he rasped. “A beautiful mess—God, I can feel you squeezing the hell out of me—”

Your hands were gripping his shoulders, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes from how good it felt. Your pussy fluttered and clenched, sucking him in, trying to milk him. “I should’ve gone with you,” he admitted against your skin. “But I couldn’t leave the hospital. Couldn’t leave this goddamn city.”

You clung to him, moaning softly as he rolled his hips with deliberate precision, hitting that spot inside you like he’d measured it. Which, honestly, he probably had. “I know,” you whispered. “But I wouldn’t have wanted you to.”

He cupped your face, fucking you deeper, with more emotion than he ever allowed himself in public. “But I thought about you. Every night. Thought about how warm you always felt, the way your fingers curled in my hair when I was inside you—”

You arched beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist, squeezing tighter.

“I thought about the sounds you make when you’re close,” he continued, voice cracking just slightly. “The way your walls flutter right before you—yes. Like that. Just like that.”

You gave a sharp clench of your walls around him and his hips stuttered, not feeling like he could hold out for much longer. No amount of spending night touching himself could compare to your warm heat. “Stay,” he murmured, arms tightening around your waist as he pushed harder. “Just for tonight.”

You brushed your fingers through his silver hair and whispered, “For longer, if you want.”

He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t need to. The way he kissed your palm told you that he was pleased with your choice.

˚₊‧꒰ა Hirako Shinji ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The carpet scratched lightly against your bare shoulder blades, soft but textured beneath your back as you lay spread beneath Shinji. Your breath caught as he grinned down at you, his messy blond hair hanging low enough to brush against your cheek. His shirt was open, flaring around him like he hadn’t even tried to take it off properly, too impatient. You still had your blouse halfway down one arm, your jeans unbuttoned and stuck at your knees from when he’d tugged them off in the middle of kissing you against the door. The whole house was quiet save for the low hum of the air conditioning and the wet, obscene sounds coming from between your thighs.

“Two years, and this pussy still tastes better than I remembered,” Shinji drawled, his voice husky with arousal, lips slick with your wetness as he rose from between your legs. His hand hadn’t left your thigh, his thumb still rubbing small, teasing circles dangerously close to your clit. Suddenly leaning forward, he caught your lips with his, kissing you deep—tongue curling with yours, tasting the echo of your own arousal on him. You moaned into his mouth, your legs twitching as your hips bucked, desperate for more friction. He pulled back with a laugh, teeth catching your lower lip gently.

“Don’t go rushing me now. I just got back to my favourite meal.” He licked a stray drop of your slick from the corner of his mouth and gave your pussy a firm slap that made you jolt, the wet smack echoing in the space between you. “You were gonna make me wait till dinner. I say screw that.”

Your head dropped back onto the carpet, fingers gripping his shoulders as he slid down again, lips brushing across your belly, your navel, and then further until his mouth was back on you, all heat and wickedness. He didn’t tease this time—he licked up the entire length of your slit, slow and deliberate, groaning as your arousal coated his tongue.

His fingers parted you, spreading your slick folds to expose the plump swell of your clit. He pressed his tongue flat against it, then circled, and circled again, until your thighs clenched on either side of his head. You were wet—soaking—and he drank from you like he was parched, every lap sending tremors through your stomach. His fingers slipped lower, sliding two knuckles deep into your heat, the stretch making you whimper as he curled them expertly against your front wall.

“Still this tight,” he murmured into you, letting his breath fan over your sensitive skin. “I could feel your pussy sucking on my fingers the second I slid in.”

You were writhing under him, panting. His voice, his mouth, his fingers—it was too much, and not enough. You hadn’t been touched in months, hadn’t had this—hadn’t had him. Shinji had always been a tease, but now he was relentless, determined to make every second count. His pace increased, his fingers moving faster, fucking you while his mouth sucked your clit with lewd precision.

You weren’t expecting to cum so quickly, but your hips jerked as you cried out, your hands flying to his hair. Your thighs tried to clamp shut, but he didn’t let up, moaning into you like a man possessed. Your slick gushed against his chin, and he groaned in satisfaction.

“Fuck, I missed you doing that,” he growled, his tongue still flicking over your throbbing clit. “You squirt like a goddamn fountain when I get you just right.”

You whimpered, sensitive, thighs trembling. He finally relented, dragging his fingers out of your pussy and sucking them clean with a lecherous smirk. He reached for your blouse, pulling it off completely before dragging your bra down just enough to expose your breasts, not even bothering to unclip it. His mouth latched onto a nipple instantly, sucking it hard while grinding his clothed cock between your legs. You could feel the thick press of him—hard, hot, pulsing against your slick entrance, the friction deliciously maddening.

He pulled back and looked down at you, hair sticking to his forehead slightly, golden eyes heavy with desire.

“You think you can handle this?” he teased, rubbing the head of his cock against your swollen folds. You could feel how wet you were, his shaft already slippery just from dragging through your pussy lips.

Nodding, already arching up for him, he pinned your hips back down with one hand, the other guiding himself to your entrance. His tip pushed in slowly, and your walls clung to him, the stretch making your eyes roll back. “Damn, you’re still so tight,” he groaned, the vein in his neck straining as he pushed in further, inch by inch. “Like this pussy forgot how to take cock. I’m gonna have to remind it.”

You gasped as he bottomed out, the full length of him seated inside you. He stayed there a moment, pressing in deep and letting you feel every thick inch, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise. It didn’t take long before you felt the, slow, deep, grinding thrusts that made you feel each ridge, each throb. The drag of his cock against your inner walls was delicious torture, your pussy fluttering around him with every slow pull out and every firm thrust in. You practically clung to him, nails digging into his back as your hips lifted to meet him.

“God, you’re so good,” he whispered into your neck, his breath hot. “I fuckin’ missed you like crazy. Missed this pussy. Missed how wet you get for me.”

The whimpering of his name and clenching caused him to groan, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, the sound of your wetness obscene between your bodies. That was the final call, the pace shifted—no more slow grinding. He fucked you hard, fast, pressing your knees to your chest to get deeper. Your pussy squelched around him with every thrust, slick dripping down your ass and soaking into the carpet beneath you.

“You were gone too damn long,” he growled. “Two years without this. You’re lucky I’m not filling you full every day for the next week.”

Your body seized under him, a long, drawn-out cry ripping from your throat as your pussy convulsed around his cock, and he didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, moaning loudly as your juices gushed around him, your thighs trembling violently. When you squirted again, it soaked his pelvis, and he laughed breathlessly. “There it is. Damn, you’re messy.” He grinned down at you. “Just the way I like you. I missed this so damn much,” he murmured against your neck, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses there. “You feel fuckin’ amazing, baby.”

Wrapping your arms around him, your heart still racing, your pussy still pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. His cock continued to work itself deeper, chasing his release, becoming erratic and rougher. Grabbing your wrists, he pinned them above your head as he loomed over you, burying his cock to the hilt again and again. Your walls clenched tight around him, fluttering and spasming with overstimulation, but he didn’t let up. His eyes were locked on your face, watching every twitch, every gasp, every moan.

“You’re not leaving again,” he pleaded softly. “I missed you too damn much.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Kyoraku Shunsui ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Immediately, you were pulled right off your feet, beard brushing your neck as he nuzzled into you, the wide sleeves of his pink haori wrapping you up completely. His hair was loose and slightly damp, and he smelled like fresh soap and saké, already halfway into unwinding. He looked like a man who’d spent months trying not to fall apart. And judging by the way he held you, his self-restraint had just expired.

You barely got another word out before your back hit the tatami and he was already on top of you, lips claiming yours with a softness that trembled. He didn't rush the kiss—but his hips gave him away, grinding subtly, needily, like he couldn't help himself. He whispered between kisses, “Missed you. Missed you so much,” and you could feel just how badly in the way he groaned when your thighs parted around his waist.

His mouth travelled to your neck, wet and warm, dragging kisses down your skin like he was starved for it, and you could feel the way he trembled, the control in his body fraying with every breath you took. His kimono was haphazardly pushed apart, his cock already thick and flushed, was leaking from its tip and begging to be put out of misery. “Two years,” he murmured hoarsely against your skin, his beard tickling as he nuzzled into your jaw. “Too damn long.”

You barely had the breath to answer before his hips shifted, the wide head of his cock slipping lower, parting your folds, nudging your entrance. A sharp gasp caught in your throat as he pushed forward, not waiting any longer, your body instinctively arching to take him. That first push stretched you wide, familiar and still breathtaking—thick, heavy, that slow, overwhelming press that only Shunsui could give you. Your hands clenched at the fabric pooled under you, nails biting into the blanket. He groaned low in his chest, forehead dropping to yours, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck—gods, you still feel so perfect,” he breathed, already buried halfway, your cunt clenching around him greedily. “Been thinking about this every night.”

The stretch had you whimpering softly, legs wrapped around his hips as he sank deeper, inch by thick inch. He tried to keep it slow, tried to savour the moment, but his hands trembled as they gripped your hips, and his rhythm faltered, cock twitching inside you with pulsing heat. His voice rasped with restraint, jaw clenched.

“Didn’t think...fuck, I didn’t think I’d lose it this fast.”

But you knew. You could feel the strain in his body, the twitch of his cock deep inside, the tremble in his muscles as he held himself back by sheer will. Your pussy fluttered around him in encouragement, soaked and eager, clenching greedily on his length. You cupped his face, guiding his gaze to yours, lips brushing his as you whispered, “Then don’t hold back.”

That was all it took. He groaned—deep, broken, almost desperate—and his hips slammed flush against yours, his cock buried to the hilt inside your wet heat. You felt the throb, the jerk of his release the moment he seated himself fully, his body shuddering as thick, hot cum spilled inside you in heavy pulses. His mouth crashed to yours, muffling his ragged moan, his tongue searching blindly as he came hard, deep, and fast. Your pussy milked him instinctively, spasming around his girth, coaxing every drop from him. The sensation of his warmth flooding your core after so long apart made you clench again, a needy whimper escaping you.

“Shit...fuck, sweetheart,” he grunted, his hips jerking once, twice more as aftershocks rippled through him. “Too much…too fast.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, panting harshly, body tense above you. But you didn’t mind. The feel of his cock still twitching deep inside, still nestled in your creamy warmth, filled something in you that had ached for the past two years. You stroked his back slowly, fingers tracing the lines of muscle under his haori as his weight slumped into you, his arms cradling your head.

You felt the way his cum leaked out around his cock, warm and thick, coating your inner thighs. You could feel just how much he’d missed you in the sheer volume, the mess he’d made of your pussy already. But Shunsui didn’t move—he stayed still, cock still inside, forehead against your cheek, murmuring apologies and kisses against your skin.

“I couldn’t wait. I thought I’d go slow, I meant to worship you, but gods…I missed you so damn much.” He kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw. “I’ll make it up to you. You’re not leaving this bed for hours.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes heavy with lust, with a spark that said he hadn’t even begun to claim you properly. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, thickening despite the way his cum still leaked from your stretched pussy. He rocked his hips gently, watching the way your breath caught, your legs tightened around his waist, the wet squelch of your combined release filling the room.

“You’re so fucking full,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your clit. “My cum’s already dripping out of you, but I’m not done yet. You’re going to take it all.”

His hands slid under your back, lifting you to him, your breasts crushed to his chest as he thrust with purpose, hips rolling to grind against your clit on every stroke. His mouth latched onto your neck, biting softly before licking the sting away, working his way down to your collarbone. Your moans rose in pitch as he set a rhythm that sent sparks through your core, the oversensitivity from earlier only heightening each roll of his hips.

You bit your lip as he began to move again, a slow, deliberate drag of his cock from your tight hole, coated in a thick sheen of white, then thrust back in, slow but deeper this time, measured. The feel of him was relentless—thick and still slick with his first release, but regaining that solid, aching fullness that made your toes curl.

“You feel even tighter now,” he muttered against your skin, voice thick with awe and hunger. “So wet. You always take me so good.”

He sat back slightly, dragging you with him so you were perched in his lap, your legs splayed wide around him, his cock thrusting up into you as gravity helped him bury even deeper. You cried out at the change in angle, the way he filled you more completely, his cock stretching you in every direction. His hands gripped your hips again, controlling your movements, dragging you up and slamming you back down, your pussy sucking him in noisily with every wet thrust.

“You missed this cock, didn’t you?” he rasped, gaze fixed on the place where your bodies joined, watching your tight, pink folds stretched wide around his thick shaft, your cream and his seed smeared around the base. “Fuck, look how messy you are. You’re dripping all over me.”

You couldn’t speak—only moan, back arching as he slammed up into you again, that thick tip grinding against your sweet spot mercilessly. The tension built fast in your belly, your clit throbbing, your legs trembling. He knew—he felt the way your pussy clenched hard around him, how your walls fluttered, how your breath hitched.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, sweat glistening on his brow as he rutted up into you harder now, the sound of skin slapping against skin growing louder. “Cum for me. I want to feel you gush all over this cock.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Ukitake Jushiro ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The heat of the bath wrapped around you both like silk, steam curling up and making the wooden walls sweat. Letting the hot water soak into your aching limbs while he reclined behind you, his long legs spreading just enough so you could lean between them, your back against his bare chest. His kisses had been soft at first, reverent—pressed to your shoulders, your temple, the edge of your jaw as if trying to convince himself you were real again. His hair floated around you both in the water, silver strands catching the light, his breath brushing your ear as he exhaled softly behind you.

“You’ve lost weight,” he murmured, tone gentle, fingers trailing across your ribs where the outline of your form had become a little sharper. “They didn’t feed you properly over there?”

“They tried,” you murmured, closing your eyes, leaning your head back against his shoulder, “but nothing ever tasted right without you.”

He made a soft, affectionate sound in his throat and kissed the side of your face again, slow and lingering. Then his hands grew bolder. They moved over your body like he was reacquainting himself with you—with aching purpose. He stroked along the curve of your sides, up the softness beneath your breasts, letting the pads of his fingers lightly trace the edges of sensitivity there. You shivered under the touch, sighing as he cupped them fully in his palms, the weight of them familiar to him even after so long.

“You’re so soft…” he breathed, voice thickened slightly. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

His thumbs brushed your nipples, already stiff from the water and arousal, and you exhaled a quiet, broken moan as your hips shifted instinctively. You felt his cock—already thick, warm, and solid—resting against the swell of your ass, before his hands slipped under your thighs to raise them a little higher, and with a slow, careful movement, you felt him slid into you. You gasped softly at the stretch, at the thick girth pushing inside. He didn’t move—he simply filled you, inch by inch, easing himself into your pussy like he was coming home. The water helped, made everything warm and pliant, but the ache of fullness after so long apart was still sharp and sweet.

“Gods, you’re tight,” he whispered, forehead pressing to the back of your neck. “You always feel so perfect…”

He bottomed out with a soft groan, the tip of his cock nestled against your cervix, thick and hard and impossibly deep inside. The weight of him inside you was delicious, dragging a shiver from your spine. He didn’t move for a moment, only wrapped his arms around you more tightly, his palm covering your lower belly where the bulge of his cock made itself known beneath the skin.

He knew exactly how much it affected you. Especially now, when every part of you was on edge from the absence, from the ache, from the hunger that had built up over your long separation. His hand slid down again, beneath the surface of the water, and you gasped as his fingers found your clit. His strokes were exploratory, as though he was mapping how your body had changed, how your reactions had sharpened in sensitivity. Each circle of his fingertips sent tingles up your spine, each brush across the swollen nub making your hips twitch and clench helplessly around his cock.

He moved his hips slightly then—just a little—just enough for you to feel the drag of him against your walls. You moaned softly, breath catching as your legs involuntarily tried to close, but he held you open with one arm and continued his slow, steady massage on your clit with the other. Every movement inside and out was controlled, deliberate. He knew you were sensitive—he wanted you sensitive. Wanted to feel you pulse and writhe on him, wanted to feel you lose yourself in the heat that only he could bring.

Your hands gripped his thighs underwater, your nails digging into his skin as he slowly rocked his hips forward again, barely moving but making you feel every inch of him. His breath was warm against your ear, and he murmured soft praises between kisses to your neck.

“I love how you feel around me…how you tighten up every time I touch your sweet little clit…”

Your hips jerked at the words, your walls fluttering around him as your breath came faster. He kept working that same slow, precise rhythm with his fingers, pressing a little firmer now, rolling your clit between slick fingertips while his cock throbbed deep inside. The pleasure coiled tight and sharp in your gut, building quickly—too quickly.

“J-Jushiro, I’m—” you tried to warn him, but he shushed you with a soft chuckle.

“I know, and I want you to. Come on, sweetheart… Let me feel you cum around me. I’ve missed this. Missed feeling you break.”

The sound of his voice—that voice—low and full of warmth and desire and love, was enough to push you over the edge.

You came with a choked cry, your body convulsing in the water as your pussy clenched tight around his cock, spasming through the climax as his fingers continued to roll and circle your clit through every wave of pleasure. Your thighs trembled in his hold, the wet slap of water shifting around you both as your back arched, your head pressing back against his shoulder. He held you, steady and strong, his cock twitching inside as he groaned from the feel of your orgasm squeezing him, but still he didn’t move faster.

You were panting, vision swimming slightly from how hard that first orgasm had hit, and his hands never left you. He let you come down slowly, fingers tracing lazy circles around your clit now, sensitive and swollen, while his cock remained firmly buried inside your twitching walls.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “So sensitive… You’re perfect.”

You whimpered softly, already trembling from the overstimulation, and he smiled against your neck, placing another kiss there as his hips gave a slow, shallow thrust—just enough to make your pussy flutter again in protest and pleasure.

“We’re just getting started,” he whispered. “You’re finally home. I’m not letting this body go without reminding every inch of it who it belongs to.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @kennys-partner @cookielovesbook-akie @spellboundsuguru @sovl-society @villainsrtasty @foxycrafterofgreenwood @carnationdoe

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

very short piece. running low on steam these days but i just can't stop thinking about this smirky perverted idiot 🥺🥺🥺

TW: bruises/little bit of pain, kind of smutty

"What are these from?" Shinji asked absentmindedly, poking a couple of bruises on your arm.

"Ow," you pouted. "I don't know. Training or something." You shrugged him off.

"Hmm." He continued to inspect them, grabbing and pinching your skin, rolling it between his fingers as if you were numb to it.

"That hurts!" You swatted him away. "Stop touching me."

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards ever so slightly before he jabbed his fingers into your side, making you jump.

"What are you doing?!" You half-laughed half-scolded, suppressing a smile as you caught his wrist in your hand, preventing another attack. "Why are you being so touchy?" You tried and failed to fight off the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're acting like a child."

"Yer so dramatic," he huffed, snatching his wrist from your grasp. "And bruise like a fruit." He eyed another bruise, this one on your thigh.

"Aren't you perceptive," you snorted, grabbing his hand again when he went to press the purple mark there. "Or maybe just perverted."

"I'm not allowed to be concerned about ya?" He asked lazily, grinning suggestively.

"Concerned," you scoffed. "That's what this is?"

"Sure." He nodded, reaching for your thigh again to smooth over the blemished skin. You let him. "Can't have anyone beating on my lovebug."

Goosebumps scattered across your skin where he touched and traveled up your arms. You blinked slowly at him, pupils expanding, likely into the shape of hearts. "You don't have to worry about me," you murmured.

"I always do," he admitted seriously.

When you had nothing else to say, he lowered his head, gently brushing his lips over the bruises on your arm. "Should I kiss this one better too?" He asked, circling the dark mark on your thigh.

You glanced around, anxious that someone else could walk in at any moment to catch his head in your lap. Against better judgment, you nodded.

Shinji smirked, victorious, before pushing his chair away from him to get on his knees, pressing delicate pecks into your tiny little injury. Your breath caught in your throat when his gaze lifted to yours, a silent ask for permission. He looked a little too pretty peering up at you from waist level. Without another peek at the unlocked door, you made a second bad call and nodded to him again.

Keep going.

This fic was inspired by @pinguwuuuu 's ABSOLUTELY SCRUMPTIOUS Shinji art. As evidenced by the below, it sent me into quite the h*rny spiral...

Check it out here and GO SHOW IT THE LOVE AND HYPE IT DESERVES !!!

Without further ado - TW: smut! alcohol! and Shinji himself!

You had thought a night out would be the perfect way to de-stress, but were quickly proven wrong. The alcohol didn't loosen you up in the way you intended, having the opposite effect and only winding you tighter, bringing the worst to the surface. No matter how many drinks you downed, you dwelled on the same worries, increasingly fussed over the same insecurities, and grew more and more miserable with each passing moment. If anything, the negative thoughts got louder, more pressing, drowning out any chance you had of enjoying the evening.

On top of your already awful state of mind, it seemed everything else had to go wrong as well. One of your friend's left early after getting into a fight with her boyfriend, and the other met someone who she wanted to leave with, and who were you to drag her down with you? She didn't ask twice when you told her to go on ahead, you'd be fine. You hadn't been fine the whole night, and now you waited impatiently for the bartender, who seemed keen on ignoring you, so that you could close your tab. At least this would be the end, you attempted to console yourself with that thought. No matter how long it took, this would be it, and you could try again tomorrow.

Along the wall, neon pink lights beckoned, shaped into the words, "Stay awhile." You felt mocked by them. No, I don't think I will. You were getting antsy, the snobby crowd, shitty music, and dim lighting making you dizzy and irritable. You pulled at the bottom of your tight dress, a fashion choice you now regretted in a room full of stuck-up assholes, shifting from foot to foot, eyes darting about nervously, knowing realistically that nobody was paying attention to you but simultaneously feeling as if all eyes in the room were on your lonely self. You were hoping not to have to raise your voice over all of the noise to get the bartender's attention, but this was getting ridiculous.

Just when you were working up the courage to assert yourself, there was a presence at your side, uttering such an incredibly corny pickup line, you almost thought you were hallucinating.

“Hey Doll, are ya tired? Cuz’ you’ve been runnin’ through my mind all day."

You snapped your neck towards the unsuspecting victim, ready to tell him to get lost.

Or not?

Your body betrayed your mind, coming alive at the sight of him, heart fluttering, throat going dry, and an odd churning of heat in your stomach. He looked like trouble, this stranger, unlike any other man in this bar, adorned in a satin, animal-print, button-down, belted dress pants, and a wolfish smirk. Even his sunshine blonde hair was styled into an odd cut with angled bangs that fell around his face with the way he tilted his head at you.

Pairing his eccentric looks with his equally strange and humorous greeting, you were curious about him, to say the least, curious enough to forget about looking for a bartender and to forget that you were supposed to be dejected, not captivated, ready to leave, not ready to stay. The "Stay Awhile" sign glowed brighter, pulsing, like it was laughing at you. You both loved and hated that whatever he had going on was working on you. He'd easily ensnared you, and you had to give him bonus points for being able to do so when you were in such a sour mood too.

Still, you weren't going to let him off that easy, not with how smug he looked.

"Doll?" You challenged, raising your eyebrows at him. "And how could I have been on your mind all day? We've just met."

He straightened at your stiff tone, lifting his elbow off of the bar, cheeks reddening ever so slightly under your cold gaze. "Would you prefer I call you something else?"

Cute. You almost decided to go easy on him, with how unnerved he looked.

"Buy me a drink." Now it was your turn to grin, suppressing laughter at the panic in his dark, glazed-over eyes. "Then you can call me whatever you want."

His lips broke out into another smirk, his confidence returning. "Careful," he crooned. "What can I get ya?"

You told him your usual, and he waved the bartender over smoothly. Had you not been distracted by something glinting inside of this mystery man's mouth, you would've glared at the guy behind the bar who had refused to acknowledge you this whole time but eagerly came running over to him. After he ordered himself and you another round, you interjected, asking to close your tab. Surely there was no need for you to keep it open now.

"Wish I'd've found ya earlier." He moved in closer, practically sliding towards you. "You wouldn't have had a tab to pay."

You smiled cheekily, too distracted by the glimpses of silver you were catching each time he opened his mouth. "Is that...?" You bit your lip, shyly pointing at his lips. "Is that a tongue piercing?"

"Sure is." He stuck his tongue out for your viewing pleasure, making you gasp and giggle excitedly. "Ya like it, doll? Can I call ya that now that your drink's being made, or do I have to wait till it's in front of you?"

"I do like it," you complimented flirtatiously. "I think the bartender hates me, so it may be awhile," you added, laughing sheepishly. "So I suppose it's fine to call me that now."

"Hates you?" He laughed with you. "What'd ya do for him to do that?"

"Existed. I don't know." You rolled your eyes. "I've been waiting here forever trying to close out my tab so I could go."

"He's an idiot." He downed the rest of his drink before continuing, pushing it forward along the bar. "Don't know how he, or any guy here for that matter, could ignore a pretty thing like you. Guess I should be glad I was the one to catch ya before you left, though." He smiled lazily, unabashedly letting his eyes drift up and down your figure.

You shivered under his sultry eyes, interrupted when the rude bartender returned, sliding your drinks across the bar and letting your receipt clatter down in front of you without so much as looking your way, already off to service the next stuck-up-looking schmuck. The man at your side scoffed, puffing his chest up, looking ready to say something, but you quickly signed your receipt and grabbed his attention again before he could start any sort of confrontation.

"So, are you going to ask me for my name or will I always just be doll?" You batted your lashes at him, enjoying the attention you were receiving after the shitty night you had.

You were sure that had any other man in this bar approached you the way he did, it wouldn't work out in their favor. His unconventional looks and ways were wildly attractive and made you feel special to have reeled him in without even meaning to. The girl you were now seemed entirely different from the one you were just before he came over. He hadn't even known that he had completely flipped your night upside down. You had been ready to bite someone's head off, and now, you were relaxed again, easing into your soft and feminine side when he naturally made you feel like you were the only woman in the room.

"What's your name, pretty?" He asked, clearly having a thing for all the classic pet names, though you certainly didn't mind.

"(Y/N). What's yours?"

"Shinji."

"Shinji." You nodded to yourself. "Do you use goofy pick up lines on all the girls, Shinji?" You teased.

"Only the cute ones in sexy little dresses," he teased back.

"I was actually just thinking this dress was a bit much," you confessed, subconsciously reaching to tug it down again.

"And you were trying to leave." Shinji narrowed his eyes at you. "You weren't having a good time tonight?"

"Not really." You shrugged, anxiously chugging your drink.

"How come?" He asked softly, frowning and seemingly genuinely concerned about you, this stranger.

"I've just been really stressed lately," you explained. He nodded in understanding, and you hesitated before opening up to him more, giving him a few more personal details about what's been on your mind. You avoided looking at him, taking more sips of your drink, a little embarrassed about drunkenly oversharing to him, but he was the first person to truly listen to you all night.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand.

"Where?"

"To de-stress." He smirked.

It was vague, possibly dangerous, and still, you slipped your hand into his, letting him drag you away from the bar and along the floor, heading to a back room where there were more bodies, more bass, more noise. As the space got more crowded, you released his hand, grabbing onto his bicep instead and tucking into his side. You felt him laugh against you and curl his arm slightly to squeeze you in closer.

"You're gonna make me dance?!" You yelled to him over the music, nervously observing the people near you, some with friends, others with lovers, flailing about chaotically or grinding against one another.

Your eyes widened as a girl nearby was bent over, face down, ass up, a man behind her looking all too proud. Shinji followed your gaze and chuckled.

He leaned in, inches away from your face. "Do you want to dance?"

His scent, expensive and comforting, flooded your senses. As appealing as moving your body against his sounded, it wasn't exactly what you had in mind, at least not here right now in front of everybody. You'd rather be tucked away somewhere, having to stay close to hear each other, so close where you could let that scent of his infiltrate your mind and make you forget all your worries.

"No," you said into his ear. "I just want to be close to you."

A look of surprise ghosted over his features before settling into relaxed confidence once more. "I've got ya."

He pulled you along the dance floor, through the sweaty bodies and drunk patrons, not stopping until he found a small booth tucked away in a dark corner, precisely the kind of spot for the pair of you. You shimmied your way in and he settled in next to you, thighs bumping together and feet tangling under the small table.

"So did it hurt?" You asked, resuming conversation up close so that you could hear one another, greedily inhaling his cologne.

"When I fell from heaven?" He snickered.

"We're done with the pickup lines," you scolded playfully. "I'm asking about your tongue piercing." You took a sip from your drink, eyeing him.

He shrugged. "Sure. It hurt initially, and then a little soreness after. Nothing I can't handle."

Like a pervert, you silently wondered if he had a complex, a sort of thing for pain. Maybe you'd find out. Maybe you wouldn't.

"Do you have any piercings?" He asked, nudging you, interrupting your unseemly thoughts. The tiniest bit of contact from him only had more unseemly thoughts flooding in to replace the others.

"Just my ears." You pulled your hair away from your neck to show him the couple of jewels poked through your lobes. "When I was in college, I actually went with a few of my friends to get my nipples pierced," you giggled to yourself. "My friend went first and freaked out so bad, it freaked me out. There was no way I was gonna do it after that."

"So ya bailed on her?!" He laughed at you.

"I wasn't the only one doing it with her!" You defended. "There was a third of us, and she actually went through with it and took it like a champ. It's better I didn't get them pierced. I don't think I'm that kind of girl." You blushed hard, thankful for the minimal lighting.

"And what kind are you?" Shinji looked you up and down, as if already making his own assessment.

"The kind who plays it safe," you admitted, albeit with a little bit of shame. "I'm very good at chickening out."

"You're a good girl," he said it in a way to compliment you, erasing your shame. "I like good girls."

"Wouldn't you get bored with someone like me?" You gulped your drink, a bit of your insecurity still leaking through.

"I don't get bored, no," he said seriously and finitely, taking a generous sip from his own glass. "Besides," he leaned in closer, "good girls are more fun in that way. They usually have a lot to hide, and it's quite the opposite of boring getting to find all that stuff out."

You smiled coyly, appreciating the way he was reading you, slithering in and making bold assumptions like that, bold assumptions that made you feel desirable. You needed him to know that the desire was mutual.

"You smell good," you finally told him, looking down at his lips and back up at his sharp, perceptive eyes, if you were being bold with each other now.

"So do you." He tilted his head, letting his nose just barely brush against your ear, his breath hitting your neck as he inhaled and exhaled. "Like a picnic."

"A picnic?" You laughed.

"In a field of flowers with lots of sweets," he explained, lightly brushing his lips against your neck. "Cakes, cookies, peaches, cherries...just wanna take a bite."

The wind was knocked out of you.

"Should we go?" You practically panted. "I - I mean after we finish our drinks?"

"We'll have to pay the jackass at the other bar one last visit so I can close out my tab," he sighed, "but yeah," and then smiled seductively. "Let's get out of here."

Prancing out of the bar with your hand wrapped around his bicep again felt like an act of rebellion, a resistance against the previous grievances of the night, and a defiance against your usual proper and modest ways. Maybe the alcohol was finally working in your favor, or maybe it was just that Shinji had a way of bringing out your carefree, playful, and humorous nature, your very best. You felt happiest when you were laughing, and now, as he whispered silly remarks about random passerby's in your ear and tripped over nothing and kept saying and doing stupid things just to make you grin, your face hurt from smiling so much. You didn't care where you were going, as long as it was with him, and the night that you were so desperate to leave behind had turned into one that you never wanted to end.

As expected, you ended up at his place. Like him, the inside was both suave and eccentric. He kicked off his shoes, flicked on dim lights and moved through the kitchen, going to get himself another drink as he asked your distracted self if you were hungry or thirsty, ever the gracious host.

"Water's fine," you mumbled haphazardly, discarding your heels at the door and taking in your surroundings.

He had an artfully messy collection of vinyl records, a desk with both organized and scattered papers and files, bookshelves full of fiction, history, and magazines. The furniture was dark and refined, like it was straight from an old speakeasy where they played nothing but smooth jazz and made strong, pretty cocktails. The space was a comforting combination of carefully arranged pieces and evidence that it was truly lived in. It was homey, and it was so him, spontaneous yet calculated, different yet beautiful.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting guests tonight, much less a pretty lady such as yourself," he commented self-consciously as he handed you a glass of water. "I haven't cleaned."

"No," you shook your head at him, "it's beautiful. I'm sorry for snooping around, I just really like it." You beamed.

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Mhmm," you hummed contentedly, wondering what his bedroom looked like.

He must've been a mind reader, draping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in that direction. "Well in that case, let me show you more of it."

Your mouth parted. Dark silk sheets and a large mirror on the wall, right in front of the bed, had you clenching your thighs together. His scent was everywhere in the room, like an aphrodisiac, hypnotizing you. He left your side to set his glass on the nightstand before leaping into his bed, posing on his side with his head propped up on his hand. "So, what do ya think, doll?"

You guffawed at him and clapped your hand over your mouth. "I think you're a real piece of work." You shook your head at him, suppressing a grin. "Your bed's nicer than mine is."

He was wearing a crooked, devilish smile, knowing that he was a piece of work, and you still wanted to fuck him. "Well? You coming in here with me or not?" He patted the mattress.

You bit your lip to contain your excitement, taking your time to carefully place your glass of water on the nightstand and toss your purse into a chair in the corner, just to tease him. You crawled onto the soft sheets, mirroring him and propping yourself up on your side. His eyes followed the curve of your figure, all the way down and back up, landing on your cleavage.

"Perv," you taunted.

"You love it," he practically growled.

"And what if I do?" You purred back.

"Then that makes you one too." He winked.

You fell into silence with him, eye-fucking each other.

And then the bed shifted as he moved toward you, coming to place his hands on either side of you, caging you in beneath him before dipping his head, taking your lips into his.

Shinji tasted like liquor and risky choices. You eagerly opened your mouth, taking that risk, letting him violate your mouth with that tongue of his that you were so enthralled with, curiously searching for his piercing to see what it would feel like. His knowing laugh vibrated through you, making you whine with embarrassment. He pulled away to kiss along your jaw and neck, surprising you with a lick to your throat, the jewel scraping against your tender skin and making you gasp. While he kissed and licked and sucked lower and lower, devouring you, his hand drifted up your thigh, dangerously close to where the bottom of your dress crinkled, just over your panties.

You squirmed and fussed. He was doing this purposely, dragging his piercing in between your breasts, massaging circles into your thighs but refusing to go any higher. You were not-so-subtly rubbing them together, both trying to hint to him that you needed to be touched and to create some sort of friction in the meantime. He continued to taunt you, chuckling into your chest before pulling his hand away completely, sitting up to pridefully take in your defeated state beneath him.

"You look so cute right now," he said, squishing your cheeks in his large hand. "You should see yourself."

You could hardly think of what you must've looked like right now, too infatuated with him towering over you, his pants tightening around his cock. With your face cupped in his hand, eyes glassy with carnal desire, he was giggling quietly to himself as you stared. You hadn't properly been touched yet, and you were already melting into his silky sheets.

"Come here." He released your face and beckoned with his finger.

Confused, you slowly sat up, watching him spin around to sit at the edge of the bed and nod towards his lap. You furrowed your brows before catching sight of that damned full-length mirror. You had almost forgotten about it, and how could you?! Crawling over to him, he helped you get seated into his lap, one arm wrapped around your upper abdomen, and the other above your hip, a hand resting on your stomach and another just below your boob. With your dress bunched up and almost exposing yourself, your bum was seated comfortably atop the bulge in his tight dress pants. The hand beneath your breast reached up to grab your cheeks again, directing your gaze forward where your wide-eyed reflection looked back at you. You throbbed at the sight, his manspread and the places his protective hands were positioned, your skimpy dress and cleavage littered with love bites.

"See?" He nipped at your ear. "So cute."

You sighed softly as heat simultaneously flooded into your nether regions and your plush cheeks, squished under his delicate fingers. Being forced to watch yourself get played with, it was equal parts sexy and humiliating. You were burning up in his hold, painfully aware of his erection pressing so near to your dampening panties. You dared to spread your legs a little wider, making yourself moan as you moved against him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He feigned concern.

"Please," you begged him pathetically. "How much longer are you going to tease me?"

"If ya want something from me, all ya gotta do is ask," he baited you.

You huffed. "Touch me! Please!"

"I am touching you," he murmured into your neck, squeezing your cheeks and pressing his hand into your stomach for emphasis.

"No!" You pouted, clawing at his arm wrapped around you. You grabbed his hand and put it high on your thigh. "Pleeeease," you slurred.

"You have to say it." He grinned.

You sobbed, embarrassed. "Fine! Touch my pussy!" You winced at your own words.

"Atta girl," he chuckled, amused by your discomfort. He reached for your panties under your dress. Pressing a kiss to your glowing cheeks. "Don't be so afraid to tell me what ya want. I want to hear that pretty little mouth of yours say nasty things."

You lifted your hips to help him as he dragged the fabric over your hips and down your thighs. You shook them off of your legs, watching in the mirror as they fell to the floor.

"Spread your legs," Shinji demanded.

Whiny sounds of struggle escaped your mouth as you opened them over his lap, gasping at the sight of yourself in the mirror, and at the way he was watching too. Now that he'd had you flustered enough, he didn't waste any more time, wrapping an arm back around your waist to hold you up while he reached in between your legs with the other, running a finger through your weeping slit. You squeaked at the contact, reaching up to wrap an arm around his neck for support.

"Fuck," Shinji cursed under his breath as he pushed a finger inside of your walls. "You're so wet." He groaned as he started to slowly push it in and out of you, watching your lips part and chest heave with shaky breaths. "This is why I like good girls," he reminded you. "Acting so sweet and obedient while your pussy was drooling over me this whole time, huh?"

His filthy words made you cry out. "Oh, God, yes!" You confessed. "It was so wet. I needed you so bad."

"Shit, keep talking like that, sweetheart," he panted, positioning his hand to better curl his finger in and out of you while his thumb massaged your clit.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging on the blonde strands as you made a mess on his slacks, rotating your hips into his palm. He hissed as your ass grinded down onto his crotch, involuntarily bucking up into you as he gripped your torso with fervor, trying to hold you into place.

"You're gonna make me cum in my pants, baby," he whimpered. "Squirming against me like that."

"Are these good pants?" You asked dazedly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Does it matter?" He laughed viciously. "You don't need to worry about that, just keep fucking yourself on my fingers, sweetheart."

You moaned and mewled sweetly while you obeyed him, eyes fluttering open and closed as you observed your shuddering body in the mirror. Shinji continued looking too, going back and forth between watching your flushed face and his soaked fingers moving in and out of you, your reflections making intense, intimate eye contact a few times. Each time you met his eyes, you thought you may explode right then and there. You were dripping so much that there were squelching noises coming from between your thighs, growing louder than your shared pants and moans. The way he moved his fingers and the pace he adopted had you thinking he was doing it on purpose, trying to embarrass you again with how sloppy your pussy sounded while you locked eyes with him.

"You look so pretty," he whispered as your eyes met again. "All blushy and vulnerable and messy in my lap."

"I feel so pretty with you. You're so hot," you wailed, hardly able to finish your sentence, but you knew it'd drive him crazy, hearing you spew filth. "Wanna see how pretty I look when I'm taking your dick?"

"Oh, fuck," Shinji groaned, the pace of his fingers on you and in you faltering. "Alright." He pulled his fingers from you, making you pout and protest at the sudden loss of contact, though it was your words that brought this upon yourself. "I'm about to fucking burst. Will you be a doll and lay back so I can get us out of these clothes?"

You didn't want to move, but listened anyway, clambering off of him and onto the sheets beside him. You watched him with longing and impatience, an ache growing between your legs where he was working you up only to abandon you. He unbuttoned his shirt with shaky fingers before undoing his belt, tearing it loudly through the loops of his pants. He hurried out of them, ignoring the damp patch of your juices at the groin to focus on getting out of his socks and boxers as well.

While you witnessed him undressing, his long, pretty cock springing free, your hand had mindlessly wandered back down to your heat, finding your clit to give yourself some sort of satisfaction while he made you wait. The minute he caught you, he was wrenching your hand away and ripping your dress off of you so roughly you were getting whiplash, not that you minded.

"So fucking beautiful," he muttered, allowing himself a moment to admire your nude form before manhandling you into position in front of the mirror again, on all fours where you could watch him take you from behind.

Anticipation made your legs twitch as he nudged them apart slightly, opening you up a little further to take him. "Ready, cutie?" He ran a hand down your spine, grabbing your hips.

"Yes," you moaned, before looking back at him and cheekily wiggling your hips. "Please fuck me."

"Not such a good girl now." He slapped your ass, looking pleased.

Already painfully hard and leaking, Shinji grabbed himself and entered you, starting slowly but not giving it much time before he began thrusting into you at an animalistic pace, cursing and grunting and groaning. You thought you'd be fine to take him with how much he had already prepped you, but pain tore through you as he snapped his hips against yours. Each time he speared into you at this angle, you felt as though you were being ripped apart, a swell of pressure too intense to be pleasurable repeatedly plunging into your core. You bit your tongue and squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to take the pain in hopes that it would soon turn to pleasure, but he was too big to be going this fast already.

Unable to stand it any longer, you released a yelp of pain, gripping the sheets in your fists and looking away from the mirror. "Wait! Hurts! It hurts!" You cried.

"Shit." Shinji pulled out immediately, lifting you into his arms and holding you tightly in a sort of protective bear hug. "I hurt you, baby? Tell me what I did, was I too rough?"

In his embrace, your pain faded away, only to be replaced with guilt. You knew you hadn't done anything wrong, but that insufferable, tiny voice in your head was yelling at you for ruining the mood.

"I'm sorry," you panted, looking away from his concerned gaze shamefully. "It's not your fault. It just hurts from the back sometimes."

"No, it is my fault," he said sternly, petting your hair. Speaking more gently now, "I got carried away and was way too rough with you. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you promised him, able to face him now. "Maybe we can try from this angle?" You suggested, still wanting him to pound you, especially after seeing how gentle he could be with you. "And a little slower, at least to start?"

"You sure?" His brown eyes were full of worry. "You don't need me to work you open a little more?"

"No, I still want your cock. Now," you said eagerly, gripping his arms.

"Alright." He smiled sweetly, kissing your temple with care. "Slower."

He wrapped an arm around you, using his free hand to reposition himself at your entrance for the second time. Your thighs quivered once more as you felt the tip prod your entrance, rubbing through your folds before he gently pushed back into you, filling you halfway before dragging out. He was much more cautious now, afraid to break you, and it was blissful and torture at the same time. You needed more.

"You can go deeper," you encouraged him, knowing that he was trying to be soft with you.

"Tell me if I hurt you again," he commanded before filling you up further. "You promise you will?"

"I promise," you assured.

With your word, he sunk deeper into your cunt, and at this new angle, you found it easier to take him, leaning your head back against his shoulder and whimpering into the air. You remembered the mirror and opened your eyes, watching his length glide in and out of you and your ass and thighs rippled with each gentle thrust. He whined into the crook of your neck, starting to increase his pace little by little, scanning your face for any signs of discomfort all the while. You kept nodding to him and letting him know to keep going, more, more, more, faster, harder. You let your sobs of pleasure grow louder and more shrill, struggling to hold yourself upwards as he fucked into you.

"Shinji," you whined for him.

"What's wrong?" He fretted.

"Can I," you were falling apart, finding it increasingly difficult to get the words out. "Can I suck on your fingers?"

He groaned in response, bringing his hand to your mouth and watching in the mirror as he shoved two fingers past your lips, letting you drool and swirl your tongue around them.

"Shit." He shut his eyes, tucking his nose into your neck, breathing in nothing but you. "I'm gonna cum."

You hummed with approval around his fingers. He pressed them against your tongue as he thrusted into you with more vigor now, chasing his high. Your eyes were fluttering closed over and over again, but you forced them open, wanting to watch him as he came, his hips stuttering against yours and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he moaned and groaned and took staggered breaths.

He pulled his fingers and his cock out of you, collapsing back to shoot white spurts of his seed onto his stomach, working himself empty with his hand. You crawled to his side, watching in awe as his dick twitched as if having a mind of its own. You waited until he was finished to dip your head and bring your tongue to his stomach, licking up the remains.

He made a high-pitched sound of surprise that made you giggle. Watching with wide eyes and an almost pained expression as you licked him clean.

"I think I'm in love with you," he announced breathlessly. "Lay down." Despite how exhausted he looked, he forced himself to sit up, that sunshine hair dancing around his flushed face. "It's your turn."

"I don't need to, Shinji, really." You shook your head, clamping your thighs together.

"No, fuck that." He mindlessly pushed you down into the mattress. "I'm eating your pussy until you're cumming on my face, so do as you're told and lay back."

You squeaked, head spinning as he yanked your legs apart and buried his face into your already ruined pussy. He meant business, finding your clit and sucking on it, lapping his pierced tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips were bucking wildly, already having endured so much stimulation, he had to pin you down, pressing a hand to your stomach to prevent you from lifting your hips.

It was the quietest he had been all night, aside from the lewd slurping noises, so determined to make you see stars. He didn't care how long it took, or how tired he was at having his own orgasm ripped through him. He wasn't going to stop until you'd had your fair share, pumping and curling his fingers in and out of you again.

"I - I think I'm close!" You cried to him, still twitching and squirming about in his silk sheets, at least as much as you could with him pinning you down.

He groaned against you in reply, sucking on your clit hard and twisting his fingers in and out of you at an impossible pace. Moments later, your senses exploded, ceasing to function properly. You saw white and heard static, floating in another realm until you landed back in this one, with Shinji brushing your sweaty hair from your face and caressing your cheek. He sounded distant at first, laughing quietly and kissing away tears from overstimulation.

Then you heard him clearly again. "You okay, doll?" Doll. The damned pet name that started this whole mess, Shinji's favorite thing to call you, it seemed.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Your body was cold, like all the energy you had stored had been expended. Without realizing, you were curling into him, seeking his warmth. "I'm so sleepy."

"Yeah?" He chuckled affectionately at you, his voice hoarse. It was a sound you wish you could store in a jar and take with you everywhere you went, to listen to whenever you wanted. "Me too. Ya wanna go to bed with me?"

"Shouldn't I clean myself up a bit?" You croaked, though as you uttered the words, you weren't sure how you were going to get your limp body into motion. "Wouldn't want to ruin your fancy sheets." You smiled lazily.

"Don't you worry about that," he cooed. "I'll go get a warm cloth so you can feel nice."

You watched his skinny figure half-saunter half-stagger from the bed and to the bathroom, missing his warmth already. As you lay atop his fine sheets, you had the thought that you never wanted to leave. This stranger's home had become your new favorite place, this stranger your new favorite person. Goofy, witty, protective, unique, easygoing, and definitely good in bed...you were so damn glad he used that stupid pickup line on you at the bar.

At the sound of the distant running water, you let your eyes shut, stirring only when you heard him come back, the bed shifting under his weight. He gently pulled your legs apart and cleaned up the sticky mess the both of you left behind, grinning a tad when you flinched and twitched, still sensitive and slightly sore.

He hurried away to toss the cloth in the hamper, coming back to hit the lights and throw the sheets over your naked bodies. You wasted no time finding him in the dark, snaking an arm around his chest and lifting your leg to drape across his waist. He sighed contentedly, pulling you into him and running his fingers along your side.

The gesture must've reminded him of where his fingers had been earlier. "What was that fingers in the mouth business about? You like sucking on stuff?"

"I thought we were going to bed?" You pouted, avoiding his question.

"Alright, alright," he laughed, falling back into silence momentarily.

But Shinji didn't know how to shut up for long. "Looks like my pickup line was pretty effective," he muttered pridefully.

You giggled tiredly at him. "I guess it was, dork."

"It will be a great story to tell our kids in the future," he said.

"What?"

"What?"

Shinji's wifey tag: @tomitsulikeslemons :P

how do the boys feel about giving oral?

The “I’ll put my whole face in it” crew. Enjoy giving oral just as much as receiving, if not more. They love the control it gives them, the way you react, and the satisfaction of knowing they can bring intense pleasure with just their mouth. Some do it teasingly, others with deep focus, but they all take pride in their skill and enthusiasm.

— Shunsui, Jushiro, Ichigo, Askin, Kisuke, Grimmjow, Bazz-B, Shinji

These men approach oral with precision, patience, and dedication. They see it as an art, taking their time to learn what works best. They may not be overly expressive or playful, but they are thorough and meticulous, ensuring that you’re fully satisfied.

— Byakuya, Jugram, Uryu, Aizen, Ulquiorra

For them, giving oral isn’t just an act of pleasure—it’s a statement of dominance or focus. They don’t do anything halfway, and when they go down, it’s either aggressive, unrelenting or deeply consuming. There’s no teasing, only raw power.

— Kenpachi, Yhwach

Enjoy making oral into a game. Whether it’s dragging things out, stopping right before the peak, or keeping you squirming, they find pleasure in the reaction they get. It’s all about teasing, pushing limits, and making it last.

— Gin, Hisagi, Renji

They are more than willing but aren’t the type to be overly eager or intense about it. They’ll give oral when you want it, enjoying it for the pleasure they provide rather than for their own. They may not be the most adventurous, but they put in the effort where it counts

— Starrk, Kira, Toshiro (adult), Ryuken

Imagine bleach men trying to seduce shy reader and they end up flustering her, but they were able to successfully turn her on

A/N: What a prey and predator situation that they’re gonna eat up 🤭

It’s a game for them, and their favourite. Flirtatious words dripping effortlessly from their lips, laced with innuendo that leaves your breath hitching. Their smirks deepened when they noticed the way your fingers fidgeted, your gaze flickering away in shy desperation. Yet they were patient, brushing fingers along your wrist, tilting your chin just enough to force you to meet their gaze, ensuring you felt every ounce of their attention. By the time they were done, your body betrayed you, warmth pooling low in your belly as their smooth voices and lingering touches lit a fire in you.

— Shunsui, Gin, Shinji, Aizen, Kisuke, Askin

They’d complimented you in ways that felt intimate, and sincere, whispering about how stunning you looked when you blushed, how endearing it was when you grew flustered under their gaze. A stray touch to your hand, a light brush of fingers against your cheek—subtle gestures that sent shivers down your spine. Their approach was gentle as if allowing you to adjust to their affection. You could feel your heart hammering, the warmth of their lingering touch leaving you craving more.

— Jushiro, Byakuya, Kira, Starrk, Ryuken, Uryu

They won’t hesitate to close the distance, arms caging you in as they smirked down at you, eyes flickering with challenge. “You always get this shy when I’m this close?” Their teasing was bold, hands gripping your waist, fingers brushing exposed skin with deliberate intent. Every reaction from you, from the nervous dart of your eyes to the way you pressed your thighs together, only fed their hunger. By the time they were done, you weren’t just flustered—you were practically melting against them, your arousal unmistakable.

— Ichigo, Renji, Grimmjow, Jugram, Kenpachi, Bazz-B

They’ll watch your reactions, gauging every flicker of emotion in your eyes. A simple, softly spoken question—“Why do you look away?”—sent a rush of heat through you. Their touches were light, purposeful—fingers brushing along your wrist, a palm resting against your lower back, pulling you just close enough to feel the warmth radiating from them. You weren’t sure when your body started reacting, when your breathing became shallow, or when the tension between them became suffocating, but by the time they finally whispered your name, you were trembling with anticipation.

— Ulquiorra, Yhwach, Hisagi, Toshiro (Adult)

Based on this wonderful request from my baby girl @tomitsulikeslemons !!!! DADDY SHINJI (literally)

🤰

Somehow, you knew there was new life growing inside of you. A woman's intuition, you supposed, but the positive test result in front of you confirmed it.

You were pregnant with your husband, Shinji Hirako's child.

At this verified discovery, a flurry of emotions hit you at once, and you began to sob. Overwhelmed, you sank to your knees in the bathroom as you tried to comprehend what this meant, your world flipped upside down without the need for your husband's zanpakuto. You were ready and you were not, excited and terrified, confident and insecure. One moment you were smiling, crying happily and laughing through your tears, and the next your brows were furrowing together, worry tugging at your heart that what if you weren't a good mother? What was going to happen to you now that you were going to be responsible for another human? Were you a bad person for thinking these things? No, you were happy. So, so happy. Putting your hand on your belly, you hadn't met your child yet, and you already had so much love for them, more love than you had for anything or anyone else in this world.

And speaking of love, Shinji, you breathed, your silly Shinji, your other half, the father of your child, what would he think?

You had talked about having children with him, so the concept wasn't entirely foreign, but you weren't exactly trying per se. He never disapproved of the idea, but this was sure to be overwhelming for him too. How would he take this?

He'd been so busy as a Captain now, you hadn't even got around to telling him that night. Or the next. It wasn't until the third night that the truth became too heavy for you to carry on your own.

He was being stupid and oblivious, too busy thinking with his dick and trying to get you out of your clothes. The kind of behavior that got you in this situation in the first place, he initially didn't notice your anxious mannerisms.

But your dearest wasn't a complete moron as so many thought of him. Observant, sensitive, and intuitive, when he snaked his arms around you from behind, you felt him still.

"Wait a minute," he whispered before spinning you around to face him, pressing a hand into your chest to confirm his suspicions. "You're shaking, and your heart's racing. Sweetheart?"

The jig was up. You tried to smile, but it came out crooked and frightened. It only made his face further contort with worry.

"I have something to tell you," you confessed timidly.

Shinji frowned deeply and released you. "Oh, shit. Please don't divorce me."

You couldn't help but scoff at him. "You dork! I'm not going anywhere!" He always had a way of making you laugh when you needed it most, but you couldn't keep putting this off. You exhaled shakily, "actually, it's quite the opposite..."

The poor, confused bastard. He raised an eyebrow at you, not quite following. "The opposite? The opposite..." He narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Shinji." Exasperated, you grabbed the hand he dropped from your heart, splaying his fingers over your stomach. "I'm pregnant."

His narrowed eyes shot open, brightening at your words. He looked at your tummy, as if he'd already find a bulge there, then back up at you again, then back down, then back up. He was being so quiet, your man who normally never shut up, it unnerved you. You were raising your eyebrows at him expectantly, needing him to say something, anything.

Then he was kneeling before you, putting both of his hands on your stomach, in disbelief that his child, his, was growing somewhere in there. "No way," he breathed, smoothing his palms over the surface of your torso. "You're pregnant? Really?" He looked up from where he knelt, his sharp features gone soft.

"Mhm." You nodded, smiling gently, his softness contagious.

Shinji looked at your belly again, gasping in disbelief, processing your words. His silence again worried you, made you reach for his hair and tangle your fingers through it, hoping to get his attention.

He shot up from where he knelt, startling you, scooping you into his arms and spinning you around in a flash, whooping and hollering maniacally. He placed you back on your feet to hug you and deliver sloppy, innocent smooches all over your face, smothering you.

He pulled back, panting, holding you by your shoulders. "I knew I was a sharp shooter, but this - this!" He shook you, laughing. "Holy shit! I'm gonna be a dad! I'm really gonna be a dad!" He chanted, grinning wide. "And you!" His voice broke off as he curled a hand around your jaw, looking utterly soft and kissable again. "Oh, my little mommy! My sweet baby's havin' a baby! My baby's gonna be a mommy!"

Emotion exploded almost painfully in your chest as you were reminded of that fact for a second time. You were going to be a mother, and him a father. The father of your child. The statement didn't seem true, but alas, it was. His excitement made tears spring from your eyes all over again. Your lip wobbled but strained into a smile as you joined in his laughter. He understood the weight of your emotions, pulling you into his chest in a suffocating embrace to sob it out. He rubbed your back and thought aloud over and over again, "I'm gonna be a dad. We're gonna be parents."

You stayed in his arms for a long time, standing there, and then in bed, relishing in the comfort and safety you felt when you were with him. You were grateful your child would grow up to experience the same, to be loved and protected by someone so special. When you were finally calmed down enough, he had something else to say.

"I'm gonna be such a dilf."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🍁๋࣭ ⭑🍂༘⋆

The seasons were different, more meaningful, as your baby grew through each of them. The rest of the autumn and holiday season was special now that there was an impending addition to your family. As the leaves fell and the weather changed, you were reminded of the change happening within you. You frequently made and shared cozy, nourishing meals and treats with Shinji, spent more time cuddled up with him rubbing your belly and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as the evenings got darker and colder. Quality time spent with him was more frequent, slower, more deliberate.

At holiday festivals with your friends, you and Shinji had to find ways to cover the fact that you weren't throwing back drinks as you normally would, being that the pregnancy was still only in the beginning stages and you had yet to break the news to them. You were never alone, your husband always at your side, careful, calculating, safeguarding.

"Oh, she's not feeling well tonight," he'd speak for you, protectively slinging an arm around your shoulder and tugging you into his side, glaring at the person prodding you.

On the occasion that he let you respond, you'd save yourself with something as simple and uncomfortable as "ah, I've been putting on some pounds recently, and I'm trying to cut back on the extra calories," pretending that you were ashamed of your growing stomach when really you were elated.

"Yeah, you are looking a little more filled out these days," Soi Fon replied impassively when you told her this, making your jaw drop despite the fact that you were mostly lying.

"What the hell does that mean?" You had to pull Shinji back from getting into an argument with her, nervously laughing it off and excusing her blunt nature.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Then came the harsh winter, and you didn't mind so much being stuck indoors this year. You enjoyed staying at home with your little bun in the oven, taking long, warm baths, lighting candles, asking Shinji to bring you home whatever you were craving that day. You were actually starting to fill out now, and so you shared the news with a few close compatriots in the new year.

"Oh, congratulations!" Orihime beamed, hugging you, holding your hand, and talking your ear off about motherhood, being that she already had a little boy with Ichigo.

"Yeah, congrats." Ichigo smiled in agreement, proudly slapping Shinji on the back. "Little scary that Hirako's gonna be a dad, but congrats!"

"HEY!" Your husband frowned.

Rukia asked you about the gender as she watched her own little girl playing with Renji, if you had a preference for a boy or girl. You explained that you and Shinji agreed to let the gender be a surprise, coming up with a variety of names should your child be a boy or girl. You'd both be happy no matter who your child turned out to be, gracious that you were even blessed enough to have a child at all, or so Shinji told you. For every boy name he came up with, there were 3 more girl names. You never nagged him about it, but you had the inkling he wanted to be a girl dad.

Now that people were starting to find out, he was increasingly going all "dad mode," as he called it, not caring who was around to witness it. Shinji always had a bit of a protective streak, but now...you couldn't so much as step outside without him rushing to your side, holding your hand or arm to help you along.

"You could slip on ice!" He'd reason.

"My love, it's nearly fifty degrees out today. There's no ice."

You couldn't blame his overprotective behavior much. You were going through a lot of behavioral changes as well, much worse than anything he was.

For one, you had become incredibly needy for him. It was odd. You'd thought you wouldn't want to be touched being that you were swelling up, but on the contrary, you were constantly in heat, begging for him to satisfy you no matter the place or time.

"You sure you want this? What if I accidentally poke junior?" He'd grin and tease you.

"You're big, but you're not that big, Shinji. Just fuck me already."

"Ouch. So impatient, momma," he tsked. "But I guess I've got to take care of my wife, don't I?"

And for another thing, you were a rollercoaster of uncontrollable emotions, especially the more your pregnancy progressed. You were constantly snapping over the smallest of irritants or bursting into tears over minor inconveniences, like the day Shinji brought you a tray of sushi in an attempt to cheer you up after you were already having a particularly difficult day.

"You idiot! I can't have sushi!" You shouted at him, heated with fury over such a small matter and with the effort it took to fight off tears.

"Ah, forgot about that." Shinji scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, dumbly.

It made you explode, a cascade of waterworks streaming down your cheeks. Another thing that had changed was how much softer he was with you, if it was even possible for him to get any more so, despite how bitchy you had been. So then you were crying because of your hot-temper, hurt curling around and squeezing your heart at the helpless way he looked when you yelled at him.

"I'm being so mean to you! I'm so sorry! I'm a horrible wife!"

"What?! No!" He'd pet your hair and kiss your tears away. "If anything, I deserved it. I am an idiot for getting you sushi. Wasn't thinkin', doll. I'm sorry."

Shinji had learned a lot of patience through the months, and it made him a better man in every aspect of his life, not just at home. He was never the most tightly-wound, but he had mellowed out considerably as he took care of you and his unborn child each day, growing into a gentle guardian before you had even given birth.

"He's been so calm lately," Momo informed you over lunch one day. "Training has been a lot less strenuous. Everyone on the squad keeps joking that they hope you stay pregnant forever," she giggled.

"Glad I could be of help," you giggled along with her.

˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧💌˚.⋆🌿

When the spring came, you were much bigger, getting ready to blossom just as the season was. As it got warmer and sunnier, Shinji made a show of shading you wherever you went, protecting your sensitive skin from the sun, and on those stormy days, he stayed inside with you, making you comfort food and falling asleep with his head in your lap as you read aloud or listened to music, introducing your child to the art you loved so much.

The fickle weather reminded you of your inner world, the way one day you'd wake up sunny, full of joy and love and readiness to meet your baby, and the next, stormy, full of trepidation and worry and unpreparedness, fretting constantly over the questions you had been asking yourself since day one: Will I be a good mother? Will I be able to handle this? Am I a bad person for being so afraid? For feeling so unprepared? Should I be doing more?

Shinji was always there to listen and coax you out of the storm, massaging your sore back as the rain fell outside, he'd confess his own worries.

"I feel the same way," he'd say. "Some days, I feel on top of the world, like I can do anything, and fatherhood won't be any different, but other days, not so much. I'm anxious about being a good father too.

"But we're in this together." He placed his hands over your stomach in the shape of a heart. "And I know you'll be a great mother, so why shouldn't I be a great father too?"

"You will be a great father. You already are," you assured him sincerely.

Your baby stirred inside as if to say, "yes, he is! Yes you are!"

"OH, OH! SHE KICKED! SHE KICKED!" Shinji shrieked, feeling around in hopes of catching another flurry of movement.

"She?!" You laughed excitedly.

"Or he. I don't know, it just slipped out." He chuckled abashedly.

You smiled knowingly to yourself. "Maybe she's excited about hearing her daddy talk so sweet."

"Yeah, maybe." He smiled.

𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Now came summer, and you were about to pop. It was as if an eternity passed and simultaneously, no time passed at all. You were changed and you weren't. You remembered the day you found out like yesterday, feeling almost exactly the way you did that day, but more matured. One thing was for sure, no matter how scared you were, you were ready. You'd never felt more ready for anything in your life, bursting with love and impatience, needing to meet your child, whoever they were, whoever they'd become.

Shinji felt the same way, and he had become equal parts amusing and annoying as you approached your due date.

"You think today's the day?" "How you feelin'? How's our girl...or boy?" "What was that?! Are you having contractions?!"

You laughed at him. "No, I just stubbed my toe."

You surprised yourself with how calm you were even though you were soon to be ripped open. Sitting outside under an umbrella next to Shinji, you were sucking on a popsicle, enjoying the hot day when there was a faint cramping sensation in your abdomen, so light, you hardly noticed and ignored it.

But then it was there again several minutes later, a little more noticeable this time. You straightened in your seat, which caught Shinji's attention, always on high alert.

"What is it?" He asked urgently, staring at your large, round stomach.

"Just a little cramping." You forced a smile.

He gave you a pointed look.

"I don't think we should panic yet. My body's doing funny things all the time." You waved a hand dismissively. "And I haven't finished my popsicle."

It was barely a moment later, Shinji hadn't even a chance to retort, that you were straightening again, gasping as pain shot up your back, making you drop your popsicle.

Your husband shot to his feet. "We're going," he demanded, pulling you up to stand. "Better safe than sorry."

The last thing you saw before being ushered away was your popsicle melting against the concrete, leaving a red stain. And it was a good thing, that he was permanently in dad mode, stealing you away from your quiet day and your treat, because you were indeed going into labor.

The long hours that followed were a fast-paced blur. The peaceful summer day was suddenly bursting with feeling and noise, the cold air conditioning inside the hospital fighting against your sweaty skin, strange sensations and haziness. You could hardly process what was going on, blinded with pain, the only person who grounded you was Shinji, your rock. He sounded distant, but he reminded you over and over again that he wasn't.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

All the pain, the damage inflicted on your body, the blood, sweat, and tears, it was all worth it the moment your baby came out, and your life had finally changed for the better, a love like you had never felt before truly coming to fruition as reality shifted in front of you. You'd do it all again. You'd take this feeling, this unconditional love, and bottle it up to carry with you forever if you could.

"It's a boy!" The doctor cheered.

When you finally got to hold your baby boy, nothing else mattered. The entire world was in your hands, so fragile and so precious that it made you sob uncontrollably in your exhausted and delirious state, cooing to him as he cried, talking to him and telling him how beautiful he was, how much you loved him.

It was extremely rare that Shinji ever cried, and now, there were silent tears streaming down his face, in shock that he played a part in creating this beautiful, little boy. Like you, he knew this was the epitome of love in the flesh before you. You both knew the moment you saw him, you'd do anything for him.

Shinji, who didn't get to have his baby girl (yet), was so in awe of his little guy. He held him with a tenderness and reverence unlike anything you'd seen, crawling into the hospital bed with you to cuddle up as a real family. He took care of you, softly as usual, as you came back to health, and he cherished every little moment of this newborn stage, chattering nonstop to the nurses, the doctor, to you, to friends, to family, anyone who would listen about his son, his son!

"I'm in love," he confessed as he held the tiny boy at home for the first time.

"So am I."

Your son started to bob his head against Shinji's chest, looking to be fed.

Your husband passed him over to you with a smug grin. "Oh yeah, he's a ladies man for sure. Just like his daddy." He winked.

Motherhood was everything you imagined and somehow everything you hadn't all at once. Your son had challenged you, changed you, shaped you in ways you couldn't explain. You were constantly tired yet always finding it in you to go, go, go, constantly stressing but somehow relaxed as ever, knowing this was exactly where you were always meant to be.

And Shinji, he was a fantastic, eccentric, loving father, as you had no doubt he would be. Hearing him playing with your little boy and the sounds of your baby's laughter quickly became your favorite sound in the whole wide world. Your heart swelled each time you saw Shinji twirling him in the air or blowing raspberries into his chubby belly. He was a new man, matured, with quiet strength and so much affection to give, one you were so deeply in love with it was incomprehensible.

He had become great around children generally, not just your son. On play dates with the little Kurosaki and Abarai toddlers, the children would chase your husband and pull his hair and roar with laughter at his quick wit and goofy antics. You rested easy knowing your son would grow to live a vibrant life with lots of love and laughter, never a dull moment with Shinji's playful nature.

You'd never been happier, and you were grateful for every day, every moment, even those filled with stress and struggle and challenge. You continued to grow and raise your son, both happy and sad at how beautiful it was to witness but how fast it happened. Shinji bought him a toy sword and you imagined him years and years from now, with a zanpakuto of his own, getting into dangerous battles, and you already fretted over your baby boy. He'd get taller and stronger, but he'd be your baby forever.

You mourned the loss of previous baby stages as he hit each new milestone, consuming food besides milk, starting to babble, walking, talking, learning new things and amazing you with how smart he was. It was bittersweet, but it wouldn't be the last time you got to experience it as you witnessed that positive test result for the second time.

"Ready to do it again?" You asked your husband with a grin, so much changed already from the last time you told him you were pregnant, shown in the very way you revealed this to him.

"Of course I am, mommy!" Shinji lifted your son in the air. "Of course we are!" Your little boy giggled and cheered, though he didn't know yet what he was cheering for. "Though I do have a request for how to do things differently this time round..."

"And what is that?" You giggled.

"When we can, we find out the gender." He raised his eyebrows hopefully.

"You still want a girl, don't you?" You came forward, kissing your son on the cheek.

"I love my mini me so much obviously," Shinji nuzzled him affectionately, "but yeah. I do."

"Then a girl we'll have." You kissed your husband.

And you did.

(read part II with baby girl here !!!)

some quick Shinji fluff so you can all go to bed and have sweet dreams about him tonight <3 no Sunday scaries round here (there still definitely are but i am doing my darnest to ignore them)!

You woke with a gasp and a pounding heart, disoriented at being ungracefully torn from your slumber. The last bits of the traumatizing scene your subconscious invented plagued your mind, making you tremble.

At your side, Shinji stirred awake. Sometimes, it was if you shared a body. When you were in distress, he felt it. Your terror woke him just the same as it did you.

"What's wrong?" His voice was hoarse from deep sleep. He was on you immediately, slender fingers delicately finding your face in the dark to cup your cheek. Your frame against his, he could feel you trembling, and that was all the answer he needed. "It's okay, you're okay. I'm here. I'm right here," he cooed, his hand pushing your head into his chest, hugging you tightly to still your shaking.

You curled around him, your teddy bear, finding comfort in the softness of his bare skin. You buried your face into his chest, inhaling his scent, feeling his steady heartbeat, basking in his warmth. All the while, he stroked your hair, breathing slowly in and out, staying calm to encourage you to do the same. He pressed kisses into the top of your head, anything and everything to make you feel at ease again, to remind you that he was here, and that as long as he was, you were safe.

He reminded you of that. "You know I won't let anything hurt you."

"I know," you chirped, reflecting on the nightmare with a shiver. "It was just so scary. It felt so real."

"I know," he affirmed you, fingers tangling in your hair protectively. "But it wasn't. This is now. I'm real, and I'm better than that shit."

You giggled into his chest, squirming affectionately in his hold. "You are."

"I'll kick your nightmares' ass." You could hear the lazy smirk in his voice. It made your heart flutter, how you adored him.

"I don't think that's how it works."

"I'll make it work."

After that, you didn't need him to do any nightmare-ass-kicking. You slept soundly, thinking of his sweet words and wrapped in his warm embrace, knowing that you'd always be safe as long as that's where you were - with him.

What would the bleach men think if you told them you wanted a collar on?

These men would smirk or chuckle, finding your request both entertaining and enticing. They’d probably (definitely) tease you about it, making playful remarks before giving in. Whether they saw it as a mark of ownership, or just something fun, they wouldn’t hesitate to go along with it—likely making a show of fastening it around your neck themselves followed by some remark, “perfect little pet, all dolled up for me. All mine.”

— Shunsui, Gin, Kisuke, Askin, Shinji, Bazz-B, Grimmjow

These men would take the request seriously, seeing it as an act of belonging—whether to them specifically or as a statement of devotion. They would personally acquire a collar designed just for you—their insignia on it—and fit your status in their eyes. They might not outright voice their possessiveness, but the way they handled the situation—adjusting the collar to sit just right, ensuring it suited your appearance—would make their feelings clear. “You were made to wear this. Perfect.”

— Byakuya, Jugram, Aizen, Ulquiorra, Yhwach

They’d be more reserved in their reaction, tilting their head in curiosity before ultimately nodding in approval. Their acceptance wouldn’t be rooted in possessiveness but rather in the idea that if it made you happy, they saw no harm in it. Some might ask for your reasoning out of simple curiosity, while others would quietly admire how it suited you. Starrk, in particular, would appreciate the casualty of the gesture rather than the meaning. “You look lovely, the colour suits you well. I hope you’re comfortable.”

— Jushiro, Kira, Hisagi, Starrk, Uryu, Toshiro (Adult), Ryuken

They wouldn’t put too much thought into the deeper meaning behind it. If you wanted a collar, fine—who were they to argue? Ichigo and Renji might turn a little red if the request implied something intimate, but they’d ultimately agree, especially if they saw how much you wanted it. “Can’t believe you actually want this? Can’t I just get you a necklace or somethin’?” Kenpachi, on the other hand, would grin and make some offhand remark about it looking good on you before moving on with his day.

— Ichigo, Renji, Kenpachi

Feed us some shinji smut (and angst) 😻😻😻🙏🙏🙏🙏😭😭😭😭

All I have now are wilted flowers.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader; Aizen Sosuke x f!reader (platonic relationship);

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, angst, betrayal, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, morally grey reader, turn back the pendolum arc, blood, manipulative reader, toxic behavior, psychological manipulation (Aizen vexing the reader), unhealthy codependency (the reader is deeply attached to Aizen);

Plot: looking back at your relationship with Captain Hirako, you could not help but ask yourself: was it ever really love, if the night your brother supposedly sacrificed him, you did not step in to save him?

Luscious, silky strands resembling the warm rays of the sun curtained you off from the rest of the world. His breath was labored, his jaw clenched and his slender fingers were digging into the tender flesh of your wrists with such a brutal force you would have not been surprised to spot crescent marks on them the following day. You drove him crazy. When you were around, the Captain of the Fifth Division stopped flaunting and dropped to his knees to worship every inch of your skin. You made him desperate for your attention.

And you loved it.

The formal power imbalance between you two was actually reversed. You were the fourth seat of his Division, he was your Captain, he should have held some kind of authority over you. Sadly, he did not. You had him wrapped around your finger, crawling to you like a madman, begging you for nights of passion in his chambers. You were his safe haven.

And now, as you let him smash his lips against yours, tongue lapping at your mouth to open it, you knew damn well who was in control between you two.

“You know, I can’t wait to replace your surname with mine. — he uttered, hands skimming down your abdomen to reach your core, pressed against his knee — Mrs. Hirako sounds pretty good, don’t you think?” he crooned, moaning at the sight of your juices leaking over his rotula. You were a sight to behold.

His words should have made your heart thrum in your chest. The man you loved had just revealed his intention to make you his wife. Too bad you had buried your feelings and humanity so deep in your chest you had no idea where that stupid organ, keeping you alive, was wallowing in despair. There had been a time in your life, when you had genuinely loved him. It did not cost you any effort flirting with Shinji, hanging out with him hours past the curfew to wait for the dawn together, sipping saké on the rooftop of the Fifth Division.

You had cherished your first kiss with devotion for months, you had rejoiced that he never forgot to send you a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers at your dorm every Monday morning.

And then you had told your brother that you had fallen for your Captain.

Since that day, you had not been the same anymore. Your bond with Shinji was a strategical move. Sosuke had told you he was glad you had experimented such a strong feeling for someone but, for your own good, it would have been better if you guarded your heart from the pain of the future loss. Shinji Hirako, your Captain, your Shinji, had to die.

And, after leaving your brother’s office that evening, you had died too.

You did not share your brother’s thirst for power. Surely, however, you were terrified of losing him. If you did not partake to his plan, he would have probably risked his life. Choosing between your own flesh and blood and the man you loved broke you. Eventually, though, you chose to protect yourself. No more feelings, no more love. You could make the most of the time with Shinji without compromising your brother’s plan. You would have forced yourself to see the love of your life as a mission to accomplish.

And that fool in love did not notice anything off about you. When he kissed you, you melted in his arms the same way you did, when you first sealed your fate on his thin lips.

“Let me be on top” you suddenly whispered, shoving him off of you and flipping him over, watching him eagerly laying on his back.

Shinji did not protest, his hands gliding up your hipbones, cupping your waist to balance you on top of him with care. You took a hold of his cock, the tip leaking with precum, as you delicately rubbed your thumb over it, diligently smearing the translucent substance all around the pinkish head. How many times had you done that for him? Too many to count, but his reaction remained the same. He groaned, eyes rolling in the back of his skull, whilst he spasmodically buckled his hips up to get your attention.

He needed you and he would have needed you every single night of his life. As you pumped his shaft in your hand a couple of times, his half-lidded eyes locked with yours and, in that moment, you knew. You knew he would have always looked at you the same way he was doing now: enamoured.

He loved you. And he would have loved you forever, even if you were going to twist a dagger in his heart and push his rotting corpse in Hell, where Captains belonged.

You took a sharp intake of air, as you lined his cock to your entrance, gradually lowering yourself down to let his girth part your walls. Was there something real in what you were doing? Yes, there was. But you indoctrinated yourself with believing it was just physical pleasure. You were ensnaring your own senses in a bottle, tossing it far away for you to never be able to reach it again, to uncork it and breathe in the true essence of love you had been deprived of for years now, for the sake of your brother.

Shinji grunted, hands squeezing your ass as he watched you rotate your hips sensually above him. You were the gooddess he believed in, the only woman who had been able to rip his chest open and surgically remove his heart. How could he not trust you to look after it for him?

“What do you think?” he asked you, foreteeth sinking onto his bottom lip, when you set up a quicker pace, riding him as if you meant it. And maybe you did. Or maybe not. But how could he know you were not the same girl who had told him ‘I love you’, more than a decade ago, in a old hay loft you had found shelter from the rain in, or that you were not the shy, young girl who wrote little poems for him to read before falling asleep?

You moaned under your breath “About what?”.

“How does Mrs. Hirako sounds to you?”.

“Like a dream”.

He pushed himself up, pressing his forehead against yours, lips chasing your glossy ones in feverish kisses “Then marry me”.

You did not have a heart anymore. There was a hole where it was supposed to be, right? Then why did you almost feel that stupid organ skip a beat in your chest. You were better than that. You were not the type to fall for heartwretching words like these. You could not fall for Shinji Hirako, the goofy Captain of the Fifth Division, all over again.

You smiled against his lips, kissing him back, avoiding answering because it was easier to let him believe you were too emotional to say something else than shuddery breaths and moans. He did not let you rest, though. Shinji thrusted upwards, cutting your breath off, before sliding one arm around your waist to keep you firmly archored to him.

“Don’t you dare ignoring what I said” he rasped out, watching your mouth part in obscene cries of pleasure he was eliciting with his rough, steady thrusts, preventing you from moving freely. You were at your limit and he knew your body language. He was close too and you could see it in his eyes, pupils dilated, and in the way he hissed when you reached your climax.

“When? When should I marry you?”.

“Now”.

You chuckled, shaking your head tiredly “Don’t be ridiculous”.

He bit down softly on your jawline, nuzzling his nose down the curve of your neck “Then tonight. Meet me in my dream. I will make you my wife”.

When he suddenly pulled out of you, spilling his seed down on your belly, you wondered if he would have said the same thing again, had he be knowing what would have happened that night. But you could not care about it, not when telling him not to leave his barracks would have meant betraying Sosuke.

You kissed him, one last time, passionately, ignoring the lump in your throat when you provided him the only answer he had been anguishing to hear from you “I’ll be there”.

And you were there. Hair neatly combed, eyes clouded over in a mixture of apathy and dread, as you rested your hand on the hilt of your zanpakuto, you stared at the horizon in trepidation. They were coming. He was coming.

Everything was going according to your brother’s plan. Tosen was standing a few feet away from you, silent, as Sosuke and Gin approached you two. There was no need to say anything. His caramel eyes lingered on your face in pride, a faint smile gracing his lips to praise you for your service. You had worked hard for the sake of your brother’s plan. For a better future. You had proved yourself worthy to follow him, to be a member of his deranged, secret society. His docile, sweet sister, the little girl who always followed him around, who trusted him blindly in every decision he made, even when they lived in the Rukongai. Maybe, this was the reason why you had given up on your happiness to see Sosuke triumph over the system.

Sosuke had always been right. He had to be right this time too.

“I will leave him to you” Sosuke said then, before ambling off to hide himself, as soon as he heard fast footsteps approach the area. Then you felt it. Captain Hirako’s reiatsu, strong and comforting at the same time, rained down on you. You flash-stepped a few feet ahead, meeting your opponent midway, hand hastily unsheathing your blade and holding it upfront, the metal shining ominously underneath the moonlight.

When the Captain halted right in front of you, your grip on your sword intensified. Face to face, standing on opposing sides for the first time ever, you witnessed to the way fear contorted his face. Had you been summoned to investigate too? He could swear he had not heard your name leave Captain Yamamoto’s mouth. Not even your brother, his Lieutenant, had been sent to look for the missing members of the Ninth squad.

“What are you doing here?” he hesitated, but you did not flinch, or budge to reply. His words remained unheard. Shinji could not believe his eyes. Your silence was the unequivocal proof you were involved in whatever phenomenon was happening in the Soul Society.

Shinji straightned his back, hand reaching for his own weapon, but his movements seemed somewhat not as determined as they usually were during a fight.

He was used to handle ferocious Hollows and belligerent Ryokas, not you. Not his reason to be a better man. Nothing made sense. Not your cold eyes, your defensive stance, the droplets of dried blood on your cheekbone and clothes.

Where was his darling?

“Answer me!” he shouted, just as Lisa and the Captains of the Third and Seventh Divisions joined the battlefield with horrified and disortiented expressions plastered over their faces. Still, the broken one, the man having an existential crisis was Shinji. You were not close to the others, but you were close to him, you were his woman. The one he loved. You should have cared about his opinion on you.

At your refusal to dignify him with an explanation, he lost his mind. He charged towards you, eyes filled with sufferings, regrets, whilst he swung his sword towards you. Stepping aside, you let the Hollowfied Lieutenant of the Twelfth Divison clash with him.

A groan of pain, blood splattering on the ground, you watched your lover fall on his knees with a thud, hand clutching his injured shoulder. There were tears in his eyes, fury in the way he screamed up at the sky, desperate, as he watched his other companions being tossed around and knocked down by the former Captain and Lieutenant of the Ninth Division.

“Why?” the words were thrown at your face, his voice uncharacteristically raw, as you turned your back at him to leave space to your cunning brother. You did not want to answer. Mostly, because what you had done was unforgivable. Probably, if he knew who really were, he would have deemed you unlovable too. But this was a misconception. He wanted to understand, he demanded answers, he would have forgiven you, if only you gave him the chance to.

As a coward, though, all you did was looking up at the sky. A single tear running down your cheek as you left him for a century with words meant to torment you more than they did to him “I won’t apologize for having ruined your life. But I do hope that you won’t hate me forever”.

As if he would have been able to hate you at all.

When you headed back to your dorm that night, the first thing you set your eyes on were the flowers he had gifted you last Monday. Monday, right. What day was it again? Monday, the bloody, forsaken Monday. Everything had come to an end in a matter of hours. Those were the last flowers your beloved Captain had donated to you, to help you remind you of him, to be the symbol of your love, of your once flourishing feelings. What remained now of your love?

Nothing.

He had left you with nothing, but a bunch of wilted flowers that still smelt like him.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Your queen of angst is back. I have hurt my goofy potato, I’m sorry. Still, someone had asked for him to suffer and I have gladly delivered this. Hoping you have enjoyed the meal, I will wait for your feedback. Likes, comments and re-posts are appreciated!

Love,

Luce.

Credits for the dividers: @cafekitsune

Tags: @villainsrtasty @milapurr @suzanlucky @cloudyempress @pinguwuuuu @my-my-my @darthwhorecrux