Hirako Shinji Scenario - 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.

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.”

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