POV: You are a world-renowned researcher and the long-time lab rival of Urahara Kisuke. After a brutal breakup, you’re completely down bad — slacking on your work and trying to use high-level equations to figure out if science can cure a broken heart. Until a certain scientist breaks into your lab to knock some sense into you. His way.
The glowing blue hue of a spiritual monitor is the only light illuminating your desk. For three days, you’ve ignored the Gotei 13's frantic notifications. Instead, you’ve been running complex algorithms on the neurochemical residue of a severed romantic bond, desperately trying to code a digital patch for the agonizing ache in your chest.
You let out a hollow laugh. You’ve mapped the flow of reishi in the Dangai, yet you can't solve a simple emotional fracture.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The obnoxious sound of a wooden cane hitting your pristine glass doors shatters the silence. You don’t even have to look up to recognize that lazy, mocking spiritual pressure.
“Look at you. What an embarrassingly unscientific display,” Kisuke Urahara drawls, leaning against the doorframe in his ridiculous green-and-white striped bucket hat. He steps into your sterile lab, the wooden clack of his geta sandals echoing loudly until he stops right beside your chair, peering over your shoulder at the monitor.
“Get out, Kisuke,” you snap, your voice raspy from lack of sleep. “I am conducting a legitimate inquiry into the physiological degradation of emotional severances.”
“You’re throwing a tantrum in a dark room. Let's call it what it is,” Kisuke corrects smoothly.
Before you can fire back a witty retort, he reaches out with his cane and deliberately hits the main power switch on your console. The screen cuts to pitch black, plunging the desk into shadow.
“Turn that back—”
“Quiet.”
The playful, childish merchant persona drops in an instant, replaced by the cool, terrifyingly sharp mastermind hidden underneath. He uses the curved handle of his cane to gently lift your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up. Through the shadow of his bucket hat, his grey eyes are intensely focused, evaluating every inch of your exhausted face.
“I didn’t spend the last century fighting you for the title of the sharpest mind in existence just to watch you atrophy over a mediocre variable,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, devastatingly attractive register as he traps you in your chair. “Someone left you. Mechanically speaking, they lacked the capacity to process your value. So why are you drowning in the residue of an inferior product?”
Your heart hammers violently against your ribs — not from the breakup, but from the sudden, suffocating weight of his proximity. “The system is malfunctioning, Kisuke. I just need to isolate the anomaly.”
Kisuke lets out a low, gravelly chuckle that sends a shiver straight down your spine. His hand slides from the back of your chair to the nape of your neck, his fingers warm and possessive against your skin as he leans down until his lips are inches from yours.
“Then your methodology is pathetic, my dear rival,” he whispers, a dangerous, breathless smirk brushing against your skin. “You don’t cure a broken heart by staring at the wreckage; you overwrite it. An old bond is just code. It can be purged. It can be replaced by a devastatingly superior force. Now, are you going to keep whimpering over a broken circuit, or are you going to let a true master take control of your system?”
Why are the men that kill people (in fiction) just naturally hot?
couldn't tell ya but im going to use this ask as my opportunity to spread final fantasy xv propaganda, specifically for the latest fictional killing man of my desires
everyone say hello to the garbage pail man, ardyn izunia
for my sephiroth enjoyers, he's like if sephiroth never used any shampoo while he showered. or if he never showered. and also if he was like a vampire. but not actually a vampire. and also if he had the bubonic plague
he's an interesting antagonist because he's the vehicle for square enix's stepping kink. this guy stomps on multiple people just to assert his dominance. with pov camera angles too
in the guide book there's even a little doodle of just his boot on his page. no other character gets this
this is a discussion to be saved for an email to square enix.
there's also a whimper/moan audio of him that drags on for a full minute in his dlc. he even calls one of the characters "a good boy" at one point
and of course he kills people
weird stuff and weird guy. square enix is so crazy. who would even be into all that? only a real weirdo would be. i can't think of a single person who could be the target audience haha
anyways. everyone play ffxv right now. peak gaming. if you like being a boy and running around midwest USA with your boyfriends then this game is for you
summary: As Head Captain, Shunsui Kyoraku is expected to marry for political duty, a fact the noble clans are eager to enforce at tonight's high-society matchmaking gala. His solution? Bringing his brilliant Third Seat as his "date" to completely disrupt their plans. It was supposed to be a flawless performance of fake affection to keep the elders at bay. But between an unconventional crimson dress, a breathtaking shunpo ride through the twilight, and a sudden reality check in a moonlit corridor, the lines between duty and desire don't just blur - they completely shatter.
word count: +6700
“This is utterly absurd, Captain!” I say, barely containing my rage. Those honeyed eyes look at me with deceptive nonchalance. “Why should I be the one tangled in this messy diplomatic mission?”
“Your wit is the only shield sharp enough to keep those elders at bay, my dear.” Kyoraku’s voice lingers in the room, smooth as silk.
I am left speechless for a hot minute before regaining my composure. I wouldn’t, I shouldn’t, I cannot.
I had woken up in a state of sheer desperation this morning when my Denreishinki began buzzing for what seemed like the third time in a row. For a split second, my sleep-deprived brain tried to connect the dots, coming up with every possible nightmare scenario to explain why anyone would contact me at that unholy hour. Stepping out of bed, I practically lunged toward my maple desk. The moment I answered, the Captain’s drawl vibrated through the small speaker. He had urged me to his office immediately, and when Shunsui Kyoraku actually uses the word urgent, you don't walk. You run. Thank God Nanao wasn't here to see me slide into the office half-dressed. She would have had a panic attack.
“Under no circumstances, sir. I am not suitable for such a grandiose mission. Apologies, but I must refuse,” I say confidently, bowing my head to seal the finality of my words.
He sighs, slowly rising from his chair. His feet carry him lazily across the floor until he is standing directly in front of me, his massive frame completely eclipsing the morning light. A sudden, traitorous warmth blooms in my chest, my pulse spiking at his proximity. I try stepping back, only for the back of my knees to hit one of the heavy wooden chairs in front of his desk. Trapped.
Before I can duck away, his hand reaches out. His calloused fingertips gently catch my chin, tilting my face upward and forcing my attention away from the escape route of the door and directly onto him.
“Please, bella. Just this once,” he pleads, his gaze dropping to my lips, heavy-lidded and entirely too sincere to handle.
“After the gossip starts, it won’t be just this once, Captain…” I breathe, my voice betraying the very composure I'm fighting to keep.
He opens his mouth to say something; however, whatever it was, he decides to keep it to himself. I take advantage of his momentary silence to excuse myself and practically bolt out the door. No way. There is absolutely no way I am attending a formal banquet with the Captain Commander.
The moment I step out of his office, a cold breeze hits my flushed skin. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. As I pace back to my own barracks, my mind is racing, my body still tingling from the ghost of his touch. By the time I sink into my office chair, I am leaning back, closing my eyes, wishing for nothing more than the privacy of my quarters and a vibrator to relieve the intense, frustrating heat he just left me with.
But peace is a luxury I don't get today. Later that afternoon, the doors to my office snap open, and Nanao corners me before I can even look up from my paperwork.
“Explain.” Her voice leaves absolutely no room to argue.
I clear my throat, adjusting my posture to hide my guilt. “Care to elaborate, Lieutenant Ise?”
“You know what I am talking about. I am not asking a second time.”
I take a deep breath, my fingers anxiously playing with the hem of my yukata. “I am sure there is nothing worth debating, Lieutenant Ise. Just a request that cannot be fulfilled given the drawbacks. There must be another way to—”
“If he asked you, he would refuse anyone else,” Nanao cuts me off, her sharp gaze cutting right through my defenses. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“I am quite lost, Lieutenant…”
“Screw it.”
With that, she turns on her heel and storms out of my office, slamming the shoji screen shut and leaving an unsettling, heavy quietness behind.
I thought I would fall asleep instantly the moment I came in contact with my soft sheets. What a terrible mistake. I completely jinxed myself. It is 2 AM, and I am still tossing and turning in my bed. I have to be at work by 7—five hours of sleep won’t cut it. The Captain keeps filling my thoughts, consuming my mind until I finally give up, drag myself out of bed, and head for the bathroom. I take a long, warm shower, using a thick dildo to desperately chase away the tension. Gentle moans erupt in the small space, muffled by the water splashing against the tub.
Yet, even after cumming twice, the release brings no peace. That deep, raspy voice of his, the profound tiredness in his eyes that he always tries to hide behind a smile, the phantom warmth of his calloused hand cupping my cheek... it all lingers. Frustrated, I rise from my bed and aim for the kitchen; an iced tea has always been my remedy for sleepless nights. Since my overstimulated mind has completely snatched away my sleep, I might as well use it to my advantage. What better way to exhaust myself than by filling out tedious reports in the dead of night?
Blame it on my lack of sleep, but my clumsy hands stumble against a heavy pile of files, sending them cascading across my desk. I swear under my breath, dropping to my knees to gather the scattered papers. As I try to clean up my own mess, a stray document catches my eye – a copy of a letter hidden inside a folder bearing Nanao’s official signature. I check the back for any notes, but find nothing.
Leaving the rest of the mess on the floor, I move to my sofa, my fingers trembling slightly as I slide the document out and begin to read.
My throat goes completely dry.
While it still doesn't fully make sense why I am his specific choice, it is suddenly crystal clear why both he and Nanao were so desperate to get me to attend this banquet.
This wasn't a standard diplomatic invitation. It was a formal letter of recommendation. For a political marriage.
I pace the room, debating with myself for over an hour. By 3 AM, the sheer weight of the situation eats away at the last of my energy, and I crash out right there on the sofa. But my mind is made up. At 7 AM sharp, even if the bags under my eyes are darker than usual, I make my way straight to the Captain’s office.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” I say, half out of breath from practically sprinting through the barracks.
For the first time in a very long while, a genuine, unburdened smile spreads across Kyoraku’s face. “I don’t want to force you, my dear—”
Before he can finish, I walk right past his defenses, rounding the heavy mahogany desk. Maybe it's the lack of sleep from the infernal night I just endured, or maybe it's the double shot of espresso burning through my veins, but something in me snaps. I reach out and cup his face in my hands, tilting his head up and forcing him to look me straight in the eye.
“You could never. But if I am going to save you from a political hell none of us want to deal with – especially not me as your Third Seat, since it was definitely not in my plans to babysit some spoiled noble princess – I need the whole outline of the plan.”
“How…?” His voice sounds lower than usual, almost genuinely surprised as he feels the fierce determination in my hands.
I shake my head, refusing to let him wiggle out of this. “Doesn’t matter how. What’s the plan, Captain?”
He looks up at me, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second to the hands still cradling his jaw, before rising to lock with mine. Judging by the sudden, amused glint in his eyes, his "master plan" relies entirely on me playing the role of a deeply devoted partner.
“Well,” he murmurs, his breath brushing warm against my wrists, “you could start by calling me by my name.”
I freeze, even as my entire body feels electrified. My lips tremble, suddenly unable to form proper words under the weight of his gaze.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, a soft, nostalgic edge bleeding into his tone. “It didn’t use to be this hard when we were young.”
“We are not exactly young anymore, and—”
“You still look like you're in your twenties,” he cuts me off smoothly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“That’s not the point!”
“Then what is?” Before I can pull away, his large, warm hands move up, gently covering mine where they are still resting against his jawline.
“You are the Head Captain,” I whisper, trying to anchor myself to reality. “I can’t just drop the formalities. Even if we are acting, we are still on an official mission, Captain Kyoraku.”
“Almost,” he whispers, his voice dropping to a raspy, dangerous octave. “And who said anything about acting?”
He leans even closer, his intoxicating, musky scent filling my senses. His warmth completely surrounds me, pressing into my space so fiercely that, for a terrifying second, I almost give in and let the distance between our lips vanish.
“Should I come back later?”
Nanao’s voice erupts through the room like a bucket of ice water.
I suddenly back away, stumbling a step out of his personal space and turning sharply in the opposite direction, desperately staring at the wall so she can't see the bright, telltale flush covering my face.
“Oh, Nanao-chan! We were just discussing details related to the banquet, since the pretty miss here decided to give this old man a chance.”
“I am starting to pity her,” Nanao replies sharply, casting a pointed glance at Kyoraku. In moments like this, her stern, no-nonsense attitude reminds me so much of Lisa.
I shake the thought off, offering a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll survive. It’s just one night.”
“If he starts to creep you out, call me immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am!” I salute her, my lips tugging into a grin.
“You two are acting as if I am not right here,” Kyoraku states, throwing his hands up in near-dramatic offense. I guess some personality traits never change, no matter how many centuries pass or what title he holds.
I chuckle softly, finally regaining my full composure. The dynamic between these two is terribly domestic, radiating a familiar comfort that is incredibly hard to resist.
The next few days feel like absolute bliss. I go shopping with Rangiku, who drags Nanao along for “moral support,” though we all know she just wants an excuse to force her into some new clothes. Nanao is always so uptight and formal; it’s genuinely nice to see her unwind a bit. Not to mention Nemu, my best friend, who tags along to help me pick out things for the banquet, only to end up as another one of Rangiku’s makeover victims.
“Should we buy these, sweetie?” Rangiku’s teasing tone reaches my ears as I wander through the sleepwear section. Given the incident from a few days ago in the Captain's office, I feel like I definitely need a much more breathable set of pajamas for my restless nights.
But as I turn my head to look at what she’s holding, I freeze.
A lacy, beautiful, yet utterly sinful set of black lingerie is dangling from her fingertips. My cheeks instantly burn, a scorching heat rushing up my neck, and I quickly slap my hands over my face.
“Rangiku!”
“You are too easy to tease,” I can practically hear the smug grin in her voice. Here I am, just another helpless victim of her chaotic whims.
“I need upperwear, not underwear. Let’s focus on that, shall we?”
“Oh, please. You talk as if you weren’t just looking for a new set of pajamas,” Rangiku counters, gesturing dramatically to the rack. “The ones you are holding look just as sinful. Too bad they will probably end up ruined on the floor anyway, right?”
“Rangikuuu! Not fair! Stop it!” I cry out, my voice cracking as my treacherous mind completely betrays me, racing headfirst into inappropriate, dirty thoughts.
Suddenly, the bustling store fades into a blur. I can almost feel Shunsui’s heavy, calloused hands gripping my bare skin, his large fingers tangling securely into my hair to pull my head back as he takes me from behind. I can hear his deep, gravelly voice vibration against my ear, whispering breathless, possessive sweet nothings into my neck as he holds me tight, anchoring my body through the nth mind-melting orgasm of the night.
“You thinking about someone?”
“I am not thinking about the Captain,” I shoot back instantly.
“I didn’t even say his name,” Rangiku smirks, her eyes dancing with triumph.
“The whole conversation was about him!”
“Yet, I never said his name.”
“But we are only out here having this conversation because I am supposed to find something to wear to a mandatory event with him, so.”
“Still not calling the Captain by his name? Even when he asks oh-so nicely?” Rangiku smiles softly, suddenly looking a little exhausted with my stubborn antics regarding formalities. “You two have been good friends forever. Honestly, everyone in the Gotei 13 thinks you're already together. What changed?” she asks gently, handing me the silky, crimson garment over her arm.
“His title. My position,” I sigh, staring at the rich red fabric. “I am now the Third Seat of the First Division, no longer in the Eighth. I never even found out what he had to sacrifice to pull the strings and move me across divisions with him, even when I told him it wasn't necessary.”
“He wanted you there,” Rangiku says quietly, dropping the playful teasing for a moment of rare, genuine sincerity.
“I owe him everything. But I can’t just overlook formalities now. It feels too… domestic. Too nostalgic. It makes me feel like we are right back to how we were before this whole mess – hiding away from the late Captain Commander Yamamoto, drinking cheap sake, and braiding each other’s hair while sitting tangled in each other’s embrace under a blooming sakura tree on the outskirts of Seireitei.”
“You think you can’t go back to that just because of titles?”
“People judge, Rangiku. And the Central 46 would never live it down. I can’t imagine their comments when they see us together.”
“Just don’t think. You know the Captain will take care of you, yeah?”
I sigh softly as I step out of the changing room. “Yeah.”
She smirks at me, eyeing me from top to bottom and back. “Maybe in more than one way, given how you look.”
Turning around, I stand in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing down the edges of the garment Rangiku had practically forced into my hands. It isn't a traditional, suffocatingly boxy kimono. Instead, it’s a striking, tailored fusion piece that commands attention. The left side features a beautifully draped, wide sleeve of flowing white silk that echoes the formal authority of the First Division. But the right side breaks every rigid rule of the Seireitei nobility—it is completely sleeveless, exposing the smooth, bare expanse of my shoulder and arm, held together across my collarbones by intricate crimson silk ties. The rich red fabric wraps tightly around my waist, tracing the curve of my hips before splitting into a sharp, elegant drape that flows with every step I take.
“Okay, I’ll take this one.”
“Damn, right, girl! Reminds me of his kimono.”
“Let’s drop him out of the conversation.”
“Fine, fine!”
Stepping out of the First Division’s barracks into the cool twilight air, I feel like the main character of a romance movie – the kind where the heroine gets a complete makeover right before a massive event that will change the course of her life. I swear, Shunsui’s reaction when he sees me is worth every single minute of suffering through Rangiku’s teasing.
He is standing near the courtyard gates, his back turned to me as he coordinates with a few guards. For the banquet, he has discarded his usual pink floral haori, wearing his formal, high-ranking black captain's robes instead. He looks every bit the imposing, formidable noble lord he was born to be.
The sharp, authoritative clack of my black lacquered, platform heels against the stone courtyard catches his attention. Shunsui turns around leisurely, a casual, lazy greeting already forming on his lips—and then, the Head Captain of the Gotei 13 completely freezes.
His jaw doesn't drop; instead, his entire posture goes rigid. Those honeyed eyes of his darken instantly, losing every ounce of their usual nonchalance. His gaze sweeps down slowly, tracking the stark white silk covering my left side, down to where the rich crimson fabric wraps tightly around my waist, before tracing all the way up the bare, exposed skin of my right arm.
For a long, breathless moment, the courtyard goes entirely silent. The guards glance between us, but Shunsui doesn't care. He steps forward, his lazily slow stride replaced by a deliberate, predatory focus.
When he stops right in front of me, his massive frame blocks the twilight lanterns. The intense, possessive heat rolling off him makes my pulse spike. He raises a hand, his fingers hovering just a millimeter away from my bare shoulder, as if he's genuinely afraid that touching me will make the illusion shatter.
“My, my...” he murmurs, his deep voice dropping into a raspy, dangerous register that vibrates straight to my core. “You are trying to give this old man a heart attack before we even reach the event, aren't you, bella?”
“Is it... Too much, Captain?” I ask, my composure instantly fracturing under the weight of his stare.
“It's perfect,” he whispers, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes me completely forget we are supposed to be acting. He slowly lowers his hand, but instead of offering me his arm, a wicked, familiar glint flashes in his eyes. “Though, those gorgeous heels of yours aren't exactly built for walking across the Seireitei, are they, bella?”
Before I can even process his words, Shunsui steps fully into my space. In one fluid, effortless motion, his large arm sweeps behind my back while his other locks securely beneath my knees, lifting me completely off the stone floor.
I gasp, my hands instinctively flying up to clasp behind his neck for balance. My bare arm presses firmly against the smooth fabric of his black captain's robes, the heavy, intoxicating heat of his body instantly enveloping me.
“Shunsui—!” The name slips past my lips before I can stop myself, my heart hammering violently against my ribs.
He lets out a low, deeply satisfied chuckle at the sound of his name, tightening his grip on my waist, pulling me so close that my chest is flushed flat against his. “Hold on tight, now.”
With a single, explosive burst of pressure, the ground vanishes beneath us.
The courtyard dissolves into a breathless blur of twilight as we launch into the sky. Shunsui executes one flawless shunpo after another, leaping across the traditional tiled rooftops of the Seireitei with terrifying speed. The cool night wind whips furiously through my hair, threatening to pull at the delicate silk ties of my gown, but Shunsui’s massive frame shields me from the brunt of the gale.
Safe in his arms, the world below becomes nothing more than a river of distant lantern light. I have no choice but to bury my face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his musky, comforting scent, acutely aware of the rhythmic, steady thudding of his heart against my own. For a man who acts so lazy, his body is solid iron, carrying me across miles of the city without a single tremor of exhaustion.
It lasts for only a minute, a suspended pocket of time where the titles of Head Captain and Third Seat don't exist. It’s just us, flying through the dark.
Then, with a sudden, heavy deceleration that forces me to grip his shoulders even tighter, his feet touch down. The roaring wind stops instantly, replaced by the distant, elegant hum of traditional koto music and chatter.
We have arrived right outside the massive, imposing gates of the noble estate. Shunsui slowly, almost reluctantly, lets my feet slide back down to the stone ground, ensuring I have my balance in my platform heels before his hands leave my waist. He smooths down the edge of my white silk sleeve, his eyes burning with a dark, lingering heat as he leans down to whisper against my ear.
“The curtain rises, bella. Ready to show them who you belong to?”
I take a deep, confident breath, letting the final traces of doubt melt away before I securely wrap my hand around his arm. “Born ready, Shunsui.”
A brilliant, dangerous smirk breaks across his face at the sound of his name, his arm pressing firmly against my side to lock me close. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride.
Together, we step through the massive, looming gates of the estate.
The moment we cross the threshold into the grand banquet hall, the atmosphere shifts instantly. The air is heavy with the scent of expensive incense, burning wax, and old money. Dozens of high-ranking aristocrats, clan elders in suffocatingly traditional robes, and wealthy elite are scattered across the polished tatami mats.
As the sharp clack of my lacquered heels echoes through the room alongside the steady weight of Shunsui’s footsteps, the lively chatter slowly begins to die down. One by one, heads turn.
The whispers start almost immediately. The elders' eyes widen in a mix of shock and sheer disapproval as they take in the sight of the Head Captain. He isn't arriving alone, and he certainly isn't arriving with the meek, easily manipulated noble girl they had lined up for him.
Instead, he is walking in with a fierce, striking woman whose asymmetrical crimson and white gown proudly flashes the authority of the First Division on one side, and a breathtaking, scandalous amount of bare skin on the other.
I can feel the weight of a hundred judgmental stares digging into us, but with my hand anchored to Shunsui’s solid frame, I keep my chin held high. Besides me, Shunsui doesn't even look at them. He keeps his gaze fixed straight ahead, radiating a lazy, terrifying aura of absolute power that silently warns everyone in the room: Look all you want, but don't you dare say a word.
I want to almost chuckle at how easily the night goes on. Shunsui plays his part flawlessly, shutting down the elders with a few lazy smiles and sharp remarks, leaving me to feel entirely untouchable. That is, until I excuse myself to the powder room to get a moment of air.
On my way back, I stumble across a breathtakingly pretty lady gliding down the wooden corridor. With her long, silky, wavy hair cascading perfectly over her shoulders and an aura of effortless elegance, she looks like she stepped straight out of a Vogue magazine. Her kimo
no is a masterpiece of traditional, high-ranking nobility—subdued, impossibly expensive, and pristine.
She stops when she sees me, her dark eyes tracking the asymmetrical white silk sleeve of the First Division, down to the exposed skin of my bare shoulder, and finally to my black lacquered heels. There is no malice in her face, which somehow makes it worse. It’s just a cool, evaluating gaze of supreme confidence.
"Ah. You must be his Third Seat," she says, her voice smooth and melodic, carrying the unmistakable cadence of the highest elite. She offers a polite, perfectly practiced tilt of her head. "I suppose I should thank you for keeping my future husband entertained tonight. Shunsui does love his little games, doesn't he?"
The air leaves my lungs in a sudden, freezing rush. Future husband.
"The elders have been quite frantic trying to find him," she continues, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips as she steps past me, her silk robes whispering against the wooden floorboards. "But a Captain Commander must have his fun before he finally settles down to fulfill his duty to the clans. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Third Seat."
The woman’s footsteps fade down the corridor, leaving me standing alone in the chilly, moonlit hallway. Every bit of warmth Shunsui’s hands had left on my skin evaporates in an instant. The asymmetrical gown that made me feel so powerful only moments ago now feels like a ridiculous costume. A subordinate playing dress-up.
I force my breathing to steady, swallowing down the bitter lump in my throat, and raise my chin. I pull the professional mask I’ve worn for years back over my face, locking my emotions behind iron gates.
When I step back into the grand banquet hall, Shunsui spots me immediately. He excuses himself from a pair of lower-ranking nobles, his honeyed eyes instantly scanning my face as he walks over to me, a warm, private smile lifting his lips.
“There you are, bella,” he murmurs softly, stepping into my space and naturally reaching out to slip his hand back around my waist. “I was just about to come looking for—”
The second his palm touches my hip, my entire body goes rigid.
I don't lean into his touch. I don't look up at him with the fierce, playful confidence I had before. Instead, I step sideways, smoothly breaking his hold as I take a perfectly measured, respectful half-step backward. I lower my gaze, keeping my hands neatly folded in front of my crimson sash.
“My apologies for the delay, Captain Kyoraku,” I say, my voice smooth, level, and utterly devoid of the intimacy we shared in the sky. “I am ready to resume my duties as your escort for the remainder of the evening, sir.”
Shunsui completely freezes. The lazy, charming smile vanishes from his face, replaced by a sudden, sharp intensity that cuts right through me. His hand hovers in the empty air where my waist just was, his fingers curling slightly before he slowly lowers his arm to his side.
“...Captain?” he echoes, his voice dropping an octave, a dangerous, hurt edge bleeding into his tone. He steps closer, trying to catch my downcast eyes. “What happened out there?”
“Nothing occurred, sir,” I reply politely, my face a flawless, unbothered mirror of military perfection. “I simply realized that I had let the casual nature of our past connection cloud my judgment. We are in a room full of high-ranking nobility, and it is my responsibility to ensure your reputation remains unblemished, Captain Commander.”
My words hang in the air between us like ice. Shunsui’s jaw tightens, a muscle leaping in his cheek as those honeyed eyes darken to a shade that looks almost black. He doesn't push me. He doesn't make a scene. But the sheer, suffocating pressure of his spiritual energy flares for a fraction of a second, heavy enough to make the nearby nobles glance over in sudden trepidation.
Then, his gaze shifts. Over my shoulder, past the crowd, his eyes lock onto a specific figure moving gracefully through the banquet hall. Long, silky, wavy hair. A pristine, traditional noble kimono. Lady Tsunayashiro.
The realization hits him like a physical blow. The dangerous, calculated chill that crosses Shunsui's face in that split second is enough to remind me why this man was chosen to lead the entire Gotei 13. He doesn't need to ask what happened anymore. He knows.
"I see," Shunsui says quietly, his voice dangerously smooth, stripped entirely of its usual warmth. "If that is how you wish to play it tonight... Third Seat."
For the rest of the agonizing evening, I remain a ghost at his flank. I hand him his sake. I stand exactly two paces behind his right shoulder. I nod politely to the elders. I act like the perfect, flawless subordinate. And Shunsui lets me. He plays the part of the untouchable Head Captain, humoring the clans with a terrifyingly cold, sharp wit that leaves the elders sweating, never once looking back at me.
But the tension in his broad shoulders is a ticking time bomb.
When the final curtain drops and the banquet finally concludes, we exit the estate into the silent, midnight air of the Seireitei. The crowd is gone. The elders are gone. There is no one left to watch us.
“C-Captain…” My words tremble as he cups my chin with one hand, his long, calloused fingers forcing me to meet his dark, unwavering gaze.
The heat radiating from his palm burns against my damp skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. Up close, stripped of his formal black robes and back in his loose, familiar pink haori, he looks devastatingly handsome—and entirely done with my games.
“Still calling me Captain in your own bedroom, bella?” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that sends a frantic shiver straight down my spine. He doesn't drop his hand. Instead, his thumb slowly, deliberately strokes across the line of my jaw, a possessive, heavy pressure that makes my breath catch in my throat. “I distinctly remember you calling me Shunsui before we walked into that den of wolves.”
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening their desperate, white-knuckled grip on the soft fabric of the towel wrapped around my chest. “Sir, please. Someone could see you here. If Lady Tsunayashiro finds out –”
“Let them,” Shunsui cuts me off, his eyes darkening with a sudden, fierce intensity that completely silences me. He steps even closer, his broad chest pressing subtly against mine, trapping me between his solid frame and the edge of the sofa. The scent of sake, midnight rain, and his own intoxicating cedar musk wraps around me like a vice. “Do you honestly think I care about what some clan elders want? Do you think I brought you tonight just to show you off as a subordinate?”
My heart hammers violently against my ribs, the sheer weight of his proximity making my knees feel dangerously weak. “She said you have to fulfill your duty. She’s your arranged match, Shunsui. She’s going to be your wife.”
At the mention of her name, a bitter, dangerous smile touches Shunsui's lips. He leans down, his breath ghosting over my damp collarbone, right where the crimson ties of my dress had been just an hour ago.
“She is what the elders want,” he whispers against my skin, his voice dropping into a dangerous, fiercely protective register that shatters the last of my resolve. “But you are the only thing I want. I didn’t tear through the bureaucratic hell of the First Division to bring you to my side just to let some noble girl scare you away from me.”
He tilts my head back a fraction more, his eyes locking onto my lips with a hunger that makes the entire room fade into a blur.
“Now, look at me,” he growls softly, his grip tightening just enough to make me gasp. “And tell me you don’t want this.”
The last thread of my resolve snaps the exact moment the towel hits the tatami floor.
The cool air of the room hits my bare skin for a split second before I am completely consumed by his heat. As Shunsui’s large, powerful hands lock securely under my thighs to lift me, my legs instinctively wrap around his waist, anchoring me to him. Up close, without the heavy formal armor of his captain’s robes, the sheer, solid bulk of his frame is overwhelming. He is all lean, solid muscle and radiating warmth—a quiet powerhouse hidden beneath layers of loose silk.
“I’m not stopping,” I breathe against his lips, my voice a ragged, breathless confession that completely seals our fate. “Don’t you dare stop, Shunsui.”
A low, dark growl rumbles deep in his chest at the sound of his name. He carries me the few short steps to the bed, pressing my back down into the soft mattress without ever breaking the brutal, intoxicating rhythm of his mouth against mine. His weight settles over me, heavy and grounding, trapping me beneath him in a way that makes me feel entirely safe and completely ruined all at once.
My hands shake as they travel down the smooth fabric of his shoulders, hooking into the collar of his pink floral haori. I slide the silk down his arms, eager to strip away every single barrier left between us, wanting nothing more than to feel the rough, calloused slide of his bare skin against my own. Shunsui obliges with a fierce, impatient tug, ridding himself of the coat and letting it fall somewhere on the floor.
He leans down again, his honeyed eyes burning with a possessive, untamed fire that makes my pulse skyrocket. His lips trace a burning, torturous path down my jaw, pinning my hands above my head with one of his own while his free hand slides down the curve of my waist, tracing the very lines Rangiku’s dress had accented only hours before.
“You’re mine,” he growls softly against the sensitive skin of my throat, his breath hot and erratic. “Let the elders talk tomorrow. Tonight, you belong to me.”
Any remaining trace of the polite, disciplined Third Seat is utterly consumed by the fire he ignites in me. I arch into his touch, my fingers tangling fiercely in his wavy, dark hair as his lips move down to my collarbone, biting and soothing the sensitive skin until I am entirely breathless, whimpering his name like a prayer.
Shunsui doesn't rush, but there is a raw, unyielding hunger in the way he moves now. The lazy, nonchalant Captain Commander has completely vanished, replaced by a man driven by a fierce, centuries-deep possessiveness. Every touch of his calloused hands against my bare skin feels like he is rebranding me, erasing the cold words of the noble lady, erasing the boundaries of rank, leaving only us.
When he finally shifts his weight, parting my thighs and anchoring his hands securely beneath my hips, his honeyed eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that burns hotter than any spiritual pressure.
“Look at me,” he rasps, his chest heaving as he hovers over me. “Tell me who you see.”
“Shunsui,” I sob softly, my hands gripping his broad, muscular shoulders as the first overwhelming wave of pleasure ripples through me. “Just Shunsui.”
A dark, deeply satisfied smile touches his lips before he drives into me, shattering the last of my sanity.
The rest of the night dissolves into a beautiful, exhausting blur of heat and friction. The quiet sanctuary of my bedroom becomes an entire world where the Soul Society doesn't exist. There are no clan politics, no arranged marriages, and no crushing duties—only the heavy, rhythmic thudding of his heart against mine, the intoxicating scent of cedar and rain, and the desperate, tangled gasps of two people who have waited far too long to finally belong to one another. He loves me thoroughly, fiercely, leaving no part of me untouched until my body is trembling with sweet exhaustion and my voice is hoarse from calling his name into the dark.
Hours later, the pale, quiet light of dawn begins to filter through the shoji screens, painting the room in soft shades of blue and gray.
I stir slowly, a deep, contented ache humming through every muscle. The cool morning air touches my shoulder, but the rest of my body is wrapped in a heavy, enveloping warmth. I blink my eyes open to find Shunsui’s massive arm draped possessively over my waist, pulling my back flush against his broad chest.
He is awake. He has been awake, his fingers lazily tracing slow, soothing circles into the bare skin of my hip. When he feels me move, he leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the nape of my neck that makes me shiver.
“Good morning, bella,” he murmurs, his morning voice deeply raspy and thick with a profound, quiet tenderness.
I turn slightly in his embrace, resting my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart. The anxiety of yesterday tries to creep back in—the thought of the First Division office, the elders, the gossip—but Shunsui tightens his grip, burying his face in my hair as if reading my mind.
“Don’t think about them,” he whispers, his tone turning fiercely resolute. “I told you I’d take care of you. Let them bring their matchmakers and their complaints to my desk today. They’ll quickly find out the Head Captain can be a very stubborn man when it comes to what is his.”
I look up, meeting those warm, honeyed eyes, completely devoid of doubts now. I smile softly, reaching up to gently trace the line of his jaw.
“I know you will, Shunsui.”
He catches my hand, kissing my knuckles before pulling me back down against him, closing his eyes with a deeply contented sigh. The world outside my doors will be waiting for us with all its rules and politics, but looking at him now, I know we are ready for it.
Because the fake story is over. And our real one has just begun.
I am afraid the Bleach fandom isn't dead yet🤪 cause I am back from the dead. Can't wait for everyone's thoughts on this piece. I was so full of inspo, I finished it in one sit. Hope there aren't any grammar mistakes!
imagine him lusting after the reader, who is centuries younger than him. he’s technically old enough to be her father. he shouldn’t be feeling this way about her but he simply can’t help it. especially not after finding out she secretly has a thing for older men 😏😏
(bonus points if reader is his vice captain)
The Captain’s guilt.
Starring: Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader; mention to Isane, Rangiku, Shunsui and Yamamoto;
Format: one-shot;
Warnings: nsfw, language, masturbation, self-deprecating, dirty fantasy, age gaps but the reader is 21+, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, creampie, shy!jushiro, struggling with feelings, unprotected sex, pussy drunk Jushiro, praise kink, dom!jushiro, sub!reader, use of alcohol, nipple play;
Plot: Your Captain is falling for you. Jushiro Ukitake, a noble shinigami, finds himself lusting after his young Lieutenant. Hiding his feelings and the effect you have on him is getting harder day by day. Your presence is intoxicating, but he tries his best not to ruin your relationship. When you end up confessing not only you are into older men, but you also have a crush on him, things take a turn. Nor you, neither him are surprised you ended up screaming his name in the middle of the night, after you offered to help him with work.
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“Good morning, Captain”.
Another day, another smile of yours, another boner he had to camouflage in his baggy robes, as you cluelessly waltzed into his bedroom with a silver tray in your hands to serve him breakfast. Stunning and loving, his Lieutenant, his downfall from the moral principles he had always slavishly followed. He could not control himself around you.
Whilst you knelt next to his futon, you poured some tea in a cup and blew on it to cool it down. When your eyes fluttered closed, Jushiro clenched the sheets in his hands, knuckles whitening for the firm grip as he cursed himself for wanting you. You looked like an angel, taking care of him motherly, as if you genuinely cared for him. Actually, you did, and he was aware of that. He could see it in the way you risked your life on the battlefield to watch his back, when he needed some time to rest, or in the way you looked for the best doctors in the Seireitei to get some medications for him.
If only you were older, or he was a tad younger. Souls aged slowly and, even though you were four hundred-years-old, you still looked like a young woman in her early twenties. He was much older than you. Jushiro was around, when Captain Yamamoto was a black-haired man who had recently fought back the Quincy King. He was still a kid, back then, but he was there.
He could be your father, but the flesh is weak. Or this is what Shunsui had always told him.
He was not the type to hook-up with women periodically like his best friend did. Right now, however, he really wished he had half of the guts and self-confidence the Captain of the Eighth Division had. Why? Just to have you in his arms, even briefly, a fleeting moment of bliss to let you know how ardently he desired you. Jushiro wondered if you knew he cared for you more than a Captain is supposed to for his underlings. What if you knew? What if your heart throbbed in your chest upon seeing him just like his did, when you entered his quarters?
Illusions. He was so delusional. You drove him insane. A medicine to cure his sickness, but a deadly poison to his heart. Life was not treating him kind.
“Captain?” you hesitantly said then, head tilted to the side, a knot forming between your eyebrows.
He had zoned out once again, apparently. Awesome, making a fool of himself in front of you had become his speciality. Jushiro cleared his throat, cheeks flushing as he realized you were holding the cup of tea out for him to grasp. His fingers brushed against yours, a nervous smile curving his lips upwards.
“Oh, thank you! — the white-haired man blurted out, hands wrapping around the warm cup as he shot you a grateful glance — It looks like I’m getting deaf too. It must he a pain dealing with this old man” he jested, bringing the cup to his lips and taking a small sip of it.
You chuckled, shifting onto your seat to push the tray aside “Old man? I’m sorry to contradict you, Captain, but you’re not old at all. Or, at least, you don’t look old” you said casually, watching the way the rational and placid man at your left lowered his cup from his mouth slowly, interested in your observation.
“Care to elaborate?” he asked you softly, admiring the way some rays of the sun set off the color of your hair, the features of your face, causing a warm feeling to engulf his lower abdomen. This was not good. You were there, merely complimenting him, reassuring him, and he was thinking about folding you in half underneath him like some damn Neanderthal.
A grin spread on your face, eyes straying away from his “Well, you might be older than most of the Captains and Lieutenants around, but you are a fairly handsome man. — you said, cheeks warming up as you tried to be discreet about the topic — I heard a lot of women praising your appearence, not just your charisma”.
The world seemed to stop revolving for a few seconds, but when you decided to add some other words to your already fluttering note, Jushiro wished the blanket was tick enough to conceal his pulsing cock from your attentive gaze.
“And I agree with them”.
You agreed. You thought he was handsome! You, the pretty girl he loved, the girl who was making him question his morals, the sweet girl he wanted to spend every night with really thought he was handsome. He felt lucky. His pale complexion left space to pinkish hues on his cheeks, his hand trembling as he settled his cup down not to spill the tea on the bed.
Jushiro leaned slightly forward, hands clumsily covering the small tent visible through the layers “R-Really? I don’t know what to say, but … Thanks, I guess. A boost of confidence every now and then is greatly appreciated” he stammered, but your eyes had been faster than his hands, your lips parting as you watched your Captain attempting to hide away his need from you.
How sweet of him. Ukitake Jushiro, your Captain, a man you admired, who had kind of watched you grow and who had trained you for years, was currently hot and bothered because of a couple of compliments. Your heart melted, a soft smile on your lips as you decided to leave some privacy to him. After all, he still had to finish his breakfast and the poor man was surely dealing with a rather uncomfortable problem right now.
You stood up, bowing your head reverentially “I have to attend the weekly Lieutenants meeting, Captain. See you later” you said, sparing him a last glance before leaving his room as normally as you possibly could.
If only you knew how reddish the tip of your Captain’s cock was, how terribly sorry he felt for feeling that way about you, how much he wished the thick white ropes of cum erupting from his member, as he jerked off were painting your tongue, instead of a tissue. He was obviously not better than Kyoraku and he was terrified at the mere thought of his cheeky friend realizing he was practically dying to be squashed by your thighs.
Spring days in the Seireitei meant peaceful nightly strolls for your Captain, but also a chance for you to catch up with your friends during your days off. What a coincidence you were sharing a few drinks with Rangiku and Isane in a pub not too distant from the park your Captain chose to spend his free time at. When Jushiro caught a glimpse of you, chattering with your fellow Lieutenants, drink in hand and exceptionally beautiful, he froze solid and decided it was better to change his path suppress his reiatsu not to draw your attention.
Two weeks had passed since the breakfast incident and he had tried his best not to create embarrassing situations in which you had to be stuck in a room with him alone. You had noticed he had been acting strangely, as of late, but confronting him about it was not a wise move. Who were you to make your Captain, a man you were devoted to, a man who carried himself with dignity, uncomfortable? Time would have fixed the situation, or you were confident things would have worked out just fine from now on.
Jushiro was about to turn his back and leave, when he heard the noisy Lieutenant of the Tenth Division ask you a spicy question “Kyoraku Shunsui. Smash, or pass?”.
He had no idea why he stood there in the shadows, feeling like a creep, as he awaited in trepidation for you to answer that stupid question. For some reason, though, it was important for him. He expected you to blend in with mass of girls swooning at Shunsui’s door and say you would have gladly shared your bed with him. He would have not blamed you for that. Every woman he knew had a thing for his best friend.
Still, you were his jewel. He did not want you to crave Shunsui. He wanted you to choose him. He was selfish, he knew his thoughts were impure and not appropriate. He was in no position to argue with you about the men you fancied.
“Pass” you curtly said, causing Rangiku and Isane to gasp and for Jushiro’s mood to brighten up again. He leaned his back against the wall, staring blankly at the Moon above him, electrified to hear you were not one of the numerous fangirls ready to kill to be Shunsui’s partner for the night.
Rangiku slammed her glass down onto the small table “Pass? Girl, you are the Dilfs’ fucker here! I expected you to throw your panties at him! What’s wrong now?” she piped out, voice too loud for your likings as you covered your face with your hands.
People were watching, obviously, snickering and shooting leering glances at your direction. Isane blushed, shaking her head as she snapped her fingers in front of Rangiku’s face to make her get a grip of herself.
“You drank too much! Lower your voice, people talk a lot!” Isane chided her, only for you to nod your head in agreement.
“I am not into Captain Shunsui, alright? Yeah, he is handsome and hilarious, but not my type” you clarified, folding your arms across your chest, causing the red-haired woman sitting across from you to squint her pale blue eyes suspiciously. She was not going to let this go easily. You were toasted.
She smirked “Oh, that’s interesting now… — she said, leaning towards you with an inquisitive gleam in her eyes — Who is your type then? Someone older than you for sure, but let’s see. Old man Yamamoto is decidely not on the list. May it be his Lieutenant, though?”.
Isane choked on her saké, coughing a few times in shock, while you kept an intense eye-contact with Rangiku “You are going to get us kicked out of this pub. Lower your damn voice” you warned her, as the waiter passing by your table gestured for you to restrain yourselves.
“Then speak up, girl. I have all night long and tons of important men to mention publicly. — she retorted, determined to make you confess who exactly was your crush — Say it, come on”.
“My Captain”.
You had not even realized you had blurted out that answer, until you saw your friends gape at you in genuine incredulity. It was not like they had not expected you to possibly fall for your charming Captain, but you had not been that reluctant to admit you had feelings for your superior. You did not imagine yourself having that conversation either, the urge to disappear into a black hole gnawing at your liver now. You took a swig of your drink, the burning sensation down your throat helping you to cope with your audacious confession.
“Have you two fucked?!” Rangiku inquired, only for the waiter to finally lose his temper and come at your table with a livid expression plastered over his face.
“You three! That’s enough, get out of here!”.
Giggling on your way out of the pub, you took the road opposite to the one where your Captain was finding shelter. Emerging from the darkness, he palmed his forehead, your words still ringing in his head like a pleasant song he could not stop thinking about. You liked him, you reciprocated his feelings. This did not make him less guilty for lusting after you, but it gave him the chance to act more confidently around you.
Enjoying the gentle breeze blowing through his long, white locks, Jushiro resumed his walk, head light as a feather, while relishing the thought of you in his embrace. For the night, he could forgive himself.
The next day came and with it some errands to run around the Soul Society. After being summoned by Captain Unohana, you were now entering your Captain’s quarters with a pile of documents to sign tightly pressed to your chest. Sighing, you were glad to find the door open. The fresh evening air provided a cool environment for Jushiro to work. It was not unusual for him to ask you to open the windows and leave the doors open on your way out.
Sitting at his desk, his haori draped over his broad shoulders, Jushiro was reading some reports about some Hollows causing troubles in the Rukongai. He would have not even acknowledged your presence, if you had not announced your arrival.
“Good evening, Captain! I’m coming in” you chimed, crossing the threshold with a small smile on your lips.
Jushiro flicked his eyes up from the papers, his lips mirroring yours in a soft smile that dropped at the sight of another stock of documents he was expected to check. Duties before anything, right?
“Ah, I see. It’s going to be a long night, I guess” he sadly realized, as you knelt down next to him and settled the files onto the desk.
“These are from the Fourth Division. — you explained, hands flatly splayed over the smooth wooden surface — You can’t stay up all night, Captain. You need to rest, or it might be detrimental for your health. With your permission, I would like to stay for the night and help you out”.
You were too sweet for him. He should have sent you away, denied your request, no matter how much he wanted to spend more time with you. He yearned for your company like a starving bear tasting honey and begging for more, striving to get to the top of the tree to reach the beehive and enjoy the nectar. However, it was night. Was he really ready to offer you a bed to sleep next to his one, once your eyelids were going to get heavy after tiring hours of work? He was going to die a painful death, admiring you and restraining himself from kissing every inch of your skin.
He had to refuse, but he knew you would protested. Therefore, he went to the extent to propose you a good compromise.
“I won’t let you work yourself to exhaustion. I will gladly accept your help for a few hours but, when it starts getting dark, you go back to your dorm” he suggested, tone placid but firm.
You shook your head, though, hand reaching for a brush and dipping it into the dark ink pot “I’m sorry, Captain Ukitake, but I will have to disobey your order and refuse your offer. — you calmly replied, signing the first document swiftly with your Captain sighing in defeat in the background — Now, let’s get this over with” you added, encouraging him by splitting the pile in halves and handing him one of them.
“You are way too lenient with me” Jushiro stated, before resuming his reading again.
And hours passed by. You chattered with your Captain, the pile of documents decreasing slowly but surely but you were not even close to be done yet. When dinner time came, you had a quick snack and persuaded your Captain to rest a little more than you did. Naturally, he promptly protested, but you ended up convincing him he would have been more proficient with some hours of sleep over his shoulders. Begrudgingly, he agreed and sleep found him easily.
While you worked, you lost the track of time. You forgot to wake him up as you had promised and you just kept on working until your back hurt. Glancing outside the window, the Moon greeted you and the clock indicated it was midnight. You were ready to grit your teeth and keep on pushing yourself to the limit, when you suddenly felt the familiar reiatsu of your Captain embrace you from behind. You straightened your back, eyes widening even so slightly, as his hands rested comfortably over the top of your shoudlers.
“I overslept. You should have called me” he pointed out lowly, gently, as you apologetically nodded your head and discarded the brush over the desk.
“I should have, but your health is more important than work to me” you objected, turning your head slightly to the side to meet his kind chestnut eyes. Jushiro was sitting right behind you, his large frame almost draped over your back like a blanket, as he grasped your wrist delicately and shook his head.
Goosebumps raised on the back of your neck, his chin grazing over the top of your head “It’s your turn to rest. Lean on me” he offered, causing your lower lip to quiver for the habit of opposing yourself to his kind offer.
But you were too tired to be helpful right now and you knew he was not going to let you continue for any longer.
“Ten minutes will be enough” you said, accomodating yourself, as he helped you lean your back against his chest, the sound of the fabric of your uniforms rustling in the friction was endearingly soothing. Just like his arms subtly snaking around your waist and your hands slithering over his bony ones, making your cheeks heat up exponentially.
You had never touched your Captain like that, albeit you wanted him to. You had played scenes like this one many times in your head, hoping he was going to do much more than simply hugging you. You needed more, you needed him. You wanted Jushiro with ever molecule of your body and, God, he desired you too. Your eyes fluttered close, his warm breath tickling your jawline, as his fingertips began to draw lazy patterns over your abdomen, trailing up towards your ribs and then stopping.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked you, his heartrate increasing notably. His hands itched to cup your breasts, to roll your hardening nipples between the pads of his fingers, to swallow your moans with his mouth. But without your consent, Jushiro was not going to go any further.
You arched your back, eyes opening again to peer up at him adoringly “Comfortable, you say? I’d dare to say I’m in Paradise” you whispered, smiling faintly, before your hands reached up to undo your shihakushō. Bold, you were pretty bold right now, under the gleaming eyes of your Captain.
You heard his breath hitch, his hands trembling when you grasped them to lead them to your breasts where he wanted to settle them “Don’t say a word. They’re needless. I want it, Captain. I’m tired to pretend” you murmured, head lolling back onto his shoulder as his large hands finally latched onto your mounds, gently squeezing them.
Your skin was like velvet at the touch, his own arousal causing him to buckle his hips up against your lower back. How shameful, how stupid of him to do such things to you, but you wanted it. His Lieutenant was begging him to go ahead and that night the kind and rational Captain Jushiro Ukitake lost his mind.
He gripped your hips firmly, forcing you to straddle his lap, his legs spreading yours wide, as he kept your back glued to his front. His fingers scambled to get rid of his own clothes, while you spared time by disrobing yourself too. Skin to skin, you were able to feel his hard rock abs graze your spine as he latched his lips over the crook of your neck.
You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut, while his hands went back to cup your breasts, stroking the hardening buds to elicit more whimpers from you. Your breath was uneven at this point, your mouth searching for his as you turned around and tugged down your pants, tired of waiting any longer.
Jushiro was awestruck, thumbs tracing your hipbones, as you rotated your hips over his “Kiss me, please” you whispered, your lips hovering over his, tempting the poor Captain to give you what you wanted. It was not too late to stop, he kept on repeating himself that, but he did not want to let you unsatisfied and the fire in his loins was consuming him too much to neglect his own need.
“Kissing you? I will do more than that” he whispered, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. His arms wrapped around your torso, pulling you close to him, were a cage you did not want to be set free from. Jushiro was gentle, handling you with a care no man had ever showed you, even when his tongue delved into your mouth and his fingers slipped underneath the waistband of your underwear, eagerly searching for your engorging pearl.
Shockwaves of pleasure made your skin sizzle, your hands cupped his smooth cheeks, as you moaned softly. Jushiro kissed your forehead, his cock twitching in his pants, when your wetness met his fingers. All of this was for him, your heat was dripping because you craved him! He was lucky, oh he was such a lucky man.
“You are … That’s for me, right? You are so good, Y/N-san, you are doing amazing for me. I will repay you for that, my sweet girl. I promise” he whispered, his hair sticking to his forehead as his fingers finally slipped into your core.
You could not talk much, babbling small words out was all you did, your lips leaving wet kisses over his neck and collarbone to show him your gratitude and love for him. Your orgasm hit you in waves, your inner muscles spasming around his slender digits as he watched your labia smeared with your arousal as you reached your climax. You were stunning, his hand glistened in your orgasm, as he quickly yanked his pants down and you crawled towards his unmade bed, panting, awaiting for him to join you.
When his member, ramrod, pulsing, slapped against his navel, you gulped down at the impressive size hungrily pointing at you. If only people knew about this side of him, they would die at his feet. Ukitake Jushiro lacked nothing that Kyoraku Shunsui had. He was just a victim of fate. If it was not for his sickness, he would have been unstoppable. Pumping his shaft a few times in front of you, Jushiro groaned softly, hooded eyes searching yours.
“Would you look at me the same way, if you knew what I did in the privacy of my bedroom when you left that morning?” he asked you, only for you to shake your head and hoist your legs around his hips.
“Nothing would ever change my opinion of you. — you replied, the tip of his cock probing at your entrance — I love you, Jushiro” you whispered, nosing his cheek when he caged you to the bed with his strong arms.
“I wish I could tell you not to love me, but I am twice as guilty. Forgive me, if you can. I love you, I have loved you for too long to keep it to myself” he said, before entering you with a smooth thrust of his hips.
You let out a strained moan, your tight walls causing Jushiro to grunt in bliss, his brows furrowed as he pressed his forehead against yours. Bottoming out took him a few seconds. Making his way inside of you, he had the care to gradually conquer inches without bruising you in the process. Tenderly, he looked at your face, searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he found none, he pulled back enough to let his tip buried into your heat and slammed back into you a little more vigorously.
Melodic moans left your mouth, neck strained back, when he set out a slow and firm pace to hit the spot that made you wrap your legs tighter around him. His white hair seemed the beautiful and cold stalactites hanging from the roof of your barracks, when it snowed. Handsome and yours, Jushiro kissed the valley between your breasts, praises to your beauty and dedication rolling out of his tongue every now and then.
“Beautiful, you should have posed for a painter in the World of the Livings. — he stated, voice muffled by your skin, when he sucked onto your nipple — A pre-raphaelite, those colors would have suited you” he murmured, tongue tracing the bud as his hips snapped towards yours more urgently now.
Your moans had grown louder, sweaty skin smacking together creating a repetitive sound any passer-by would have recognized. But you were too lost into his eyes, in the way the Moon seemed to make his hair glow like an halo around his head, on the way his muscular body would have crashed yours, if he was not attentive.
“Jushiro, please, don’t stop! — you breathed out, a throaty moan leaving your lips, when he grabbed your ankles and set them on the top of his shoulders — I am about to come” you warned him, watching the man above you speed up his movements.
He should have been careful not to overdo himself, but how could he when he was literally drunk on you? Ah your words, oh God, they were driving him insane.
“Come for me, darling. Make me happy, come for me” he incited you, grasping your hands and pinning them to the sides of your head with his ones. Fingers locked together, Jushiro thrusted into you faster, hitting your sweet spot with a perfect aim. Impeccable, sinfully celestial, you reached your climax around him with a powerful orgasm.
As you twitched and tightened around him, Jushiro’s mind went blank. He was not going to be just your Captain, not anymore. His, you were going to be his, as he was going to be yours. Just Jushiro Ukitake, a man in love, not a member of the Gotei 13.
Lolling his head back, he spurted his seed into you, guttural groans erupting from his throat as he filled you. Even though he had always followed the moral codes of a noble warrior, Jushiro Ukitake knew he had to sin that night. He could not let you slip from his fingers.
Someone had told him he would have fallen for a woman, sooner of later.
Therefore, sitting on a windy hill next to his best friend Shunsui, a couple of days later, he said “I plead guilty, your honor”.
AUTHOR NOTE.
Hello there! Thanks to the anon who dropped this into my inbox. I did not realize how much I yearned to write for this man until I found myself writing this piece! Thanks! As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are welcomed!
CAST: Shunsui Kyōraku, Jūshirō Ukitake and Honorable Reader
in Jealousy overload pt II or The one where they might actually kill someone if they don't leave You alone
Authors note:
I know one of the Honorable Readers asked for Shinji but in my excuse HE wasn't cooperative at all. I wrote three different versions, one more angsty, one just full of crack and one balanced and all of them were shit. He was a diva who wouldn't want to work with me on a script basically so you gotta excuse the lack of Hirako Shinji in Jealousy overload pt II.
While captain Shinji was not treating me well captain Ukitake basically wrote himself on his own so I hope you will enjoy his story.
Oh, this one is smutty at the end of each scenario, hope you don't mind.
I should have Ryūken oneshot ready by the end of the week, it takes time bc I enjoy myself writing it and keep having new ideas, haha.
P.S I LOVE READING YOUR COMMENTS AND SUGGESTIONS
Enjoy (hopefully)!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters. All rights belong to Tite Kubo and his respective publishers. This stories are purely for entertainment.
CHECK OUT PT I (SFW)
The mid-afternoon sun baked the polished walkways of the 8th Division barracks, sending the rich, sweet scent of blooming cherry trees drifting across the stone-paved courtyard. It was the sort of quiet day that practically invited the lower-seated officers to slack off, but the true master of avoiding duty was already hard at work near the primary gates. You stood a few paces back, half-hidden in the deep, shifting shadows of a massive cherry blossom tree. Your arms were tightly crossed over the crisp fabric of your uniform, your fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic cadence against your forearm. As a highly competent, deeply independent officer within the squad, you were used to maintaining an aura of professionalism. But right now, a small, distinctly sharp line was carved between your brows, eyes locked onto your captain, and secret lover, with a look that was a dangerous mixture of genuine annoyance and cold calculation. Shunsui Kyōraku was currently leaning his massive frame against a heavy wooden structural pillar, looking like a living portrait of insufferable, lazy charm. His straw hat was tilted over one eye, and his pink floral haori practically billowed in the warm breeze as he deliberately blocked the path of two young, 4th Division girls who were struggling under the weight of heavy wooden crates filled with medical supplies through your division's grounds.
"My, my, young ladies…" Shunsui purred, his deep baritone echoing clearly down the corridor. He held a single, slightly wilted wild orchid he had plucked from the grass, offering it with a theatrical, low bow. "The midday sun absolutely pales in comparison to the radiance of your smiles. Surely carrying such heavy, unglamorous burdens in this heat is a sin against the Gotei 13? Why don't you leave those dusty crates right here on the porch and allow an old man to escort you through our gardens? I hear our lotuses are blooming beautifully today, and the shade is exceptionally sweet."
Both girls stopped dead in their tracks. They didn't blush. They didn't swoon. Instead, the girl on the left let out a heavy, thoroughly exhausted sigh that sounded like she had been dealing with this exact routine for a century. The girl on the right didn't even bother to lift her eyes from the crate.
"Captain Kyōraku." The first girl said, her voice entirely flat and dry as chalk. "Captain Unohana explicitly warned us before we left the 4th Division barracks that if you tried to corner us to avoid your afternoon paperwork, we were to remind you that lieutenant Ise is currently searching the grounds with a very thick audit ledger and a wooden kendo sword."
Shunsui’s theatrical smile faltered for a fraction of a second, his wide shoulders dropping in an exaggerated pout. "Ah, Nanao-chan is always so terribly strict... but surely a brief, innocent respite…"
"And your haori is dragging in the dirt again, sir." The second girl interrupted bluntly, shifting the heavy crate in her arms with a sharp, pointed movement. "We have to deliver these stabilizers to your division's infirmary immediately. Please excuse us."
With two perfectly synchronized, incredibly stiff bows, the girls marched right past the captain, leaving him holding out a wilted flower to the empty air. Shunsui stood frozen for a moment, letting out a dramatic, pouting groan as he tossed the orchid over his shoulder. "Ah... youth is entirely too cruel to an old man these days." He muttered to himself, adjusting the brim of his hat. But as he turned around, his dark eyes instantly zeroed in on the shadow of the cherry blossom tree. The moment he caught sight of you standing there, fully aware that you had witnessed the entire pathetic display, his dramatic pout vanished, replaced by a warm, soft, and intensely focused gaze. He abandoned his slouching posture and crossed the dirt with long strides, a sweetness taking over his rugged features as he chased down the only person he actually cared about. Before you could utter a single syllable of the blistering critique forming in your mind, Shunsui’s large, calloused hand clamped securely around your wrist. With a fluid, silent burst of movement he guided you down the private residential hallway of the 8th Division barracks. He pushed open the heavy sliding doors to his personal quarters, pulling you inside the spacious, cedar-scented room before kicking the panel shut behind him with a solid thud. The moment the doors locked you away from the rest of the Seireitei, Shunsui dropped the public persona entirely. He didn't waste time with words. Instead, his massive, powerful arms immediately wound around your waist, his large palms sliding down the small of your back to anchor you flush against his broad chest. He leaned down, fully intending to bury his face into the crook of your neck and dissolve the tension with his usual warmth. Except this time, your hands laid flat and firm against his chest. You braced your weight, reinforcing a boundary between your bodies that successfully halted his advance. It was agonizingly difficult to keep that wall up. You loved this man, and under normal circumstances, the mere scent of his aura was enough to turn you into an absolute putty in his hands. Your skin was already burning where he touched you, and your body practically screamed to surrender, to mold itself perfectly into the familiar, safe contour of his massive frame. You had to physically dig your wooden sandals into the tatami mats just to stay upright. Shunsui paused, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes blinking down at you from beneath the shadow of his hat. A faint, amused twitch played at the corner of his lips, clearly assuming this was just a playful bit of resistance before you succumbed to his touch. He shifted his grip, his large fingers digging slightly into the fabric of your uniform at your hips, trying to draw you into his space.
"My sweet…" He murmured, his voice dropping into a low, syrupy register. "If you're still brooding over those poor 4th Division girls, I assure you, it was merely an old man being polite..."
"It wasn't just the 4th Division girls today, Shunsui." You interrupted, your voice cool, and forcing a distance that required every ounce of your willpower. You didn't soften your posture a single even a single bit, keeping your hands rigid against his chest. "Have you already forgotten the joint-squad assembly this morning? You spent ten minutes leaning over the execution ledgers just to whisper scandalous nonsense into Rangiku’s ear right in front of her captain Hitsugaya, and then you somehow found it necessary to 'personally inspect' the grip technique of every single female recruit in the training yard before lunch." You fixed him with a calm, deadpan look, fighting the heavy, intoxicating urge to just let him kiss you. Right now, a small, stubborn spark of jealousy, combined with a deep conviction that this man was entirely too smug and comfortable for his own good, were convincing you he absolutely did not deserve the intimacy he was hoping for. Shunsui’s easy smile faltered. A soft, exaggeratedly tragic expression taking over his features. He leaned his weight forward anyway, trying to melt your defenses by sliding his face into the side of your neck, his rough stubble lightly scraping your sensitive skin as his lips brushed against your collarbone.
"Are you angry, my love? My sweet?" He murmured against your skin.
"No." You replied instantly, though your voice lacked the steel you were hoping to achieve, dropping into a slightly breathless, clipped tone as you fought the shiver running down your spine.
He let out a low, vibrating chuckle against your throat, entirely unconvinced by your denial. "Good." He whispered, his lips tracing a slow, agonizing path up toward your jawline. "Because this old man’s heart couldn't bear it if you were truly upset with him." Believing he had successfully bypassed the minor storm, Shunsui became thoroughly handsy again. His fingers tightened around your waist, anchoring your lower body securely against his as his lips slid along the sensitive curve below your ear, pressing a sequence of hot, lingering, and deliberate kisses that made your head spin. He expected you to sigh. He expected you to soften, to wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his heat. Instead, you forced yourself to maintain a distance. Your arms remained braced against his chest, resisting the gravity of his pull. Slowly, the kisses trailed off. Shunsui pulled his head back, his brow furrowing as he finally registered the absolute vacuum of response. He stared down at your face, noting the slight, tight line of your lips and the coolness in your eyes. His smug confidence fractured slightly, replaced by a subtle tint of frustration. He reached up, his large thumb rising to gently trace the line of your jaw.
"A frown really doesn't suit such a beautiful woman, my dear." He murmured, his tone a mix of lazy charm and quiet, brewing irritation at his inability to rouse you. "You're punishing me over a few harmless words. You know none of them matter to me. I only have eyes for you."
You looked up at him, your gaze narrowing as you prepared to drop the hammer on his insufferable security. "Is that so? Well... what if I decided to stop rejecting the men who approach me in the barracks? What if I flirted with other officers the exact same way you do? There are plenty of handsome, high-seated men in the Gotei 13 who don't spend their afternoons chasing squad girls."
Shunsui froze for a microsecond, the hypothetical words hanging heavily in the quiet room. Then, a loud, deep rumble of genuine amusement erupted from his chest. He shook his head, his fingers tightening around you with arrogance. He knew exactly how fiercely loyal you were, and he was completely blinded by the security of your secret relationship. He truly believed he was entirely immune to jealousy, completely untouchable. He leaned down, pressing his forehead firmly against yours, his eyes sparkling with a smug warmth. He kept his hands firmly on you, pressing your back flat against the wall as his lips brushed against yours with every single, self-assured word. "Oh, let them look, my sweet. Let them buy you drinks… I know whose arms you fall into at the end of the night. You could flirt with half the Gotei 13 and I'd just sit back and smile, because I know your heart belongs entirely to me."
Hearing those exact words, the trap he had just laid for himself, you decided to give in your own desires. The cold facade melted instantly. You let out a soft, breathy sigh, your walls crumbling entirely as you finally gave into his touch. Your arms tightening securely around his neck as you pulled him down into a deep kiss. Shunsui let out a satisfied hum against your mouth as he hoisted you slightly against the wall, entirely convinced that his words had conquered your resistance. You melted against him, matching his fervor kiss for kiss, but beneath the heavy fog of passion, your mind was sharp, locking in the terms of the challenge. You would give him exactly what he asked for.
The first phase of his lesson began the very next morning in the central courtyard of the 1st Division, where a grueling joint-squad tactical briefing had just concluded. The dirt clearing was crowded with high-ranking officers stretching their legs, including an exceptionally handsome, polite lieutenant from the 3rd Division. You stepped out of the shadow of the briefing hall. Under normal circumstances, you would walk past the other squads with a professional focus, ignoring the lingering looks. Today, however, you deliberately changed your course, stepping directly into Kira’s path.
"Good morning lieutenant." You said, your voice carrying a soft, melodic clarity that turned his head instantly.
He turned, blinking in surprise, his posture straightening. "Ah, Y/N-san. Good morning. I didn't expect to see you here today."
Instead of the brief, formal nod you usually offered, you took a step closer. You looked up at him through your lashes, letting a beautifully sweet, dazzling smile slowly take over your features, a smile Shunsui fondly and stubbornly believed belonged exclusively to him behind closed doors.
"I was hoping I would run into you." You said, tilting your head slightly, letting your eyes linger on his face. "The logistical reports you filed for our shared sector were remarkably thorough. It made my afternoon duties entirely too easy."
Kira’s cheeks instantly flushed a beautiful, deep pink. He cleared his throat, his hand coming up to scratch his cheek as he felt himself completely held by your gaze. "I—well, I merely wanted to ensure everything was perfect for your division. If you ever need assistance with the remaining logs, I am always entirely at your disposal."
"I might just take you up on that." You said, delivering one final sweet smile before turning on your heel.
Across the courtyard, standing on the wide stone steps of the assembly hall, Shunsui was mid-conversation with Jūshirō Ukitake. He had been laughing at his own joke about the length of the meeting. But the moment his gaze caught that specific, dazzling smile rewriting your features for another man, the lazy chuckle died instantly in his throat. His heavy-lidded eyes narrowed into sharp, dark slits beneath the shadow of his straw hat, a sudden, unfamiliar prickle of raw, cold unease tightening across his massive chest. Ukitake, who had been listening patiently, noticed the sudden, violent break in his friend's demeanor. He blinked, turning his head to follow Shunsui’s rigid, unblinking stare across the dirt clearing. The moment the 13th captain saw you standing entirely too close to the blushing Kira, a faint, deeply knowing smile touched his pale lips. He let out a soft, amused sigh.
"Shunsui?" He murmured, his voice dripping with mild, good-natured irony. "Did Nanao just find your hidden sake stash again, or did you suddenly forget how to breathe? Your spiritual pressure is leaking, my friend."
Captain Kyōraku didn't look at him. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped in his stubbled cheek. "Jūshirō... look over there. Do you see what she's doing?"
Ukitake adjusted his white haori, his eyes twinkling with absolute delight. "Ah, Y/N-san. She looks exceptionally lovely today. And she's giving young Izuru a very charming smile. Good for her. It’s nice to see her socializing."
"Good for her?" Shunsui echoed, his deep baritone rising high in bewilderment. "Jūshirō, that is MY smile. She doesn't give that smile to anyone else. It's a completely illegal smile."
His best friend let out a quiet, breathy chuckle, coughing slightly into his sleeve before fixing him with deeply amused look. "If I recall correctly, Shunsui, you were the one bragging to me over a jug of premium alcohol last night about how 'utterly secure' you are in your secret arrangement. What was it you called it? An open invitation?"
Shunsui groaned softly, dropping his forehead into his free hand. "I might have... overcalculated my tolerances. I told her she could flirt with half the Gotei 13 and I'd just sit back and smile."
Ukitake stared at him for a beat, his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline, before a genuine, rich laugh broke from his chest. "You told her what? Shunsui, for a man who prides himself on being a master tactician, you are remarkably foolish when it comes to your own heart. Did you honestly think she wouldn't call your bluff?"
"She's usually so fiercely professional!" Shunsui hissed defensively, his eyes darkening as he watched the lieutenant lean in just a fraction closer to you. "Look at him, Jūshirō. The boy is turning as red as a fresh pomegranate. He’s asking her out, I can read it in his shoulder blades. This is madness."
Ukitake patted Shunsui’s broad shoulder with a firm fondness. "Then stop acting like an immature academy cadet, my friend. If you're going to spend your afternoons batting your eyelashes and throwing wilted flowers at every female officer who walks past your porch, you have absolutely no right to throw a tantrum when she decides to hold up a mirror. It's beneath you."
"I am not throwing a tantrum." He muttered stubbornly, his gaze tracking you as you finally walked away from the blonde.
"Right." Ukitake smiled, turning back toward the assembly doors. "Just stop the games, Shunsui. Tell the Seireitei you two are together and give the poor girl the public devotion she deserves, instead of hiding behind your rules. Otherwise, I hear the lieutenant of the 9th Division is an exceptionally good listener, and he’s been looking for a partner to join him at the teahouses."
Shunsui’s smile vanished completely, his dark eyes flashing with a sudden, lethal intensity that made Ukitake chuckle again as he walked away. Left alone on the steps, he pulled his hat low, his heart hammering against his ribs with a wild, possessive panic. You had won the first round in a matter of minutes, and as he watched you disappear around the corner of the corridor, he realized with terrifying clarity that his sanity was not going to survive the week.
…
By the second afternoon, the unease had turned into a sharp, clawing torment that Kyōraku was desperately trying to hide. You were sitting out on the edge of the 8th Division’s wooden veranda, a stack of inventory logs resting in your lap, when a bold, handsome upper-seat officer from your own squad approached you. In his hand, he held a beautifully vibrant, pristine cluster of purple wisteria blossoms, freshly plucked from the division’s residential gardens.
"For you, Y/N-san." The officer said, stepping onto the wooden deck and offering the flowers with a confident, deeply respectful bow. "I noticed you staring at them earlier today during duties. A woman of your grace and strength shouldn't have to admire them from a distance."
You looked at the flowers, then up at him, letting your eyes linger warmly. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Shunsui sitting at his low desk inside the office directly across the narrow courtyard garden. He was pretending to review budget files, which he usually wouldn’t even touch with one finger. He hadn't turned a single page in twenty minutes. Sitting adjacent to him, her glasses catching the afternoon light, was Nanao Ise. She was one of the incredibly select few who knew about your private relationship, and she was currently observing her captain's agonizing descent into jealousy with satisfaction.
"They are absolutely beautiful." You said aloud, your voice carrying flawlessly across the open courtyard and straight through the open screens of the office. You didn't reject them. Instead, you reached out, your fingers slow and deliberate as they brushed against the officer's hand to accept the blossoms. You raised them to your face, inhaling the sweet scent. Then, with a fluid, agonizingly graceful motion (at least to Shunsui), you teared off one of the vibrant purple blossoms and slipped it behind your ear. "Thank you." You murmured to the officer, offering him a soft gaze. "That was incredibly thoughtful of you."
Inside the office, a sudden, violent crack fractured the quiet. Kyōraku had laid his large hand flat against his desk, his knuckles turning white as his large fingers gripped the delicate ceramic of his favorite pink sake cup with such sudden, immense pressure that the clay completely shattered into jagged shards, spilling clear liquid all over his unread paperwork.
"My." Nanao spoke up, her voice flat, and dripping with a savage irony as she adjusted her glasses. She didn't look up from her ledger, but her tone was a direct, targeted arrow. "That is the second premium ceramic vessel you have destroyed since lunch, captain. If your hands are shaking so severely from old age, perhaps I should request a medical evaluation from the 4th Division. Or maybe it’s the air out in the courtyard. Is the scent from outside too floral today?"
Shunsui let out a low, pained groan, dropping his chin into his palm, his hat tilting forward to hide his eyes. "How crue Nanao-chan... Please be a good girl and slide the shoji screens shut. The sunlight is... giving me a terrible headache."
"Absolutely not.” Nanao replied instantly, her voice merciless as she turned a page with a sharp, crisp snap. "Barracks regulations strictly dictate that the office must remain properly ventilated during the summer months. Furthermore, I believe transparency is highly beneficial for leadership. It is good for you to see exactly how efficiently the members of your squad are building rapport and… camaraderie."
His eyes flashed with a wild, possessive heat beneath his brim as he watched the officer outside lean closer to you, pointing toward the secondary gardens. "He's asking her out." Shunsui muttered under his breath.
"If I recall the exact text of the conversation you so proudly recounted to captain Ukitake last time you met in the evening..." Nanao chimed in, her pen scratching against the paper with ruthless efficiency. "You told her, and I quote: 'You could flirt with half the Gotei 13 and I'd just sit back and smile.' Where is the smile, captain? Right now, your facial expression closely resembles a hollow undergoing a highly painful purification."
Shunsui closed his eyes, a genuine, desperate sigh escaping his chest as he felt the agonizing weight of his own overconfidence crushing his pride. Outside, you offered the officer another soft smile, letting your fingers lightly touch the wisteria behind your ear. "She's doing it on purpose." Shunsui whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs with a wild, panicking jealousy.
"Of course she is." Nanao remarked deadpan, finally lifting her eyes to fix him with a judgmental look. "She is an intelligent, independent woman who gave you her heart, and you chose to treat it like a casual gaming token to boost your own ego. Frankly, I hope she accepts his invitation, sir."
Shunsui snapped his mouth shut, unable to find a single defensive retort. He stared down at the puddle of spilled sake on his desk, his massive shoulders tense beneath his haori, entirely at the mercy of the trap he had set for himself.
…
The third evening brought the annual joint-division social gathering, transforming the central courtyard into a sea of glowing paper lanterns, overflowing sake barrels, and lively music. The atmosphere was celebratory, the air thick with the scent of roasted meat and alcohol. Your presence attracted a swarm of suitors the moment you stepped into the light. You stood there engaging in light, playful banter with several high-seated men who were thoroughly charmed by your bold, fierce intellect. Across the courtyard, sitting on the elevated wooden platform, Shunsui sat with Jūshirō Ukitake, Rangiku Matsumoto, and a small cluster of unseated female officers. Ostentatiously, Shunsui was trying to act as though he was the life of the party, pouring drinks and offering lazy, charming smiles to the women surrounding the bench.
"Oh, Captain Kyōraku, you always say the sweetest things!" One of the squad girls giggled, leaning in.
"Is that so, my dear?" Shunsui replied smoothly, though his eyes didn't even track her movement. His gaze was entirely fixed across the clearing, locked onto you like a vice.
Rangiku Matsumoto let out a loud laugh, pouring herself another massive cup of alcohol. "Oh, give it up, captain! You haven't heard a single word she’s said. You've been glaring across the courtyard so hard your eyes are going to burn holes through that poor girl's haori."
Ukitake, sitting comfortably at the end of the bench with a warm cup of tea, let out a soft, thoroughly entertained chuckle. He took a slow sip, his eyes twinkling under the lantern light as he observed his friend's rigid posture. "Let him be, Matsumoto-san. Shunsui is currently undergoing a very profound, very necessary philosophical crisis regarding the nature of boundaries."
The music shifted into a lively, traditional festival rhythm, a dance that required partners to step into a circle, their bodies touching as they spun through the lantern light. A flashy, exceptionally confident upper-seat officer from another division stepped into your space, offering his hand with a sweeping bow. "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be standing on the sidelines, Y/N-san. Allow me the honor of this dance."
You looked across the courtyard, meeting your lover’s burning gaze for a split second, before sliding your small hand directly into the stranger's palm. "The honor is mine, officer."
You stepped into the circle. The officer’s hand came down to rest firmly against your waist to guide your steps, his fingers gripping your hip as he spun you through the firelight. You let out a bright laugh, perfectly matching his momentum. Watching the man's hand anchor itself to your hip, Shunsui felt a catastrophic, overwhelming surge of raw jealousy slam into his chest. For a split second, he completely lost his grip on his restraint. A sudden, suffocating flare of his massive reiryoku leaked out into the courtyard, causing the paper lanterns to wildly shudder and the stone tiles beneath his bench to hairline crack. The squad girls around the bench gasped, suddenly shivering as the air turned thick as lead. Rangiku grinned, while Ukitake merely placed a gentle, calming hand on Kyōraku’s shoulder, his expression full of a quiet, knowing warmth.
"Easy, Shunsui." Ukitake murmured softly, his voice a steady anchor. "You brought this entirely upon yourself. Don't ruin the festival over your own pride."
Shunsui breathed out slowly. He was not a violent or unhinged man. Within a fraction of a heartbeat, the dark-haired man reined his spiritual pressure back in, burying the raw beast beneath his signature layer of irresistible charm. He turned to the women around him, a perfectly smooth, slightly sheepish smile returning to his rugged features as he set his cup down.
"If you'll excuse me, ladies." Shunsui murmured, his deep voice carrying a quiet, unmistakable weight as he adjusted his straw hat. "I think it's high time I learned my lesson."
Ukitake let out a loud, deeply amused chuckle, shaking his head as Shunsui stood up. "Go on, then. And don't come back until you've apologized properly."
His long, pink floral haori billowed behind him as he crossed the dirt courtyard with slow, deliberate strides. He didn't use a disruptive flash-step, rather he simply walked right into the dancing circle, cutting through the crowd. Before your partner could even complete the next turn, Shunsui stepped directly into your space. With a movement that was flawlessly smooth, polite, and unyielding, his hand came down over the officer's wrist, gently but firmly lifting it away from your waist. In the same breath, Shunsui’s other arm slid seamlessly around your waist, pulling you flush against his broad chest.
"Mind if I cut in, officer?" He asked, his voice dripping with a terrifyingly polite sweetness that left absolutely no room for a refusal. The rival blinked, completely stunned, and instinctively took a step back, bowing frantically as he realized exactly who had just intercepted his dance. Shunsui ignored him entirely, his heavy-lidded eyes looking down at you with a captivated gaze. He kept you anchored tightly against his hips, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back as he began to slowly sway with you to the rhythm of the music.
"You were right, my sweet." He whispered near your ear, his breath warm against your skin, a faint, self-deprecating smile on his lips. "You were entirely, completely right. And I am a fool." Before you could even tease him, Shunsui stopped dancing, keeping his arm securely locked around your waist as he turned to face the entire crowded courtyard. He cleared his throat - his deep, resonant voice easily carrying over the festival music, commanding the attention of every single soul present.
"My sincerest apologies to everyone tonight." Shunsui announced, his lips curved into a charming smile as he tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you so close there wasn't a breath of space left between you. "But I'm afraid we will be leaving the festival early. It seems I have some rather significant wrongs to do right, and a great many apologies to give to my partner." A collective gasp and a sudden, roaring wave of whispers erupted across the courtyard. Rangiku let out a loud, triumphant cheer from the benches, raising her jug of sake in victory, while Ukitake simply smiled into his tea, chuckling warmly at his friend's public surrender. By explicitly naming you his partner in front of the entire Gotei 13, Shunsui had just permanently marked you before the entire world. Without waiting for the shock to settle, he guided you away from the lights, moving with urgency as he led you straight toward the private sanctuary of his quarters. The wooden doors of his room slid shut with a soft, definitive click, instantly enveloping the two of you in the quiet, cedar-scented dark. The public, charming facade dropped the moment the latch caught. He didn't waste a single second. He spun you around, but there was no brute force in his movements. His large frame completely collapsed over yours, his arms wrapping around you with a frantic, breathless desperation as he buried his face deeply into your neck. He was sighing, the heavy, ragged breaths of a man who had been holding out his best for three agonizing days running through his chest.
You stayed perfectly still, your heart hammering against your ribs, a brilliant, triumphant smirk taking over your face as you reached up to pull his hat off, tossing it onto the tatami mats. You lightly ran your fingers through his thick, dark hair. "What happened to letting half the Gotei 13 buy me drinks? I thought you were just going to sit back and smile."
Shunsui let out a low, deeply pained groan against your skin. Moving with a sudden, utter lack of pride, he slowly sank down onto his knees right there on the floorboards before you. He wrapped his massive arms securely around your waist from below, pressing his face directly against your stomach, his hands gripping the fabric of your uniform as if he was begging for mercy.
"Don't, my sweet... please, don't tease me anymore." He pleaded. His deep voice cracking with a raw, needy vulnerability that sent a thrilling shiver straight down your spine. He tilted his head up from your lap, looking up at you in the dim light. His dark eyes were wide, entirely stripped of their usual lazy confidence, brimming with adoration. "I was an arrogant, blind fool. I thought I could handle it, but watching you smile at them... watching that man put his hands on your waist... I love you. I love you like crazy, Y/N. I don't ever want to see another man breathe your air again. I am entirely yours. Just... tell me I'm the only one. Please, my love. Tell me you're only mine."
Your breath hitched, the sheer, intoxicating depth of his surrender completely dissolving the last of your playful resistance. You wanted to completely melt into him now, your body burning with the desire to touch him without any more walls between you. Instead of remaining standing, you placed your hands firmly against his massive, broad shoulders. With a sudden, deliberate surge of your own momentum, you pushed him. Shunsui, caught off guard and submissive to your will, let out a soft, breathless gasp as he allowed himself to be tipped backward, falling flat onto his back against the sprawling pile of silk floor cushions and tatami mats. Before he could even adjust to the shift, you stepped over him and straddled his lap smoothly. You pinned his hips beneath yours, leaning over his massive chest as your uniform pooled around his haori. You reached down, your hands cradling his stubble-lined jawline with tenderness, your fingers tangling deeply into his brown hair as you stared down into his wide, burning eyes.
"You are a complete and total idiot, Shunsui Kyōraku." You murmured, your voice turning thick and heavy with emotion, a stunning, fierce smile rewriting your face. "I am only yours. I have always been only yours."
Shunsui let out a long, ragged sigh of pure relief, a breathless, desperate laugh escaping his lips as his large hands immediately flew up to lock around your waist, anchoring you to his hips with a possessive grip. "Thank God... my sweet, my love... you nearly drove me completely mad."
As you settled deeper into his lap, shifting your weight deliberately against his thighs, you could already feel the unmistakable, heavy heat of his arousal pressing hard and rigid against you beneath the tangled layers of your uniforms. The sudden proof of just how well your game had unraveled his legendary composure sent a thrilling jolt of pure warmth straight to your core. You didn't let him speak another word. Leaning down, you captured his mouth once more, drawing him into a deeply indulgent makeout session that completely banished the outside world. The kisses were slow, thick, and devastatingly wet, your tongues sliding together in a heavy rhythm that left both of you breathless. As you consumed his mouth, you began to move your hips. Slowly, deliberately, you rolled your pelvis forward, grinding your weight down against him. Even through the thick, restrictive layers of your uniforms, the rigid shape of his manhood was massive and impossible to ignore. You pressed down harder, constantly rubbing yourself against him, your movements torturously slow and precise. Every slide of your hips generated a scorching, building friction through the fabric of your trousers, sending waves of intense heat straight to your center. Shunsui let out a deep, guttural groan directly into your mouth, his entire massive frame shuddering beneath you. His large, calloused hands anchored themselves to your waist, his fingers digging fiercely into your skin to guide your movements, pulling you down even harder against his groin. He couldn't help but arch his hips upward, instinctively seeking the friction as you completely dismantled his sanity. You pulled back only a bit, your lips parting with a breathless, wet gasp as the friction began to make your own head spin. You looked down at him in the dim, golden shadows of the room. His dark hair was disheveled against the silk, and his heavy-lidded eyes were dark, glassy, and completely consumed by a desperate, needy lust.
"Ah... God, my sweet..." Shunsui rasped, his voice completely wrecked. He swallowed hard, his chest heaving aggressively under your palms as you shifted your weight again, deliberately rubbing your core over him. A breathless, ragged sigh escaped him, his hands sliding up from your waist to grip your hips, his thumbs tracing your hipbone with a trembling desperation. "You're killing me. You're completely driving me out of my mind..."
You offered him a slow, stunning smile, completely in control, before leaning down to slick your tongue along his lower lip, teasing him with another deep, open-mouthed kiss while your hips kept up their relentless, agonizing rub against his heat. Shunsui groaned again, his hips bucking up into your core, completely undone by the torment of the fabric separating your bodies. He couldn't take it anymore. He pulled his head back slightly, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked up at you from his back, his gaze pleading. "Please, my love... let me get rid of these clothes…" He whispered, his voice a low, begging tone that resonated straight through your chest. His hands slid down the sides of your uniform, his fingers urgently finding the ties of your garment. "I need to feel you. All of you. Let me strip this away. Please."
You nodded softly, your own breath hitching with a matching, desperate hunger as you finally allowed him the release he was begging for. The friction between your bodies intensified, the restrictive layers of heavy fabric finally becoming too much to bear. His hands worked with an urgent, practiced grace, untying and parting the layers of your uniform until you were completely bared to him in the dim warmth of the room. His eyes trailed down your form with an unholy adoration that made your breath catch in your throat. He quickly stripped out of his own floral clothes, his broad, scarred chest rising and falling in uneven patterns. As he moved back over you, the rigid, pulsing length of his member pressed directly against your inner thigh, radiating a scorching heat that sent a violent shiver straight down your spine.
"You are entirely too beautiful, my sweet." He whispered, his deep baritone completely wrecked as he leaned down to slick his tongue along your jawline, trailing wet, heavy kisses down to the hollow of your throat. His fingers slid lower, parting your thighs to find the slick, aching warmth of your pussy. You let out a soft, breathless gasp as his long fingers gently caressed the sensitive entrance, finding you already weeping for him, completely drenched from the intoxicating tension of the last few days. He smoothed the slippery, wet moisture over your sensitive skin, his thumb tracing slow, torturous circles that had your hips tilting upward instinctively, desperately seeking the full weight of him. When his large hands anchored your hips securely against the silk cushions, he positioned the heavy tip of his cock against your opening. He paused for a heartbeat, his eyes locking onto yours with pleading intensity that begged for absolution.
"Only mine." He murmured softly against your mouth.
"Only yours." You agreed, your voice breaking.
With a slow, agonizingly deep push, he buried his full length inside you. A loud, ragged groan ripped from his chest, swallowed instantly as his mouth crashed back onto yours in a deeply indulgent, wet kiss. The sensation of being entirely filled by him, of his thick heat stretching your sensitive walls, was so overwhelming that your toes curled into the silk mats, your arms locking tightly around his neck to pull his massive body even closer. He began to move, establishing an agonizingly sensual rhythm. Every deep, sliding plunge of his dick against the sensitive depths of your pussy echoed in the quiet room with a slick friction. Soon Shunsui completely lost his composure, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps against your neck as he rocked into you. He pulled his head back slightly, his eyes shone with a raw adoration as he looked down at you. His hands slid up from your waist, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of your eyes.
"Look at me, my sweet... Please, look at this foolish man." He rasped, his deep voice completely wrecked. His entire body trembled as his cock withdrew slowly, only to sink all the way back into the gripping warmth of your cunt. You looked up at him, your breath hitching as your hips instinctively lifted to meet the heavy, slow stroke. "I love you." He whispered, the declaration bleeding from his lips like a prayer as he pressed a tender, soft kiss to your forehead, then to each of your eyelids. "God, I love you so much… It completely breaks me. I adore you, Y/N. Every single thing about you... the way you hold yourself, the way you look at me... I adore every inch of your soul." He paused deep inside you, his hips pressing hard against yours, letting you feel the full, pulsing magnitude of his manhood stretching you wide, filling you to the absolute limit. He leaned down, his lips brushing softly, damply against the shell of your ear as his voice dropped into rumble.
"No more secrets." He murmured, his grip on your hips turning fiercely possessive as he began to move again, a slow, heavy, and deeply indulgent rhythm that had you whimpering into the dark room. "I want everyone to know, my sweet. I want the entire Seireitei, every single captain, every single soul in the Gotei 13 to see us together and know that you belong to me. I want them to know we belong to each other. Permanently."
"Shunsui..." You gasped, your fingers digging into the muscle of his broad shoulders as another deep, sliding thrust sent a violent wave of pleasure through your body.
"Tell me." He pleaded softly, his mouth coming back to yours, his tongue sliding deeply between your lips in a slow, intoxicatingly wet kiss that tasted of him and desire. He rocked his pelvis against yours, the tension turning completely unbearable, pushing you right to the absolute edge of a blinding crescendo. "Tell me you want it too, my sweet."
"Yes." You breathed against his lips, your voice completely broken with love and pleasure as you arched into him, your pussy tightening convulsively around the throbbing heat of his dick. "Only yours... I want them to know… God Shunsui. I’m yours. Shunsui.."
He let out a dark, utterly satisfied growl into your mouth, his pace turning slightly heavier, more desperate as he poured every ounce of his love, his worship, and his complete surrender into you, the friction of your bodies filling the quiet sanctuary of his room until the world outside vanished entirely.
The steam in the women’s onsen was thick enough to obscure the tiled walls, turning the cedar-lined bath into a private, hazy sanctuary. Water trickled soothingly from a bamboo spout, but the tranquil atmosphere was completely dominated by Rangiku Matsumoto, who was currently floating on her back, splashing her legs, and letting out a dramatic sigh.
"I swear, the men in this Gotei 13 are either emotionally stunted, entirely married to their paperwork, or just plain exhausting." She groaned, flipping over to rest her arms on the smooth stone edge of the bath. She looked across at Isane, who was submerged up to her nose to hide her blushing face, and Rukia, who sat on a submerged stone step, sipping a cup of barley tea. Rangiku’s bright eyes then locked onto you, a wicked, knowing grin spreading across her face. "But enough about my complaining. Come on, Y/N, give us the details. How are things going with the sweetest captain of the Seireitei? We rarely get to hear about what goes on behind the closed doors of the 13th Division, Rukia never shares gossip with me."
A warmth that had nothing to do with the hot spring water bloomed in your cheeks. You leaned back against the smooth rocks, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Jūshirō is... well, he’s incredible. He’s a perfect gentleman."
"Oh, don't just leave it at that!" Rangiku nudged your shoulder with her foot beneath the water. "Give us the romantic stuff!"
"He really is a true romantic." You said, the memory making your heart flutter. "Last week, I mentioned in passing that I was having trouble sleeping. The very next morning, he left a small, hand-wrapped bundle of lavender and chamomile on my desk, along with a note written in beautiful calligraphy, telling me he hoped my day would be as bright as my smile. And whenever we walk through the gardens, he always makes sure he's walking on the side closest to the dirt path so my sandals don't get muddy. He is just so patient, so attentive... entirely perfect."
Beside you, Isane let out a soft, dreamy sigh, her hands clasping together beneath the water. "Oh... that is so sweet. A handwritten note? That’s like something out of an old poetry anthology. You are so incredibly lucky, Y/N."
Rukia nodded firmly, her expression a mix of pride and genuine fondness. "Captain Ukitake has always possessed a remarkably noble and gentle soul. To hear that he treats you with such profound respect and devotion... It is truly wonderful."
Rangiku, however, wasn't done. She slid closer through the water, her eyes flashing with pure mischief as she wiggled her eyebrows. "Okay, okay, the hand-wrapped lavender is sweet, Y/N. But come on, give us the real stuff. What about the steamy time? Is he just as proper and reserved when the doors are shut, or does he know how to take charge?"
A sudden, scorching heat flooded your face, turning you a brighter shade of red than the hot spring waters could ever manage. You froze, your mind instantly betraying you as it flashed back to the quiet, breathless nights spent hidden away in his private quarters. They weren't rough or hurried, but they carried a deep, melting sensuality that made your heart ache just remembering them. You recalled the way his large, warm hands would slowly slip beneath your robes, his fingers tracing the sensitive curve of your waist with an almost reverent slowness. He would pull you into his lap, his long white hair falling around the two of you like a silver silk curtain, shielding you completely from the rest of the world. And his kisses... they weren't the chaste forehead presses he gave you in public. They were deep, slow, and devastatingly soft. His lips parting yours gently, making your entire body feel heavy and warm, his chest rumbling with a low hum of absolute devotion against your skin.
Seeing your total, wide-eyed meltdown, Rangiku burst into a delighted, ringing laugh, loudly clapping her hands. "Oh, look at that blush! Oho, so Captain Ukitake is like that behind closed doors, huh? Hehe, I knew it! The quiet ones are always the secret wolves!"
Isane squeaked, burying her face completely underwater to hide her secondary embarrassment, while Rukia cleared her throat loudly, coughing into her fist as a faint pink dusted her own cheeks. "M-Matsumoto-san! Please do not interrogate her like that!"
You also tried to save face, your voice squeaking in embarrassment when you protested. “He is a perfect gentleman!”
But across the tub, Rangiku went back to swirling her hand through the water, her expression shifting to something more thoughtful. "Alright, alright. Don't get me wrong, he sounds like an absolute dream…" Rangiku said, tilting her head. "But honestly? For me personally? I need a little more... bite in a man."
You blinked, trying to clear the vivid memories and embarrassment from your head. "Bite?"
"Yes, exactly!" Rangiku sat up, her eyes gleaming. "I mean, a perfect gentleman is nice, but there is nothing better than when a man completely loses that polite, composed little mask. When he gets just a tiny bit territorial because someone else is looking at you? God, it’s thrilling. I want to see a man’s eyes darken. I want to know that underneath all that proper etiquette, he’s secretly a wolf who wants to snap at anyone who steps too close to what's his. That kind of fierce jealousy... it makes your toes curl."
You sat perfectly still. The hot water suddenly felt secondary to the cold, sinking realization washing over you. Jūshirō. You had been together for months, and he had never, not once, lost his composure. He smiled at every unseated officer who brought you documents. He gracefully stepped back to let other captains chat with you. He accommodated everyone with the same gentle, flawless courtesy. Did he even have a possessive bone in his body? Or was he simply too detached, too saintly, to feel that kind of fierce, burning hunger for you? By the time you slipped out of the onsen and made your way back to the Thirteenth Division quarters, the question was a gnawing ache right beneath your ribs, demanding an answer.
…
Jūshirō was sitting by the engawa when you arrived, a soft evening breeze catching his long, snow-white hair. He was reading a scroll, looking so perfectly serene and angelic, that a sudden spike of mischievous frustration flared in your chest.
"Darling?" You called out softly, sliding the door shut.
"Ah, welcome back, my love." He murmured, his green eyes crinkling with that trademark warmth as he looked up. "Did you enjoy the baths?"
"I did." You said, casually sitting beside him and pulling your knees to your chest. You took a breath, preparing the lie. "Though... It was a bit hectic on the way back. A seated officer from another division stopped me. He was being very persistent. Kept insisting on taking me out to dinner tonight, even after I told him I was busy."
You watched his face almost like a hawk, searching for a sudden twitch of his brows, a sharp tightening of that elegantly sculpted jawline, or a single crack in his facade. But there was absolutely nothing. He didn't miss a beat. Close up, his features were frustratingly, breathtakingly handsome, the soft evening light catching the high, refined angles of his cheekbones and warming the deep, striking green of his eyes. His smile remained perfectly intact, smooth, serene, and so effortlessly beautiful it made your stomach twist with a mix of awe and sheer annoyance.
"Well, I can hardly blame him." Jūshirō said, his voice gentle. He reached out, his thumb tenderly brushing your cheek. "You are absolutely radiant. He would have to be blind not to try." He leaned in, planting a soft, chaste kiss on your forehead. "I just remembered I have some extra paperwork to attend to. I'll be back shortly, alright?"
"Oh. Okay." You muttered, completely deflated.
The moment the shoji screen clicked shut behind him, Jūshirō’s gentle smile dissolved into a quiet, rigid stillness. He didn't let his spiritual pressure flare. He was far too disciplined, far too protective of the unseated officers and lower-ranked shinigami bustling through the nearby corridors, to let a reckless wave of his heavy reiatsu give him away. Instead, the sudden spike of heat turned entirely inward, a tightly wound coil of fierce jealousy locking behind his ribs. He forced his posture to relax, and the smile back as he turned the corner into the main hallway, stepping into the path of his division members.
"Ah! Captain Ukitake!" A young, unseated officer paused, bowing deeply as he held a stack of inventory ledgers. "Good evening, sir. We’ve just finished updating the patrol schedules for the third district, and we were thinking of…"
The words drifted right past Jūshirō’s ears, entirely empty of meaning. His smile was on complete, practiced autopilot, a flawless curve of his lips that required absolutely no conscious effort. Internally, he wasn't listening to a single word. The officer’s voice was utterly drowned out by the echoing playback of your voice in his mind: A seated officer... very persistent... trying to take me to dinner. He watched the young man’s mouth move, his mind registering only a couple of disconnected keywords - patrol, finished, and allowed centuries of captain-level muscle memory to dictate his response.
"Splendid work." Jūshirō murmured, his tone carrying its usual warmth, flawlessly executing the expected script. "Thank you for staying late to see it through. Please make sure the rest of the squad gets some rest tonight, alright?"
"Yes, sir! Thank you, Captain!" The officer beamed, completely oblivious to the fact that his captain hadn't absorbed a single syllable of his report, and hurried along. As soon as the hallway cleared, Jūshirō continued walking, his hands sliding deep into his wide white sleeves, his fingers curling into tight, unseen fists.
A seated officer. Persisting even after you said no.
The thought sent a cold, sharp spike of irritation straight through him. He nodded kindly to two more subordinates who bowed as they passed, his voice smooth and steady as he automatically exchanged pleasantries, but internally, his mind was racing.
Who was it? Which division? Who had the unbridled audacity to stand in her presence, to look at you and think he had the right to pursue? Did he make you uncomfortable? Did he try to touch your hand?
The contrast between his warm outer shell and the possessive frustration churning in his chest was dizzying. He didn't want to be a man ruled by petty jealousy, but even the thought of another man trying to slide into your life, trying to take what was privately his, made his jaw ache from how hard he was grinding his teeth. He wanted to march right back into that room, pull you against him, and gently coax a name out of you. Not to cause a scene, but so he could personally find the fool and quietly remind him exactly where the boundaries lay. He didn't, however. You deserved a sanctuary, a gentleman, not a man consumed by a toxic, primitive emotion. He stopped at the edge of the courtyard, taking a slow, deep breath of the cool night air, forcing the tight knot in his chest to loosen before he dared walk back to you.
…
The total lack of reaction from your first attempt only drove you further. The following afternoon, you sought out your friend, Shūhei Hisagi. You caught him just as he was finishing up a patrol, dragging him away to a secluded corner behind the unmapped stone walls near the Ninth Division archives.
"Are you completely out of your mind, Y/N?!" Shūhei hissed, his eyes wide with genuine panic as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You want me to do what?"
"Just a little bit of harmless flirting, Shūhei! Please!" You pleaded, leaning closer to him, your hands clumsily clasped together in desperate supplication. "I just need to see a reaction from him. Just a single crack in that perfect gentleman routine."
"Absolutely not! No way!" Hisagi stammered, stepping back slightly, his face flushing with secondary nerves. "Captain Ukitake is a literal saint, but he is still a senior captain. If he catches me pulling a stunt like that, his disappointed look alone will dissolve my soul into spiritual particles! Ask captain Kyōraku! Ask someone who isn't afraid of dying!"
"Captain Kyōraku would make it a whole theatrical production." You argued, stepping back into his space to keep his attention, looking up at him with the most pathetic, pleading expression you could muster. "Come on, Shūhei, we've been friends for years. I promise I'll protect you. And I'll buy you that rare, aged bottle of Karakura sake you've been eyeing for months."
Shūhei groaned loudly, throwing his head back. "You're evil. You know that, right? A rare bottle of sake is not worth my life... but fine. Fine! Just no touching. If I touch you, I’m pretty sure the universe will implode, or my intestines will explode from your boyfriend’s blade."
What neither of you realized was that Jūshirō was currently walking back from a meeting, a stack of administrative reports cradled in his arm. As he stepped along the upper walkway overlooking the archive courtyard, his green eyes naturally caught sight of you. He stopped dead in his tracks. From his vantage point, he couldn't hear a single word of your hushed, urgent conversation. All he could see was you, tucked away in a shadowed, private corner, standing entirely too close to the 9th Division Lieutenant. He watched as you leaned in toward Hisagi, talking with a desperate, intense animation. He saw the dark-haired man looking incredibly flustered, rubbing his neck, his cheeks dusted with a dark flush as he looked down at you. Jūshirō’s breath caught in his throat. A cold, heavy weight dropped squarely into his stomach, a vicious coil of possessive jealousy instantly wrapping around his lungs. Why is she alone with him? The thought pierced his mind, sharp and venomous. Why is she looking at him like that? What could they possibly be speaking about in secret that requires her to stand so close to him? His grip on the paperwork tightened, the thick parchment crinkling under the unseen pressure of his fingers. He had to force his eyes away, you were a free woman. You could have friends, male or not, even if he wanted to drive Sōgyo no Kotowari through him. His chest heaved as he compelled himself to walk away. He trusted you with his entire life, but the primitive, dark beast locked inside his chest didn't care about trust, it only cared that another man was sharing a private, intimate moment with the only person he loved.
…
The next morning, the trap was sprung. You were standing in the middle of the open, sunlit courtyard of the 13th Division barracks when you spotted Jūshirō approaching from across the grounds. Right on cue, Shūhei stepped into the courtyard from the opposite side, taking a deep, fortifying breath before marching over to you.
"Remember, no touching." Shūhei muttered under his breath before instantly shifting his face into what he hoped was a suave smile. He took a deliberate, heavy step forward, intentionally invading your personal space. You saw Jūshirō slow his pace out of the corner of your eye. Sensing your opening, you gave your friend the cue, tilting your head back and letting out a soft, melodious laugh that echoed across the quiet courtyard. You deliberately leaned your upper body slightly toward him, looking up at him from beneath your eyelashes, your eyes bright and completely focused on his face.
Shūhei swallowed hard, playing his part as loud as he dared. "You know Y/N, I was just thinking about how incredible you looked during training the other day. I swear, I haven't been able to get the image out of my head all morning."
You stepped even closer, narrowing the gap. You smiled warmly, resting your hands behind your back, tilting your chin up as if hanging on his every word. "Is that so, Shūhei? I didn't think you were paying such close attention to me."
Shūhei leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to yours to lock eyes, trying his absolute best to look captivated while internally praying for his life. To anyone else it looked like poorly done theatre, not to captain Ukitake though. "How could I not? We really should spend more time together. Just the two of us. Away from the barracks."
Jūshirō stopped a few paces away. Internally, his mind was a violent, raging storm. The memory of seeing you two alone the previous afternoon collided with this blatant, public display of affection, and it took every single drop of his centuries-matured willpower to keep his spiritual pressure from completely flattening the courtyard. His blood burned. A primal roar of possessive rage screamed in his head, demanding he yanked you against his chest, and drew his blade on the lieutenant standing entirely too close to what belonged to him. Yet, once again, his outer facade was nothing short of a masterpiece. His face shifted into a flawless, radiant, and entirely pleasant smile. His voice, when he spoke, was light, smooth, and carried the airy warmth.
"Ah, lieutenant Hisagi." Jūshirō interrupted effortlessly, stepping forward with an impeccable grace that shattered the false intimacy of the moment. "Good morning. Thank you so much for keeping Y/N company. I know how exceptionally busy the 9th Division's editing and patrol schedules are these days. I certainly won't keep you from your pressing duties any longer."
The smile on Jūshirō’s face was beautiful, but the sheer, unyielding weight of his polite captain's authority radiated off him so heavily that Shūhei’s survival instincts instantly screamed.
"Right! Yes, sir! Absolutely! Excuse me!" He scrambled, offering a frantic bow before practically sprinting out of the courtyard.
As Shūhei fled, Jūshirō turned his warm, crinkling eyes back to you, his smile never wavering for a fraction of a second. "Shall we head inside, dear? I believe the tea should be ready."
Your shoulders slumped entirely. You felt a heavy lump form in your throat as you walked beside him. He’s just too good, too pure, for something as ugly as jealousy. You thought bitterly, completely blind to the agonizing internal restraint he was exercising.
Later that evening, Jūshirō sat across from Kyōraku in a quiet, dimly lit tavern buried deep within the Seireitei. His best friend took a slow sip of his sake, his sharp eyes tracking his oldest friend. Jūshirō hadn't touched his tea. His jaw was clamped so tight a muscle was visibly twitching in his cheek, and his large hand was wrapped around his porcelain cup with terrifying intensity.
"You've barely touched your tea, Jūshirō." He noted casually, setting his sake down. "And if you grip that porcelain any harder, the owner is going to charge us for the damage."
"I'm fine." His voice was clipped, devoid of its usual melodic warmth.
Shunsui raised an eyebrow, adjusting his straw hat. "Right. And I'm sober. Is the lung condition flaring up again?"
"No." Another terse, one-word response.
"Trouble with Central 46? Budget constraints from the Seireitei gates?" Shunsui pressed, tilting his head.
"Everything is handled, Shunsui." Jūshirō’s knuckles turned white against the ceramic.
"Ah. I see…" Shunsui murmured, a knowing gleam entering eyes. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms. "Then it must be a matter of the heart. Did you and Y/N have a disagreement?"
"We are perfectly fine." Jūshirō countered, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.
The dark haired captain let the silence stretch for a moment, letting his mind wander back to the gossip he’d picked up earlier in the day. A lazy, wicked grin began to tug at the corner of his mouth. "Funny. I ran into Tōsen earlier this afternoon. He mentioned his lieutenant, looked like he’d seen a ghost after returning from the 13th Division courtyard today. Something happened with the 9th?"
At the mere mention of Hisagi, the tight thread of Jūshirō’s control snapped. The porcelain teacup in his hand shattered with a sharp crack, pieces of ceramic slicing into his palm as the hot liquid spilled over his knuckles. He didn't even flinch at the pain. Shunsui didn't look shocked. Having known Jūshirō for centuries, he was one of the very few souls in the Soul Society who knew exactly what lurked beneath that serene, saintly exterior. He had always known his best friend possessed a deeply possessive, intensely territorial streak when it came to people he claimed as his own. But as he looked at the shattered porcelain and the raw, bleeding frustration in Jūshirō’s eyes, Shunsui threw his head back and absolutely lost it. He laughed so hard that his shoulders shook.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Hisagi? You are ready to murder a lieutenant over a conversation in a courtyard?" Shunsui wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.
"It wasn't just a conversation." Jūshirō growled, plucking a cloth from the table to slowly wipe the tea and blood from his hand, his voice dropping into a low register. "He was leaning entirely too close to her. He was breathing the same air. He was looking at her like he had a right to be there."
Shunsui stopped laughing, thoroughly fascinated by the raw possessiveness bleeding out of the usually placid man. It was the first time in hundreds of years he had ever seen his best friend struggling this hard to keep the beast chained.
"And it's not just him." Jūshirō leaned forward, his eyes boring into his friend’s. "It's anyone. It's every single unseated officer who brings her paperwork and lingers a second too long. It's every captain who steps into her personal space during a meeting. Even you. I tell myself every single day that Y/N deserves a gentleman, a partner who isn't suffocating or backward. I force myself to smile and step aside. But the truth is, I am utterly consumed by it. It takes every ounce of my strength not to pick her up, carry her back to my quarters, and lock the doors so another living soul can never even look her way again."
Shunsui let out a low whistle, a slow, deeply amused grin spreading across his face. He leaned back, adjusting his straw hat. "Incredible. I always knew you were a fiercely jealous man under all that white hair, but I have never, in all our centuries together, seen you sweating this much just to keep the mask from cracking. You’re practically vibrating, my old friend." Jūshirō only sighed in response, already hunting down with his eyes the tavern owner to apologise for the mess.
…
The next afternoon, the unresolved tension culminated in a meeting. You, Jūshirō, Shunsui, and Nanao met at a private tea house tucked away in the scenic outer rings of the Rukongai. The establishment featured a beautiful, wide wooden veranda jutting out over a rushing garden stream, surrounded by blooming cherry blossoms. The party naturally split into two distinct areas on the deck. Jūshirō and Nanao were seated at a low wooden table closer to the indoor sliding doors, deeply engrossed in a stack of logistical documents and division budget reports that Nanao had insistently brought along, captain Kyōraku never did his work and when she could she would ask your love for help, he didn’t mind helping out where he could. To give them space to work, you had walked a bit further away, standing at the far end of the long veranda. You leaned heavily against the wooden railing, staring down at the swirling water of the stream below. You swirled your cup of cold tea, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh. Shunsui saw his opening. Setting his sake cup down at the main table, he casually strolled across the deck, his sandals clicking softly until he came to a stop right beside you at the railing, tipping his straw hat up with a single finger.
"You look like you're carrying the weight of the entire Soul Society on those pretty shoulders, Y/N." Shunsui murmured, his voice low enough that it wouldn't carry over the rushing sounds of the stream back to the main table. "What's wrong?"
You didn't look up from the water. "It's nothing. You will laugh at me.”
“Try me.” He insisted with this disarming smile and you sighed before giving in.
“It's just... I tried to make Jūshirō jealous. Twice now. And he didn't even blink. He's such a gentleman, Shunsui, but... maybe he just doesn't feel as fiercely about me as I do about him. Maybe… Ugh, I know it’s stupid but I just wanted to see it once.”
Shunsui froze. He glanced over his shoulder at his friend, who was politely nodding along to something Nanao was pointing out on a budget sheet, before looking back at you, utterly baffled. A wicked, thoroughly chaotic grin slowly spread across his weathered face. "I cannot believe it." He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "He actually managed to fool you that completely? Y/N, listen to me. Jūshirō is, without a single doubt, the most intensely, dangerously jealous man I have ever known in my entire life."
You rolled your eyes, completely disbelieving him. "Right. And I'm the Head Captain."
"You don't believe me?" Shunsui’s eyes gleamed with pure, unadulterated mischief. He stepped away from the railing, moving smoothly into your space. "Okay. Watch this. But you have to promise to patch me up or at least take me to 4th Division barracks afterward..." Before you could even process his words, let alone ask what on earth he meant, Shunsui moved. He hooked a firm, heavy arm around your waist, pulling you forcefully away from the railing and close against his chest. His other hand dropped, resting entirely too low on your hip, gripping you tight. He leaned down and planted a very deliberate, lingering, loud kiss right on your cheek. You didn't even have time to gasp. The distance between the two ends of the veranda just disappeared. It was like the entire atmosphere shattered. There was no audible sound of a shunpo step. There was only an instantaneous, violent blur of snow-white hair crossing the deck and a sudden, suffocating pressure that drove the oxygen right out of your lungs. In a fraction of a second, Jūshirō closed the gap. His face was entirely unrecognizable. Gone was the gentle, smiling captain, replaced by a cold, lethal fury. His large hand clamped onto Shunsui’s collar with a vice-like grip while his other hand seized his forearm. Pivoting with terrifying, silent violence, Jūshirō leveraged his entire frame and effortlessly hoisted his oldest friend completely over his shoulder, throwing him with a powerful force that launched him into the air. The 8th captain went flying across the veranda, crashing straight through a low wooden decorative table that sat between the two areas. Wood splintered into pieces, tea cups shattered into ceramic dust, and Shunsui landed hard against the far wall of the tea house, clutching his bruised ribs. But despite the pain, he was cackling. He looked up from the debris, a massive, bloody smirk on his face. "Told... told you so." he wheezed out.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Kyōraku?" Jūshirō’s voice wasn't loud. It was low, dark, and carried a lethal promise that made every single hair on the back of your neck stand straight up. He hadn't drawn Sōgyo no Kotowari, but his hand was resting heavily on the hilt.
Nanao stood up by the documents, her jaw dropped, completely stunned into silence. You were in absolute shock, staring across the distance of the deck. Your lover’s eyes were practically glowing, his gaze locked onto Shunsui like a predator waiting to tear its prey apart. Realizing that a captain-level bloodbath was about to occur in a public tea house, you scrambled over the splinters, grabbing his rigid wrist. "Jūshirō! Stop! Please, let's just go!" The touch of your hand snapped a fraction of his control back. He didn't look at Shunsui again. He grabbed your hand, his grip tight enough to border on bruising, and dragged you out of the ruined shop and back toward the 13th Division barracks at a grueling, breathless pace.
The moment the heavy wooden doors to his private quarters slammed shut, the heavy silence of the room crashed over you like a physical wave. He stood perfectly still, his back turned entirely to you, his broad shoulders rigid beneath his haori. He didn't move. He didn't speak. The silence stretched between you, thick, icy, and completely suffocating. Your heart dropped directly into your stomach, a cold dread twisting inside your chest. Looking at his unmoving frame, a sudden, overwhelming wave of panic hit you. I blew it. You thought frantically, your vision already swimming with tears. My childish, immature stupidity just completely destroyed our entire relationship. The anxiety cracked inside you, and before you could stop yourself, you started rambling, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a desperate, panicked rush.
"Jūshirō, I am so, so sorry! That was so dumb of me!" Your voice cracking as you took a frantic step toward him. "It was a completely stupid, childish setup! I wanted to see you jealous and made Shūhei do it the other day, and Shunsui only did all of that on the veranda because... because I didn't believe him! He told me that you were the most jealous man in the entire Gotei 13, and I didn't believe a single word of it because you are always so perfect, so noble, such a gentleman to everyone! To me. I just wanted to see you jealous. I wanted to know and now I ruined everything and destroyed our relationship and God, I’m so childish, and I'm so sorr…"
Mid-sentence, Jūshirō turned. He didn't let you finish. In two swift, terrifyingly powerful strides, he closed the distance between you. Before you could even draw a breath to continue your apology, his large hands came up, forcefully slamming into the wood of the door on either side of your head, caging you completely against the solid surface. He silenced you instantly by crushing his mouth against yours. Your eyes widened in sheer shock. This was a kiss you had never experienced from him before. There was absolutely no gentlemanly hesitation, no soft, reverent slowness. It was a searingly hot, deeply demanding, and utterly possessive assault. His tongue parted your lips with hunger, claiming your mouth completely and drinking in your startled gasps. He pulled back by a mere fraction of an inch, his chest heaving violently, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His green eyes burned down into yours with a raw intensity that made your knees instantly weaken.
"I wanted to rip Hisagi to shreds." Jūshirō admitted rawly, his voice a low, terrifyingly dark tone that vibrated straight through your chest. "Seeing him stand that close to you... hearing him talk to you like that... I wanted to completely dismantle him."
Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering frantically as you stammered out, "J-Jūshirō, he is just a frien…"
"Friends are problems for me as well." Jūshirō interrupted seamlessly, his hand sliding roughly from the door to cup your jawline, his thumb digging firmly into your chin to tilt your face up. "That is how possessive I actually am of you. Anyone who shares a moment with you, anyone who gets a piece of your attention... it tears at me. That is why I have to keep it all locked in." Before you could even process the shifting gravity, his large hands slid down the length of your back, moving beneath the fabric of your robes until they wrapped completely around the plush, bare curves of your ass. His fingers dug firmly into your skin, anchoring you with an absolute, unyielding grip. With a sudden, effortless lift he hoisted you up, lifting you completely off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped tightly around his waist to stay aloft as he pinned you securely against the door, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass to bear your weight without a hint of strain. The movement pulled your hips flush against his, and your breath hitched sharply as you felt the unmistakable, thick, solid length of his arousal pressing hard and rigid against your sensitive core through the layers of your clothing. "Do you have any idea..." Jūshirō whispered. "How agonizing it is to control myself around you every single day? To act the proper, patient gentleman while I am internally losing my absolute mind? I am burning alive."
You were trembling, your core aching with a sudden, heavy warmth. You looked up into his fierce gaze, your voice small and breathless as reality tried to break through the fog of your arousal and his assault on your exposed skin. "J-Jūshirō... shouldn't we go back to the veranda? Nanao and Kyōraku... they are still waiting for us..."
His grip on your ass tightened instantly, his fingers digging in deeper, driving your hips directly against his rigid heat. "Don't mention another man's name right now." He commanded, his voice dropping into a possessive register that sent a delicious shiver straight down your spine. "Nanao will help him up and I will take care of our spat tomorrow. Tonight, we focus on us."
You looked down at him, your voice shaking as you cupped his cheek. "What about your illness? Shouldn't we take it easy? I don't want you to strain your lungs..."
Jūshirō looked up at you, his gaze burning with a lifetime of pent-up devotion and raw, untamed passion. A dark, breathtaking smile tugged at his lips. "I don't mind losing my breath entirely." He murmured, his hands firmly lifting your weight higher. "If it means you finally know exactly how you make me feel. Exactly what you do to me." He didn't wait for another word. With desperation that completely contradicted his usual elegance, his hands tore at the remaining fabric of your robes, parting the cloth until your skin was bare to the cool air of the room. His own captain's haori and shihakushō were cast aside onto the tatami mats, leaving his lean, powerful body exposed to your gaze.
His hands remained locked under the bare curves of your ass, squeezing firmly, lifting you so effortlessly that your weight felt like nothing to him against the solid wood of the door. The contrast between the cool air of the room hitting your bare skin and the blistering, radiating heat of his chest pressing flush against you made your head spin. You felt completely consumed, dizzy with an overwhelming wave of vulnerability and intense arousal. Under his dark, unblinking gaze, the sheer weight of his undivided attention made your chest heave. Jūshirō let out a ragged, low sound at the sight of you, his usual reservation completely incinerated. He dipped his head, his long white hair falling around your chest like a silken curtain, and buried his face in the soft contour of your breast. When his hot, wet tongue swiped flat across one aching peak, a loud, high-pitched whimper tore from your throat, your hips helplessly jerking forward against his waist. The sound of your voice drove him wild. He let out a deep growl against your skin and opened his mouth, drawing the entire hardened nipple past his lips, sucking with a fierce, heavy intensity that sent a jolt of pure electricity straight down between your thighs. Your back arched off the door, your fingers digging so hard into his shoulders that your nails threatened to tear his skin. Every time you let out a broken, breathless sob, Jūshirō reacted instantly, his mouth clamping down tighter, his tongue swirling roughly around the sensitive peak, pulling and teasing it until you were weeping from the sheer sensory overload. He loved the sounds you made. You could feel the vibration of his low chuckles against your ribs whenever a particularly loud moan escaped you. Suddenly, he pulled his mouth away, leaving the wet, swollen nipple exposed to the ambient chill of his quarters. The abrupt cold made you shiver, your breath hitching as it hardened even further. But before you could protest, Jūshirō leaned back in close. He didn't touch you with his lips; instead, he blew a slow, agonizingly hot breath directly onto the damp, hypersensitive flesh, immediately following it with a sharp, cool puff of air. The intense contrast made your entire body violently shudder. A desperate, fractured cry broke from your lips, your head tossing back against the wood as your core throbbed with an unbearable, dripping ache.
"Jūshirō...Jūshirō, please." You pleaded, completely unraveled, your legs clamping around his hips as you writhed in his iron grip. "Please... touch me... touch me.. I can't, Jūshirō, please!"
He stared up at you, a fierce, deeply satisfied smirk tugged at his lips at the sight of your desperation. "Yes, exactly…" Jūshirō murmured over your damp skin. He leaned back down, his hot breath brushing the very peak he had just tormented. "That's right... that's a good reaction. Let me hear you moan my name like that." He let you beg for a fraction of a second longer, clearly intoxicating himself with his total dominance over you, before his hand finally slid down from your ass, his fingers diving into the slick, overflowing warmth of your pussy to test your readiness. He groaned. Guided by an urge, he aligned his rigid, throbbing dick with your opening. With a quick, unyielding, and heavy thrust, he bared his weight and buried his entire length deep inside you. The sensation was overwhelming. Your breath hitched completely, a ragged gasp tearing from your throat as your fingers dug hard into the muscles of his back, your nails scratching his skin. He filled you entirely, stretching you with a rough, heavy fullness that made your vision blur. He kept his hands securely anchored on your ass, lifting and tilting your hips effortlessly against the door as he began to move, his hips driving into yours with a deep, rhythmic, and commanding friction. “I love you." Jūshirō gasped out against your neck, his voice breaking with a raw, breathless intensity as he drove deep into you. He pulled back only to thrust right back in, deeper than before. "God, Y/N, I love you so much. You're mine. Only mine." Hearing his desperate, fierce confession during the act completely shattered whatever sanity you had left. Every deep push of his dick into your dripping cunt accompanied another raw murmur of your name and a ragged "I love you," making the act feel overwhelmingly sacred despite the rough, territorial pace.
"Jūshirō… mmmm…. Jūshirō!" you cried out, your head tossing back against the wood as the intense waves of pleasure began to ripple violently through your body. The friction of his bare skin against yours, the heavy pressure of his large hands squeezing your ass, and the sheer power of his movements drove you over the edge. Hearing his name on your lips, and your pussy clamping around him completely broke him. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper, snapping the last of his control. His entire body shuddered violently as he came deep inside you.
…
When the storm finally subsided, Jūshirō refused to break the physical connection between you. He didn't want you leaving his sight even for a single second. Keeping his arms securely wrapped around you, he carried you effortlessly from the door straight over to the heavy futon, lowering both of you onto the soft blankets together. For the entire night, he held you in a fiercely protective, unyielding embrace. His large frame cocooned yours completely, his arms and legs tangling with your own as he pinned you securely against his chest, his face buried deep in the scent of your hair. Every time you made even the slightest movement in your sleep, his grip would instantly tighten, until he was certain you weren't pulling away.
The next morning, bright sunlight filtered through the paper shoji screens, illuminating the quiet room. You blinked awake, feeling the warm, comforting weight of his body draped entirely over yours. Smiling softly, you carefully tried to slip out from under his arm, intending to quietly get up, gather your discarded robes, and begin the day's duties.
You didn't even manage to move an inch.
Jūshirō didn't budge. Instead, his grip locked around your waist like iron bands, pulling you back down into the blankets and shifting his heavy frame until he was completely pinning you beneath him. He buried his face deep into the sensitive crook of your neck, his voice incredibly sleepy but layered with a heavy, undeniable finality.
"Mm... no." Jūshirō muttered against your skin, his breath warm and tickling your collarbone. "You're never leaving this room again."
You let out a soft, breathless laugh, reaching up to gently run your fingers through his long, tangled silver hair. "Jūshirō, come on. We both have duties. The division will be looking for us."
He didn't answer with words. He merely tightened his hold, trapping your legs with his own, rendering you entirely immobile beneath his warmth. You laughed again, trying to play it off as a joke, but as you laid there trapped beneath his massive, powerful frame, remembering the shattered porcelain, the splintered veranda table, and the raw, terrifyingly white wolf that had taken you against the door last night, a tiny, shivering part of you wasn't entirely sure if he was joking.
So, when we meet Tara in Act 3 and Gale is in our party, it’s mentioned in-game that she has a collar that identifies her (Tav: “That symbol on the collar…Gale, is this one yours?” Gale: “It is! It’s Tara!”)
You can clearly see it in her animations:
What I did not know (until I saw it in the Bg3 wiki) is that it’s not just decorative—it’s actually a stealable/usable magic item. (Side note: Who would dare steal from Tara?!?! Who would dare??) The details are below:
I wanted to talk about the collar because as I was looking at it, I realized that there are three subtle details that show just how much Gale loves Tara:
If you look closely at the screenshot of Tara, you’ll see that the leather/fabric portion of her collar is a deep purple—a shade that matches Gale’s camp clothing. Of course he would give his closest friend his favorite color 💜
Even though Gale knows Tara is a “fine wizard in her own right,” and that she can cast a fireball, he still imbued the collar with a very powerful Level 5 Telekinesis spell.
There is in-game dialogue where Gale talks about how, in order to survive during his yearlong exile, he had to absorb all of his personal magic items that were stored in his tower. So the fact that Tara’s collar still holds this enchantment means he did not want to ‘absorb’ it—not even to extend his own life—because it is to be used for Tara’s protection 🥹
Summary: After Negan was exiled from Alexandria and left to fend for himself, he was rescued by Joel & Y/N when the remaining Whisperers attempted to kill Negan. After discovering he has a son, Negan decides to live in the town of Arcadia with his newfound family. Living in a new town and trying to fit in while also spending time with his family is harder than he ever imagined.
warnings: unedited; self indulgent; some canon divergence/spoilers for ff16; soft depictions of intimacy; minors don't interact.
by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.
{ it's always been just him and me together, so i bet all i have on that furrowed brow | and at least in this lifetime, we're sticking together. | me and my husband, we're sticking together. }
in a faraway land surrounded by treacherous seas lay a dark kingdom simply known as waloed, the tale of its founding being passed on throughout all of valisthea as the people came to know of the name barnabas tharmr-
the last king, and the man whom a young queen was proud to call her husband.
the sea breeze was felt against her skin, carrying the scent of the salty waves as the cool air slowly roused her from her slumber. she could feel her brows furrow in response to the cold, reaching out to the spot beside her mattress as her hands blindly searched in desperation for the familiar warmth of her husband.
when her hands met with the cold sheets, the queen's eyes immediately open, her voice coming out as hoarse when she calls out to him.
"barnabas?"
her eyes take in the dim lighting of the room, seeing the candles flickering in response to the ocean winds as it caused a wave of goosebumps to erupt all across her skin. she trails her gaze towards the clerestory windows, seeing the moon and stars at its peak.
"the night has only just begun, and yet still, he isn't here with me."
a shiver courses through her veins, making the woman sit up from their shared bed. her hands twist a bit at her gossamer nightgown, feeling a deep sense of yearning for her husband. for surely, if he will not join her in bed, then she supposes she would just need to come to him instead.
she stretches her arms then, allowing the velvet mantles to slide off of her form as her bare feet meets with the cobblestone floors. a tremble was felt coursing through her as the iciness seemed to spread throughout her body. the candles and lit torches did little to ward off the lingering cold, and she found herself becoming desperate for her husband's touch.
wrapping her arms around her chest to provide at least some protection against the cold, the young queen allows another shiver to run down her spine when she opens the door of her bedchambers, ready to head to waloed's throne room when a silky voice calls out to her.
"and where do you think you're going, your majesty?"
she hears sleipnir calling out her name, making her let out a sigh in response. facing the man with hair the shade of spun silver, she watches him with a tired expression, seeing him bow down to her.
"king barnabas has placed me in front of your bedchamber for good measure, as he is in the midst of a meeting with the dhalmekians. he wants you safe and away from those greedy swines, specifically kupka."
upon hearing sleipnir's orders that were given to him by barnabas, she struggled to bite back her protest. the constant knight was truly the only other person whom barnabas trusted aside from her. he acted not only as barnabas' lord commander and royal advisor, but her guard as well.
it was clear from sleipnir's amused gaze that he had no intention of letting her see her husband, and this made the young woman twist at her hands in anxiety. in order to get past sleipnir, she had to think quick and efficiently.
"but kind sir, i am quite cold while remaining all alone within my bedchambers."
sleipnir's tranquil expression falters for just the briefest of seconds before returning once more. "if you are cold, your highness, then i highly recommend that you don yourself with the velvet mantles. for they were woven by the finest seamstress in all of waloed, of course."
"tis true, but, it is simply not enough. my skin feels cool to the touch, and- i fear that if i am not warmed soon, then i may fall ill."
at last, her words were what made sleipnir break. he was frowning, knowing that the loyalty to his king was trumped by the thought of his queen ever getting sick or falling into harm.
after a few moments spent in deliberation, sleipnir finally lets out a rich chuckle in response. "you are a sly woman, my queen."
she had to hide her grin, knowing that she had won after all when she gives sleipnir a curtsy, ready to head towards the throne room by herself had the constant knight not stop her in her tracks.
"ah, but i believe it is my duty as your knight to escort you myself." his armored hand gently takes a hold of her wrist, walking a few steps in front of her. despite her annoyance, she keeps her mouth shut and allows her knight to take her to barnabas.
the simple walk took only a mere few minutes, but due to how much she wished to see her husband and feel him, it felt like an eternity. sleipnir had simply stood in front of the grand oak doors carved with waloed's insignia, about to knock and announce her arrival when she simply shoved the doors open and went in herself.
the sounds of the doors slamming against the walls echoes throughout the throne room, catching the attention of barnabas and his guest. with her gaze meeting with her husband's, she ignores the other people in the room, her heart being set aflame at the mere sight of him.
barnabas met her eyes, and a part of her was fearful that he may scold her for interrupting; for ignoring sleipnir's orders to remain in bed-
but when she sees the way his lips quirked upwards in a tiny smile, she knew that all was forgiven in that very moment. not saying a word to her, barnabas beckons at her to join him, making the woman let out a happy cry in response.
as her bare feet pads across the floors of the room, she jumps into barnabas' arms, settling herself in his lap whilst letting out a content purr of his name. now within the comfort of her husband's embrace, she allows his warmth to seep into her, burying her face within the curve of his neck.
just as she was breathing in his scent, there was a low whistle heard followed by a chuckle.
"my, king barnabas, tis no wonder you've been hiding your wife away from us."
she could feel her husband stiffen in response to such an offhanded comment, a low growl heard coming from barnabas' chapped lips.
"mind repeating that, kupka?"
her throat had turned dry when she takes a peek at the man settled off to the side, taking note of his large frame. the expanse of his tunic seemed to stretch with his considerable size. his large hands that were settled on the table were decorated with several glittering rings that seemed to weigh heavily with the gaudy gemstones settled at its base. and his gaze- the way he was staring at her was nothing short of predatory.
"your wife is lovely, barnabas. i'm sure she would do well bearing sons."
she clings to barnabas, feeling him rise from his seat as he holds her tightly in his arms. the fury she could feel emanating from barnabas was palatable, so much so that she was fearful for that man's life. "teach this bastard a lesson, sleipnir, you know what to do."
"of course, my liege."
barnabas turns her away from the chaos, hearing sounds of pained grunts as sleipnir forces the dhalmekians out of the room. she was about to turn her gaze around when barnabas stops her, keeping her head still when he suddenly crashes his lips into hers.
the feeling of his chapped lips on hers makes her let out a moan, her hands creeping up against his open tunic as she traces at his scar. "b-barnabas..."
"that damn kupka, i knew he was going to try my patience once he laid his eyes on you." his muscles were still taut, even when he settled back down on his throne. as she met his gaze, she tries to soothe him, massaging away his furrowed brow when she apologizes to him.
"i'm sorry, my love. i should not have left our shared chambers, but...but i felt so cold and needed your warmth."
upon hearing her confession, his expression simmers just the tiniest bit, shutting his eyes as he tries to calm himself by breathing in the scent of her hair. she closes her eyes, feeling the tip of his nose trace against the crown of her hair for a brief moment before another low growl was ripped from his throat.
"that damned kupka, i'll kill him myself. i'll summon my black blade and execute him on the spot-"
her eyes widen in response to his jealous fury, and before he could stand to carry out his murderous intents, she stops him by running a hand down his chest.
"stop, barnabas... there is no need to kill him when you should know that i only love you alone."
her soft touch was enough to force barnabas back down in his seat, with his darling wife facing him. her legs were settled on both sides of his waist, her gaze turning darker as they became dilated with lust for him.
"let sleipnir deal with that horrid man...why don't you stay here and keep me warm instead?"
barnabas' eyes were wild, the steel blue quality of them now hidden when he lets out a rough grunt of her name.
"temptress."
with that single phrase as her only warning, she lets out a gasp when her back meets with the grand marble table, nearly wincing at the impact had it not been for the way barnabas kept his powerful arms around her form.
barnabas keeps his knee pressed over her soaked core, feeling it dampen the cloth that was settled between her legs as she felt her husband putting pressure against it. "gonna make you scream my name as i fill you with seeds from my cock alone- gonna make that swine understand that the only sons you will be bearing is my own and no one else's."
the desperation was clear when barnabas tightly grips her nightgown, tearing it off in a single sweep as she was left completely bare for him in mere seconds. when he sees the cream material that kept her slickness hidden away from him, he lets out a guttural groan. "look at how wet you've become, and i haven't even touched you yet."
"i beg of you, please barnabas! i-i need you!" the ache felt between her legs was almost too much to bear, as she could feel the nectars of her arousal sliding down her leg, completely and utterly ready for him to just take her.
"have patience, love." barnabas' voice had taken on an almost deeper tone, feeling his large, calloused hands feel the weight of her naked breast before giving it a squeeze. the sensation was enough to make her arch against the table, mewling in response to his touches.
he says her name once more before leaning down to capture her perky nipples into his mouth, earning a breathless moan from her. as her hands delved themselves into barnabas' midnight strands of hair, she allows him to worship her. she could feel the way his hot mouth wraps around her breast, his teeth teasing at her sensitive skin as pinpricks of pleasure was felt coursing through her.
"such a good wife you are f'me." barnabas murmurs against her skin, making her whine in response as she clings to her husband. he spends some time teasing her, playing with her breast before smirking darkly at her.
"d'you mind if i have a taste as well?"
by now, she was drunk off of him, uncertain as to what he meant when she weakly meets his gaze. only when his smirk widens and she could feel the way barnabas parts her legs with his hands did she finally understand.
"o-oh..."
"indeed." barnabas continues to spread her legs until her slick flower was seen, eyes honing in hungrily at her center when he allows his middle finger to enter her slickness. his ministrations causes the queen to let out a soft moan, hands clinging to his biceps the more he worked his finger in and out of her center.
"y'smell sweet, love. fuck, y'smell s'fucking sweet." as if drunk on her scent, barnabas gets down on his knees, adjusting her body so that she was settled directly on top of the table. with her sex directly in front of his eyes, barnabas leans in to press his lips against her flower, drinking all of the sweet arousal she had to offer while his fingers worked on pumping in and out of her.
the pleasure he bestowed on her was overwhelming, with her letting out sweet cries of his name, begging him to never stop. through her throes of pleasure, she tells him of her deep love and how she'll do anything for him.
"i-i am yours, barnabas! i'll do anything for you, just please, don't stop, don't stop...!" she was so close to her release, so close she could taste it-
but when she was near paradise's gates, barnabas suddenly pulls away from her, moving his mouth and fingers away from her as she let out a desperate cry of his name.
"NO! PLEASE-"
barnabas then proceeds to cover her mouth with his hand, eyes burning with lust and adoration for her when he unbuckles his belt and shoves his leather pants down with one hand, revealing his aching cock. she only saw it briefly, for a mere few seconds, before she felt barnabas completely sheath himself inside of her silken walls.
only when he was fully inside of her did he finally remove his hand from her mouth. "there...now you can be as loud as you want to, love"
when barnabas finally fulfilled her desires, she followed his commands and let out a loud whine of his name, certain that her voice could be heard echoing throughout the castle. it always felt so good becoming one with him, like they were each other's missing puzzle pieces- like they could never truly be whole without the other.
as barnabas continued his steady pace, thrusting in and out of her, he buries his face within the curve of her neck, letting out soft groans before speeding up. the squelching and obscene sounds of their lovemaking was enough to make her cry out, her nails digging into the skin of his back as they raked down his form.
"the pleasure and pain y'give me, i shall never tire of it." barnabas lets out several heaving breaths in response, taking a hold of her leg before wrapping it around his waist. "you're mine and mine alone, and i'll be damned if i let someone else take you away from me."
with each word he says to her, the more powerful his strokes became, making her softly moan in response. tears of pleasure were dotting her vision as she could feel barnabas aiming for a particular spot inside of her, speeding up his thrusts while his hands squeezes at her breasts.
"come...come f'me. come f'your king now."
that was all the urging she needed when she clenches her eyes shut, crying out to him as barnabas was heard roaring in response to his own release. as her walls clamped around barnabas' cock in a tight grip, she could feel him emptying his seed deep inside of her, painting her walls white as he stilled his hips, making sure that not a drop was spilled.
keeping a tight grip on her body, barnabas continues to thrust weakly back and forth from her core, making sure that he had emptied himself completely before stilling his hips. with a groan, he falls against his beloved wife as they both caught their breath after such an intense session of lovemaking.
when the post lovemaking clarity settled in, the woman lets out a content sigh, allowing her lips to trace at barnabas dampened temple. "my darling king...that was wonderful..."
deciding to be a bit cheeky, she moves her hand to give her king a gentle smack on his bum, earning a grunt from him as she giggles. "perhaps i should make you jealous more often?" she muses while licking the shell of his ear, earning a shiver from her dark king.
but what she wasn't expecting was for him to actually grow inside of her, earning a gasp from her parted lips as barnabas moved away from her. he gives her another smirk as a warning before placing both hands on her waist.
"then i suppose you wouldn't mind me releasing my jealousy on you once more?"
cue a sweet giggle from the young queen as she brushes her lips against his jawline, "by all means do continue, my lord."
a.n. - i had a dream about barnabas a couple of nights ago where i woke up and searched for him. in it, i find him settled on his throne, and he smiles at me, beckoning me to come closer. so i do, and i settle myself on his lap and bury my face within the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of the ocean and steel that wafts off of him.
this was written as a sort of self indulgent continuation of that dream. i love barnabas so much 🥹🌌.
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
warnings: unedited; self indulgent; some canon divergence/spoilers for ff16; soft depictions of intimacy; minors don't interact.
by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.
{ it's always been just him and me together, so i bet all i have on that furrowed brow | and at least in this lifetime, we're sticking together. | me and my husband, we're sticking together. }
in a faraway land surrounded by treacherous seas lay a dark kingdom simply known as waloed, the tale of its founding being passed on throughout all of valisthea as the people came to know of the name barnabas tharmr-
the last king, and the man whom a young queen was proud to call her husband.
the sea breeze was felt against her skin, carrying the scent of the salty waves as the cool air slowly roused her from her slumber. she could feel her brows furrow in response to the cold, reaching out to the spot beside her mattress as her hands blindly searched in desperation for the familiar warmth of her husband.
when her hands met with the cold sheets, the queen's eyes immediately open, her voice coming out as hoarse when she calls out to him.
"barnabas?"
her eyes take in the dim lighting of the room, seeing the candles flickering in response to the ocean winds as it caused a wave of goosebumps to erupt all across her skin. she trails her gaze towards the clerestory windows, seeing the moon and stars at its peak.
"the night has only just begun, and yet still, he isn't here with me."
a shiver courses through her veins, making the woman sit up from their shared bed. her hands twist a bit at her gossamer nightgown, feeling a deep sense of yearning for her husband. for surely, if he will not join her in bed, then she supposes she would just need to come to him instead.
she stretches her arms then, allowing the velvet mantles to slide off of her form as her bare feet meets with the cobblestone floors. a tremble was felt coursing through her as the iciness seemed to spread throughout her body. the candles and lit torches did little to ward off the lingering cold, and she found herself becoming desperate for her husband's touch.
wrapping her arms around her chest to provide at least some protection against the cold, the young queen allows another shiver to run down her spine when she opens the door of her bedchambers, ready to head to waloed's throne room when a silky voice calls out to her.
"and where do you think you're going, your majesty?"
she hears sleipnir calling out her name, making her let out a sigh in response. facing the man with hair the shade of spun silver, she watches him with a tired expression, seeing him bow down to her.
"king barnabas has placed me in front of your bedchamber for good measure, as he is in the midst of a meeting with the dhalmekians. he wants you safe and away from those greedy swines, specifically kupka."
upon hearing sleipnir's orders that were given to him by barnabas, she struggled to bite back her protest. the constant knight was truly the only other person whom barnabas trusted aside from her. he acted not only as barnabas' lord commander and royal advisor, but her guard as well.
it was clear from sleipnir's amused gaze that he had no intention of letting her see her husband, and this made the young woman twist at her hands in anxiety. in order to get past sleipnir, she had to think quick and efficiently.
"but kind sir, i am quite cold while remaining all alone within my bedchambers."
sleipnir's tranquil expression falters for just the briefest of seconds before returning once more. "if you are cold, your highness, then i highly recommend that you don yourself with the velvet mantles. for they were woven by the finest seamstress in all of waloed, of course."
"tis true, but, it is simply not enough. my skin feels cool to the touch, and- i fear that if i am not warmed soon, then i may fall ill."
at last, her words were what made sleipnir break. he was frowning, knowing that the loyalty to his king was trumped by the thought of his queen ever getting sick or falling into harm.
after a few moments spent in deliberation, sleipnir finally lets out a rich chuckle in response. "you are a sly woman, my queen."
she had to hide her grin, knowing that she had won after all when she gives sleipnir a curtsy, ready to head towards the throne room by herself had the constant knight not stop her in her tracks.
"ah, but i believe it is my duty as your knight to escort you myself." his armored hand gently takes a hold of her wrist, walking a few steps in front of her. despite her annoyance, she keeps her mouth shut and allows her knight to take her to barnabas.
the simple walk took only a mere few minutes, but due to how much she wished to see her husband and feel him, it felt like an eternity. sleipnir had simply stood in front of the grand oak doors carved with waloed's insignia, about to knock and announce her arrival when she simply shoved the doors open and went in herself.
the sounds of the doors slamming against the walls echoes throughout the throne room, catching the attention of barnabas and his guest. with her gaze meeting with her husband's, she ignores the other people in the room, her heart being set aflame at the mere sight of him.
barnabas met her eyes, and a part of her was fearful that he may scold her for interrupting; for ignoring sleipnir's orders to remain in bed-
but when she sees the way his lips quirked upwards in a tiny smile, she knew that all was forgiven in that very moment. not saying a word to her, barnabas beckons at her to join him, making the woman let out a happy cry in response.
as her bare feet pads across the floors of the room, she jumps into barnabas' arms, settling herself in his lap whilst letting out a content purr of his name. now within the comfort of her husband's embrace, she allows his warmth to seep into her, burying her face within the curve of his neck.
just as she was breathing in his scent, there was a low whistle heard followed by a chuckle.
"my, king barnabas, tis no wonder you've been hiding your wife away from us."
she could feel her husband stiffen in response to such an offhanded comment, a low growl heard coming from barnabas' chapped lips.
"mind repeating that, kupka?"
her throat had turned dry when she takes a peek at the man settled off to the side, taking note of his large frame. the expanse of his tunic seemed to stretch with his considerable size. his large hands that were settled on the table were decorated with several glittering rings that seemed to weigh heavily with the gaudy gemstones settled at its base. and his gaze- the way he was staring at her was nothing short of predatory.
"your wife is lovely, barnabas. i'm sure she would do well bearing sons."
she clings to barnabas, feeling him rise from his seat as he holds her tightly in his arms. the fury she could feel emanating from barnabas was palatable, so much so that she was fearful for that man's life. "teach this bastard a lesson, sleipnir, you know what to do."
"of course, my liege."
barnabas turns her away from the chaos, hearing sounds of pained grunts as sleipnir forces the dhalmekians out of the room. she was about to turn her gaze around when barnabas stops her, keeping her head still when he suddenly crashes his lips into hers.
the feeling of his chapped lips on hers makes her let out a moan, her hands creeping up against his open tunic as she traces at his scar. "b-barnabas..."
"that damn kupka, i knew he was going to try my patience once he laid his eyes on you." his muscles were still taut, even when he settled back down on his throne. as she met his gaze, she tries to soothe him, massaging away his furrowed brow when she apologizes to him.
"i'm sorry, my love. i should not have left our shared chambers, but...but i felt so cold and needed your warmth."
upon hearing her confession, his expression simmers just the tiniest bit, shutting his eyes as he tries to calm himself by breathing in the scent of her hair. she closes her eyes, feeling the tip of his nose trace against the crown of her hair for a brief moment before another low growl was ripped from his throat.
"that damned kupka, i'll kill him myself. i'll summon my black blade and execute him on the spot-"
her eyes widen in response to his jealous fury, and before he could stand to carry out his murderous intents, she stops him by running a hand down his chest.
"stop, barnabas... there is no need to kill him when you should know that i only love you alone."
her soft touch was enough to force barnabas back down in his seat, with his darling wife facing him. her legs were settled on both sides of his waist, her gaze turning darker as they became dilated with lust for him.
"let sleipnir deal with that horrid man...why don't you stay here and keep me warm instead?"
barnabas' eyes were wild, the steel blue quality of them now hidden when he lets out a rough grunt of her name.
"temptress."
with that single phrase as her only warning, she lets out a gasp when her back meets with the grand marble table, nearly wincing at the impact had it not been for the way barnabas kept his powerful arms around her form.
barnabas keeps his knee pressed over her soaked core, feeling it dampen the cloth that was settled between her legs as she felt her husband putting pressure against it. "gonna make you scream my name as i fill you with seeds from my cock alone- gonna make that swine understand that the only sons you will be bearing is my own and no one else's."
the desperation was clear when barnabas tightly grips her nightgown, tearing it off in a single sweep as she was left completely bare for him in mere seconds. when he sees the cream material that kept her slickness hidden away from him, he lets out a guttural groan. "look at how wet you've become, and i haven't even touched you yet."
"i beg of you, please barnabas! i-i need you!" the ache felt between her legs was almost too much to bear, as she could feel the nectars of her arousal sliding down her leg, completely and utterly ready for him to just take her.
"have patience, love." barnabas' voice had taken on an almost deeper tone, feeling his large, calloused hands feel the weight of her naked breast before giving it a squeeze. the sensation was enough to make her arch against the table, mewling in response to his touches.
he says her name once more before leaning down to capture her perky nipples into his mouth, earning a breathless moan from her. as her hands delved themselves into barnabas' midnight strands of hair, she allows him to worship her. she could feel the way his hot mouth wraps around her breast, his teeth teasing at her sensitive skin as pinpricks of pleasure was felt coursing through her.
"such a good wife you are f'me." barnabas murmurs against her skin, making her whine in response as she clings to her husband. he spends some time teasing her, playing with her breast before smirking darkly at her.
"d'you mind if i have a taste as well?"
by now, she was drunk off of him, uncertain as to what he meant when she weakly meets his gaze. only when his smirk widens and she could feel the way barnabas parts her legs with his hands did she finally understand.
"o-oh..."
"indeed." barnabas continues to spread her legs until her slick flower was seen, eyes honing in hungrily at her center when he allows his middle finger to enter her slickness. his ministrations causes the queen to let out a soft moan, hands clinging to his biceps the more he worked his finger in and out of her center.
"y'smell sweet, love. fuck, y'smell s'fucking sweet." as if drunk on her scent, barnabas gets down on his knees, adjusting her body so that she was settled directly on top of the table. with her sex directly in front of his eyes, barnabas leans in to press his lips against her flower, drinking all of the sweet arousal she had to offer while his fingers worked on pumping in and out of her.
the pleasure he bestowed on her was overwhelming, with her letting out sweet cries of his name, begging him to never stop. through her throes of pleasure, she tells him of her deep love and how she'll do anything for him.
"i-i am yours, barnabas! i'll do anything for you, just please, don't stop, don't stop...!" she was so close to her release, so close she could taste it-
but when she was near paradise's gates, barnabas suddenly pulls away from her, moving his mouth and fingers away from her as she let out a desperate cry of his name.
"NO! PLEASE-"
barnabas then proceeds to cover her mouth with his hand, eyes burning with lust and adoration for her when he unbuckles his belt and shoves his leather pants down with one hand, revealing his aching cock. she only saw it briefly, for a mere few seconds, before she felt barnabas completely sheath himself inside of her silken walls.
only when he was fully inside of her did he finally remove his hand from her mouth. "there...now you can be as loud as you want to, love"
when barnabas finally fulfilled her desires, she followed his commands and let out a loud whine of his name, certain that her voice could be heard echoing throughout the castle. it always felt so good becoming one with him, like they were each other's missing puzzle pieces- like they could never truly be whole without the other.
as barnabas continued his steady pace, thrusting in and out of her, he buries his face within the curve of her neck, letting out soft groans before speeding up. the squelching and obscene sounds of their lovemaking was enough to make her cry out, her nails digging into the skin of his back as they raked down his form.
"the pleasure and pain y'give me, i shall never tire of it." barnabas lets out several heaving breaths in response, taking a hold of her leg before wrapping it around his waist. "you're mine and mine alone, and i'll be damned if i let someone else take you away from me."
with each word he says to her, the more powerful his strokes became, making her softly moan in response. tears of pleasure were dotting her vision as she could feel barnabas aiming for a particular spot inside of her, speeding up his thrusts while his hands squeezes at her breasts.
"come...come f'me. come f'your king now."
that was all the urging she needed when she clenches her eyes shut, crying out to him as barnabas was heard roaring in response to his own release. as her walls clamped around barnabas' cock in a tight grip, she could feel him emptying his seed deep inside of her, painting her walls white as he stilled his hips, making sure that not a drop was spilled.
keeping a tight grip on her body, barnabas continues to thrust weakly back and forth from her core, making sure that he had emptied himself completely before stilling his hips. with a groan, he falls against his beloved wife as they both caught their breath after such an intense session of lovemaking.
when the post lovemaking clarity settled in, the woman lets out a content sigh, allowing her lips to trace at barnabas dampened temple. "my darling king...that was wonderful..."
deciding to be a bit cheeky, she moves her hand to give her king a gentle smack on his bum, earning a grunt from him as she giggles. "perhaps i should make you jealous more often?" she muses while licking the shell of his ear, earning a shiver from her dark king.
but what she wasn't expecting was for him to actually grow inside of her, earning a gasp from her parted lips as barnabas moved away from her. he gives her another smirk as a warning before placing both hands on her waist.
"then i suppose you wouldn't mind me releasing my jealousy on you once more?"
cue a sweet giggle from the young queen as she brushes her lips against his jawline, "by all means do continue, my lord."
a.n. - i had a dream about barnabas a couple of nights ago where i woke up and searched for him. in it, i find him settled on his throne, and he smiles at me, beckoning me to come closer. so i do, and i settle myself on his lap and bury my face within the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of the ocean and steel that wafts off of him.
this was written as a sort of self indulgent continuation of that dream. i love barnabas so much 🥹🌌.
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
Hello Ghostdog, I saw your event and thought about Barnabas/fem reader with the idea of amnesia. It would be really interesting, but of course it's up to you😺💖
Amnesia
Barnabas Tharmr x female reader
You awake, slowly, to a gentle sway – back and forth. It’d be comforting if not for the ache radiating around your skull. It takes a few attempts to open your eyes, wincing at the lanterns that illuminate your surroundings. Were it not for them, the room would be in darkness – a circular window the other side of the room appears to be shuttered.
A silver-haired man sits at your bedside, slender legs crossed, looking unamused as you sit upright abruptly, eyes flickering around the room in confusion.
“Do not try anything foolish. My liege would prefer you in tact.”
If you had a clear head, you would’ve questioned the strange man’s words.
“Where…” You swallow, though your mouth remains dry. “Where are we?”
“The Einherjar.”
“The what?” The swaying notion finally makes sense, the circular window… “We’re on a ship?”
The man’s smile seems cruel. “Do you not recall?”
“Recall what? I…” You wince again, clutching the side of your head. It’s as if something’s on the tip of your tongue, something you’re meant to be remembering, alongside a feeling that if you reached out to grab for it, it would turn into vapors between your fingers. “I don’t remember… I don’t remember anything.”
“Anything?” He seems dubious at your claim. The chair creaks as he leans forward, grabbing hold of your chin with a gloved hand and forcing your eyes to meet his. “What is your name?”
“My…” You squeeze your eyes tight, as if the action might squeeze the answer out into your head, but nothing comes. “I don’t… Why don’t I remember my name?”
The silver-haired man lets go of your chin and stands up abruptly, bowing as he speaks. “Excuse me a moment.”
He is out the door, a clunk of a lock following his departure, within the blink of an eye. You stumble up to your feet – everything aches in protest – and try the door, pointlessly. “W-wait!”
You sit back down heavily upon the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest and squeeze your eyes shut again, hoping and praying that everything will make sense in a moment. Yes, in a moment, everything will all click into place and you’ll feel foolish for getting so flustered.
The moment does not come despite many moments passing, but the door eventually unlocks and you jump up in reflex. The silver-haired man returns, but not alone. A tall, dark-haired man with cold blue eyes accompanies him, dressed in a royal blue shirt and a high collar, a black doublet layered over the top with billowed sleeves, two belts around his waist and seemingly more around his thighs – a scar peeking out between his shirt’s laces.
He seems familiar.
“Sleipnir informs me you are… not well.”
You take a heavy step back as a wave of light-headedness washes over you, expecting to crash down against the bed, but the strange yet familiar man wraps his arm around your waist with a fast reflex and no hesitation, steadying you at once.
“Sorry, it’s my head, it’s-“
“Do you remember me?” He interrupts, his tone impatient.
“No, I don’t… I don’t remember a thing.” Your voice breaks in frustration. “What’s going on? I don’t-” A heavy hand presses your head into his chest, cutting you off again – he smells of salt and brimstone.
“Hush now, treasure.” He soothes, leading you back to sit upon the bed, his arm remaining tight around your waist. “I will explain. Sleipnir, leave us.”
“As you wish, my liege.”
You cannot see the silver-haired man leave – your vision obscured by the blue and black of the man’s shirt, but you hear the door open and shut, signaling his departure.
You tilt your head up as he removes his hand and try to take in his face. There is something comfortingly familiar in those blue eyes and black hair of his deep down, you think, even if the term of endearment he seems to be using is not.
“Treasure?”
“Ah. Allow me to… reintroduce myself. I am Barnabas Tharmr, King of Waloed, Warden of Ash, Dominant of Odin…” He trails off, suppressing a grin as your brow only continues to furrow in confusion.
“But, most importantly,” he takes your wrist and presses a kiss against your pulse point, “I am your lover.”
“My…”
“But you are more than my lover, you are my future queen. You fell and knocked your head on the deck when the seas grew rough. It must ache still, hm?”
“It does, yes,” you nod, keeping your eyes fixed on his.
“You adore being out in the ocean air, treasure. I blame myself for not insisting you seek shelter inside. If I had, you would not be in this state right now.”
“But I… I don’t recall anything. Nothing from before I woke. I surely should-”
“Hush now, do not fret.” He presses calloused fingertips against your lips, silencing you once more. “We will make land soon and return home, to Castle Black, where I will summon the finest healers. We will have you reunited with your memories before long – I promise. You just have to trust me, my love.”
He laces his fingers through your own, raises it to his lips to kiss your knuckles as you feel tears burn at your eyes in frustration.
“My name.” You demand, steadying your voice. “What’s my name?”
Barnabas whispers his mother’s name into your ear.
--
Clive comes to with a groan – a myriad of faces all gathered above him, but not the one he is desperate to see.
He shoots up, too fast for what his body’s been through – sliced through by Odin’s sword - and Byron and Gav try to push him back down against the pillows, but he holds firm as best as he can.
“No.” He murmurs, trying to shrug them off, his heart pounding in his ears. “Where is she?”
No-one replies – Jill and Mid turning away from him to hide the tears in their eyes.
“I’m sorry, brother.” Joshua begins, tentatively, leaning forward in the chair by his bedside. “We were so focused on getting you out… They’ll be halfway to Ash by now.”
The Dominant of Ifrit howls.
--
The Einherjar cuts through the waves at pace. They are expected to make land at dawn, but Barnabas Tharmr has no plans to sleep.
In his bed chambers, he presses a long kiss against your temple, your slumbering form cuddled into his chest as he runs his fingers up and down your arm.
It had been far too easy to get you to drink the elixir laced with nepenthe petals to keep you drowsy and confused – passing it off as a painkilling draught to soothe the thudding pain in your skull.
He grins as he feels a ripple disturb the aether in the air and can’t resist another kiss on your temple.
“Come and reclaim her, Mythos.”
---
Thank you so much for your request, @ironicsss! I couldn't resist going a bit darker cos it's Barnabas, little bit of Clive thrown in there for you too xxx
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Pairing: Cidolfus Telamon/Reader
Rating: Explicit, 18+, minors DNI
Author's Note: There isn't enough about this chain-smoking DILF, and that's just a shame, ain't it? Be the change you want to see in the world fellas.
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Cidolfus is affectionate both in and out of the bedroom, but especially so after a session of lovemaking. He becomes very vulnerable, so don’t be surprised if he keeps you all to himself after the fact.
He peppers you with kisses, from your neck, to your chest, and back to your lips. It’s almost reverent how he worships you, how he makes you feel alive, seen.
“Cid, come now, we’ve got to get cleaned up—“ You whine, pushing him away with little success.
He barely acknowledges you, grinning ear to ear as he kisses you slowly, fingertips dancing at your sides. “Let me enjoy myself a bit, it’s not everyday an angel falls into my bed.”
You’re tempted to say something, but his verdant gaze locks you in place, memorizing every inch of your body.
At this rate you won’t leave the bed until sundown, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Everything, he loves everything about you, but he especially loves your hips, how the plush skin curves perfectly in his hands, how they serve as the perfect grip when he wants to bend you over the desk of his solar, and even more so when they fit perfectly against his pelvis when he presses you into the mattress. A close second would be your neck, for the sole reason that you fall to pieces when he places his lips against it, the prettiest noises threatening to spill from your lips.
For himself, he’ll say his voice. He never thought about it much, but after seeing how his words have an effect on you he uses it fully to his advantage.
He walks behind you, one hand on your hip and the other pressed right below your stomach, just shy of what would be appropriate. He slots himself against your backside, enjoying how deliciously you brush against his cock, the thin fabric of your dress just tempting him to lift it.
“How long have you been at those records my dear?” He groans against your neck, voice like gravel. “I’ve hardly seen you all day.”
His presence is a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. You bite your lip, silencing yourself when he nibbles at the skin of your throat, smirking. “Cid, please, you know I can’t…”
Your pleas fall on deaf ears, and when he starts to suck a bruise you can barely hold the moan that threatens to spill. “Don’t worry about Otto, I’ll talk to him. For now, let’s take a break in my chambers.”
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
If you let him finish in your mouth, show him how well behaved you are by opening it and swallowing his spend, it’ll drive him crazy. If you bring your fingers to your mouth to lick off any excess while staring at him, be prepared to not walk straight for the next few days.
You look up at him, exhausted but pleased. After catching his breath for a moment Cid’s fingers press against your cheeks, a signal you’re very familiar with.
“Open.”
Wordlessly, you part your lips to reveal his seed, sat heavy against your tongue. A moment passes, and then he nods, watching transfixed as you swallow, gladly sticking out your tongue as proof. He wipes away a stray drop and you bring the digit to your lips without question, never letting your eyes leave his. A visible shudder runs through his body before he drags you upwards, lips meeting in a searing kiss.
“You’ll be the fucking death of me woman.” He groans, before pulling you back in for more.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
In his days of travel he’s been experience to plenty of unique locations and even more unique characters, but some of his more odd encounters have been in pubs, surrounded by men of varying morality simply sharing stories around a cup of ale. He recalls one man sharing the tales of his favorite pleasure girl and the various things they do in the bedroom, and he gave mention of how she tied him up once and let her have his way with him. He never thought about the conversation, but when he met you suddenly his curiosity peaked.
He’d never say it outwardly, but if you were to bring some rope the next time you had sex, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
He’s experienced, without a doubt. There was a time when his face was known by several women of Waloed who were looking for a good time, even if it wasn’t for a long time. Those days are long behind him, but he’s grateful if only for the fact that he can now use those skills on you.
“Didn’t know you were such a charmer Cid.” You taunt playfully, pressed against his side.
“Mhm, those days are long past me now. I’d much rather spend my time with a certain someone.” He hums, content to enjoy your company.
You smile, asking even though you already know the answer. “Pray tell, who would that someone be?”
A kiss is pressed to your forehead, followed by another hum. “Someone very special to me.”
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Missionary, Cowgirl, anything where he can see your face. Watching your reaction is half the fun, and he’s a tease, so expect him to embarass you in the best way.
“I love seeing you like this, all pretty on my cock—“ He raises his hips to meet yours, your mind going blank. On instinct you look down, hiding your face until his rough hands hold you by the neck, unyielding even for a second.
“No no no, don’t you dare look away,” He coos softly, almost as if he isn’t keeping you bouncing on his lap. “Keep those pretty eyes on me or I’ll stop, understand?”
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
More on the serious side, but occasionally he’ll crack a joke or two. Don’t expect any humor from him past the foreplay stage though, he’s here for one thing only and he takes your pleasure very seriously.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He tries, but he really couldn’t care about his pube situation. If you mentioned it he’d probably take more care, but he’s lucky enough that it doesn’t grow out into an absolute jungle.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He has his moments, there’s always a hint of love in his actions even if he’s whispering absolute filth into your ear. He really becomes a romantic after the deed is done, as mentioned in the aftercare. He’s also more of a romantic when you two are alone behind closed doors, where no one can see you.
You lie beneath him, rendered breathless as he thrusts into you viciously, every grind of your cock inside you making it that much harder to function. He tears you apart at the seams, exposes you to your very core, and with a gentle press of his palm in your own, puts you back together once more.
“You’re so fucking beautiful—” He grunts, the throaty sound of his voice bringing you back to reality, just barely. “So majestic, so perfect. All fucking mine—”
And even when tears brim your eyes, when you struggle to keep your sanity under his skillful touch, he grounds you. A hand at your thigh, or a kiss to your lips, he brings you right back, then pushes you over the edge once again with another sharp thrust.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
High sex drive, but usually doesn’t jerk off. He’s often busy with the hideaway, so he tries to focus on something else and deal with it later. Besides, he’d rather wait for you to take care of his needs, it’s more fun that way. On the occasions that it’s just too much to bear he’ll relax in his bed and think of you, ignorant to anything that isn’t him and his dick in his hand.
You walk to his bedchambers, searching for his opinion on the latest food shipment when you hear a groan in the hallway. When you get closer to his door it gets louder, and the faintest smirk pulls at your features when you recognize where you’ve heard that noise before. Without warning you walk inside, met with an enticing image of your lover sat against the headboard, thrusting into his hand languidly.
Eyes closed and mouth open, he whispers to himself, hints of your name dancing on his tongue with each grunt, just slightly hunched over with need. At the sound of your voice calling for him he turns, unashamed of his display.
His hand doesn’t stop moving as he speaks, licking his lips at the sight of you. “There you are, I was looking for you. Think you could help?”
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Dominance - Either giving or receiving. He tends to dominate you but as mentioned before, he has no qualms about letting you take the lead.
Orgasm Denial - He’s a tease, it’s almost downright evil. He could sit there for hours just holding you right on the edge just for fun, he likes how high your voice gets when you’re frustrated.
Praise - Cid would sing your praises to the entire hideaway if he could (and he’s tried, only for Lady Charon to “kindly” tell him to shut his trap.)
Facesitting - Please, sit on his face. He’ll damn near cry at the feeling of your thighs on his ears, please do yourself a favor and sit on his face and you won’t regret it. Sloppy eater.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
His bedroom, or on the desk of the solar. He likes to hear you scream, so anywhere he can be sure you’ll make as much noise as possible is fine with him.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Those pretty dresses you wear around the hideaway when you’re not adventuring. You look good in anything but something about a nice dress is so domestic to him, makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It’s also a bonus that it offers easy access.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Anything pain-related, or anything that can draw blood. He doesn’t want to hurt you, so any and all weapons are off the table.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He enjoys a nice blowjob as much as the next guy, but he goes feral at the thought of eating you out. If he had his way he’d suffocate himself between your legs and die a happy man. He’ll wring orgasm after orgasm out of you and still not be satisfied, locking his hands together and forcing you still until he's had his fill of you.
Tears streak across your face, the pleasure bordering on painful. How many times has he made you come at this point? You’ve lost count after three.
Every movement feels strained, your legs have developed a permanent shake, and yet his mouth still moves against your vigorously, no hint of stopping. You beg for him to stop, to let you have a break, but he’s far too engrossed in the taste of you to pay attention.
“Please, I need—I can’t—” Words fail you at this point and it hurts to talk, hurts to do much of anything except lie back and let Cid worship your cunt.
“Just one more darling, let me make you feel good.” He gasps against you, barely able to finish a sentence before descending on you again. “One more and I'll stop.”
But you know better, because that’s what he said last time.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Sensual, with a hint of roughness. He wants to treat you like the princess you are, but he just can’t seem to help himself when you look so damn good underneath him.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Yes, more often than not he has to leave for one reason or another, and there just isn't enough time for a full session. He’s sure to make it up to you when he gets back.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Doesn’t mind a bit of experimentation, he’ll try anything once as long as you respect his boundaries.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
Have you seen this man fight? He can go on as long as you need to, and oftentimes you have to beg him to stop. Whether he listens or not, however…
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
No, and he doesn’t need to. He can do plenty by himself.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Incredibly unfair, downright evil. The only thing he loves more than his cigars is the sound of his name on your lips.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Deep groans and hushed whispers, tends to talk you through whatever you’re feeling. Gets real loud when he’s about to come, and likes to bury himself further into you when he does.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Likes when you call him Sir. It started as a joke between you two, calling him the Lord Commander as a joke, which eventually turned into you calling him Sir. He found that he liked it more than he cared to admit, and during a make-out session you actually felt him twitch at the name and made it a point to tease him about it from then on.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
6.5 inches, average girth, well-endowed and knows it. Has a vein running along the underside that makes him see stars, but be careful with that information, because Cid likes to return the favor tenfold.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
High, but he knows the importance of time and place. He isn’t thinking about it 24/7 but it's fairly obvious when he’s eyeing you from across the Hideaway that he isn't exactly thinking the most tame things about you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Not quick at all, he enjoys the quiet time between you two after having sex, tracing every line and curve of your body slowly, taking his time with you. Need water, clean up, conversation? He’s down for it all. He does find it easier to fall asleep with you in his arms.
Pairing: Barnabas Tharmr/Reader
Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors DNI
Author's note: Took me a while to get his manner of speech right, but I think I nailed it in the end. Warning for some more dark romance themes in this one, otherwise enjoy!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He’s clingy, preferring to lay in bed alongside you, indulging himself in your presence. Afterwards he’ll have one of the maids run a bath for the two of you, but until then you’re not leaving the bed for anything. Whatever you need it can wait, right now Barnabas needs you by his side and nothing else.
Stubborn as anything, he pins you to the bed. “And where exactly do you think you’re going?” He asks, as if you leaving his embrace is a betrayal.
You don’t get a chance to explain yourself, silenced by his lips against yours. Sweet as they are, you pull away with a laugh, pressing your fingers to his chest. “I only wish for some water, is that too much to ask?”
He buries his head in your neck, nibbling at the vast expanse. “Yes, it is.”
“It’s only a short walk away!” You laugh.
He lays his head between your chest, peeking up at you with pale blue eyes. “Far longer than I could stand to be separated from you.”
An arm snakes its way to your back, pulling you ever closer. “I will summon one of the handmaidens, but until then you will stay here, with me.”
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
If you ask him to choose he will look at you like you’ve grown feathers and a tail. What do you mean favorite? He loves everything about you, he’s not so simple to prioritize one thing above another.
He’d probably say his hands, because he gets a lot done with them. The same hands he uses to cut down foes is the same ones he uses to make you cum.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He’s coming inside of you, no questions asked. Don’t try to argue with him either, he’ll just fuck you until you’re too stupid to say no. Afterwards he’ll watch it drip out of you fascinated, might even finger it back inside.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Enjoys the idea of having you sat on his cock during especially boring meetings, your moans forcing the other council members to stop and take pause at your blissful expressions, spread open in a way only he could provide.
Of course he’s far too possessive to let such a thing happen, but a man can dream.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Has experience with bedding women for the sake of pleasure, but you’re the first woman that has caught his eye in a more profound way, made a dent in his bedsheets. It’s the first time he’s felt genuine love, and it took him a while to understand those emotions.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Missionary or lotus position, close third would be cowgirl. Really anything that lets him hold you close.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
Very serious, do not try anything funny. Any attempts will be met with an ache that persists for days.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
Does the bare minimum in terms of shaving, but if you ever mention it he’s making it a regular habit. He’d do anything for you as long as you asked him.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Initially he struggled with his emotions, didn’t quite understand why his heart picked up its pace when he looked at you or why your smile could lift him from the foulest of moods. He didn’t have a name for it, but he knew that he needed you more than he needed to breathe. When he finally understood that this yearning for you was love, he was quick to express that.
The power you have over him is something so grand, so tangible he would kiss the very ground you walk on if it pleased you so. Sex with him isn’t an act, it’s devotion; sweet and simple.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
High sex drive, doesn’t jerk off. He wants every single drop of his seed in you and you only.
He had left for an excursion beyond Waloed, forced to suffer the words of politicians for hours on end. He shouldn’t have to be here, but they had insisted, wanting an answer from the king himself even if it would be the same as it always had. He had grown antsy in your absence, images of your form haunting him as he pretends to be interested in what they have to say.
Days pass and he can feel a nagging in the back of his mind, wanting nothing more than to hold you in his embrace, to taste the sweat against your skin, feel you call out his name in bliss. He lies awake at night missing you, erection pressed against his sleepwear uncomfortably, but makes no move to relieve himself.
No, he wouldn’t dare, not without you.
A week passes, and he is finally returned to his love, your familiar scent putting him at ease the moment he steps into your shared bedchambers. He can never tire of this, of how you so easily bring him at peace.
You jump into his arms without hesitation, kissing him tenderly. “Welcome back, my lord.”
There’s a coy smile on your face, a hand gingerly playing with his hair. “I’ve missed you.”
He admires you, a familiarity in your gaze. He is glad to know he was not the only one left wanting.
He picks you up unceremoniously, walking to the bed. “As have I, my love. Allow me to show you just how much.”
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Lingerie - Seeing you dressed in the finest of lace is a gift in and of itself, and being able to rip off the wrapping makes that gift even more enjoyable.
Body Worship - You are his queen, expected to be treated as such.
Mirrors - An extension of body worship, he will watch eagerly as you shake on his lap, a single hand placed at your neck.
“Do not turn your eyes away, my beloved. I should have you witness yourself, as I do.”
Choking - Either giving or receiving, depends on what he’s in the mood for that night.
Sado-Masochism - Let’s be real here, this is Barnabas we’re talking about. The man lives for battle, both in and out of the bedroom. Treat him rough, he can handle it.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
The bedroom, occasionally the throne room if he’s feeling bold. Also has a tendency to drag you away to the nearest empty room if you’re looking extra desirable that day. It’s not like anyone will complain after all, he is the king.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
A single look from you is enough to get his blood boiling.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Anything involving bodily fluids, or anything that would permanently scar you. He may be a masochist but he’s not unsanitary, nor is he evil.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
As mentioned before, his only experience with sex prior was whatever woman would occupy his bed when he felt like it. He used to think he had a preference for receiving because that’s all he knew until that point, focused on his own pleasure above all, but you quickly changed his view.
His mouth moves against your pussy enthralled, his eyes dark with lust. You mewl for him, a beautiful sound that stokes a fire inside, brings him closer and closer to completion without a single touch.
You squirm under him, unable to handle his ministrations even if he knows you crave them so. His two hands lock you in place, no room to push away as he devours every last drop of your lust.
It runs over his chin, spills against your plush thighs, and he makes no move to remove himself. He indulges, gorges himself on your taste until he’s satisfied, and returns for seconds greedily.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
On a good day he’ll drag on for hours, teasing you until you cry, on a bad day he’ll fuck you until his fingers bruise your skin and your legs give out. Depends on how annoying his royal advisors are.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
Yes, but not too often. He’s aware of his reputation, but he will throw it out the window in a heartbeat if he sees the brand new lingerie set he’s bought you peeking out beneath your dress.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Yes, without a doubt.
The cold bite of steel sends a shudder down your spine. Ever so slowly, the flat of the blade moves against your naked chest, to your stomach, and finds its target at the fine line of your panties.
Barnabas watches you mesmerized, how your body reacts to the danger, goosebumps forming as he moves his blade across your skin. You don’t move away from him, even when the blade moves back to line your throat.
“So well behaved,” he whispers, pressing the blade further against your skin. “You would trust me with your very life?”
You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I would.”
You bite your lip when you feel his knee pressed into your pussy, knife still at your throat.
“And what if my hand were to slip?”
It never would of course. Barnabas is far too experienced to let such a thing happen.
A quick flick of his wrist and your underwear is left in pieces, the blade now lying flat against your mound. His eyes roam across your body, a hint of something sadistic rising when he sees your reaction.
You tremble, forcing yourself to stay still lest the knife truly hurts you. Even as you try your best, he can feel you just barely moving against his knee, still seeking pleasure.
A whimper, shaky hands moving to rest at his chest. “Please, keep going.”
A wicked grin passes across his face. “As you wish.”
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
You can try to beg him to stop, the key word here is “try.” Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t listen.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
Assuming this is a modern AU, he’ll entertain a buttplug or a vibrator. If ropes count as toys, then those too.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Damn near fucking evil. His dick could be throbbing in his pants, ready to make a mess of himself but he will hold back just to draw out your pleasure one more time, just one more time dear—
It’s never just one more time.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Grunter, not very loud. Would rather listen to your cries instead.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Loves to teach you how to defend yourself. He was over the moon when you asked him to hold a sword for the first time, and now you’ve gotten to the point where you can parry a blow. Not only is it an excuse to spend time with you, but he can have the peace of mind to know that if you’re forced to fight, you could handle yourself.
You would never have to, of course, because he’d never leave your side long enough for anyone to harm you. Any fool bold enough to try would be unrecognizable after the fact, but he’d be a liar if he said the image of a sword in your hand wasn’t arousing.
The both of you stand in the courtyard, not a soul around save for the birds that fly overhead. You hold your sword in a strong grip, despite your exhaustion, while Barnabas has barely broken a sweat. Inexperienced as you are there is a spark in you, one that may yet grow into a wildfire with the right training.
“You have been practicing without me, I can see it in your stance.” He muses, eyeing your weakened body.
To anyone else it may seem a mockery, but you knew better. You raise your sword in front of your body, lips curling into a grin.
“Do you think I’ll be able to defeat you now?”
He shakes his head in amusement. “A Dominant you are not, but I will make a fine swordswoman out of you yet.”
(As an added bonus, I also think he would love bringing you the most lavish gifts! Perfumes, jewelry, the softest fabrics straight from the Dhalmekian Republic, he enjoys spoiling you. Anything for his queen.)
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
6.1 inches, uncut, slightly curved upwards, veiny. Always hits your gspot without fail.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Less of a sex drive and more like he’s ready to please you if you so wish. You would only have to ask, and sometimes you don’t have to, he can tell.
The two of you are sitting in the throne room, side by side as he gives an audience with a member of royalty.
You’ve been eyeing him all day, sneaking a glance every time he speaks. You shouldn’t bother him, he has enough on his plate as sole ruler of Waloed, so instead you let your imagination run amok.
Broad shoulders and strong arms, large hands that always know what you need and how you need it. Maybe he’d tease you, or maybe he’d fuck you until his name is the only thing you can scream.
Gods, just thinking about him makes your core ignite.
Your focus is broken when the man rises from the floor, leaving the room. Had you been daydreaming that long? Your confusion is further increased when Barnabas motions for his personal guard to leave the room.
“I would have a moment to myself,” He waves towards the large oak doors. “See that I’m not interrupted.”
Wordlessly they file out, and only when he’s certain no one remains does he turn toward you.
“How long have you been left wanting?”
Your eyes widen. You try to deny it, but a hand at your chin stops you.
“I could feel it, your gaze,” His hand moves lower, tracing against your collarbone, then grabbing your neck as he speaks lowly. “I can see right through you, desperate little thing you are.”
He pulls you toward him, leaving your seat and moving into his lap without hesitation. “Tell me what has preoccupied your mind so, what you need.”
You shiver, a hand slowly moving up your bare thigh, higher and higher. “You, Barnabas.”
Pleased with your answer, those same large hands remove your underwear within seconds. “Then you may have me.”
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Doesn’t sleep, enjoys watching you sleep peacefully. He'll stroke your hair and whisper as sleep claims you.
"My beautiful queen, forever and always."
{ on dreamless nights when i feel blue and lonely, i call out for you- home is calling out my name. }
she was lost in the midst of the chaos.
"my love, where are you?!"
the flames that surround the kingdom that was once her home chokes her, the black smoke lifting up toward the air as it seemed to mar each and every one of her senses. surrounding her was a hellfire blaze that turned all that she loved into ashes.
yet she found herself not caring, for all she wanted to see was him, the one who gave her the utmost strength in the most trying of times. the man who accepted her love, and made her dreams come true the moment it had been requited.
despite how she could feel the flames licking at her skin, the woman pushes forward, uncaring of the wounds she would sustain so long as she could forever remain by his side. for if her beloved was no longer a part of this world-
then she would have nothing to live for.
smoke was quickly filling at her lungs, making the tears dot her vision as it seemed to blind her. it was suffocating, getting so much harder to breathe due to the heat of the flames and the destruction left at its wake.
yet still, she pushes forward.
her cries and aching feet lead her to the great hall, where she was certain her beloved remains as she pushes the door open. as her eyes trail towards the front of the room, hope began to blossom from within, filling at her veins upon seeing his familiar form settled against the throne.
"barnabas!" his name falls from her parted lips, tasting as sweet as a reverent prayer when she comes to him, ready to take him in her arms and away from the wreckage had it not been for the truth that ends up stopping her.
his eyes were lifeless, the once powerful, steel blue gaze lost within the expanse of darkness. he was unseeing, with a trail of blood trickling down from the corner of his open lips, as if he had been crying out to someone just as the dagger was driven straight into his heart. midnight locks of hair appeared like ink when they fell across his ashen face, and her heart was pounding, pumping ice through her very veins when she reaches out to him.
his name falls from her lips once more, this time with an anguished cry. gently, oh so gently, she takes her beloved king within her arms, slumping against the cobblestone floors with him. she holds his lifeless form tightly against her, cradling his head within her chest while crying, holding on to him as the world went up in flames.
it was a cruel world, their people not wishing to give her king even the slightest chance as they made their revolution against him evident. they had destroyed everything she had ever held dear to her, yet, the young queen found herself not caring, for at least she could perish peacefully while embracing him.
she clenches her eyes shut, placing her chapped lips against his temple, kissing him one last time as she murmurs to him, "the world is on fire, but i don't care-as long as we are together..."
the flames had risen now, the ash and fire spreading as she presses her lips against his cold ones, tasting the coppery taste of blood as she said against his lips, "let's perish together, my love."
{ ... }
a startled gasp was ripped from her throat, her heart pounding as she could still feel the pinpricks of agony coursing through her veins. her skin was hot to the touch, becoming damp with a considerable sheen of sweat.
tears were streaming down her face, the pain of losing him becoming so palatable that she couldn't even breathe. as if recalling that it was all just a dream, she looks over to her right to see her husband sleeping peacefully beside her.
his arm was laid across his eyes, and she could see the way his chest rose and fell in tune with his soft breaths. biting down on her bottom lip, she chokes back a sob before landing on top of his form. she could hear the light grunt that escapes from his lips, yet she was too desperate to bask in his mere presence alone to realize how quickly she had awakened him. hiding her face within the curve of his neck, she breathes in the scent of steel and the ocean wafting off of his tan skin, running her lips across it all while saying his name.
"barnabas...barnabas, i-i..."
"what's the matter with you?" his voice was hoarse, becoming a tad bit grumpy from being awakened so suddenly. yet the moment he could feel her salty tears dropping against his skin like rain, his response was immediate.
the king of waloed wraps his arms around her, blue eyes losing its hazy quality due to sleep as he allows the tip of his nose to run against her hair. he calls out to her in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "what happened? why are you crying so much?"
she takes a moment to bask in the way his hands drew gentle circles around her back. his warmth was steadily seeping through her veins, yet still, she made sure to breathe him in. while she was holding barnabas tightly, he lets out a soft grunt of her name, all while adjusting himself so that he was sitting up in bed.
the deep burgundy mantles falls off their forms, and barnabas remains quiet, allowing his wife to run her lips along his skin, tracing against the curve of his neck to his shoulder. he lets out a huff, tracing his nose against the crown of her hair as he waited patiently for his queen to tell him what was bothering her.
barnabas' skin had become damp from the sheer amount of her tears, yet still, he held on to her, never letting her go as he kept whispering comforting phrases to her. after what felt like an eternity of being subjected to her tears, he hears her voice whispering, making him strain his ears to hear her.
"i had a nightmare that you had died, that our kingdom was drowned in the flames of a revolution a-and someone had killed y-you w-with a d-dagger through the heart!"
the anguish was evident in her tone, and barnabas listens as she broke down once more. he remains silent, simply tightening his hold on her as he allows his wife to cry on him.
"just seeing your lifeless eyes and ashen skin t-tore me apart! the fact that y-you were no longer with me made my soul ache as i cried for you. i cried so m-much because if you w-were no longer here with me, i would never be able to bask in your embrace, would never to feel like i was home ever a-"
when barnabas had enough of hearing her words of agony, he takes a hold of her chin, deep blue eyes unreadable as he let out a murmur of her name. his eyes were lidded, leaning closer to her as he captures her lips in a searing kiss. he could taste the saltiness of her tears lingering against her skin, and despite how much she was crying, all barnabas could taste was hope and love wafting off of her.
the need for air proved to be too strong when he feels his wife pull away from the kiss first, making him let out a grunt of displeasure when he chases after her lips. he feels the way she whimpers against him, hiccuping as barnabas whispers against her lips, "aye, what a silly woman you are, crying over what happened in a mere dream."
barnabas adjusts his hold on her, allowing her to settle herself against his lap. the tears were still brimming against her eyes, cascading down her dampened cheeks like crystalline tears. he repeats her name again, allowing the pad of his thumb to trace at her bottom lip. "when i was a mere boy, i lost my mother. her absence left a deep wound in my heart and soul, and i felt as though i would never find a place to call home ever again."
her lips begin to tremble again, recalling barnabas' stories pertaining to his mother. how she was a beautiful woman with a kind soul; one who loved him unconditionally. the way barnabas had described her, the queen knew that she was truly his entire universe.
"i was lost without her, willing to do almost anything to see her again. for i truly believed that my mother was the only woman who could ever love me. i was almost going mad with the desire to see her again- but then, i met you."
he frames at her face, looking deeply into his beloved's eyes, the pad of his thumb now stroking at the bottom of her eyes, wiping away at her tears. a tiny smile crosses his features, the sight of it being so beautiful that it was enough to take her very breath away.
"you who fell into my life when i needed you the most." barnabas shakes his head while threading his fingers through her hair, pulling her even closer to him as he presses his lips against hers, tasting her as he begged her to open up for him. she whimpers, practically melting against her beloved as he continued to comfort her with his love and affections.
he pulls away from her once more, steel blue eyes shining with mirth, "your dreams are all false, my love. for i shall never leave your side. you are stuck with me for the rest of our lifetimes. and i swear to you, the only time i will die is when i am in your arms, turning old and grey as thy soul leaves thy form-"
"and even in death, i will still find you. we are still bound, and that is the oath we have taken when we tied our lives together."
the young woman was deeply comforted by his words, surging forward as she wrapped her arms around his neck. barnabas responds with a quiet chuckle, returning her embrace while pressing his lips against her skin, giving them soft, chaste kisses. he allows her to hide her face within his neck for a few more moments before using his strength to pull her away from him.
she gives him a questioning glance, earning a smirk from barnabas when he reaches towards her face, kissing away her tears with a plethora of kisses. audible smooches were heard, and she could feel the faint hairs that border the fringes of his face tickling at her soft skin, making her giggle in response, her melancholic state all but forgotten in an instant.
with her clinging on to barnabas' chest, he pulls away from her, not saying a word. but truly, no words needed to be said, for shining in his gaze was an emotion she was certain was reflected even in her own eyes-
love.
a.n. - don't mind me, i wrote this simply as a reminder that i will always always always love barnabas tharmr 🥹
all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.
pairing: Barnabas Tharmr x Leviathan!Reader
rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+)
word count: 4.5k
summary: You will be Barnabas's ruin.
warnings: porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, praise kink, vaginal fingering, body worship, angst.
This was supposed to be an Enemies with Benefits type beat but lmao it shifted a little bit. Hope this kicks off the week for those that enjoy!
Spoilers from the very beginning of the game, as well as certain things about Barnabas you learn later in the game. Also, there are some references from FFXVI Ultimania. Explained some of that in a comment if interested!
There are a few lines used from the game in the beginning. I do not claim that I own those lines or anything that Square Enix has created.
[AO3 link]
Barnabas didn’t want to be here. Sitting here with Dhalmekian’s leaders as they list all the reasons that he should grant them his knights to fight against the Ironblood makes him mentally roll his eyes. He only accepted the invitation for this meeting to ensure the plan he has set forth is going as planned. All in its right place he tells himself.
“Did you not pledge your swords to our cause!? The Marshal yells, and all Barnabas can think of is how pathetic the Marshal is. Men begging for him to save them, as if they deserve saving. He feels Harbard take a defensive stance beside him, sword at the ready.
“Come now. Marshal–the king of Waloed is our guest.”
Silence spreads at that statement, as if they are remembering who it really was that they were in the presence of: Barnabas Tharmr, Warden of Ash and king of Waloed, and the Dominant of Odin… a Dominant that has slayed thousands upon thousands in battle with a single stroke of his blade. They knew not to step on his toes, or they too would seek the same fate, as well as a termination of allyship.
Barnabas turns to Harbard, shaking his head and scoffing at their pleas. Harbard goes at ease and looks to the Dhalmekian leadership. “And you have His Majesty’s answer.”
Groans and sighs waft around the room, no words being spoken as everyone contemplates their next moves. Barnabas casts his eyes down, thinking about how everything is going. His goal for this meeting is to have Hugo Kupka take the field as Titan, needing him to take down the Shiva Dominant that the Ironblood have so she can be captured. He needs all of the Dominants in the right place for this to work, and if he gets her, then everything will be set. Well almost.
Most of the Dominants outside his circle are exactly where he needs them. Bahamut is out of the way, staying within his means of commanding the Sanbrequois forces. Ramuh is out playing “hero”, most likely nearby to try and retrieve the Shiva Dominant. The Phoenix is six feet under where he belongs. All of this comes to fruition as the perfect vessel, his mythos, starts to come together. There is only one issue: you.
Leviathan, Goddess of Chaos. The one who should be by his side to bring on a new age. But you fail to see the bigger picture, and that has led you astray. It infuriates him. You infuriate him. It drives him mad that you could betray him, and potentially ruin everything he has laid out, yet still have a soft spot for you. It makes him sick to think that no matter how hard he tries to fight his urges, you are still able to make him remember that he is what he hates most: human.
Commotion returns his mental focus as he hears shouting coming from the hallway, blood curling screeches growing louder before everything falls silent again, aside from the footsteps approaching the double doors. Once the footsteps halt, the doors swing open… and there you are in all of your glory.
“Sorry to crash your meeting, my dear friends.” You say, bowing slightly, although Barnabas could tell it was in a mocking manner.
He keeps his face stoic, but his insides churn at the sight of you. It has been a few years since his last encounter with you. You had left him ten years ago, leaving not a trace of your whereabouts. It had sent him spiraling, as you were the last person, he expected to turn against him. The next time he saw you was a couple years later when he arrived back from Storm to the shores of Waloed, and he saw you there by the ship port. His first emotions were anger for how dare you show your face. That was until you climbed aboard, dragged him to the lower deck, and had fucked him on the floors on the Einherjar. Then you disappeared again, seeming to find him a couple times a year since and the both of you would engage in a few rough rounds before departing again. There are many times in the beginning he contemplated getting rid of you, the sting of treason heavy on his heart, but he grew to accept this agreement. If it meant he could be close to you, to share some semblance of the past when you were his most avid supporter, it would be enough. The last time he saw you was three years ago up until now, a big gap of time spent compared to the others. On the inside, he was surprised, but you tend to have a way with your timing on things.
You look older, but he still saw the radiance you allure, wearing a dark blue velvet gown that covers your every step. Collar bones exposed and skin glowing like the moon reflecting the sea. You are like a siren calling to him, and it was working because all Barnabas could think is how beautiful you are… and how cruel you could be all the same. Because he knew your presentation was for him, and that he would break. He always did.
You are standing by the table now, hands placed on top as you scan the room. Everyone looks shocked, not expecting surprise visitors, let alone a rogue Water Dominant. The reaction makes you smile; you love catching people by surprise. Your eyes land on Barnabas, and good stars above, he looks gorgeous. Chest slightly exposed, beautiful blue silk and black fabric in intricate form on his body. He really hasn’t aged a day.
Finally, a member from the Dhlamekian council stands, taking an immediate defense posture. “I don’t know how you bested our men, but you are not welcome here. This is between us and the Waloeders.”
You shrug. “Well thank goodness that I am a Waloeder. Well, by blood at least.”
Benedikta snickers, an obvious grimace on her face. “And you chose to leave, therefore I don’t think you have business here.”
You turn to her, a wicked smile appearing on your face. You walk towards her, placing your hand on her face to caress her smooth skin. “Oh, but I do, Benna.”
“Keep your hands off of her.” You hear a growl from across the room, turning to see it is none other than Titan himself. You feign innocence. “Or what? Are you going to put your hands on me? It’s not nice to manhandle a lady.” You turn fully to him now, a smirk forming over your innocent gaze. “Not that I personally mind it.”
Barnabas internally growls at your notion, moving his hand to his chin to keep his jaw locked. The last thing he needs is for his facade to slip.
You sense the Marshal stand, irritation clear on his face. “I’ll ask one more time to leave, or I’ll have my guards escort you out.”
You belt out a laugh. “What guards? Look around!” Your arms go to the air spread out, turning your torso from side to side to show that it is just them. That seems to set him off as he goes to walk towards you, seemingly wanting to throw you out himself. You can’t have that.
You put your hand out towards him, feeling the blood run through his veins before gripping your fist, causing the Marshal to stutter in his stance. He gasps in pain, grabbing at his chest as he tries to breathe. You throw your fist down by your side, sending him to the ground in a fetal position. You keep your grip as you walk to him, bending down as you place your other hand's fingers on his chin, lifting it up to look at him. You see he is struggling, and all you can do is tsk. “Know this: I could make you scream just like I did to your men out in the hall. Consider this a mercy.” You tap his face before releasing him, leaving him on the floor as he tries to gain his bearings.
Your attention goes back to Hugo Kupka. “You may want to ready yourself, Titan. The Ironblood are invading Dhalmekian territory as we speak.”
Hugo’s face is stone, walking past Marshal and others to the door. “Kupka!” The Marshal chokes from the floor. Hugo doesn’t look his way as he replies. “The Ironblood will rue the day they set foot on Storm… this game is over.”
He makes his exit, closely followed by Benedikta. You see her leave with confidence in her stride, very obvious that she is trying to prepare her facade. You chuckle at this new development.
“Everyone out.” A stern voice says, and you turn to see it is none other than Barnabas, whose hard stare is on your form.
Everyone is still, not knowing if they should listen as it is their territory after all. You, however, could care less. “Do the lot of you not understand signals? Get out.” You say sternly, command dripping from your voice. The council slowly makes their way out, afraid to talk against you due to what they witnessed. You hear them talking amongst themselves in disappointment, confusion, and curiosity, questioning what business Leviathan has with the mighty Odin. You turn your head towards the Lord Commander himself, watching him stay firmly in his spot. “That means you too, Harbard.” Barnabas dismisses him, and Harbard walks past you, smirking as he is the last one to exit. The doors shut and you face Barnabas. “It’s been a long time, Barney Boy.”
His face twists. He hates when you call him that. You walk towards him, commanding his attention as you sway your hips. “Awe, does the strong, dark King of Waloed not like being called that?” You walk slowly behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Would you like me to call you something else, your majesty?” You draw out, hands running down to the inside of his royal blue undershirt. You lean down by his ear, taking a second to let your breath graze it as your left pointer finger traces the scar on his chest. “Would you like me to call you something endearing like my dearest?” You kiss under his ear, and he shivers. “Or…” you continue to kiss down his neck. “Would you like something a little more submissive like my pet?” You nip at his neck, and he grunts.
He craves you in this way. When you left Waloed, left him, he struggled. He had been with several women since, but he always feels like he has to hold himself to the standard he’s set for himself. He could always be vulnerable with you, no matter if it was you in control or him. With you, he gives himself fully and he can’t say he ever regrets it even though you will be his ruin. He is sure of it.
You step back from him only to step into his line of vision, leaning against the table. You place your hand on his cheek, and he leans into its cool embrace, craving anything you would give him. “Someone seems touch starved. Is Benedikta not keeping you warm at night?”
“Nobody will ever compare to you, no matter how cruel you are.” He speaks truthfully, turning his face into your palm to press his lips to the softness of your skin.
“Is that true? Because I know of someone, or rather something that seems to topple over me.”
He growls. “You know my relationship with my master is not the same as it is with you.”
Your hand moves from his cheek to grip his chin, holding it tightly as your eyes burn into his. “Are you sure? Because it seems every time we are in this situation, it’s my name you call out; like I am the one that can grant you salvation.” You bend down to kiss his forehead, whispering your next words against it. “It’s a shame I can’t seem to make that illusion stick.”
You pull away and move to sit on the table. Your left foot is set on the arm of his chair, while your right one rubs against his muscular thigh. You love how muscular he is, his battle hungry body filling his clothes out deliciously, especially in his black trousers. Your foot moves past his thigh to his crotch, rubbing his bulge with little pressure. He is staring daggers at you, but you know he won’t do anything. He could have taken you in his arms and fucked you face down into the table if he wanted to, but he knows your command is law in these moments. Right now, you are his God.
You push your foot slightly, causing him to buck into it with a sigh. “It’s okay though. I like to pretend, even if it is for a moment.” You set your right foot on the other side of the seat to settle on the arm rest. You pull your dress up, exposing yourself to him.
Barnabas licks his lips. No matter how many times he’s had you, he will never get tired of how beautiful your womanhood is. His breath deepens, wanting so badly to touch you, but he knows the rules. You are in control.
“Did you want to touch me, Barnabas? It’s been a long time since you’ve had a taste, hasn’t it?” He mewls, nodding his head, hands clenching and unclenching to calm himself.
You smirk. You know him like the back of your hand. You know what he wants, and you are going to give it to him. “Go ahead, my darling. Claim your prize.”
There is hesitation on Barnabas’s half. It isn’t like you to give in so easily. You will toy with him until he is begging for you to let him touch and taste you. You would make him watch as you pleasure yourself, letting the sweetest gasps fall from your lips. You wouldn’t let him have what he wants until there is visible evidence of your essence dripping from your fingers. You see his hesitation and you giggle. “There is no catch, my dear. This is all for you. Indulge in me, worship me, for I know it is what you crave.” You lift your foot again, this time putting it on his shoulder to edge him forward. He simply cannot refuse.
He reaches forward, his big hands starting from your calves to your thighs, gripping the flesh as he brings himself forward. He places kisses on your thighs, giving small nips only to lick them right after. He takes his time with you, worshiping you like you deserve, making sure to convey his devotion to you as your encouragements reach his ears.
“You revere me so much, don’t you? You are doing a wonderful job at showing that.” You purr, using one hand to run through his dark locks. “But I want those pretty lips to worship me where I will be brought to ruin. Will you worship me there?”
He looks up to you, steel blue eyes stirring with his need to praise you. “I will do as you wish, my Goddess.” He goes in, securing your legs over his shoulders, and letting his tongue sing praises against your delicious cunt.
“You are such a good boy.” You mewl, gripping his hair as your other hand holds you up so you can watch him please you. All you can think is how beautiful he looks in his submissive state, an absolute juxtaposition to the battle hungry maniac he is.
His hold on you tightens, his actions becoming more relentless the more you praise him and the more your essence starts to make its way onto his tongue. He moans into your pussy, lapping at your clit with vigor. He has had many women on his tongue, more as a way of getting them ready for his own selfish pleasure. No one has ever compared to flavor, for he yearns for you to fall apart on his mouth. To know that he is the one to bring you to completion makes his blood pump strongly through his veins, going right to his manhood.
Your noises grow louder, becoming apparent that your release is calling to him to give you what you need. He takes his right pointer and middle fingers to your heat, sinking them in as his tongue worships your clit. He feels your hold on his hair grow stronger, and his moan against you with the fast work of his fingers signals your finish. You cry out, thighs squeezing around his head as he rides your orgasm out. He slurps the sweet liquid dripping around his fingers, letting you calm down as your breaths echo throughout the room.
You pull his head up, hard enough to the point where he is now standing in between your legs. You are both staring at each other, both breathing heavily waiting for each other’s next set of commands and moves. You stare at his lips, glittering with your essence. Your resolve is breaking down, your want to do what you haven’t done in many years taking hold of your heart.
Barnabas is waiting for you to tell him what you want from him next when gravity seems to shift as you pull him down, your lips pressing against his in hunger. Time seems to still, his mind going insane as your lovely lips move against his. Something he noticed in previous meetings is that you would never kiss him. Whenever he would go in to kiss you, you would avoid saying he was undeserving of that kind of affection from you. The last time he had kissed you was not long before you left. It has been ten long years since he received this blessing, and rather than thinking about what has changed, he loses himself in you wanting to make up for all the times he wasn’t allowed to love you like this.
His hands grab your face, holding it in place as he escalates his kisses. The callused skin of his palms feels good on your cheeks, the roughness causing you to latch your hands to his top attire. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him on top of you as you deepen your kiss with him. His bulge is right up against your wet cunt, and he softly grinds into you. The feeling feels good on both ends, both of you capturing each other’s gasps and choked moans as things get heavier and more intense.
You pull away, placing both hands onto his cheeks as you look at him. The emotions swirling in his gaze are almost too much to bear, and if you want to do this right, you cannot be sucked into them. You won’t let that happen.
“Make love to me, my darling. Please.” You whisper.
He is fast to lower his trousers enough to release his cock, lowering his face to yours to kiss you again as he sinks into your warm heat. You whimper, his cock stretching you out in an exquisite way. It has been a very long time since you’ve had him on top of you like this, and you will burn this into your memory for all time.
Barnabas picks up the pace slightly, letting go of your lips to trail wet kisses down your neck. He sucks harshly where your neck and left clavicle meet, the need to mark you infiltrating his soul. He missed loving you like this. He can’t believe you are allowing this. For so long, it has been you to have your way with him, to have complete control over the situation. In any other instance, if he had instigated this, you would have punished him till kingdom come. But you started this. You allowed this. It is now the both of you engaging with each other how you both used to. It is too good to be true.
If only he knew that it was.
He keeps leaving marks on your neck, painting the beautiful picture that you are his to mark. He is pumping his cock in you in deep strokes, reaching every depth of your cunt that sends you reeling. His hands travel down to your breasts, squeezing through the velvet of your dress which makes your nipples rub against the fabric. You hum in approval, bringing your hands to the collar of his undershirt to move it aside, bringing your mouth to his chest, the both of you now marking each other as you both reach the edge together.
Barnabas is fucking you full force now, his right hand pulling your head back as his mouth leaves your now marked body. His lips meet yours again, praises and whispers of affirmation leaving each other in the same breaths.
“Release for me, my Goddess.” He breathes into you. “Bring me to ruin.”
You cry out against his lips, your walls squeezing his cock as you cum for him. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him against you as he releases during your high. He draws in and out, slowing down as his cock becomes more sensitive by the second. Once the both of you are down, he releases your lips, heavy breaths and stares exchanged in the aftermath. He groans as he pulls out of you fully, causing you to sigh at the emptiness, letting your legs unravel from his hips to dangle against the table.
You work to calm yourself down, needing to get yourself together before you do anything else. Your eyes shut, focusing your mind on your next moves. You know what you need to do, yet you didn’t realize cutting off your boundaries would make this much harder. It has to be done.
You sit up to see he has fixed himself up and is staring at you with what you can only see is hope. It makes your chest pang a little harder, knowing what you are about to do will sever your ties with him for good.
You move off the table, situating yourself so your gown is smoothed out and looking somewhat presentable. As you are doing this, you see his feet reach your line of sight. You look up and he is directly in front of you. His eyes are soft yet holding back. He is smiling down at you, and it makes your heart flip. You want so badly to confirm you are here to stay, but that is far from the truth.
“What’s changed?” He breathes out. “This isn’t like you. I feel as if I’m back in the past; back to how things should be.”
Your gaze stays down, working up the courage to say what you came to say. His hand comes to your chin, mimicking how you had gripped his chin earlier, and lifted your face to his. He is examining you, not understanding why you don’t seem happier. “You are usually so cruel to me, making me earn my servitude. But most of all, you haven’t blessed me with your kisses in a decade. So, I’ll ask again, what’s changed?”
You sigh, stepping back from him. His hand is still out, confusion taking over his features at your mannerisms. Your confident gaze is set back onto your face, not wanting to potentially give into him. “This is a goodbye.”
“A goodbye? Meaning what?” Barnabas asks, his tone shifting slightly, his brows knit together.
“I’m leaving Valisthea… for good.” You admit.
His blood runs cold. Leaving? What could you possibly mean by that?
You watch his features shift once more, only this time it snaps your heart in two. He is scared; you can see that very clearly. It is the scared look of a boy, as you know deep down that is who Barnabas is: a lonely, scared boy. You continue. “Things around here are getting worse with the Blight and the ridiculous wars you and everyone else seem to lash out with. Countless lives lost to them. It is barbaric, and this place is no longer a place I can proudly call a home.”
“My biggest reason is that I cannot live in a place where you exist.” Your voice shakes.
“Exist?” He chokes out.
You smile, a hint of sadness complimenting it. “The way you want the world based on how your god wants it will not only destroy everyone, but it will also destroy you. I will not stay to bear witness to it.”
“You know that this is the only way to salvation.” Barnabas says above a whisper, not wanting to give away his motives, but he knows it is futile. He knows you are smarter than that.
You laugh, sorrow building in your chest. “If your plan to have us enslaved by that thing you call a god is salvation, then I’d rather be dead.”
The next thing you feel is your back hitting the wall, Barnabas pushing himself into you as he holds your head in his rough hands, eyes staring at you belligerently. The scared boy you saw from the deep dwellings of his heart vanishing before your eyes. “We have always belonged to one another, ____. We can build a world that no man could ever dream of seeing.”
This sends you into a spiral, causing you to laugh maniacally. “I have always belonged to you, but you have never fully belonged to me.” You push him off of you, leering at him as you can feel yourself starting to rage. “You were the only one who could bring me to my knees, but I am not the only one that can bring you to yours.”
You rush towards him, pushing him into the table with your hand on his throat. “Remember this, Barnabas.” You seethe. “You may hate mankind, but under all of your disdain, you are still nothing but a man. Not even being Akashic can change that.”
You feel him try to turn you over, but as soon as you feel him move you grip your free hand, making him stop in his tracks as he groans out in pain. You make his blood run slowly, having it flow away from his hands and feet to make them go cold. “Do you forget who you are dealing with? Your god made my Eikon the strongest. That was his first mistake because unlike you I am not a sheep in wolf's clothing. I will not stay to be his puppet.”
You let him go, backing away as he drops to his knees, numbness in his limbs as the blood slowly returns. “For your sake, Barnabas, I hope you find peace as I understand your need to avenge, but I will not stay for the finale.”
You kneel, looking at how pitiful he looks. “I do love you. And because I do, I must save myself the heartache that I will never be able to change your mind. Goodbye, Barnabas.”
You stand back up and turn away, walking to the doors and out of his life for good. Barnabas coughs, hitting the cold floor with his fist to calm the anguish that repeatedly suffocates him because now he really is alone.
If only you knew that his attempts to keep you here weren’t for ulterior motives… he just wanted you to stay.
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