Something about laying on your side as zaddy Kenpachi is behind you, thrusting roughly into your heat, holding your leg up, and your praising him for how big it is😩
Bouncing on zaddy Kenpachi length shyly and dominantly as he watches you with a wide grin, listening to those sweet little wet clapping sounds while you’re a whining mess in the middle of the night. He brings his thumb up to your clit and rubs it in circles as you pound your flesh down on his big shaft, your knees hurting, watching him fondle the bundle of nerves until a sudden little soft cry of relief escapes your trembling lips, filling the shared bedroom, stopping your hips and cumming on him 🫠 he groans gratifyingly at your quivering squeezing around him, his fingers brushing yours knees as you’re orgasming. 😩
“Do you think these shorts are too short?”- Kenpachi x reader
@sexintheseireitei another entry for you!! This time Kenny, as always dedicated to @villainsrtasty
CW- Suggestive but nothing nsfw!
WC- 242
You had thrown on a tank top and old pair of shorts as you pottered around the house. Even with this heat, you still liked to keep a tidy home! Laundry (especially Kenpachi’s blood soaked shihakushos), washing up, changing the bed sheets, general things like that. Even though Kenpachi had spent the last few nights in the barracks, he normally came home for a night or two by this point in time.
But it was only when you went to clean the large mirror you had in your bedroom that you noticed. Your shorts, a now very faded denim, were fitting differently compared to when you bought them a few years ago. They still fit! But where they once seemed modest by your standards, they now seemed shorter.
Kenpachi came through the door with a grumble.
“Hey hun. Could you come here for a second?” You called. Footsteps got closer and Kenpachi’s familiar angular face peered round the door.
“Do… Do you think these shorts are TOO short?” You asked with your back to the mirror to face him. You played with the ends of the shorts before twirling round.
“They used to be longer but-“
“Nah. They’re not too short.” He interrupted. Kenpachi stepped closer, his intense face on where your shorts hugged your thick thighs. Rough hands gave your thighs a squeeze as his grin grew across his face.
“They look good on you. And would better on the floor.”
♱ 𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙. kenpachi hates you, just as you'd expect. he hates you so much he can't put it into words. kenpachi wants to hurt you, just as much as he wants to be hurt. kenpachi wants to fight. kenpachi loves the fight. kenpachi loves you.
notes: gender-neutral reader, no proof-read (messy), reader is a soul reaper in a separate squad, pre-TYBW, unhealthy dynamic, guro (fetishistic-gorey) themes, passive suicidality, violence, blood, obsessive & posessive behavior (from both)
There's something obscene about the way the captain of the 11th Division acts towards you.
It wasn't a relationship, it was barely even an acquaintanceship, and yet he thought of you each waking moment.
Kenpachi would crawl through hell to have your weapon brandished at him. He drools publicly over the idea of seeing that fearful, candid, primal look on your face. Or to bear witness to your viscera pooling beneath you when his hands tear you apart.
Each new thought made his head spin. Neither of you knew when it had gotten to this point, but he had dedicated himself to your end. One too many missed opportunities. He would have you.
And you... You'd respected him so much and for so long– His fighting style, that self-restriction, the way he would rather trap his capability in bondage than be part of an unfair fight.
“Just like Kenpachi,” you'd once said with such confidence, “I want to be as fair and just as Kenpachi Zaraki.”
Fair? Just? It seemed like nobody in the training academy understood what you'd meant by that at the time, and frankly if you hadn't proven yourself as quickly as you had you'd have been rejected from the academy under cause of insanity...
Instead, you graduated with near-perfect scores and very short-lived fame of prodigious abilities. You were called dedicated, but you knew dedication's true name, and it was much less pretty.
It didn't take long for Kenpachi to hear of your strength and become instantly enamoured; Yet somehow he missed each chance to ever witness it for himself. How frustrating. How very bitter, a taste like iron and nightshade down his throat each time.
Once, you had been sparring with another. Kenpachi had turned up– after all, you were right in his corner of the Seireitei– and he wasn't even seeking you out. But there you were, on one random day, fighting.
A simple spar, he had reminded himself. Only a fraction of your power.
It was your mistake to ever let him see it.
You denied him the fight. He hated that more than anything. To Kenpachi, you were denying him his very reason to live.
He despised you for it, and it would only get worse with time.
Avoiding him was much simpler than initially assumed. Your job was easy. Just keep as busy as possible, keep far away, and most importantly: leave a trail of your most bloody work for him to pick up the pieces...
Of course you knew what you were doing, you'd known what you wanted the moment you met him. So had he, you were certain, as he endlessly pined for your aggressions to be directed at him instead.
A fun game, and one sure to end in your demise– But how could you care when his attention was all yours; the delicious tension palpitating between you, just wondering when one another would give in and strike.
Eventually it reached a point that everyone in the thirteen court guard squads had heard about it from somewhere. After all, it was far from usual that a captain of any sort explicitly sought out a lower-ranked shinigami.
“It's lustful,” your own Captain described it, “and truly disgusting. Whatever it is you're doing to him, stop. He's creeping me out with these... incessant requests.”
And you could have, but there was little point. Zaraki had longed for the bloodshed for so long that it was just another fact of life. The craving was familiar now. You were much the same, of course. He could see it in your eyes, with every picture and every report of your existence only serving to taunt him.
The never-closed loop. The thrill of the hunt.
Some nights, he lay awake just thinking about it.
How shameful that a man so strong could not have what he wished for most.
Kenpachi of Zaraki. Your suitor. A beast, a demon, something other than human and something far beyond soul reaper; all descriptions he'd been given. All at once both right and wrong.
...How exhilarating it was to push somebody like that to their limits.
“Are you doing it on purpose?” You were once asked by his third seat, Madarame. “If you push him too far one day, he really will kill you.”
“I know,” you had sighed out in response, utterly infatuated.
The man scoffed with an unsurprised grin across his lips. “You must have a death wish– You'd do better in Squad Eleven, you know.”
You never did take up the offer, for you had long since made Kenpachi an unspoken promise–
To not lay yourself at his feet like an offering. To let him catch you. Let him kill you and devour you, as a starving wolf and his most sought after prey, ever more satisfying after strenuous effort.
And now, you had been caught. So much time had passed, and you had pushed too far, become much too cocky. Now, you were his.
You'd come face to face with Kenpachi. After the amount of time spent playing this silly game, part of you had yet to believe that the rumours going around– his violent obsession toward you– was in any way true. That part of you was vanquished as soon you saw his expression.
His chest heaved and his breathing grew ragged as he stood before you. Eyes were wild and bloodshot. Since last you'd seen him in person his hair had grown longer, and, though perhaps it was just your memory failing you, he seemed even broader– Chest splayed tight against his haori.
“You know what I want.” The Captain stated it with a daunting confidence. “And you'll keep me waiting no longer, understand?”
“You wish to fight.”
A sickening grin broke across Kenpachi's face, elated. “Damn right.”
You unsheathed your sword.
“With pleasure,” you bow as if you had just been asked to fetch him tea. Your body betrays you however, shivering with terror and anticipation.
It seemed like that response only served to anger him further, veins growing visible along his muscles before he launched at you. The sound he made was more akin to a bear than a man.
Elegant as you were frustrating, you could dodge the vast majority of his swings, each time delivering a strike of your own.
It was hard to tell if Kenpachi was restraining himself, or if your time climbing the ranks of the Seireitei had truly trained you to such an extent.
Still, you fought passionately– for Kenpachi Zaraki was with you, demanding your best. Demanding his retribution. You would give it to him if it killed you.
Ah, how grateful you would be if he were the one to land the final blow.
Dust from the dry earth quaked into the air with each of his movements, and you met him in kind with practiced, brutal swings.
With what recent damage it had sustained, your zanpakuto was not sharp and not built for such a battle. Yet through perseverance or miracle or passion it soon broke his skin. More than that... It ran clean through.
Your mistake, you soon came to realise.
In a swift motion his large hand captured your wrist– no, more like your entire forearm– and lifted you up into the air.
Your body felt like it was breaking in his grip, adrenaline swarming each crevasse of your brain with such force that the bones splintering inside you were nothing more than a passing observation.
“You...” He breathed with malice, a tone unnerving enough to pierce your chest. “So long I've waited to feel your blade, and now this is all you have to show me?”
Kenpachi shook you as if you were a broken toy.
“D'you get it?!” His scream warbled, almost sounding as tearful as he did enraged. “There is nobody else– I am your opponent!”
Your entire body was lifted and pummeled into the earth. It cracked beneath the force. Sand and sediment surrounded the battle like a veil, shielding even the gods from witnessing such brutality.
“Stop holding back!!”
It was wonderful. Truly such a beautiful sight to witness. You were glad, in a way, that it was all yours to experience.
Sweat glistened on his body, each perfect serving of skin and muscle adorned with sunlight. His eyes glowed with something otherworldly, a ferocious, golden hue that bounced from his reiatsu and adorned his entire being.
“K–enpachi... Sir...” You wheezed out as your lungs struggled to keep up. It's not right, and you know it, but an ecstatic smile drew across your lips. Your eyes seemed more alight with life than ever.
His throat constricted itself, tight and painful as strong emotions bubbled like hot molten in his stomach.
You're dropped onto the ground. You barely notice at first with how disoriented you've become.
“You dare taunt me with that voice?” His words came out through an outlandish laugh. It sputtered into a choke before he continued, “I can't imagine how long you've waited for this.”
He grabbed your sword, still plunged into his shoulder, and began to pull it out by its hilt. His breath stuttered as he did so, feeling tarnished meat pull against the blade as it exits. Delicious.
The zanpakuto exits with a beautiful flourish of deep red that makes the air smell so strongly of copper. Zaraki does not acknowledge the wound with any more than a grunt.
Your sword landed by your feet with a clatter and, through hazy vision, you scrambled to pick it up.
“Oh, come on,” Zaraki tilted his head in taunt, “show me what you've really got. Anything. Surely you've got some fancy tricks up your sleeve?” He rested his own sword behind his shoulders before crouching down– a vain attempt to meet your eye level.
With an unceremonious sound, you're readjusted and back on your feet. It was a struggle, considering the gore flowing from your head-wound and obscuring half of your vision.
“You mean...?”
“I'm sayin' you've not even used your shikai yet,” he stroked his chin in faux thought. The bloodied fingertips stain his face, carelessly caressed into that long line of scar tissue. “And here I thought you really wanted to have some fun... You really are awful.”
There's a beat of silence before a sweet sound caught Kenpachi off guard– a raw, gargled laughter that had erupted from you. He tilted his head back only to look down at you further, eyeing you with a visible confusion on his otherwise rugged face. Had he really said something funny, or were you simply such a sick individual that you were revelling in his suffering?
“Oh,” you sputtered whilst trying to regain your composure, “Kenpachi, Sir, what are you saying?” With the back of your fist, you wipe away some of the filth that ran across your face. Still with that exhuasted smile, “I would never disrespect you like that, Captain.”
The swordsman's eyes narrowed at you, his breathing picking up into a rampant, manic pace. There's that bitter feeling again, and it tasted like home.
“Disrespect?” He lunged at you, each word laced with unbridled disdain. “You refuse me for years upon years, battle each living thing you come across and ignore my offers just to– What? Spite me?!”
Theres a large, sudden slash toward your torso; One that you only barely dodge, the serrated edge of his blade catching and tearing your shihakushō. The force alone is enough to scrape your skin, and it stung like hell.
“And here you are talkin' about 'disrespect'.” Kenpachi spat.
His spiritual pressure reached a tremendous height, a weight so strong that it nearly brought you to your knees, before receding slightly like a grand bonfire that had just now reached its peak.
You exhaled with a full-body shake, unsure of whether the cause was fear, awe, or longing.
“With all due respect,” you start with a hoarse voice, and deliver a swift, hard kick to the captain's stomach, launcing yourself a distance away with the momentum. As it stood, your blade was being used more for leverage than anything else. “I think it would be unprofessional to fight on those grounds. I did not spend so many years modelling my brawls after your own... just to fight you like that.”
Kenpachi coughs up a mixture of blood and saliva, entirely unprepared for the blunt hit– For a less bulky shinigami, you packed a hefty strength into your legs that could rival one of his own swings... Something he couldn't be happier to discover.
He inhales sharply, as if savouring every sense of the battle he could. “Now you're gettin' somewhere!”
Seconds turned to minutes as you exchanged blows, and at some point between the heavy footsteps and the eerie scrape of your blades colliding you found yourself grasping your zanpakuto with both hands. It didn't escape your gaze the way that Kenpachi smirked when you finally caved into your old muscle memory, the vision of a perfect swordsman's stance.
Then, just as you were delivering a clean slice across his back with the use of a desperate, impulsive flash-step, you felt a cool metal tear into your arm. It had stopped and recoiled itself half-way, leaving the fat and muscle exposed to the air.
You didn't scream– not at first. But you stilled. You choked, and your eyes welled with salty, glittering tears. You hurt all over. But you did not scream.
Only when you tore your eyes from your injury to the man that had caused it, with his savage, broad body casting a shadow over your own, blocking you from the blistering light of the sun, did you scream.
And with the gutteral screech that tore from your throat, you attacked. You thrust toward him with all your might, every aspect of your movement the practiced outcome of all your lived experience. And yet...
‘How gorgeous,’ he thought, mouth dry with desire.
And yet...
Kenpachi dodged, softly, simply stepping out of the way.
It wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't. You knew from the beginning it wouldn't be, and yet it was precisely the experience you had desired for so many years.
With a swift motion, you were suddenly floating, your legs kicked from underneath you before you could even register it.
In that time-stilled moment, you were sure you could see one another in the deepest sense possible. You could look through Zaraki's exterior and into each violent, mechanical microcosm of his soul. He was bearing it to you, through this fight. Through his blade. Mid-air, all you knew was the pulsing of your own body, and the magnificent sight of his.
“Finally,” he screamed, his eyes utterly deranged and dilated. “You're getting what you deserve!”
He tilted his sword to the sky, and the blunt handle came down on your chest, battering you from the air and down, in microseconds, to the already brutalised ground.
A sickening crack echoed out.
It was over.
Your struggled breaths filled the silence of the courtyard, spine and skull ruptured into a bloody mess beneath you. The limb that had been struck in an attempt to brace yourself had parted from the rest of you and lay oozing, inches from your face. Still, as your vision started to dot with white, as adrenaline began to wane into sheer agony, you stared up at him.
Adoration, reverence, hatred, frustration.
Above you, Kenpachi breathed heavily, his movements heavy and slow as his face wore a devastating, emotion-filled smile.
“You... fought well.” He spoke with such a low timbre that the ground rumbled beneath you, still haloed by the light of the brightest star.
That praise, you hoped, would forever be the best send-off that anyone could be graced with.
Now the injuries he had sustained were taking a toll on him, as well. He pressed a hand against his chest and feverishly willed it to calm, but to no avail his torso continued to spasm beneath the flesh of his palms.
With a flick of his wrist, he clears his zanpakuto of the blood and skin that had accumulated along its serrated body. Then, his eyes began to draw across your form; a bruised, barely-living, hopeful thing.
And something new arose in him. A strange feeling which thrums from his chest and embeds itself into the fluids circling around his body.
It is regret and pride and a harrowing sadness. It is a sensation that burns through him entirely and marks him in a way that he may never be rid of.
“Ya–chiru...” Kenpachi whispered, tone grated with exhaustion.
From afar, a small, pink-haired girl crawled from the top branch of an old tree and landed elegantly on the ground. She took care to pat down her robes of the dirt and moss before scurrying over to her guardian.
Yachiru looked to you for a moment and a small, cat-like smile grew on her features. Then, turning her attention to Kenpachi, her body language turned visibly concerned.
He knelt graciously, allowing her to come much closer and survey the damage, whilst also allowing his knees to rest from the tremendous weight of battle.
She huffs with the manner of a tired babysitter; Looking over the lascerated cuts and scratches that Kenpachi had sustained.
“Wow, Kenny... It looks like you really took a beating. You still beat 'em though, huh?” Yachiru spoke, putting one of her tiny hands up to his forearm and dusting away some of the scorched dirt from his skin. When she speaks again, her voice turns small, “Are you gonna be... okay?”
Kenpachi grumbles something incoherent, but raises a hand to wave off her concern.
“I'll manage,” he says unconvincingly, one hand still cradling the shoulder wound you'd punctured him with. “But... Do ya think you could go fetch Captain Unohana?”
Yachiru tilts her head before she wraps her arms around Kenpachi's bicep, pulling him closer. “For you?”
“Mmhm.” He speaks with a profound, shuddering breath. “Well,” he gestures his head towards your unblinking corpse, “for both of us.”
“Kenny...” Yachiru whispers– She has an audible sadness catching in her throat. “I don't know if she's gonna be able to–”
Kenpachi meets her glance with a pleading one of his own, and his daughter quietens at the sight.
“Ask her to try,” he begs, voice hoarse from the yelling. “Please.”
Yachiru nods, and then disappears in a split-second, making her way across the grounds of the Seireitei with shunpo as fast as she could muster.
For the first time, it was just the two of you.
For the second time, Kenpachi's hatred was remoulded into something entirely different.
cw: literally just smut. cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, mild banter.
"you know... i think we have the kind of sex people would pay to see."
as you say it, your legs bend slightly towards your chest, still jellylike from trembling and damp between the thighs, a pose that is playful yet still alluring. kenpachi's large hand raises, posing it onto your knees, and firmly (but not roughly, he's learned to handle you more gently), presses down, as if the idea of covering any part of your flesh from his watchful, wanting gaze is abhorrent to him.
"how so?" he asks.
even if he's just cum, you know he's still raring to go - after all, you haven't been tired out yet, and he hasn't yet lost in any matter of love and war.
he leans in further, first kissing at your collarbone, the salty sheen of sweat precious to his tongue, then pressing more kisses to your sternum, and again, he advances lower down the midline of your torso, lower still over your belly to the soft mound of your pelvis, until his lips graze at your wet clit.
you shudder, and he laughs, the rumble of which is like rolling thunder. your hands find their way into his hair, still adamant that you'd finish your thought.
"good chemistry," you add. his tongue laps at your clit and you sigh, your legs finding support over his shoulders.
"that it?"
his tongue flicks again, and you sigh. "not to mention that you're so fucking..." you trail off with another moan.
"fucking what?"
"sexy," you say, breathlessly. from your vantage point, he's satisfied, teeth bared in a wicked, playful smile.
"got any ideas?" he asks.
your thighs clench around him as he kisses and sucks idly at your arousal, mixed with his own cum from your tryst just moments ago, and you shut your eyes tight trying to think.
"roleplay? i, the-" you gasp at the sudden suction around your clit. "... a, a gladiator maybe-"
"gladiator, huh? winning your hand?"
"yes... yes!"
you're responding more to his ministrations between your legs than your thoughts, now and he works dutifully, like it's only a matter of course, distracting the thought of you, getting his face wet and dirty with the mix of your essences.
"huh... and i'm naked i suppose?"
he stops and you have a reprieve, beads of sweat breaking across your forehead.
"you're naked too in the stands aren't you?"
"is..." you take a moment to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest, "is that important?"
"something nice to look at while i fight, obviously."
he rises until he's on his knees now, and you feel his cock, thick and warm, and heavy resting against your slightly parted thighs, an omen of what's to come.
and to cum.
"and then we fuck over the vanquished, right?"
excitement rushes through you like a jolt of electricity as his tip presses flush against your accepting entrance. he lines up, not pressing yet until you've reached for his hand, and intertwined your fingers.
yet another way you've softened him.
palms pressed together, he slides back in, slow, accommodating and still in control, and your grip tightens in need.
and you let out a breathless, flushed and happy, "yes."
Do-May-stic Day 26. Getting a sitter (baby/pet/home) (Kenpachi Zaraki x reader)!
@villainsrtasty A sweet drabble for you queen
CW- Threats, just fluff otherwise!
Word count- 251
“I swear this time, I’m gonna kill ‘em.” Kenpachi growled as he stormed back to Squad 11 barracks. You’d only just arrive back after a weekend away in the human world and he was already pissed off.
“Kenny, darling, stop for a sec and think! Ikkaku and Yumechika would never put Yachiru in harm's way!” You pleaded. Normally, Ikkaku and Yumechika were your go to babysitters for Yachiru. Never had an issue with the pair. That is until today when Yachiru texted Kenpachi about learning how to “death drop” and Kenpachi made a beeline back home.
As he burst through the front door, Kenpachi caused Yumechika and Ikkaku, who at this point were peacefully lounging on the sofa; to jump and straighten up in surprise.
“C-Captain! You weren’t due back until-” Ikkaku began before Kenpachi grabbed him by the back of the neck.
“What’s this death drop you’re teaching Yachiru?” Kenpachi growled. You held your head in your hands. You tried to explain what it was to Kenpachi, to show that it was safe, but he wasn’t having it.
“Kenny! Kenny! Lookie, Yumi taught me death drop!” Yachiru exclaimed as she excitedly ran to the living room. She stretched her arms out with a flare before falling to the ground with one leg underneath her. Kenpachi stared for a moment at the girl before turning back to his subordinates. Then, after a moment, he turned back to you.
“I did try to tell you, Kenny.” You said with an exacerbated sigh.
