꒰ bleach ꒱ › visiting aizen in muken. 1.4k words ‧ nsfw {dubcon}
the seemingly infinite void stretches beyond your imagination’s comprehension.
muken ensnares your senses in its vacuum, lulling you into a complacency a prison should not have. rigid and slowly blinking in the darkness, your shoulders slump. defeat is guaranteed for someone of your rank: inadequate to compete against the intense reiatsus emanating from the abyss. burdened by the onslaught of spiritual pressure, your body gives in—lips trembling, knees buckling—the floor hard and bruising when you hit it with a dull thud.
a familiar voice calls out to you, soothing and calm: a contradiction to the oppressive forces holding you hostage. “i’m here. it’s alright.” the deep timbre penetrates your ears, almost seeming to clear the fog clouding your mind. the comforting presence entrances you: a welcome relief.
“sôsuke?” you say hoarsely.
at last, air returns to your lungs. still quivering, you wrap yourself around his legs: an anchor in the sea of nothingness. tears sting your eyes as you clutch onto him, as if he’s your saviour. this devout worship lasts until his arm extends to run his fingers through your hair, wrapping it around his digits and gently prompting you to your feet. your head finds solace resting against his solid chest. a soft sigh escapes your lips, despite the tears adorning your lashes finally streaking down your cheeks.
softly, his thumb traces your jaw, brushing over your skin with a delicateness that suggests you are seconds away from shattering like glass. “i said i was here, did i not? there’s no need for tears,” he says, a reassuring smile gracing his lips.
“captain kyōraku told me you’d be restrained…” you mumble after a moment of simply inhaling his consoling scent.
“ah,” he hums thoughtfully, “captain kyōraku must have forgotten. how else would you have reached me if i weren’t here? you can hardly stand.”
he fails to mention that it’s his intentional surge of reiatsu that brought you to your knees.
satisfied, another question hesitates on your tongue before you dare to ask it. “why did you want to see me? you betrayed the soul society—”
“i did not betray you.” the lie falls from his lips so easily—so temptingly—you believe him.
suddenly, your thighs hit the back of something stony. disorientated, you stumble backwards, landing on the uncomfortable object. when your back meets stone as well, you discover it’s a chair with leather restraints hanging uselessly off the arm rests. you offer him a curious look, noting the glint of callousness in his hazel eye. beneath the eye patch, you picture the same lack of emotion in his other pupil.
“you want me to help the soul society, do you not?” he enquires calmly. “i assume you do not want the sternritter taking any more of your friends’ lives?”
aizen no longer stands in front of you.
rather, a body lies limp at your feet. glazed, unblinking eyes stare at nothing. bile rises in your throat when you notice the fifth division insignia and lieutenant’s badge adorning the sleeve of their black shihakushō. blood seeps freely from a gaping wound in their stomach, and stains the tattered remains of their garments. their hair spills around their lolled head like a halo—an omen of what may come.
“l-lieutenant hinamori!” you choke out a cry.
your lieutenant’s lifeless body vanishes. a warm hand squeezes your shoulder to pacify you. your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, until that same hand moves to tilt your jaw upwards to meet his gaze. a sob escapes you. once again, the man smiles and strokes your hair with condescending affection.
“do you see what could happen?” he asks seriously, unaffected by your outburst. “i can ensure their safety. all you have to do—” his timbre drops, low and erotically sinister against the shell of your ear. a chill crawls up your spine. “—is let me have you.”
his arms snake around your waist and everything blurs until you find purchase gripping his shoulders. languidly, he leans into the chair, your legs stretching to accommodate his spread ones. you hover over his lap, your crotch grazing the bulge growing rapidly inside his black bodysuit. eyes wide, they flicker to his unperturbed one.
“you have taken me before. you will do it again.”
you cannot oppose the soul society’s imminent saviour.
tentative, you lower yourself onto his clothed erection. your hips shift against him, searching for an angle to enable your pleasure. when you settle into a careful rhythm, a small gasp escapes you—and he uses this moment to breech your parted lips with his index and middle finger. your mouth is warm and wet around his digits. your natural obedience directs you to swirl your tongue around the pads of them.
something nefarious gleams in his eye. “get on your knees.”
you follow the command swiftly: sliding off his lap and gracefully planting your knees on the floor. the cold seeps through your robes and into your skin. briefly, you bow your head, and aizen smirks. rougher this time, he grips your hair and tugs until your face is pressed against his bulge. as he calmly unzips the bodysuit to provide access to his flesh, you salivate over his hard, covered length, mouthing gingerly at the barrier of fabric between you.
with his erection free from its confinements, you cautiously trace the prominent vein on his cock with your nail: a feather light touch that draws a grunt from the man looming over you. his hand tightens in your hair, urging you closer. you oblige, licking a stripe from base to tip, before taking him fully. indifferent to your gagging, he thrusts harshly in and out, hitting the back of your throat with each snap of his hips, biting back a groan whenever it constricts around his cock. he holds you in place—nose flush with his pelvic region—whilst he brutally wrecks your mouth to find his release. tears stream down your cheeks as his bitter spend spills down your throat, but you eagerly swallow, pulling away to poke out your tongue as evidence of this accomplishment.
“stand.”
aizen stares at you with an intense hunger as you rise to your feet. hands reaching forward, they gather the material of your shihakushō and raise it over your hips, revealing your lower half. a prominent wet patch bleeds through your panties, betraying your arousal. eyes squeezed shut, your pulse quickens as his finger rubs over the stain, applying mild pressure to your clit.
“are you wet for me?” he knows the answer—just wants to hear you admit it.
“yes,” you confess, chasing the pleasurable sensation without thought.
“you have always been so good for me. so receptive…so willing…” smirking, he withdraws his finger. “but what would the captain commander say if he knew you were dripping on the floor of muken?”
your whine is a combination of the loss of bliss and the shame coiling in your gut. this is not the man you used to love: who charmed his way into your underwear and your heart. this is the man who deceived the soul society—who deceived you. this is the cruel monster behind the kind smiles and tranquil demeanour that has always been patiently waiting to bare its fangs.
and yet, you still want him. still want to please him. still want to behave for him.
calmly, aizen observes this internal battle. he smiles knowingly the exact second you give in to him. he drops the fabric, watches it fall unkemptly back into place, then pulls you onto his lap again. “such a good girl. you remember where you belong,” he purrs.
hooking his finger under the waistband of your panties, aizen tears them off without preamble. his cock—long and dusted pink at the tip—drips precum as he guides you over it. shaking, you sink onto it, taking an inch before you involuntarily clench around him like a vice. he lets out a low hiss and begins to rub your clit in slow, circular motions to ease the stretch.
“let me in,” he murmurs in your ear.
it’s second nature, how your body yields to his command so readily. and when you unwittingly comply, you’re rewarded with the devastatingly deceptive smile that used to promise you forever.
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