ninjō 𓆰𓆪 shunsui kyōraku/sosuke aizen
alternative ending to the shunsui open marriage collection | bleach week masterlist | main masterlist | bleach masterlist
nsfw // minors dni
Shunsui used to be a man that craved sunlight, but ever since she died, he found that shadows suited him better, afterall.
During the day he hid in his office, pouring what little energy he had left into rebuilding the legacy that his mentor left behind. At dusk he poured sake and spoke to the visage of Jūshirō, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure that Unohana wasn't lurking in the shadows, preparing to pipe in and freeze their beating hearts.
In the inky hours of night, when all was silent except for his spiraling mind, his hand found his cock and his mind wandered to her.
It was filthy and depraved. He should be mourning his dead wife with tears and flowers … not with desperate strokes and strangled sobs. His mind should wander to how he missed her smile, not how he missed her heat, but alas … her shape was the last loved thing he'd held, and he'd rather die than forget it. When he came it was both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because he could still remember her face … could still recall how her skin felt against his own … the sweet noises she'd make beneath him. A curse because she was not there, and the illusion of her faded as soon as he found his release.
After many months of this self-inflicted torture ritual, Shunsui felt compelled to sink deeper, still. With a bottle of sake tucked beneath his arm, he headed toward Muken. The chill that used to bother him as he descended no longer had any impact; now, the earthen damp that collected on his skin warmed him, like a cloak of shame and sorrow.
He could feel Sosuke Aizen before he could see him. He remembered the night his wife spent between their two bodies … the night that could have tipped him off to Aizen's true nature if only he'd been paying more attention. But it was too late, now … and he couldn't even blame the monster underground for what had happened. Instead he sought it out for company … to defile her memory further as he dragged her into the depths of purgatory, just so he could flaunt it before someone who might remember her as Shunsui did.
He felt no fear as he stepped into the cell. On this night there could only be three outcomes, two of which ended in his death: a fate that, at this point, would be a mercy killing. If he had the displeasure of making it to morning, there would be more ramifications for his actions — the Central 46 did not give him permission to reminisce with Sosuke Aizen about the sweet cunt of his dead wife, after all — but that was neither here nor there: a battle for tomorrow, only to be fought after a sunrise he loathed to see.
He unlocked Sosuke's mouth, first, ripping the bandage off of whatever smart remarks the man had locked and loaded on his tongue.
Sure enough, the utterance "you reek" was the first thing that passed his lips. Shunsui huffed, amused, shrugging.
"No one t'impress."
"Of alcohol," Sosuke clarified. "You reek of alcohol."
Shunsui grumbled something illegible as he undid the lock burdening Sosuke's ankles, then wrists. Sosuke tracked his movements suspiciously, wondering if this was some kind of trick, but again … the Captain-Commander reeked of alcohol, not deception. His intentions became obvious rather quickly, grief seeping from his pores just as steadily as his reiatsu.
"I don't think I'm the right person to cry to," Sosuke dryly stated, massaging his wrists as they loosened, "though I suppose it would be more entertaining than staring into space, so I shouldn't complain."
"I won't cry. Got that outta my system before I came down," Shunsui's poor attempt at a joke fell flat, and even he couldn't contain his grimace, "though it's good t'know they'd bring ya such enjoyment. I'll keep that in mind the next time I need a favor."
As Sosuke grew reaccustomed to having agency over his own limbs, Shunsui paced to the wall, sliding down it with the grace of a newborn colt. He tilted his bottle to his lips — his third of the night — observing his former comrade's outline through glazed eyes.
"Dunno why I didn't come here sooner," Shunsui slurred, "I like it down here."
Sosuke let out a laugh. It was short, but genuine: a display that was rare even for Sosuke himself to behold. But his understimulated mind was firing at all the wrong cues, and the idea of the Seireitei's most flamboyant, most … sybaritic shinigami finding comfort in this hell was something that even he couldn't have foreseen.
"Ya want sake?" Shunsui offered after a long minute of sulking silence. Sosuke lifted a brow, still maintaining his distance, weary of his visitor's palpable instability. Shunsui's reiatsu was fluctuating at levels unbecoming of a shinigami, nevermind a Captain-Commander, and while Sosuke held no concern for his life, he had no intention of getting cried and slobbered on.
"If I get too close to you, you'll —"
"Eviscerate me, yeah, yeah," Shunsui wove a lazy hand before reaching it up to his hat and tossing it across the floor. "Would that be such a bad thing, though?"
"Never knew you to be so careless with your life, Kyōraku."
"Ah, well, that was me then, and this is me now." Shunsui opened the box of keys that held Sosuke's fate, plucking one out and tossing it in his direction. "But if y'r so concerned … here. This'll let you breathe a little bit."
Sosuke retrieved the key with nimble fingers, keenly aware that, even with his reiatsu released, there was no way of escaping his current circumstances. But it would at least feel nice to not be crushed beneath his own weight every waking moment, so he eagerly slotted the key into position and —
"It's the wrong key," he muttered, biting back an insult. Shunsui blinked slowly as he registered his mistake, then laughed to himself as he fished another one from the container and sent it Sosuke's way.
Luckily, this one worked. Sosuke's mouth parted in relief as his reiatsu surged outward, entropic in its release. If Shunsui were anyone else, his life would have been snuffed by that violent first wave of freedom … but the man simply remained slumped over his bottle, too strong for his own good.
"So you came to visit me … to unchain me … for what reason?"
Shunsui squinted up at the shadowy ceiling. "There's not many people topside I'm … familiar with these days."
Sosuke quirked a brow. "Familiar?"
"Familiar."
"Ah. So you're talking about her."
"Who else?"
"I don't know. Your dear friend Ukitake, or the man who declared you a son, Yamamoto…"
"I mourn them, too," Shunsui snapped, temper flaring briefly before he quenched it with more liquor. "But…I just…"
"I only spent one night with you," Sosuke cocked his head, "there are others that have spent multiple … yet you risk your reputation to come visit me. Why?" He didn't wait for Shunsui to answer as he continued, "and if I recall, neither of you particularly enjoyed that experience."
"Well ya were bein' a dick."
"So the question stands: why are you here?"
Despite having the upper hand, Shunsui felt very much like Aizen's prey in that moment: weak and pathetic and at his mercy. He cowered behind the glass in his grasp, defeated posture sagging further.
"Y'were such a dick 'cause y'understood us," he mumbled, "y'knew just how to play us. How to please her … how to take it away."
"I didn't please you?"
The look Shunsui flashed him was too tired to be dangerous. "Ya crossed a line."
"But you did it anyway … for her."
"I'd do anything for her."
"I know that."
All the pieces fell into place. Sosuke exhaled, defensive stance softening when he realized what levels of desperation had dragged Shunsui to such depths.
"And you'd do anything .. to see her again."
Shunsui remained silent: a rare thing for a man that liked to hear himself talk. He eyed Aizen suspiciously as the prisoner began to walk over, shadows clinging to his form like a second skin.
"You refused to beg me for your wife the first time…but maybe…" a seamless transition; in Aizen's place stood a woman, nude and radiant and achingly familiar, "maybe you'll beg her."
Something ugly caught in Shunsui's throat. Just as he thought, Aizen's sharp mind recalled every detail, each curve just as smooth … each move just as fluid. He…she?…bent before him, breath cool across his warm face.
"You don't look too good, Sunny."
A piece of him — large and jagged — broke upon hearing that nickname…falling from those lips. He didn't even try to fight the illusion, accepting it wholly as he let Aizen cup his cheek, stroking the gentle pad of her thumb across the wet flesh beneath his eyes. "Heh," he sniffled, "Sorry. Promised I wouldn't cry on y—"
Aizen shut him up with a kiss.
His was a little rougher than what haunted Shunsui's dreams, but the shape of her lips molded to his just as they used to. Shunsui's pulse thrummed in his ears as he met her mouth with fervor, letting the sake bottle roll from his grasp, his precious vice spilling across the cold earth.
Sosuke broke away first, sitting back. Her lips twisted into a crooked smile … one that reminded Shunsui who was beneath the façade … but he chased the thought away as he craned forward again —
"Beg."
Shunsui grit his teeth. "Aizen, don't—"
"You don't have to beg me," Sosuke dipped a hand beneath the loose fabric of Shunsui's shihakushō, tracing nimble fingers down the broad Commander's torso, "beg her."
Shunsui's head pounded as he stared down at his wife's hand — so soft, her touch gentle and familiar. His, however, was aggressive as he gripped her wrist, stopping its descent. "I've begged her already," he whispered hoarsely, "every night. Every morning. Every … second." Shunsui yanked Sosuke forward, "so fuck you, Aizen. I'm not begging for my wife."
If Sosuke weren't so amused he'd be annoyed, but seeing Shunsui descend into madness was reward enough for his little games. He let Shunsui connect their mouths once more, though this kiss lacked its earlier desperation and had devolved into depravity.
Shunsui knocked Sosuke over onto his back, tongue lapping at the exposed flesh of his neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. To Sosuke's own ears his moan was low, but to Shunsui's it held that addicting lilt he'd dreamt of too many times to count.
Sosuke shrugged off his own clothing as he maintained the image of Shunsui's nude lover. Feeling his wandering hands over fabric wasn't enough … and Sosuke was not so generous as to grant the grieving man this gift without gaining something of his own.
Where Shunsui felt soft curves beneath his needy touch, Sosuke felt callouses against his taught muscle. His cock twitched as Shunsui's fingers dipped between his wife's wet folds, and he lifted himself onto his forearms to watch The Commander's head dip between his legs. He'd felt his tongue on him before — brief and unwilling — but now Shunsui ate him like a man starved. The poor Commander didn't even realize his mouth was stuffed with cock, believing it to be a sopping cunt — one that Sosuke remembered well, because, to Shunsui's credit, he did marry a sweet creature that would drive any man insane with lust.
Shunsui whispered sweet nothings against Sosuke's thighs, his spit mixing with his tears as he devoured. A pathetic display of codependency, but not a surprise. Sosuke's fingers tangled into his curls, frizzy from the damp environment and a lack of proper maintenance on the surface, as he rolled his hips deeper, head falling back as his tip nudged the back of his throat. As Shunsui began to pull back Sosuke lazily attempted to keep him there, but Shunsui knocked his hand away and spread Sosuke's legs apart, untying his hakama with thick, clumsy fingers.
Just as it had been that night many years ago, when Sosuske was still a Captain of the Fifth, Shunshi's size was formidable in both length and girth. He remembered watching him spear into his wife's ass as Sosuke took her cunt, wondering how it could possibly fit, and the same thought occurred to him as he watched the monstrous shaft inch closer. While the phantom pussy he controlled was slick and ready, Sosuke certainly wasn't. Sure, some of Shunsui's spit had slid down to the hole between his legs, but it was nowhere near ready for that which approached him. Sosuke kept the illusion's hands clasped onto Shunsui's shoulders, distracting him by tracing a finger down his face and whispering 'I miss you…' as he spat into his palm and prepared himself as best as he could, smearing the saliva up against his entrance with quick precision.
Shunsui pressed his sweating brow against Sosuke's forehead, patience nonexistent. Sosuke gasped as he felt the leaking cockhead press up against his tight ring of muscle … and of course Shunsui was eager — a slave to his cunt of 900 years — as he buried himself to the hilt in one forceful motion.
Sosuke's only saving grace was the Hōgyoku. If it weren't for that, he'd probably be split in two; and while he managed to avoid such a fate, the Hōgyoku did not erase the initial burn, nor did it quiet the humiliating yelp that tumbled from Sosuke's lips. Shunsui's hands — rough and calloused — traced a sensual path from the backs of Sosuke's thighs to his ankles as he lifted his legs, tossing them over his broad shoulders as he fucked into Sosuke as if he were something precious, his strokes deep and desperate and reverent.
Sosuke's hands grasped at the thick muscle of Shunsui's back, fingertips curling into the fabric of his kimono as he tried to claw his way back into some semblance of control. He didn't realize how overwhelming it would feel to be fucked passionately. He didn't account for how quickly his mind would scramble … at how the only thought he could cling to was 'more'. And he certainly didn't foresee his concentration being so shaken that his Kyōka Suigetsu would start to fail.
Shunsui's brow creased as his beloved's face — blushing and beautiful — began to distort and swell. The peaks of her breasts flattened into solid planes of muscle as the slick velvet of her cunt dried and tightened. He choked back a sob as Sosuke's face appeared, slamming his hand on top of the prisoner's throat and squeezing it with every ounce of strength he had. "Give her back," he begged, "Sosuke, give her back — please, give her back —"
Sosuke watched as tears slid down the shinigami's cheeks. Eyes — once darkened by lust — were now clouded over with murderous intent. "You're fucking her like an ape. It's not my fault I —"
Shunsui's free hand smothered Sosuke's mouth. He thrust meanly, knowing that if the fit was uncomfortable for him, then it was certainly uncomfortable for the man beneath him.
Eager to get the last word in, Sosuke batted Shunsui's hand away. "How far you've fallen, Kyōraku," he wheezed, "the first person you fuck in 900 years … other than her … is me."
With a sudden violence, Sosuke drove his hand into Shunsui's chest. Blood poured from the gaping wound, coating Sosuke's fingers and streaming down his forearm as he fished the key to Muken from the widower's body. Where a normal man may have looked betrayed, or scared, or angry, Shunsui looked … relieved. He wretched crimson, body lurching forward … cock softening as his bloodflow ceased. Sosuke watched The Soul Society's strongest shinigami accept death with open arms … and as his gaze teetered between full and empty, Sosuke re-instated Kyōka Suigetsu.
Shunsui Kyōraku died in his wife's embrace. With him, he took Muken from The Central 46 … and Sosuke Aizen won again.
dew yaps: this is canon
