Drabble, I Had This Random Thought For About A Few Months, But Didn’t Want To Make A Plot For It Lol.

Bleach men catching you flirting (smau) 𐚁

warning: smut, explicit content & language, 18+mdni

featuring: kenpachi zaraki, shunsui kyoraku, shinji hirako, mayuri kurotsuchi, jushiro ukitake, aizen sosuke

Kenpachissluut writes ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

hmmm how Shinji is gonna cheer Kisuke up

​employed full time at the sweetest girl in the whole world factory

Grimmjow… is a cookie thief. Short imagine or scenario. Can be Hueco Mundo, World of the Living or even the Seireitei.

Thanks for the lovely ask! I'm sorry it's taken me so. damn. long! So, it's turned out that Grimm isn't the thief here, but it's Grimmjow smut so I know you won't mind. 😁

Thanks to the wonderful @villainsrtasty for beta reading! @kryptoniteforsale @cloudyempress @darthwhorecrux @whatshernameis @writemessybleach

This is part 1 of 2.

PART TWO HERE! CW: Female!Reader, Grimmjow being Grimmjow, marking/hickies, one or two bites, hand on neck but no actual choking, very light spanking, oral sex-male receiving, vaginal fingering, doggy and missionary sex, cream pie, "claiming" if you squint, pet names (princess/kitten) and one instance of reader getting called "good girl". (This covers both parts of the fic!)

Grimmjow and the Cookie Thief pt 1 (~5.2k words)

You’d been able to see things no one else could since you could remember. After moving to Karakura Town to begin University classes, that skill had gone from fleeting glimpses to a full-blown ability to see the unseen. That’s why, when your upper floor dorm room was rendered uninhabitable by Kurosaki’s fight with a nasty hollow, Kisuke Urahara had been very quick to offer you a part-time job and temporary lodging when it was obvious that a standard Shinigami memory replacement device was not going to work on you. Needless to say, it was proving to be an interesting semester.

“Don’t even think about it, Grimmjow!” Ichigo said, yanking the bag in his hand out of Grimmjow’s reach and shoving the rest of the cookie he was holding into his mouth. “Inooeh made ‘ese ‘er me!”

You snickered as Grimmjow lunged for the small paper bag in Ichigo’s hand and an impromptu game of ‘keep-away’ broke out. You unrolled the top of a similar looking paper bag and inhaled deeply, your eyes rolling back a little as the smell of freshly baked cookies- ordinary double chocolate chunk you were relieved to see- filled your nostrils. You delicately picked one out of the bag as you watched the two men running around Urahara Shōten’s large subterranean training ground like idiots. Your eyes were glued to their shirtless forms as you took a bite of the cookie, half moaning at the taste. “Seems like someone is really enjoying their lunch break,” Your boss’s knowing voice came from over your left shoulder, making you jump. You could hear the smirk in his obnoxiously cheery voice which was made more obnoxious by the way he was now chuckling at you from behind his fan. “Perhaps I should start charging admission.”

“Is that really necessary, Urahara-san? You coulda made me choke, sneaking up on me like that,” you grumbled before taking a drink of water to wash down the bits of cookie trying to stick to your back teeth. You turned your attention back to the blue-haired former Espada. You watched as Grimmjow tackled Ichigo, who had deftly grabbed his last cookie from the bag a split second before Grimmjow shredded it into paper confetti. You took another bite of your cookie, unable to stop the little hum of appreciation and the following sigh of contentment. “Was that in response to the cookie or the Arrancar? I’m guessing the latter could probably get a stronger response,” Urahara murmured from just behind your ear before giggling and side stepping the elbow you threw at him before it could connect with its intended target. You glared at him over your shoulder, shoving the rest of the cookie into your mouth. He just smiled at you from behind his fan with saccharin sweetness… from a safe distance.

“Yeah, well I didn’t really want any of that cookie anyway. The stuff that woman of yours cooks always smells funny,” Grimmjow huffed. You turned back around to see the two men, sweaty and dusty, walking back in your direction. “Hey, watch it, Grimmjow!” Ichigo said sharply. “Say whatever the hell you want about me, but don’t run your mouth about Inoue or I’ll beat your ass again.” “Tch! When d’ya ever ‘beat my ass’?” Grimmjow shot back, then mumbled, “That one time doesn’t count. That bastard Nnoitra decided butt in.” Ichigo just looked at him, brow arched. You pulled the remaining cookie from your bag as they walked up. Grimmjow was giving the treat in your hand the side eye while very much pretending not to as he leaned down a few feet in front of you to pick up his jacket. You took another drink of water, contemplating breaking the cookie in half and offering some to Grimmjow when that damnable shopkeeper spoke up again. “Ah~! Looks like someone is interested  _______-san!” You just rolled your eyes as you swished the water around in your mouth. “If you’d like to eat _______-san’s cookie, I’m sure she would be happy to let you if you ask her nicely, Grimmjow-san!” Urahara called in a too innocent sing-song manner. Your eyes went wide and you clapped your hand over your mouth as you spluttered and coughed, struggling to swallow the rest of the water in your mouth without drowning yourself. Your eyes darted over to Ichigo and Grimmjow. Kurosaki was pulling his shirt on, his face bright red as he tried to look anywhere but at you or the Arrancar. Grimmjow, on the other hand, was now openly staring at the cookie in your hand. You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks all the way up to the tips of your ears.

“Welp! Lunch break is over!” you announced, a little to loudly, while leaping to your feet and shoving the entire cookie into your mouth and ignoring Grimmjow’s startled ‘What the fuck?!.’ You turned and sprinted for the ladder leading up to the shop, then began to climb like you were being chased by a serial killer. You were about halfway to the top when Grimmjow’s voice floated up to your ears. “Fuckin’ pervert!” This was followed by a very satisfying shriek from your boss.

The sun was just setting when you put the last of the dishes away. It was your night to clean up after supper, much to everyone else’s delight. Kurosaki and Grimmjow had been trying to beat the crap out of each other down in the underground training area for the better part of the evening, but after the incident from a couple of days ago, you steadfastly refused to go watch them no matter how much your boss tried to talk you into it. You dried your hands, then grabbed your water bottle and the little paper sack off the counter and headed to your room. This time, you were going to enjoy the cookies Inoue-san sent for you in peace and quiet.

At least you thought you were. You hadn’t been up there five minutes and there was a very loud knock at the door. You furrowed your brow, scowling at the door as you finished pulling on the little shorts you always slept in. “Just a second!” you hollered, pulling your tee shirt back on as a second volley of impatient knocking rattled your door. Clothing in place, you stomped over to the door and slid it open. “Look, Urahara-tencho, I’ve finished everything, so whatever this is about, it can wait until tomo— Oh!” You interrupted yourself with a surprised yelp as six feet of blue-haired Arrancar muscled his way past you and into your room without preamble or invitation. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, mouth ajar as he stood there, examining your space with interest. His eyes landed on the little bag with the familiar bakery logo and he quickly looked away, shuffling his feet and turning those intense blue eyes on you. “Gr- Grimmjow! Umm… I, ah… Is there something I can, uh, help you with?” you finally managed, your hand still on the open door. “You weren’t there today. Why?” he demanded. Your eyebrows rose in response to his terse question. He’d actually notice your absence? A few little butterflies took wing inside your stomach at the thought, but you firmly ignored them. “I- I had extra things to do today,” you lied, smiling weakly. You could tell by the look on Grimmjow’s face that he wasn’t buying it. “I mean, I have school and today was my day to wash dishes and clean the kitchen and there was stock and—“ Your babbling was cut off by Grimmjow’s towering presence looming over you as he slid the door shut with a clack. You blinked, and your breath caught in your throat at his sudden nearness. You were alone in a room with a being that could end you in less than two seconds and all you could think about was the way he smelled– the scent of his styling products plus something nice that you couldn’t place– and how much you wanted to reach up and touch the markings under his preternaturally blue eyes. He was making it very difficult for you to focus as he stared down at you with one brow cocked, silently calling your bullshit. “Okay, l-look, Grimmjow, I just needed a break. I didn’t feel like being harassed by my boss tonight.” That part was true at least.

“So it ain’t got nothin’ to do with those cookies?” Grimmjow tossed his head in the direction of the bakery bag sitting on your night table. “C-cookies?” you squeaked, a mental picture conjured by Urahara’s perverted sense of humor and Grimmjow’s presence in your bedroom floating to the forefront of your mind unbidden. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. Other places… not so much.

“Yeah. Cookies,” he said shortly, the tiniest bit of color gracing his cheeks as he remembered Kurosaki’s mumbled explanation of Urahara’s double entendre and why you had seen yourself out so abruptly. “As in those cookies,” he clarified, pointing this time. “You know, the ones ya been stealin’ from me for the last month. “Wait. Wha-? Stealing?!?” He seemed amused rather than angry, and your indignant response only served to widen his cocky smirk.

“Yeah. Stealin’. So I came to take what’s mine.” Grimmjow took a step closer to you, standing so near that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You took a step back, unsure if it was prompted by fear of the Arrancar or the fear that you might do something stupid, like reach out and run a finger over the scar that disappeared beneath his half zipped top. “Kurosaki’s woman used to bring somethin’ for both of us… ‘til a couple of weeks after you showed up.” “Oh.” You weren’t really sure what to do with that information. “So... you think that I’m taking your cookies?” You scrunched up your nose, feeling that this whole situation was bordering on ridiculous. “But I never really see Inoue-san! She always drops them off with…” You grit your teeth in sudden realization, then looked up at Grimmjow. From the look on his face, he’d come to the same conclusion. “Urahara!” “That pervy bastard!” you both growled in unison. You both looked at one another for a moment, then you sighed heavily and turned to retrieve that bag of cookies. Your fucking boss had been giving you the cookies just to start drama. “I’d like to say I’m shocked by this… but I’m not,” you grumbled. You held your arm out toward Grimmjow, bag in hand. “Here. I’m sorry for the confusion.” “Tch! The fuck you sorry for?” Grimmjow was glaring daggers at the door, his ire clearly reserved for your boss, you were relieved to note. He stopped trying to bore a hole through the walls with his eyes long enough to look down and unroll the top of the sack. There was a look of mild surprise on his face as he fished out two cookies and held them out to you. “There’s four. Here. Take ‘em,” he ordered, practically shoving the chocolatey treats into your hands. The next thing he fished out of the bag was a small piece of paper, a note. Grimmjow squinted at it, then turned it upside down and squinted some more before thrusting the paper into your face. “Read it. I can’t make out that pervy bastard’s handwriting.” In truth, Urahara had very neat, precise handwriting, which meant Grimmjow probably couldn’t read all the kanji. You wisely kept your suspicions to yourself and took the note. “ _____-san~!” you began to read aloud. “By this time I’m sure you have company, so I’ll keep it brief. I normally wouldn’t resort to such trickery”— you snorted at that statement — “but your presence in the training grounds seems to be quite the distraction for Grimmjow-san—“ Your eyes darted up and caught the murderous look on Grimmjow’s face so you quickly continued. “—and I fear that you will strain your eyes during your increasingly long breaks, so I thought it best to arrange for the two of you to have a private meeting so you can...” Your eyes scanned ahead and you stopped reading aloud abruptly, your face going bright pink. “I’m gonna kill ‘im,” Grimmjow growled. “Not if I get to him first,” you ground out between clenched teeth as you tossed the cookies and note onto your nightstand. You stalked past Grimmjow and reached for the door but were brought up short by Grimmjow’s hand wrapping around your arm. “Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?”

“To kill my boss,” you said between clenched teeth. “Okay. Maim. I need the paycheck,” you corrected, pulling against his grip.

The ‘Tch’ was all the warning you got before Grimmjow yanked on your arm, pulling you face first into his chest. For a moment, all you could do was blink in startled astonishment and rub your nose. Your mind immediately noted how solid he was, and how warm, much warmer than you’d expected for some sort of… ghost or spirit or whatever. Your thoughts took a hard right turn toward the gutter, and you could feel the heat creeping into your cheeks. You fervently hoped that they weren’t as pink as you felt like they were because you realized that he was saying something, meaning you had to look him in the face again any second now. “… ‘cause you can see him don’t mean you can take him in a fight, so you let me handle your boss.” Grimmjow’s words carried their typical condescension, but you could swear that his tone was a little protective. You shuffled back a step, mouth half open to protest, but it snapped shut again as your head was tipped back by Grimmjow’s finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Pay attention when I’m talkin’ to you, woman, or I-” Grimmjow arched a brow at you, not bothering to finish his sentence as he studied your face, a wolfish grin breaking out at the sight of your flushed cheeks.

“Heh. What’s a matter? Your face is all red,” he taunted, his voice dropping to a rumbling baritone as he leaned down to put his face closer to yours. “N-nothing’s wrong! Except that you have me by the arm,” you huffed, your face giving Grimmjow the lie by turning a deeper shade of red. You half-heartedly tried to jerk your arm out of his grasp, a futile gesture you knew, but your pride demanded that you at least make a show of it. Truthfully, you really weren’t all that invested in getting away, not that you were going to let him know that. He’d just be an insufferable arrogant ass about it any time you came down to watch him face off with Kurosaki. “You’re a shitty liar, ya know that?” Grimmjow’s grin had expanded into that feral sort of look he got during a spar. You swallowed hard. Part of you knew you should be terrified of that look. However, most of you found it incredibly sexy, and right now all his attention was on you. All your attention was on him, too, and you just couldn’t keep your eyes from dropping to his lips. It was at this point that the absence of his bone mask finally registered. It was a sight you’d never seen before, and you were intrigued. Before you could stop yourself, your hand was halfway to his cheek. You paused, wide eyed and moved to pull your hand away, but Grimmjow had you by the wrist with his other hand before you could. “Gigai,” Grimmjow said in response to your unspoken question. He walked around you, easily turning you with him. “But forget about that. Now tell me, what should I do with a little thief like you, hn?” His voice carried a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Grimmjow leaned down a little more, his brilliant blue eyes boring into yours. “Th-thief?! What do you mean, ‘thief’?!” You protested, your indignant words coming out in a much higher pitch than you would’ve liked. You tried to lean away from him, but only succeeded in losing your balance so that Grimmjow was holding you upright by your arm and your opposite wrist. You didn’t even realize he had been walking you backward until your calf hit the mattress as you stepped back to try and catch yourself. You didn’t think your eyes could go any wider, but they did.

“I mean, I think I deserve a little something to make up for all the cookies you stole over the last few weeks.” His smirk made you want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both. Definitely both.

 “That wasn’t my fault and you know it!” you shot back instead, turning your head to the side and tilting your chin in a dismissive manner. “Besides, I’ve watched you try to steal Ichigo’s cookies for the last three weeks, so isn’t that a little hypocritical?” “Pfft. I definitely do not want Kurosaki’s ‘cookie.’” Despite what you might say about Urahara, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of your mind that lived in the gutter. You didn’t even try to hide your snicker at Grimmjow’s comment.

“You sure about that? Not that Kurosaki-san has a cookie for you…”

“Oi! Your as bad as that fuckin’ boss of yours, ain’t ya,” Grimmjow growled, now completely up in your face. You had nowhere to go unless you wanted to end up flat on your back on the bed. ‘Might not be so bad…’ the dirty part of your mind suggested helpfully.

“Ya know… that might not be such a bad trade, a cookie for some cookies,” Grimmjow said as if reading your thoughts. He was openly leering at you now.

“I- What?!?” you squeaked.

“Ain’t like I don’t see the way you watch me.” Grimmjow smirked down at you.

“O-of course I watch the fights! It-it’s like… li-like free pay-per-view!” you stammered, too flustered to come up with anything better. Grimmjow obviously wasn’t buying it because his smirk only grew wider.

“Well I sure as fuck don’t see you drooling over Kurosaki.”

“Of course I don’t! He has a girlfriend!” You belatedly realized that you only denied ogling Kurosaki when Grimmjow leaned down to chuckle right next to your ear. Your traitorous body shuddered visibly at the feel of his breath ghosting over the side of your neck. “Heh. I think you’d like that trade more than you’re willin’ to admit,” he whispered in a velvety sort of tone, one that you had never heard from him before. Hell, you didn’t think Grimmjow had it in him to be that… smooth. That was probably why your breath hitched when his hand slid over your shoulder and up your spine until he had a firm grip around the nape of your neck. “Gr-Grimmjow?” You could feel his nose brush your temple as he inhaled your scent. “Holy fuck. You’re fucking serious aren’t you…” you blurted out in disbelief.

“The fuck? You think I wasn’t?”

You didn’t have a chance to answer his question before his mouth was fastened to yours in a demanding kiss that left no doubt about the sincerity of his ‘offer’. Your gasp of surprise left Grimmjow the perfect opening to slide his tongue between your parted lips, his fingers tangling in the back of your hair to tug your head back to a more favorable angle. At first, you couldn’t do anything but let Grimmjow kiss you, but once the shock wore off, you found yourself giving back as good as you got. By the time he was done kissing you breathless, you had one hand under the collar of his jacket, holding onto his shoulder for balance and the other around his waist, fingers splayed out over his back. You felt Grimmjow twitch, like a cat who was getting a good scratch down its spine, and it dawned on you that your hand was over the spot his hollow hole would be if he weren’t in the gigai. With a wicked grin, you flexed your fingers to see if that would get the same result. “Dammit, woman!” Grimmjow growled. Oh! That was certainly a nice response! You did it again, but that was one time too many apparently. Before you could blink, you were on your way down to meet your mattress with Grimmjow looming over you, his knee between yours on the edge of the bed.

“Yes or no?” Grimmjow demanded, “Better tell me ’cause you keep doing shit like that, I’m gonna take it as a yes.” “Yes or…? Oooh. Right. A cookie for cookies,” you breathed. ‘Holy shit… is this really happening?’ you thought. Your mind was reeling. ‘Yep, it’s happening... Say something to him, dammit! Don’t blow it!’ You gave yourself a mental shove, then with the most innocent face you could muster, you let your fingers trail down his spine again. “You mean ‘that shit’?” Your cheekiness prompted Grimmjow to pin your wrists over your head in one of his hands. “Okay, Okay! Yes! Deal!” you hastily consented. “Good girl,” Grimmjow practically purred, nipping at your ear. He continued his way down, lips and tongue and teeth teasing the side of your neck until he reached your collarbone. There, he let his teeth scrape along the sensitive skin before sucking on the spot hard enough that you knew it was going to leave a very obvious bruise. “Ow! What the fuck, Grimmjow?!” you yelped. He chuckled darkly and tugged on the neckline of your shirt to work his way along more of your collarbone, not bothering to give you any other response. He left a few more love bites along the way, but always soothed them with his tongue before moving along. The gentleness of the gesture caught you off guard the first time, making your breath hitch in an embarrassingly loud fashion. You waited for the inevitable teasing from Grimmjow… but it never came, only a low sort of rumble as he reached the limit of how far your tee shirt would stretch. “This one of your favorite shirts or anything?” Grimmjow asked. The sudden questions made you blink. Why the hell was he concerned about your fashion sense now, of all times? “Huh? I mean, not real— Wait! No, Grimmjow don—“ The small part of your brain that was not yet occupied with Grimmjow finally caught up with the situation, but it was too late. The sound of ripping cloth drowned out your strangled cry of protest as he stuck the hem of your shirt between his teeth then used his free hand to give it a good yank, ripping it all the way up to the collar. With a feral grin, he leaned down and caught the collar of your ruined shirt in his teeth and popped it apart the same way. “Was that really necessary?!” you almost shrieked, more from shock than any real outrage. “You tell me,” Grimmjow murmured smugly, his lips already against your neck. He worked his way down and across your other collarbone, leaving patches of colorful flesh to match the other side. By the time he reached your shoulder, you were struggling in his grasp, unable to hold still and unable to completely stifle the little whimpers he drew from you with every new mark he left on our skin. “Hmm, not bad.” Grimmjow smirked as he leaned back to admire his handiwork. You took a look at yourself and groaned. “Grimmjow!” you whined. “My pervy boss is never gonna let me live this down!” You got no sympathy from him; he thought it was funny as hell. “Not my problem,” he said dismissively, reaching down to give your nipple a pinch through your bra. You yelped, and Grimmjow grinned wider. You had a feeling that you’d be making that noise a lot and were immediately proven right as your other nipple got equal attention.

“Who taught you to treat a lady like that?!”

Again, Grimmjow only chuckled at your indignant squawking. “Good thing you ain’t a lady. And don’t gimme that look. You got a mouth on you to put Kurosaki to shame,” he pointed out, running a finger under the edge of your bra. The bra did happen to be a favorite. “Don’t you fucking dare Grimmjow! That one is expensive!” you barked, trying to spare any more of your clothing from getting shredded. “The clasp is right there in the front. Here. Just let go of my hands and I’ll get it,” you offered, wanting the use of your hands, not just to save your bra from becoming a pile of scraps, but also to peel him out of his jacket.

“Nice try sweetheart,” Grimmjow practically purred, his grip on your wrists tightening fractionally. Well, at least he popped the closure of your bra open instead of tearing through it. One out of two wasn’t bad, you supposed. Worries about your bra or the use of your hands or anything else were shoved straight out of your head as Grimmjow wasted no time in reaching up to palm one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze. “Oh shit!” The word slipped out before you could check yourself and Grimmjow arched a brow at you, his trademark smirk still plastered on his face. “Like that, do ya?” he asked smuggly. “Ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” With that, Grimmjow let his head drop to your chest, his mouth closing over the tip of your other breast with a single hard suck before he began teasing the hardened peak with his tongue. His hand left off its soft massaging in favor of using his fingers to torment your other nipple, alternating between circling it with the calloused pad of his thumb and rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He mirrored these motions with his mouth, licking and sucking with the occasional scrape of teeth and a corresponding sharp pinch to match. You seriously wished you had an arm free to throw across your face because there was no keeping your mouth closed around the clipped moans and soft gasps you were making. You squirmed under him, pulling against his hold on your wrists again with no better luck this time than the last. “Ah! You could at least… mmnh!... take off some clothes,” you whined between the naughty little noises you were trying to hold back. Grimmjow lifted his head to look you in the eyes, snickering openly as he leered at you.

“Hmn. Somebody’s soundin’ a little desperate.” His tone had a mocking edge that made you want to slap him. You tugged against his grip on your wrists on reflex and his grin widened.

“Bastard,” you huffed under your breath, jaw clenched in frustration. His grin widened when your words were followed by a sharp intake of breath as he gave your pebbled nipple a hard pinch.

Grimmjow leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dropping half an octave as he practically purred, “Aww, what’s wrong, kitten? Mad that you can’t use those claws of yours?” He squeezed your wrists just enough to make his point; he was the one in control. “Hmn. Might be more fun to let ya.”

With that, he went after your neck again, but this time he was less interested in marking you up and more interested in working his way back down your body with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, stopping to lick the curve of your breast before lifting his head again just long enough to shoot you another one of his trademark smug smiles.

Grimmjow knew exactly what he was doing to you as he dropped his head and latched on to your other nipple, sucking hard before swirling his tongue around it. Your back arched off the bed in a manner he found most satisfying, for all that you were trying to act unaffected. The feel of him lapping at your already over sensitized nipple wrung a high-pitched whine out of you that you couldn’t quite repress. This turned into a gasp as his hand followed the line of your ribs, warm palm caressing your belly with a gentleness that surprised you as it dropped lower. Then his fingers curled under the waistband of your little pajama shorts and he gave them a sharp yank, pulling them down to your knees without even lifting you up. So much for gentleness.

You watched the expression on Grimmjow’s face change as he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes glued to the damp spot on your panties. He took a long, slow breath through his nose, and his entire expression shifted to something less smug and more… hungry.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. You followed his line of sight and felt yourself turning a nice shade of tomato red, but that didn’t keep a smug grin of your own from creeping onto your face. Before he could get his hand back to its intended destination, you took advantage of his moment of distraction to plant both of your feet squarely in the middle of his chest. “The hell, woman!” he growled, clearly not happy about being blocked from his next meal. “Ditch some clothes,” you insisted defiantly, despite Grimmjow still pinning your wrists firmly to the mattress. You toed the zipper on the front of his outfit. “Oh, come on!” You cringed inwardly at the whine in your words, but went on anyway. “If I’m giving up my… uh, cookie, the least you could do is give me something nice to look at!” “Tch! You sayin’ I’m not nice to look at like this?” he goaded, making a grab for your ankles with his free hand. You were just quick enough that he could only grab one of your feet. If he wanted the other one, he would have to let go of your wrists. You ignored his attempt to ruffle your feathers and gave him a lazy smile as you ran a foot over his abs lightly, right where his hollow hole was when he was out of his gigai, never mind that teasing him like that is what had gotten your arms pinned over your head in the first place. “Dammit, woman!” Grimmjow growled, trying to evade your touch, but he couldn’t exactly get out of your reach without letting go of you, and he wasn’t ready to admit defeat. You weren’t sure if you were brave or just stupid to taunt an arrancar this way, but in the moment it hardly mattered. You ran your foot over his abs again, this time bringing it all the way back to the center of his chest where you once again poked at the zipper with your toe. “Please?” You pasted on a doe-eyed expression. “I promise I’ll be good,” you added in a sugary whisper, leaving it open to interpretation whether you were referring to behaving well… or performing well. Grimmjow snorted. “I bet you will.”

PART TWO!

i've got some for him too 😈

HELLO MY SWEETS!!!!!!

Your Shinji fluff was SO good that it inspired me to be GREEDY and ask for MORE!!!! (Only if you're able and when you have the time, of course!!!)

Listen and hear me out; what about Shinji finding out reader (aka wife aka all of us lol) is pregnant?!?!?! HOW WOULD SHINJI ACT AS A NEW DAD I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I'm hoping you can tell me! Eek!

OBVIOUSLY if you don't want to write this for any reason, that is A-Okay!!!! I just figured I'd shoot my fanfic shot! 🫡💘

I can't wait to see what you do! Talk to ya later, tater!

MY FIRST REQUEST EVER FOR MY FAVORITE MAN 😭 IM SO EXCITED AND SO HONORED. OF COURSE I WILL WRITE THIS!! I'M SO HAPPY YOU DECIDED TO SHOOT YOUR FANFIC SHOT

and this is such a sweet concept 🥹 thank you for your cute idea, my love <3 i'll let you know when it's posted :D !!!

The sound is me whenever I see him

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

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😭😭😭

(Not that I always haven't been) but I am hyperfixating on Shinji HEAVY lately

And I just had a couple of martinis there is so much shiz I am about to post about my glorious king YAYYYYYYYY ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡