That Post About Death Note Being "everyone's First Anime" (untrue Statement) Made Me Curious And Now

king kuna

Hot Heat, Summer Sand: Side A

Inspired by this post of imagining Shinji in a swimsuit, since we somehow haven't gotten that yet from the fandom or Kubo (hint hint).

11k words, Shinji x reader, no real triggers than I can think of (but you're going to tear up a little, promise, because it's endearing as hell). Ice cream, swimsuit shopping, and more.

Please don't repost, reblogs are fine. I don't care if you save it to re-read later, but if you feed it into an LLM AI bot, I will feed you into a woodchipper.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. HIRAKO! You're aging like a fine wine, sir, please keep bringing the fandom good music and good times, and may you win a fight in Cour 4...

(T^T)7 @darthwhorecrux @whitefoxfiction @tomitsulikeslemons @pinguwuuuu who else did I miss, augh, I'm sorry!

NSFW AT THE END, IF YOU CLICKY, CLICKY AT YOUR OWN RISK

“Beach.”

I looked up from where I’d been fanning myself in vain, watermelon-printed uchiwa fan flapping madly. The summer heat was starting to get to me, and the humidity was even worse.

“Is this some new greeting from the World of the Living or something?” I mumbled, raising an eyebrow. “Beach to you, too, Mr. Hirako.”

The tall, lanky, recently reappointed Captain of Squad Five had a bemused expression. “No, no. Beach. As in, this is the season for it.” He was wearing slim capris with a madras lining on the turned-up cuffs, ankle socks with sandals over them, and a short-sleeved oxford, unbuttoned, over a more casual white crewneck.

The man looked like he’d stepped off the pages of a summer-edition Tokyo fashion magazine on streetwear, and I was currently marinating to death in my own sweat.

Perfect. Just perfect.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people,” I said irritably.

“What people?”

“Summer people.”

He grinned cheerfully. “I mean, sure, but not when it’s like this, no… hard not t’feel like somebody’s used gym socks in weather like this.”

That made two of us. Frankly, if I was being honest, I was pretty sure I smelled like someone’s gym socks at this point, too.

Ugh.

“Well, on that much, we can agree,” I replied. “And yes, plunging myself up to my neck in nice, cold water sounds heavenly. However, there’s two problems with that idea.”

Hirako sat, folding his long legs into a cross-legged sprawl on the shaded porch. “I’m an outta-the-box thinker… hit me.”

“Well, problem one is I burn to a crisp in the sun,” I said dryly. “So unless you want to go at night…”

“Noted,” he said, not batting an eye. “What’s difficulty number two?”

“Since I don’t like hot sunny weather and I can’t stay in the sun long, I don’t own a swimsuit.”

His eyebrows ascended up past his bangs, and his face smoothed itself into that careful non-expression most men wore when they were desperately trying to avoid thinking of something lascivious. “…also noted. C’mon, throw on some Western style clothes.”

I gave him an exhausted look and refused to move.

“The malls in the World of the Living have this magical thing called ‘air conditionin’…” Hirako said, leaning forward to lay a brief hand against my forehead. “You’re not runnin’ a fever, but you look a little overheated. Days like this, you gotta go to the mall and wait it out ‘till the sun sets and everything cools off a little.”

“Is your Vice-Captain really going to let you skip out on work?” I mumbled, trying to summon the reserves to climb to my feet.

“I’m off t’day,” Hirako chided gently. “I told you that, remember?”

“Oh,” I said stupidly, trying to cudgel my brain into some kind of functioning order.

It really is WAY too hot to think…

“C’mon,” he said patiently, pulling me to my feet. “Go splash some water on your face and change.” He plucked the uchiwa from my hand and nudged me inside. “I’ll wait out here. Hurry up, okay? You need to cool off.”

I mumbled an affirmative and shambled off in search of something a little more modern.

Stepping inside one of the shops in the large outlet mall was almost sinful. The heat and humidity instantly fled in favor of crisp, cold air, and I tried not to visibly wilt in relief. I’d never heard of Rinku Premium Outlets, but I liked them already.

“Better?”

“Yes. Much,” I replied fervently, and he chuckled.

“Y’know, if Kisuke and Mayuri are gonna start bringing television and other stuff from the World of the Living over to the Seireitei, they should really think about air conditioning,” Hirako mused.

“If that’s what’s making it bearable to exist right now, I’m putting myself on that waitlist the second they start selling it,” I promised, still a bit woozy from how oppressive it had felt outside.

“Uh huh. Anyway, we need ice cream first.”

“Ice cream?”

“You’ve had it before,” he said, surprised. “I know you have! Right?”

“I have,” I said, “but I thought you wanted to go to the beach…”

Hirako grinned. “It’s too hot right now. Besides, you need a swimsuit and sunscreen lotion first, or you’re going to be miserable. Let’s get something cold so you’re not so overheated, then we’ll go shopping.”

“…you’re going to feed me ice cream and then have me try on swimsuits? Seriously? Mr. Hirako, you wouldn’t happen to be some kind of sadist, would you?” I said, fixing him with a chilly stare.

He had the decency to look slightly abashed. “Ooops.”

“Look,” I said, debating over just how honest I wanted to be with him, “…I uh… it’s not just that I don’t own a swimsuit.”

“You don’t want to own one, huh?”

I puffed out my cheeks slightly. Annoyingly perceptive as always.

“Well, you know,” I said, trying to make a joke out of it. “Some girls worry about having the perfect bikini body. Some stick to one-pieces. Me, I’m more of a wetsuit person.”

When in doubt, sarcasm and a little self-depreciating humor…

Surprisingly, the acidic humor didn’t even get a chuckle from him. Hirako simply studied me for a moment, some rawer, more self-conscious emotion flitting across his sharp features before it was abruptly gone, malicious cheer in its place.

“Perfect,” he said, smirking. “You’ll match my non-existent abs.”

I sputtered, trying not to laugh, because laughing felt too mean… but it was too funny not to.

He poked my side. “C’mon, just let it all out.”

I snickered – quietly – so we weren’t disturbing the other customers.

“There y’go,” he said, amused at my struggles to maintain composure. “Now, what’re you gettin’? I think I want a parfait.”

“Do I get a say in this, Mr. Hirako?”

“Stop being so formal,” he griped, one long finger prodding my ribs again. “I told you just ‘Hirako’ was fine, didn’t I? I don’t do well with stiff people.”

I shrugged. “It’s just my brand of sarcasm.”

“Well, cut that bit out, would you? I feel like your high school teacher or somethin’,” he replied. “You’re my age.”

I had the perfect witty comeback, primed and ready to go, but my body decided sneezing was a better option instead.

“Ugh…”

“You gettin’ cold?”

“No,” I managed, rummaging in my pockets for a tissue. “Just allergic to impossibly stylish men, apparently.”

He blinked, jostled out of his manufactured façade of smug cheer for a moment before a delighted grin crept over his face at the snappy comeback.

“Y’know, they say it’s important to build up a tolerance. Guess I’ll have to come by more often,” he drawled, the r’s rasping pleasantly in his rough Osaka-ben accent.

I didn’t really want to admit out loud how much his voice did very nice things to my stomach, but I could feel a slight flush creeping up my cheeks.

“If you say so, Mr. Hirako.”

He fixed me with a perturbed stare.

“…er, Hirako.”

“Much better,” he said. The slight glint in his eyes made me swallow and look away.

Just keep talking. I’ll listen to the sound of your voice all day, you know.

I didn’t dare express something that vulnerable aloud, though. Guys like Hirako didn’t seem to like anything but self-assured, sassy women, and while I could dole out the sass with the best of them, the thin veneer of self-assurance I wore like armor slipped all too frequently for my liking.

“That better not be ice cream making you look so melancholy,” he said, almost gently, and I jolted out of my own thoughts.

“Oh… no. Just distracted,” I said lamely. “I’ll just get uhhh, mango? I guess the mango sorbet sounds good.”

He didn’t say anything, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” he said, brown eyes flickering away to reexamine the menu pasted at the counter. “Why don’t you find a table and I’ll get our order in?”

I took the opportunity to beat a strategic retreat, cheeks burning.

It was a cute dessert shop, with only a few tables and an Alice in Wonderland theme. There were more tourists milling around than I was used to seeing, too.

It felt a bit strange, coming to the World of the Living with him, let alone holing up in a dessert shop. We’d exchanged a fair bit of witty banter over the last few months, and some of it definitely felt like flirting, but there was no way he was serious about it.

The minute I take it seriously, he’ll say it’s all a joke.

I didn’t really want to hear that.

I was pretty sure when he did my heart was going to snap audibly in two.

“Oooh, a window seat. Good choice,” Hirako said, plunking himself down in the other café chair across from me. “They said they’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly fumbling for my wallet. “Sorry, how much was mine?”

He shrugged.

“Well, I need to—”

“Ah-ah. None of that. I’m a captain again, remember? I can afford it,” he said.

“Well yeah, but…”

“Look, if I admitted how much money I’ve spent on clothes and records in the last month, you’d probably lose all respect for me.” Hirako sounded bemused, glancing out the window at the passerby. “Just let me cover it today, okay? It was my idea anyway.”

I fumbled for a reply. “…thanks.”

Another shrug. “So you don’t swim?”

“Well, I know how to swim,” I said lamely. “I just don’t really like feeling so undressed in front of other people. And a lot of swimsuits are pretty girly and frilly and pink, and that stuff doesn’t really suit me.”

“Doesn’t suit you? Or you just don’t like it?” Hirako asked.

“…both, I guess. I really can’t stand pink. I like punk stuff more, if we’re talking Western clothes. Or rock and roll. But the super edgy stuff in those styles isn’t really my thing either.”

“Oh, you like preppy punk,” Hirako said. “Classic stuff with edgy bits mixed in. Off-kilter without bein’ offensive.”

I blinked. “Uh…”

“This stuff,” he said, pulling out his soul pager and tapping something in. He handed it over, and I scrolled through the pictures his search had brought up.

“Yeah, I like this. Wow, soul pagers do this now, huh?”

He grinned, fishing in his pocket. “I forgot, since you’re not a shinigami you don’t have one of these. They do this, too—”

He pulled out a small pair of clip headphones, plugging them into the phone and tapping through the options for a moment before offering me a headphone. “Here.”

I slipped it over my ear and felt a smile blossom as the music hit me. “Oh! Caravan Palace. I got you hooked, huh?”

“I think Brotherswing probably stands as my favorite song from them, but Avalanches is a close second,” he admitted. “I still like ragtime and swing the most, because those were the first styles I heard when it came over to Japan, but electro-swing is interesting too.”

“I like Blonde Dynamite,” I said without thinking, then finally absorbed the expression of the very blonde man sitting across from me and turned scarlet.

“Is that right?” Hirako said, a hint of smugness laced through his voice. “You have good taste.”

In music or men? I shrieked inwardly, wanting to crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.

Like a thoughtful angel sent to pardon me, a waitress stopped next to our table and set a towering parfait in front of me and a bowl of sorbet in front of Hirako. “Please enjoy!” she said, before offering a slight bow and scurrying off to serve the next customer.

Hirako chuckled, retrieving the headphones and putting everything away before snagging the parfait and scooting my bowl of sorbet over. “Guess this isn’t what guys usually order.”

I shrugged, my face cooling a bit. “Probably the same for me. Oh, when are the others coming?”

“Hmm?”

“Aren’t we meeting up with other people?”

“Nope.” He took a bite, the metal stud in his tongue glinting for a moment before it scraped against the spoon faintly.

“…you’re wasting your whole day off with just me?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“I wouldn’t call it a waste,” he disagreed, brown eyes not wavering from mine as his tongue curved against the metal spoon, licking the chocolate sauce from it. “I’m never bored around you. That’s pretty rare, for me.” He took another bite. Slowly.

“…are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Hirako?” I asked dryly, popping a spoonful of mango sorbet in my own mouth.

Oooh. This was a good decision.

“Hirako.”

“Hirako,” I amended, and he set the spoon down for a moment.

“That depends. Is it working?”

He looked oddly serious – no hint of amusement or even a smirk.

Just steady brown eyes, with slight smudges underneath. Not enough to indicate he hadn’t been sleeping well recently, just enough to hint that he’d seen a fair bit more of life than the thirty-five or so years he appeared to be.

“Possibly,” I said, as noncommittally as possible.

“That’s not an answer…” he chided, and I reached across to poke my finger into the fluffy whipped cream and nuts topping his parfait.

“Hey!”

I stuck my finger in my mouth and sampled the flavor. “Mmm. Not bad.”

Those sharp brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully, then his hand darted out and stole my spoon, nipping a bit of sorbet from the dish in front of me.

“Really?” I said, exasperated as he popped the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh, the mango’s good,” he said, a hint of malicious cheer in his voice as he handed my spoon back to me.

I gave him a look.

“Wanna try some of the hot fudge?” he coaxed, holding out a spoonful temptingly.

…no matter how you look at it, this is definitely only something couples do, right?

If I let him spoon-feed me bites of his parfait, I was fairly sure I was going to turn into a puddle right then and there.

“…no thanks.” I said hesitantly, digging my spoon back into the sorbet and taking another bite.

Oh. Right. This was in his mouth a few seconds ago.

At this rate, the waitress was going to have to come back and mop me off the floor.

“More for me, then,” he said, finally focusing on the melting ice cream concoction in front of him instead of me.

The sorbet was good, but I felt more self-conscious than I wanted.

“So I’m thinkin’ you need a really high SPF, like 50. They have that stuff in the skincare area. It’s pretty good, and it means you won’t get sunburned. We can just ask somebody at a skincare shop, they’ll know what you need.”

“There’s a shop for everything here,” I commented, and he grinned.

“Se ya na - yer’right. Don’t come here often?”

I shrugged. “Since I’m not a shinigami, there isn’t much reason to. Nobles might occasionally slip off to the World of the Living to have fun, but nobody outside of the higher ranked families is going to have their own personal senkaimon to travel back and forth.”

“Lisa’s been bringin’ a lot of stuff over, but I guess most of its books and magazines, not cosmetics,” Hirako said wryly. “I don’t think that kinda thing is your cup of tea… though I’m not judging if it is.”

“I’ve heard about that,” I admitted, trying and failing not to turn several shades of pink.

He chuckled and reached over to tap my nose with one finger. “You’re blushin’.”

“Am not.”

“All right, fine,” he teased. “You’re perfectly composed.”

“You’re right,” I said firmly, taking my embarrassment out on the sorbet in front of me as I plowed my spoon through it aimlessly.

“Nah, say it properly,” Hirako said, ignoring his ice cream in favor of watching me. “Yer’right.”

“Huh?”

“Yer’right.”

“You’re right?” I repeated, puzzled.

“Chau – yer’wrong,” he scolded, and I started laughing.

“Why are you trying to corrupt my speech, Hirako?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “It’d be cute, you talkin’ Kansai-ben.”

“Would not,” I sputtered.

“Very cute,” he said, clearly amused at my dismay.

“Y-yer’wrong.”

The sudden Kansai accent earned a delighted smile from him. “So you are quick at picking up things like that. You’re just resisting me.”

“You’re right,” I said sweetly, stabbing the sorbet as my cheeks burned.

“No, no,” he griped, still smiling. “You’re just winding me up, now.”

“Yer’right,” I said smugly, and he started laughing.

“I was right,” Hirako said finally, spoon wandering over to steal a bit more sorbet. “It’s cute. But the way you talk normally is cute too.”

“I appreciate a man willing to lie on my behalf,” I retorted, and he sighed.

“What’s it gonna take for you to take me seriously?” he asked.

“For starters, you could be serious,” I said.

“I’m always serious.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He sighed again. “Fair enough. Here, you done?”

I nodded, and he collected the dishes from the table, taking them back to the counter’s bussing area for us.

Oh, it’s like those food stalls back home versus a fancy restaurant. You put your own stuff away here.

“All right,” Hirako said, returning. “Let’s go shopping!”

It was my turn to sigh.

Well, at least I don’t have to come out of the dressing room…

I wanted to cry.

It hadn’t been too bad, not at first. Picking up sunblock had just been a matter of finding someone to tell me what I needed, like Hirako had said. Finding a swimsuit shop had also been easy, and I’d beelined for the most conservative coverage I could get, hoping it would magically be enough to avoid total mortification.

It wasn’t.

There were at least fifteen different swimsuits scattered about the tiny dressing room, and none of them were what I’d call flattering.

Too low-cut. My breasts are gonna fall out!

Toss.

Who the hell decided women needed ruching over their STOMACH?!?

Toss.

This is too frilly. It didn’t look bad on the rack, but ugh, no. I’m not sixteen, and I’m not trying to look sixteen.

Toss.

Toss.

Toss.

About 12 attempts later, I could practically feel the tears trying to start running down my face in humiliation.

“Hey…”

Hirako’s voice from outside the dressing room made me flinch. “Yeah, what is it?” I managed, trying to sound normal.

“How’s it going?”

I want to never see myself in a mirror again, thanks.

“…fine.”

“Doesn’t sound fine.”

“…I don’t really have to swim,” I said quietly. “I’m fine with just wading along the shore.”

Footsteps moved closer. “Can I see?”

“No!” I said hastily, my voice cracking a bit with anxiety. “I’m not dressed right now.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, just nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he said gently. “Talk to me.”

“…Nothing fits right.”

“You want me to get a bigger size?”

“No, I want my bust to shrink,” I said flatly. “I told you. Wetsuit body. I’m chubby, Hirako. Not like ‘haha I should lose ten pounds’ kind, either.”

“Hang on,” he said. “Toss something that fits over the door.”

“…why?”

“Do you trust me?”

I hesitated, then grabbed the least awful of all of them and tossed it over.

“Okay. I’m going to get a salesclerk.”

I wanted to tell him not to bother, but I wasn’t confident I wouldn’t start bawling, and that would have been even more humiliating.

I started pulling my own clothing back on and rehanging the rejects, and by the time I’d emerged with a pile and some of my self-control back, Hirako had returned with a few things draped over one arm.

“The saleslady was very helpful,” he said cheerfully. “Try this on. There’s a coverup, too.”

“Hirako…”

He moved past me, hung it up in the dressing room, and returned to scoop the pile of rejects out of my arms. “Let’s get rid of these. I really didn’t drag you along with me to make you sad, y’know.”

“I’m fine,” I said, voice wavering a bit.

“Bullshit.”

“I’m fine, and I’m not ruining your day off on something this trivial,” I said too cheerfully, and he abruptly dumped the swimsuits into a nearby chair.

“Ah—”

“It’s fine, she gets paid to hang up clothes,” Hirako said, turning to plant his hands on my shoulders, fingers squeezing gently. “You. Cut it out.”

“What?” I asked, bewildered.

He reached out and flicked me on the forehead. We were roughly the same height, so he didn’t have far to reach.

“Ow.”

“I’ve watched friends of mine nearly die,” he said, bringing his face closer to mind, brown eyes blazing for a moment with intensity. “You’re kidding yourself if you think this is going to make me have a bad day.”

“…Oh.”

“Oh,” he said, gently mocking me. “Seriously, cut it out. I like spending time with you. Why would I lie about that?”

“Come on, you lie about everything that isn’t important,” I said, exasperated. “If it’s funnier to make up something absurd, you’ll do that, too.”

He held up a finger. “Ah, but you just said it. I don’t lie when it’s important or when it’s not funny.”

I didn’t say anything.

“What makes you think I’m lying?” he asked, hand drifting to my shoulder again.

“You crack jokes about every pretty girl you ever meet being ‘the love of your life’,” I muttered. “For starters.”

He considered that for a moment. “Actually? No. Not everyone.”

“Well, sure, Lisa mentioned you didn’t call Hiyori that,” I said.

“Hiyori’s a kid,” he replied, exasperated. “I’m not some creep that hits on kids. And I’ve never said it about you, either.”

“Exactly,” I said. “I’m not pretty like Nanao, or cute like your Vice-Captain, or sexy like Matsumoto. I’m just me. And I don’t look good in swimsuits.”

“You’re lovely,” Hirako said quietly. There was no hint of sarcasm to the words. “And I adore you.”

I froze, trying to process the words and how close he’d gotten. His cologne smelled faintly of florals and sweetness, but strong, deep undernotes of eucalyptus and sandalwood made it thoroughly masculine.

“I don’t joke about things that matter to me,” he said, one hand coming up to rest against my cheek. His thumb swept gently beneath one eye, then the other before pulling away from me, tears glistening on his fingertips. “Ever. Understand?”

The words were so stuck in my throat I could barely get air past them. I opened my mouth, closed it again, and must’ve looked utterly panicked, because he pulled me into a hug.

I was too tall to fit neatly under his chin, so he settled for tucking his head against mine, blonde strands of his hair tickling my cheek, fingers digging into my hip and shoulder as he squeezed.

Somehow, not looking him in the eye helped. “…I like you too,” I managed at last, barely audible over the soft classical music playing throughout the shop.

He didn’t say anything, but I could feel him exhale, breath warm against my ear, arms tightening around me for a moment before letting go and stepping back.

“Hirako?”

“Shinji,” he corrected me absently. “And if I kiss you in here, I’ll get arrested for public indecency. Hurry up and try on that swimsuit, so we can find the right one and get out of here, okay?”

There was a low rasp to the drawl that hadn’t been there before, and I didn’t dare look him in the eyes. Just imagining the expression on his face was enough to send a pleasurable shudder through me.

I hesitated.

“Don’t make me come in there,” he said, and a quick glance at his expression suggested he was only half-kidding.

“…I-I’m going,” I stammered, backing into the dressing room hastily and shutting the door.

You’re way too old to be acting like a lovestruck teenager.

Well, I was, but remembering his cologne and the way he’d hugged me was making me giddy anyways, sensible adulthood be damned.

I shed my clothes again, pulling on the new swimsuit. It was black, and I vaguely remembered ignoring it on my first pass – it was a demure one-piece, but it had cutouts across my ample cleavage, down both sides, and several bits in back that made it look as though it was a basket weave.

However, I’d failed to realize all the cutouts had a filmy black netting across them – sheer, but dark enough to tone down the flashes of skin on display.

As a bonus, the cutouts on the side actually made me look slimmer, and the curved cutout across the top flashed enough to distract anyone from side-eyeing my love handles.

I didn’t feel entirely confident, but I didn’t feel like bawling, either. I’d take what triumphs I could, today.

“I think you’re right, this one is good,” I said.

“Eh, the saleslady picked it out. I can’t take any credit,” he replied. “C’mon, let’s see.”

I opened the door, eyes glued to his face. The back area of the shop remained thankfully empty of anyone else to witness my potential embarrassment.

Hirako’s eyes narrowed slightly, sweeping down my figure and lingering on the subtle cleavage while I scrunched my toes into the carpeting, self-conscious.

“…that one,” he agreed, still studying me.

“It’s a little—”

“It’s perfect,” he said, cutting me off. “I’m buying it.”

“Oh, no – you don’t have to—”

“I’m buying it,” he repeated firmly, eyes still locked on my chest.

“I’m pretty sure it’s expensive…”

“Worth every single yen,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

I sighed. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

He twirled a finger. “Turn?”

I spun, quickly.

“No, no, no,” he said, exasperated. “Slowly. Give a guy a chance to enjoy the view, would you?”

“Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmmmmmmmm,” he said, dragging the words out with an unrepentant smirk.

I turned again, fairly certain my blush could have lit the interior of the store by itself.

He didn’t speak until I was facing him again, then sighed, slowly.

“There’s really only one thing wrong with that swimsuit,” he said gravely.

“…really?”

“I can’t let anybody else see you in that” Hirako continued, his expression dead serious. “You’ll have guys all over you. I’m not a ‘sharing’ kinda guy.”

I laughed. “Come on.”

“You think I’m joking again?” he teased, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe?”

“Definitely not,” he drawled, grinning. “That’s a killer view.”

“The front or the back?” I asked dryly.

“Oh, the front, absolutely. But both are very nice,” he said, adding a little bit of a leer to the compliment.

“Ah. A man of culture, huh?”

“Damn straight,” he said smugly. “Can’t go sharing that view with just anyone.”

“You’re biased,” I said dryly, but the compliment felt nice.

“I had my vision checked at Squad 4 three weeks ago, sunshine,” he fired back with a smirk. “My vision’s perfect…” he leaned in, voice lowered, “…just like your boobs.”

I giggle-snorted, then clamped a hand over my face, horrified, but Hirako just started laughing.

“That’s better. You have the prettiest eyes when you’re grinnin’. Hey, try on that cover-up, too.”

I fished the other garment out of the dressing room and slipped it on. It was the same floaty, silky black mesh as the cutouts, but with black lace strategically covering some areas. It tied with a simple black ribbon under my bustline, but it was split into four panels from the hips down to my ankles, meaning the slightest breeze would expose a tantalizing amount of leg.

“Yep. That too,” Hirako said immediately. “Damn. I’m leavin’ this shop a very nice review.”

“I can buy this piece, at least,” I offered, and he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Nope. Not today. Not on a date.”

I blinked, startled. “This is a date now?”

“I don’t see why not,” he said easily. “We like each other. We had ice cream. We found you an outfit. We’re gonna go see a pretty sunset. Sounds like a nice date t’me.”

“You,” I said with mock severity, “are entirely too smooth for your own good, Mister Hirako.”

His hand darted out and smacked my ass, and I strangled a surprised yelp, worried the saleslady would come check on us.

“W-what was that about?” I sputtered indignantly, but he just shrugged.

“Penalty game. Since you keep forgettin’ my first name, I’m gonna tease you every time you slip up.”

“No. No, there’s no game, because you’re not penalized for anything!”

He shrugged again with a lazy grin. “Better start rememberin’, then.”

I gave him maximum stink-eye. “Shinji.”

“Yes, very good,” he said bemusedly, plopping himself in the chair that wasn’t overflowing with hangers. “I think we’re past formalities, don’t you? Go change and let’s get out of here.”

“Hang on,” I said. “Are you getting anything? You’re not going to swim in what you have on, are you?”

“Oh, I already picked something out,” he said cheerfully. “It’s waiting up front for whenever you’re done, so I can pay for it.”

“I didn’t get to see it,” I protested mildly, and he chuckled.

“It’s too dangerous to show you here. You’ll just have to wait.”

“Dangerous. Really.”

He grinned smugly. “You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me, and then we’d both get kicked outta this shop for being a public nuisance.”

I huffed and rolled my eyes for effect, but I knew there was a fair chance he was right.

I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to react to bare-chested Hirako… I might need to get a picture of that. You know, just to uh, remember today by. Yeah.

My self-delusion and I traipsed back into the dressing room and changed back into street clothes, re-emerging a few minutes later and straightening out my hair and clothes a bit in the large mirror.

Hirako took the filmy, lacy swimwear from me and vanished up front while I took a moment to fix a few stray curls.

By the time I made it up front to the cash register, he was taking the bag from the saleswoman, a girl in her mid-twenties with a cute up-do and a stylish pendant necklace that gave me a conspiratorial wink and a professional smile.

“Come back again! Thanks so much for your business!” she said, and I had a momentary pang of regret, recalling how much bubbly energy I’d had at the same age.

We stepped back outside into the sticky heat, but it was slightly more bearable now that I’d cooled off.

“Okay, fess up,” I said, before he could derail us again.

“What’s up?”

“Why did you really want to go to the beach?” I asked, fixing him with a stern look. “And don’t say it was too hot. We haven’t even gotten there yet!”

“Well, we needed to get you a swimsuit first,” he said innocently.

“Uh-huh. And?”

“And since I paid for it and have the receipt, I now have your lingerie sizes noted down,” he said smugly. “For future reference.”

My jaw dropped.

“The bus stop should be somewhere around here,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just casually destroyed my ability to form words. “Want to head there now? To the beach, I mean. Or did you need to do anything else here?”

I shook my head.

“No? No to the beach?”

“Hira-Shinji,” I managed to correct myself just in time.

“Oooh, close one. I’ll let you off the hook for good behavior.”

“For future reference,” I repeated.

“What, you want me to buy the wrong size?” Hirako asked. “That’s no good. It won’t look as nice if the fit’s off, and it won’t be comfortable, right?”

I fixed him with an exasperated stare. “You keep saying completely reasonable things, but you’re totally crazy.”

“Rude!” he protested, grinning. “I know exactly what I’m doin’; I’ll have you know.”

“Should I be worried?” I asked dryly.

“No,” he replied, tucking my arm under his, grin softening to an almost bashful smile. “Never. Not with me, sunshine.”

By the time the bus pulled up at some place Hirako called Nishikinohama Beach Park, the sun was already starting to sink back towards the horizon. There were a fair number of people that had gotten the same idea and were wandering the beach, catching a few last rays, or chasing shrieking kids as the surf tugged at their legs.

He grabbed a few items from the shopping bag, and we split up to change in the facilities.

I felt a bit self-conscious, leaving everything in the locker while the airy gauze and lace fluttered about my ankles, but it did feel cooler, and walking in the surf sounded nice. I slipped on the beach sandals he’d thoughtfully added to the ensemble, applied lotion, and stepped outside.

“Yep. You made a good decision,” Hirako said, coming over and pulling off a pair of sunglasses. He’d changed into beach sandals himself, with black trunks, a long necklace that hung to the middle of his chest, and a black, knee-length coverup of light cotton with intricate patterns etched in white. He hadn’t bothered with any buttons, the loose lines of the outfit accentuating his thin, lean body.

“So did you,” I said honestly, trying not to stare.

He wasn’t the sort of guy to sport a rippling six-pack and bulging muscles, but I liked that better. He had more of a runner’s build – trim and clearly someone that took the time to care of himself.

Well, aside from that perpetual slouch.

“I do clean up nicely, don’t I?” he joked, but I could tell the answer mattered to him. The thought of him being secretly self-conscious, just a bit, was oddly endearing.

“You do,” I said softly. “I like that outfit. It suits you.”

A slight hint of red crept up his neck. “Ah, well… I’m apparently the most stylish guy in the Soul Society. That Squad Nine magazine printed it, so it’s gotta be true, right?”

“You can just accept the compliment without having to use humor to deflect it,” I said, smiling to take the sting out of the words. “Just so you know.”

“Ooooh,” he said admiringly. “I’ve been skewered. Does that work on you?”

“Does what work on me?”

“Emotional baggage as an attractant,” Hirako said. “Because if so, I’ve got a sharp pain in my childhood memories…”

“That,” I said, trying not to laugh, “is a terrible pickup line.”

“Which means it works,” he fired back, removing the shirt and offering me a bottle. “On a different note, could you possibly take pity on me and put this on me? I’m not sure I burn quite as badly as you say you do, but I’m still not gonna risk it.”

I swallowed. “Uh, put sunblock on you?”

“Just my back. I can’t reach it,” he said sheepishly. “Though, if you wanted to reapply it elsewhere, I won’t stop you…”

“We’re a little too public for that,” I said sweetly, dumping a glob in my hand and slapping it against his back as unromantically as possible.

“Gah! That’s cold,” he griped.

I started smoothing it over his shoulders. There was more muscle hidden beneath the skin than I’d initially expected, given how lean he was.

“Revenge,” I said cheerfully. “For slapping my butt earlier.”

“Fair enough,” he said wryly. “I’m at your mercy. Get your licks in now, just remember I haven’t done you yet.”

His muscles knotted, tensed, and relaxed as I smoothed the lotion in, my fingers trailing over his spine. It felt nice, touching him.

“I’ve already put mine on,” I said.

“Whaaaaaat.”

“You’re too old to pout, Hirak—ah, Shinji.”

“You might have missed a spot. Can’t be too careful.”

“You just wanted to put your hands all over me,” I teased, and was rewarded by a slight flush creeping up his neck.

“What if I did?” he retorted.

“We’re a little too public for that, don’t you think?”

“…meanin’, if we go somewhere less public, you wouldn’t mind?” he drawled, a slight rasp to the r’s as his accent roughened.

Well, that backfired. I was pretty sure I was beet red now.

“You know,” I managed, trying to keep my voice steady, “every now and then, it’d be nice to feel like I’m winning one or two of these little exchanges.”

He chuckled, and I could feel the laughter through his body as I rubbed the last of the sunblock in. “From where I stand, you’re winnin’ all of them.”

I impulsively leaned close enough my breath ruffled his hair, murmuring in his ear. “I’d say you’re holding your own…”

It took him a minute to reply, but the flush crept further up his neck, and I could hear the sudden breath he sucked in.

“Now that’s just playin’ dirty,” he complained, but the words lacked any real bite.

I stepped away reluctantly. “You’re all set.”

He slipped his shirt back on, turning to eye me with a slight glint in his eyes. “You sure you don’t need any more sunblock?”

I weighed the odds of me accidentally making indecent noises in public. “…yep,” I said, my voice wavering a bit. “All good.”

He regarded me with narrowed eyes, then smirked. “I think your face could use a little more.”

My blush got worse. Oh, you bastard. “No, I definitely remember getting my face.”

“It’s getting sunburned already,” he said, dabbing a bit on one finger before tucking the bottle into a pocket. “You’re bright red.”

“Shut up,” I griped, and he grinned unrepentantly, dotting sunblock across my nose and cheeks, then taking his thumb and smoothing it in.

The slow, gentle strokes his thumb made across my cheek made me bite my lip, his eyes locked on mine until I had to look away.

“I can play dirty too,” he murmured. The low pitch of his voice sent an ache through me.

My nose was last, his index finger rubbing gently down the bridge of my nose before resting on my lips for a moment.

I impulsively nibbled at his fingertip, and he sucked in a breath, eyes suddenly fixed on my mouth.

Neither of us moved for a long moment, then Hirako grabbed my wrist.

“…let’s walk, hmm?” he said, with a forced lightness.

I couldn’t trust myself to speak, so I simply followed him across the stretch of sand, dodging kids and the occasional couple, some holding hands, some keeping a careful distance between them to avoid any embarrassing displays of affection in public.

Hirako didn’t seem embarrassed about holding on to me, surprisingly. He wasn’t the sort to care much what other people thought, sure, but there was a general disdain culturally towards too much affection in public, and I’d figured he was probably the same.

His fingers slipped down to grasp my hand, and he pulled us into the shade cast by one of the large buildings that contained restrooms, soda machines, and other necessities.

It wasn’t particularly scenic, but it was out of the throng of beachgoers and relatively quiet. Nobody was interested in sitting in the shade of a building when there was an entire ocean right there.

“Can I be honest?” Hirako said, voice still lowered to almost a murmur.

“…uh huh.”

“I’m not sure I care about the beach, after all.”

I fumbled for a reply, but he was stepping closer, nose practically bumping against mine as he continued.

“We could go see a movie,” he said, thumb slipping up to stroke the soft skin across my wrist. “Lots of people, but dark enough to be a little more private. Or a karaoke booth, if you’d rather get something for dinner without having to deal with other people.”

I swallowed, eyes darting up to meet his.

“Or we could find a hotel somewhere,” Hirako said quietly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“That’s a totally unfair question,” I murmured back, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Yer’right,” he agreed. “But I’m leavin’ it up to you.”

“…hotel,” I whispered. “Please.”

I’d wanted him so damn long, I didn’t think I could wait another minute without touching him again.

A relieved groan escaped from his throat, and then his lips were brushing mine, kiss deepening as his hands rose to cup my face, fingers tangling in my hair.

Oh, Shinji…

He nibbled my lower lip suggestively, and I whimpered, my hands clutching his shoulders as he nuzzled me, finally letting go with an effort and stepping back.

“Not here, sunshine,” he said, voice hoarse, looking as dazed as I felt.

I simply nodded, still savoring the way his fingers had stroked through my hair.

Hirako – no, Shinji fumbled with his pockets for a moment, eyes still lingering on me, then pulled out his soul pager, dialing in a number and clearing his throat a few times.

“…hey, is this the right number for the super-talented Vice-Captain of Squad Five?” he finally said, sounding almost normal.

I couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but I could guess well enough based on his reply.

“What do you mean, ‘what now’?  I was just callin’ to let you know I’ll be in late tomorrow.”

Another pause. Shinji looked amused, dragging his teeth across his lower lip as he listened.

“Nope, Captain’s orders. You can still go take off when you usually do, I’ll just work later. Something important’s come up, so I just didn’t want you to be surprised if I wasn’t in tomorrow morning.”

A shorter pause.

“Whaddya mean, ‘pointless’? My orders are never pointless, missy, I use ‘em precisely how I need to. Get back to work. Oh, right. Did you need anything? Anything come up today?”

I swallowed the giggles that threatened to bubble up, and Shinji shot me a long-suffering look.

“Good, good. Thanks, Momo. I appreciate it,” he said. “Oh, if Hiyori calls for any reason, you can just hang up.”

I could make out some rather loud protests and something about politeness.

“What? S’fine. If she’s mad, she’ll just start blowin’ up my soul pager, not yours,” Shinji said patiently. “Anyway, I gotta go. Text if somethin’ comes up you really need me for, like the Seireitei being on fire.”

Another pause.

“Yep. Thanks, Momo. Bye.”

He hung up and started tapping at the phone’s screen.

“Your Vice-Captain is a saint,” I said dryly.

“I’ll remind you of that, if you ever see her in nightmare mode,” he said absently, still tapping away.

I laughed. “There’s no way. Not Hinamori.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Shinji said, amused. “She’s got some steel in her spine, that girl. Which is all the better, after all that crap Aizen put her through.”

He conveniently left out his own suffering at his ex-Vice-Captain’s hands.

You went through a fair amount of crap yourself, you know. Though, that’s like you to worry about other people first.

He would never admit it, but he did.

“There’s a nice place about 15 minutes from here,” he said finally, shoving the phone back in his pocket. “Hotel Kanade. Nothing ritzy, but the ratings are good and the rooms look nice. Sound okay?”

I nodded, suddenly feeling shy, and he took my hand again.

“Let’s get goin’,” he said, squeezing gently.

There wasn’t much to wonder about with two people in beach clothes checking in for a single night with no luggage to speak of, but the hotel staff were apparently used to it.

Huh. In the Seireitei, it’d be a lot more scandalous…

Well, the World of the Living was quite a bit more modern. That wasn’t all bad.

Shinji took the flat piece of plastic the clerk handed him and the receipt, then headed up the nearby stairs with me following after him.

“Is that like a soul ticket?” I asked, curious.

“This? Yer’wrong, but it’s kinda similar. It’s a key card. Gives us access to our room.”

“They make keys look like that here?”

“It’s got little electronic things in it that tell the door to open,” Shinji said. “At least, I think that’s how it works. I don’t think I ever bothered to wonder about it before.”

“It’s different, this place,” I said.

“It is, but I don’t hate it, actually,” he replied. “Maybe I’m biased, since I spent so much time in the World of the Living, but it’s lively and interesting and nothing stays the same for too long. I never minded those parts of it.”

“This isn’t Tokyo, right?” I asked. “The accents sound like yours, when people have them.”

He grinned. “That’s true! I should have mentioned it sooner. Welcome to Osaka.”

“Why here, for today?”

He hesitated, shoving the plastic card into a doorway. There was a soft beep and a click, and he pushed the door open, letting me enter first. “…it’s where I woke up, after we fled the Soul Society. We figured Tokyo was too obvious, and Shihoin had more hideaways and resources down south, so that’s where we spent the first thirty years or so. We moved around a fair bit, but it was mostly Osaka until the war started. Then it was the countryside for a while, since the cities were too lucrative as bombing targets. Spent some time in Hokkaido. That place was way too cold for me.”

The door shut after him, and he set the bag full of our clothes on the small table by the balcony. “After the war, once they started rebuilding, we finally settled back in Tokyo. Easier to hide, with all the people.”

“But Osaka is special,” I said.

“Yeah,” he admitted, perching on the end of the bed. “Actually, it’s where the jazz scene took off in the 1920s. Been hooked on it ever since.”

I tried to think of something to say and failed, starting to feel a bit nervous.

“Here, c’mere,” he said, patting the bed. “Sit down. We’ve got the room till tomorrow morning, there’s no rush. We can always go out later and get something from a konbini if we’re really hungry and everything’s closed.”

“What’s a konbini?” I asked absently, sitting down next to him.

“Oh, that’s just short for ‘convenience store’. It’s a place with drinks, snacks, hot food, banking, supplies, that kind of thing. It’s a little more expensive than just going to a grocery store, but they’re open around the clock and it’s just easier to grab something there sometimes.” He grinned ruefully. “Every time it was Mashiro’s turn to cook, she usually ended up buying us bento from there instead.”

I leaned against his shoulder a bit, and he slipped an arm around my waist. “Do you cook?”

“Not very well,” he said. “Kensei’s better at it, but he uses way too much seasoning. Everything is super manly with him, so the flavors aren’t very subtle.” He turned his head a bit, murmuring into my ear. “Do you cook?”

“I like cooking,” I said softly. “Making something for people is nice.”

“I wouldn’t mind eating something you made some time,” he said, stroking the small of my back slowly.

“What do you like?”

“I have a massive sweet tooth,” he admitted. “In case the parfait earlier didn’t tip you off. But I like salty and savory things too.”

“Spicy?”

“Well… a little. Maybe not enough to make my ancestors hate me,” he said, chuckling.

I pouted. “That’s the entire point! If it’s not spicy enough to cause your ancestors at least a little consternation, it’s not hot enough.”

“Oh, you’re one of those people,” he said, bemused. “Remind me not to steal bites of anything you’re eating that isn’t dessert.”

I snickered, trailing a finger down his thigh to where the swim trunks stopped. His legs had a little hair on them, but he wasn’t a particularly hirsute guy. His chest was smooth and bare, and he didn’t seem like the sort to have much stubble, either.

“You don’t have to stop,” he teased, nipping my ear gently.

“Well, neither of us have much to take off,” I said, blushing a bit.

“No hurry,” he said.

“Changing your mind?”

“Not a chance, sunshine,” he said softly. “But I’ve wanted you this long, thirty more minutes isn’t gonna kill me. I want you to enjoy this, y’know.”

“…I really like you,” I said, my voice equally soft. “I thought if I was too honest about it, you’d just tell me I was misunderstanding.”

His eyes slid shut for a moment. “Nope. Never.”

“I guess I should have said something sooner,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“Nah, not your fault. I wasn’t exactly being clear about what I wanted, was I?” he replied, sounding regretful. “Look, I… I’ve done this before. I’m not great at this.”

“…this? What do you mean?”

He sighed at my confusion. “Look, we’re both old enough this isn’t exactly our first relationship, right?”

“Uh huh,” I said unconvincingly. “Totally. Yep.”

“…wait, really?”

I sighed. “Shinji, you may have picked up on this, but I’m not exactly everyone’s cup of tea.”

He snorted. “Have you met me?”

“Yes,” I said, amused. “And I enjoyed the experience.”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose. “Ah, but not everyone does.”

“Well, same with me,” I said. “I was always too busy, there was always another crisis to deal with, my family is a disaster… I mean, hell, I didn’t even really know who I wanted to be until I was probably about 300 or so…”

He grinned. “Boy, that sounds familiar.”

“You too?”

“I think everybody has some variant of that crap going on, honestly. I don’t think I changed that much after what happened with Aizen, but I did change some. I miss at least… oh, two or three of the people I used to be, I guess. But I’m not the same anymore.”

He shrugged. “I’m an independent kinda person, but that’s not exactly seen as a strength around here. So, I did have a relationship once, but it ended pretty sour. I wouldn’t compromise for her, she didn’t want to for me… eh, you get the picture.”

“I’ve liked a few guys,” I admitted. “Never went anywhere, though.”

He nuzzled my hair. “Good. More for me.”

I sighed. “There was the guy that I told my friend I liked… three months later, they were dating.”

“You need a new friend,” he murmured, his breath tickling my skin.

“There was another guy that was always fun to be around, and he was really nice to me, but he ended up dating another friend of mine.”

“I’m noticing a theme here.”

I gave him a rueful smile. “Then there was the guy that took me on a nice, romantic dinner date—”

“—well, he showed more sense than the other two,” Shinji commented dryly. “How’d he fuck up?”

I chuckled in spite of myself. “He, ah… he might have spent most of dinner talking about how much he wanted to be my friend’s boyfriend.”

“…friend number three?”

“Yeah.”

“Please tell me the food was at least good,” Shinji said. “Please.”

“Oh, it was. It’s kinda funny now, but I definitely went home and bawled.”

“I think that was the only thing you could’ve done, and I feel deeply fortunate you’ve apparently spent your life surrounded by idiots,” he said, nibbling down the ridge of my ear between words. “Nice of them to leave you for me to enjoy.”

I laughed. “Well, same to your girlfriend, apparently.”

“I think we were both too young to have worked it out, if I’m bein’ honest. And gettin’ stuck in the World of the Living for a century puts a crimp in your social life anyway.” He slipped a hand down to untie the ribbon to my coverup.

“This is different?” I asked, slipping out of the lacy fabric, and he grinned, almost bashfully.

“Well, I’d like it to be. And I want you more than I want to have everything my way, if that makes sense.”

I scooted back on the bed, propping myself up on one elbow. “Same here,” I said softly.

He followed suit, draping an arm over my waist and stroking the thin fabric of one cutout, fingers warm against my skin. “I also like you a lot more than her.”

“Good,” I teased, trailing fingers up his chest to stroke his cheek. He felt nice. “Hopefully that’s still the case by tomorrow morning?”

His brown eyes glinted, warm and smoking with heat. “Sunshine, we could literally go home right now and this would already be ten times better.”

“Oh?”

“Promise,” he said, pulling me down next to him to cuddle me against his chest. His heart was beating faster than I’d expected.

Maybe he’s a little flustered too.

“You smell nice,” I murmured, nuzzling his chest.

He started pressing slow, urgent kisses to the top of my head, his hands wandering down my hips to stroke bare flesh.

“Shinji,” I whispered.

“Nn?”

Something started beeping.

I blinked, confused, and he made a thoroughly disgruntled noise before sitting up, flailing over to the table where he’d set his soul pager. “Sorry. Might be my day off, but I still have to answer the damn thing in case it’s an emergency…”

“It’s okay,” I said, blushing.

“Not with me it ain’t,” he muttered before answering. “Yeah, this is Hirako… huh? No. No, I’m not. I’m not anywhere near there right now. Uh huh. Bye.”

He dumped it back on the table.

I stifled a giggle at his expression. “Not an emergency?”

“Maybe to someone, but not to me,” he sighed, slipping off the loose, open beach shirt and sending it after the phone. “Rin doesn’t always get the dispatch coordinates right.”

“One of your squad?”

“Nah, Squad Twelve does the dispatches. And that,” he said severely, “is more than I ever wanna discuss Kurotsuchi’s problems on my day off. Especially with you here.”

“I thought you said thirty more minutes wouldn’t matter,” I said sweetly, and he fixed me with a mock glare.

“If you keep using my own words against me, I’m gonna start shavin’ minutes off that estimate,” he said, his voice dipping into the lower registers where it did funny things to the butterflies in my stomach.

“Well, hurry up, then,” I teased, starting to feel the urgency as his hands explored the curves in my back.

Shinji’s lips met mine, his thumb nudging my jaw down. The stud in his tongue scraped lightly across my own tongue, and I moaned into the kiss.

He finally pulled away, his breathing ragged, and the tenderness in his expression stole my own breath.

He was cute when he was snarky, sarcastic, leering, bored… but there was no manufactured self-satisfaction or guardedness to his expression now, and he was handsome in a way I hadn’t seen before.

“I like this smile,” I said softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “I want to see it more often.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he caught my hand, turning his head to drop a kiss into my palm.

“All you want,” he promised, letting go of my hand to press another kiss to my nipple, his breath hot through the swimsuit fabric.

I cried out, fingers stroking his jawline and tangling in his hair.

The beeping started up again, insistent, and it took us both a moment to realize what it was.

Shinji swore under his breath, and I started laughing helplessly.

“It’s okay,” I managed. “Seriously. I’m not going anywhere.”

“—motherless son of a – Yes, hello. You’ve reached Shinji Hirako, overworked Captain of Squad Five, and I’m rather busy at the moment. Is this urgent?”

Shinji’s voice was cold, and his expression sent me into another fit of giggles.

“-OU COMPLETE DUMBASS, DID YOU TELL YOUR VICE-CAPTAIN TO HANG UP ON ME?!?”

The voice was female, irate, and I was pretty sure the rooms on either side of ours were hearing it too.

“YOU BRAT,” Shinji roared into his soul pager. “THIS IS FOR EMERGENCIES. EMERGENCIES. IS THIS AN EMERGENCY?!?”

“I’LL MAKE IT AN EMERGENCY, YOU BALD DUMBAS—”

Shinji stabbed his finger down viciously on the disconnect button, then tapped a few more things.

“I can’t turn it off,” he muttered. “They’d probably think I was goin’ rogue or somethin’ and send some nosy bastard in the Onmitsukido here. But I’m muting this damn thing, and if it makes any more noise it’s getting flushed down the toilet, consequences be damned.”

I wiped my eyes, still laughing. “Shinji, it’s fine. What if she really needs something?”

“Then she’s got six other Visoreds to call on, and she can start learnin’ not to insult people she needs help from,” he retorted, clearly exasperated. “Besides, if she really needed help, she wouldn’t be wastin’ time insultin’ me. She’s just calling to yak. It can wait.”

I sat up. “Well, help me get this off before they figure out how to remotely turn the sound back on.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. Really.”

“You’re a captain,” I pointed out reasonably. “Odds are pretty good this’ll happen again – maybe not today, but eventually. So, as long as you come back and finish what you started, I’ll forgive you.”

He smiled slightly. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Well, that makes me feel slightly better about the dozens of angry text messages I’m going to come back to in the morning,” he said ruefully, then kissed me again, hands tugging the straps down, and stroking my shoulders.

Shinji lowered me back down against the sheets, slowly peeling the silky fabric down, trailing kisses down my neck and nuzzling one of my breasts.

I couldn’t stifle the whimper, and he chuckled in reply.

“You’re so damn beautiful, you know that?” he said tenderly, nibbling a bit, and I flinched.

“Nng, not… no teeth there, please.”

“No good?” he asked, stopping and pressing a kiss to the spot instead.

“Sorry.”

“Why?”

“It’s a little too sensitive for that,” I said, embarrassed.

“That’s not something to apologize for,” he scolded gently, rubbing his thumb across my nipple instead. “Better?”

“Yes…”

He gave me a delighted smile and kissed me again, urgently, teasing my nipples as I tangled my fingers in his hair again.

“Shinji,” I managed between kisses, his hands pushing the swimwear around my hips.

“What’s up?” he asked breathlessly, voice husky.

“Where do you like being touched?” I asked softly. It was a bit embarrassing, but I felt so good, and I wanted him to feel good too…

“I’d have thought that was pretty obvious…” he teased, getting a giggle from me.

“Not that. Where else?”

He reached up and tapped where his ear and jawline met. “Not gonna lie, there’s something nice about right there for me…”

I nuzzled the spot, then nipped gently at his earlobe, listening to his breath catch.

“You’re killin’ me..” he said plaintively, burying his face against the curve of my neck and leaving a few gentle bite marks before kissing each one.

It hurt a bit, but the pleasure drowned out the ache.

His skin brushed against my stomach, warm and firm, and I tugged at his waistband, trying to slide the trunks down.

Shinji rose long enough to kick them off, his shaft bobbing slightly as he moved. He wasn’t completely erect yet, but he was definitely getting there.

I peeled the rest of the swimsuit off, and Shinji snagged it from me, tossing it to join his swim trunks somewhere on the floor.

“Shinji…”

“I don’t wanna wait anymore,” he whispered, both arms propping himself up. “You?”

I shook my head wordlessly, and he groaned in relief, kissing me again and stroking my tongue.

The ache between my legs felt unbearable, and I let one hand wander down his side, stroking his hip, then the soft thatch of hair between his legs and that smooth curve of flesh.

Shinji hissed; air sucked in abruptly at my wandering fingers. “…run your thumb over the tip?” he asked desperately.

I felt along his length, then gently rubbed my thumb in circles over his head, earning a choked-off moan.

He caught my wrist, pulling my hand away. “Nngh… not that much, or I’m gonna lose it, sunshine,” he managed.

“Sorry.”

“Nope. Stop it,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “Felt too good, that’s all. It’s pretty tricky to finish at the same time, but I’d like to make sure I’m not gettin’ too far ahead of you…”

I nipped at his lower lip in reply, and he stroked a hand down the side of my face, pulling back just enough to rub the bridge of his nose against mine. His eyes were affectionately studying mine, brown pupils flecked with gold, and this close I could see a few light freckles dusting his skin.

I nuzzled him back shyly, giggling as he started training kissed down my jaw again.

“Somethin’ funny?” he mock-growled, not letting up.

“Your breath tickles,” I said helplessly, and he pressed a final kiss between by breasts.

“You’re in trouble if you think that’s the worst I can do,” he murmured, amused, and I gasped as something warm and wet trailed over a nipple, ending with a hard metal nub that scraped lightly against the sensitive skin.

“Is that why you got your tongue pierced?” I asked, half the words tumbling out as ragged moans, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Not telling,” he said wickedly, one hand stroking the soft curve of my stomach before wandering lower, fingers slipping between my legs.

I made a surprised whimper. His fingers skidded in the slick damp, then slipped inside of me gently for a moment before pulling out again.

“It’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “Just makin’ sure you were ready, that’s all.”

Ready for what? I wanted to ask, but then he was lifting my hips, fingers digging into my flesh gently as he moved closer, and then I moaned as I felt him slide into me.

Oh. Oh, that wasn’t his fingers.

“Okay?” he asked softly, not moving. “Too much?”

“More,” I said desperately, reaching up for him, and his eyes darkened as he moved his hips a bit more, lowering himself down to press his body to mine.

I dug my nails into his shoulders as he started moving, slow thrusts of his hips that teased, lips that sought mine out again for more kisses.

“Right there?”

“Yes,” I panted, trying to move my own hips to follow him.

His fingers stroked between my legs again, flirting with the most sensitive part of my clit in time with his hips, shaft moving in and out of me with increasing ease as my body relaxed.

He chuckled, stopping for a moment to grind his hips against me, groaning my name as the urgency built.

“Shinji,” I managed breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“Stop worrying if you’re going to hurt me,” I said, half-dazed from the sensation of his cock moving inside of me, of his fingers messily stroking me.

He hesitated, and I sank my teeth gently into his shoulder, urging him on.

His hips slammed home, burying his cock in me, and I screamed in relief, nails digging into his skin as we moved together, all restraint lost.

There was no sense of time, or anything else. Just the smooth warmth of his skin, the fierce urgency of his mouth claiming mine, and blonde, silky hair falling past his cheeks to frame our faces and tickle against my ears.

One of his fingers nudged a bit further, brushing against a new spot, and I abruptly saw white, everything soaring and tumbling and tipping me over the edge with it, crying out his name in desperate gasps of air.

He murmured something – my name? – sounding as though he was proud of me, but it was all noise, and I was drowning in it, clinging to him until my body finally shuddered to a slow, reluctant halt.

The ache was still there, but it had eased.

Shinji dropped a kiss on my forehead, looking pleased with himself. “Easy, sweetheart. It’s pretty overwhelming the first time, huh?”

I tried to find a response, but I wasn’t sure I knew how to form words at the moment, so I simply nodded, dazed.

“I’m going to finish, okay?” he said tenderly. “Won’t be hard. You feel so good. You’re perfect.”

I managed another nod and kissed him, and he began moving his hips again – slowly at first, since my body had tightened around him, then faster as I relaxed again.

The only warning I had was a slight tightening of his fingers on my hips, and then he was arching against me, hips locked against mine as he writhed, my name and several curses leaking from between gritted teeth, head tipped back as strands of fine blonde hair stuck to the sweat on his neck.

I reached up to stroke the hair out of his face, feeling him pouring himself into me as he moaned a last curse, finally meeting my eyes again, chest heaving as he panted.

“Why did we wait this long?” he finally said, voice hoarse. He pulled out slowly, then collapsed on his side next to me, one arm snaking around my waist to pull me closer. “Damn.”

“Mm.”

He started pressing kisses to my cheeks and eyelids, and I nuzzled him back, still captivated by how attractive his eyelashes were.

I liked every single thing I saw, and the almost wondering look in his eyes made me suspect Shinji felt the same way I did.

“I should have asked you out months ago,” he said, a touch of regret in his voice.

“This is okay,” I said softly.

“Better than okay,” he agreed, tucking me into the curve of his arm possessively. “Now… what should we do with the rest of the evening?”

I snickered quietly as he kissed my temple, lips wandering down to tug suggestively at an earlobe. “I’m sure you can think of some things, Mr. Hirako.”

He raised an eyebrow, and I yelped at the sudden sting on my rear.

“Shinji!”

“Yer’right,” he smirked. “Better remember it, sunshine.”

You have now reached the end of Side A! Please turn the record over…

"Smartasses get killed. We always see to that." - The Legion

a few bleach sketch requests! Yoruichi, Isane, and Renji. hopefully can do more later

Quick sketch of kenpachi bc he’s my man

my sinful bleach confession is that selfishly / self indulgently because i am submissive, soft dom Shinji lives in my head rent free

Nsfw. Smut. ;)

Shinji watched you nestled between his legs under the desk and try to take him in your mouth. You had done it several times before but it just wouldn’t feel right without his guidance.

He pulled out his cock from your nervous mouth and placed his hand on your head, teasingly ruffling your hair.

“Let me help ya. Open yer sweet mouth, doll”, he encouraged, slipping two fingers inside your wet cavern. “Now suck baby doll. Suck it like ya suck those candies”. And you did just that. Slurping and sucking sounds came from beneath the table. Soon he added a third to stretch out your lips. “Make a seal with those pretty lips. Good girl!”

And you were ready.

The head of his fat cock sat against your sealed lips that were glistening with your spit. “Kiss ‘em”.

And you planted a tender smooch— on the tip and around the circumference of the mushroom shaped head and all the way down his shaft and back up again.

“Good job, doll. Show much how much ya love my cock baby”, he gave you that wide grin.

This time you swallowed him whole, using your sealed lips to suck him good. Slurping and sucking, moaning and groaning, choking and gagging. You didn’t care. He played with your hair.

“Shinji about to unload. You ready sweetheart?”

You give him a nod, your mouth fully stuffed, his hand behind your head guided you through his release.

“You can spit it out doll”. He gave you a chance. But you swallowed his load and opened your mouth to let him know.

“Come here ya”, he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you on top of his lap. He kissed you on the lips, tasting his own seed. “Good girl. Now stand up on the desk and spread those legs fer me. Lemme see how wet you got after swallowing my cum”.

TW: fluffy smut <3 MINORS DNI

Having your first time with Satoru, and he's diffusing the tension by acting goofy, looking for ways to make you giggle while he undresses you and kisses along your body, all until he's sinking his big cock into your tight cunt. But you can hardly laugh when you feel the stretch and foreign pressure from the way he fills you up. You're whimpering brokenly and screwing your eyes shut, but Gojo knows when to get serious, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

"You have to breathe, sweetheart," he reminds you gently, smiling as he stills his movement. "Can you do that for me?"

"Mhm." You nod. He slowly starts to push into you again, and you're inhaling and exhaling, letting yourself feel all of him, however overwhelming and painful it might be.

He's watching you carefully, smiling almost proudly at how well you take him. "That's it," he coos, "that's my good girl."

Your heart swells with adoration for this silly, all-powerful man and the way he acts so tender with you. You never understood how special this was, the intimacy, the fullness, the oneness with someone you are so head over heels for, until now. The pressure starts to become less painful and more pleasurable. There's heat swirling in the pit of your stomach and this confusing, overwhelming feeling of not being able to take anymore but needing it all at the exact same time.

Satoru keeps checking in with you, and when you're telling him how good it feels and how you need more, your legs are over his shoulders, and he's completely pressed into you, drilling deep each time he thrusts into you. It feels so lewd, letting him fold you like this, watching your tits bounce and thighs shake. The pressure keeps building and your core and skin are on fire and you can hardly think coherent thoughts. It was absolutely euphoric, being so present in the moment like this, so peaceful letting your mind and body melt beneath him.

Gojo's relentless despite how he's almost as love drunk as you are. He's pounding into you hard and rhythmically, speeding up the closer you both get. The sounds he's making have you clenching hard around him, and you're whining and crying out sounds of your own. The pressure building in your core feels as if it's about to snap, and you're trying to get the words out to Satoru.

"I - I'm," you attempt. "I think I'm going to-"

"You're gonna cum?" Gojo sounds hopeful. He's a sweaty, groaning mess, but your admission fuels him, and he's brutally slamming into you now, encouraging you to let go. "Go on, baby, cum on my cock. I'm right here. It's okay."

And so you do. The pressure explodes. Your mind goes blank, on another plane of existence. Satoru's still moving for a moment longer, but he's jerky, erratic, and whimpering. You're both twitching against one another before he's falling against you, half-hazardously holding himself up so as not to crush you with the full weight of his body.

Catching your breaths, Satoru rolls to your side, pulling you against him, skin to skin. Your eyes flutter shut on their own accord as you snuggle into Satoru's chest, greedily inhaling his scent.

"You going to sleep on me?" He asks teasingly, murmuring into the side of your head. He presses a kiss into your temple while he's there.

"Mhmm." You muster just enough energy to nod. "Thank you, Satoru," you whisper to him. "Thank you for everything."

"Thank you? You never have to thank me, princess." He runs his fingers through your hair. "Just love me. I love you."

"I love you too."

Grimmjow… is a cookie thief. Short imagine or scenario. Can be Hueco Mundo, World of the Living or even the Seireitei.

Thanks for the lovely ask! I'm sorry it's taken me so. damn. long! So, it's turned out that Grimm isn't the thief here, but it's Grimmjow smut so I know you won't mind. 😁

Thanks to the wonderful @villainsrtasty for beta reading! @kryptoniteforsale @cloudyempress @darthwhorecrux @whatshernameis @writemessybleach

This is part 1 of 2.

PART TWO HERE! CW: Female!Reader, Grimmjow being Grimmjow, marking/hickies, one or two bites, hand on neck but no actual choking, very light spanking, oral sex-male receiving, vaginal fingering, doggy and missionary sex, cream pie, "claiming" if you squint, pet names (princess/kitten) and one instance of reader getting called "good girl". (This covers both parts of the fic!)

Grimmjow and the Cookie Thief pt 1 (~5.2k words)

You’d been able to see things no one else could since you could remember. After moving to Karakura Town to begin University classes, that skill had gone from fleeting glimpses to a full-blown ability to see the unseen. That’s why, when your upper floor dorm room was rendered uninhabitable by Kurosaki’s fight with a nasty hollow, Kisuke Urahara had been very quick to offer you a part-time job and temporary lodging when it was obvious that a standard Shinigami memory replacement device was not going to work on you. Needless to say, it was proving to be an interesting semester.

“Don’t even think about it, Grimmjow!” Ichigo said, yanking the bag in his hand out of Grimmjow’s reach and shoving the rest of the cookie he was holding into his mouth. “Inooeh made ‘ese ‘er me!”

You snickered as Grimmjow lunged for the small paper bag in Ichigo’s hand and an impromptu game of ‘keep-away’ broke out. You unrolled the top of a similar looking paper bag and inhaled deeply, your eyes rolling back a little as the smell of freshly baked cookies- ordinary double chocolate chunk you were relieved to see- filled your nostrils. You delicately picked one out of the bag as you watched the two men running around Urahara Shōten’s large subterranean training ground like idiots. Your eyes were glued to their shirtless forms as you took a bite of the cookie, half moaning at the taste. “Seems like someone is really enjoying their lunch break,” Your boss’s knowing voice came from over your left shoulder, making you jump. You could hear the smirk in his obnoxiously cheery voice which was made more obnoxious by the way he was now chuckling at you from behind his fan. “Perhaps I should start charging admission.”

“Is that really necessary, Urahara-san? You coulda made me choke, sneaking up on me like that,” you grumbled before taking a drink of water to wash down the bits of cookie trying to stick to your back teeth. You turned your attention back to the blue-haired former Espada. You watched as Grimmjow tackled Ichigo, who had deftly grabbed his last cookie from the bag a split second before Grimmjow shredded it into paper confetti. You took another bite of your cookie, unable to stop the little hum of appreciation and the following sigh of contentment. “Was that in response to the cookie or the Arrancar? I’m guessing the latter could probably get a stronger response,” Urahara murmured from just behind your ear before giggling and side stepping the elbow you threw at him before it could connect with its intended target. You glared at him over your shoulder, shoving the rest of the cookie into your mouth. He just smiled at you from behind his fan with saccharin sweetness… from a safe distance.

“Yeah, well I didn’t really want any of that cookie anyway. The stuff that woman of yours cooks always smells funny,” Grimmjow huffed. You turned back around to see the two men, sweaty and dusty, walking back in your direction. “Hey, watch it, Grimmjow!” Ichigo said sharply. “Say whatever the hell you want about me, but don’t run your mouth about Inoue or I’ll beat your ass again.” “Tch! When d’ya ever ‘beat my ass’?” Grimmjow shot back, then mumbled, “That one time doesn’t count. That bastard Nnoitra decided butt in.” Ichigo just looked at him, brow arched. You pulled the remaining cookie from your bag as they walked up. Grimmjow was giving the treat in your hand the side eye while very much pretending not to as he leaned down a few feet in front of you to pick up his jacket. You took another drink of water, contemplating breaking the cookie in half and offering some to Grimmjow when that damnable shopkeeper spoke up again. “Ah~! Looks like someone is interested  _______-san!” You just rolled your eyes as you swished the water around in your mouth. “If you’d like to eat _______-san’s cookie, I’m sure she would be happy to let you if you ask her nicely, Grimmjow-san!” Urahara called in a too innocent sing-song manner. Your eyes went wide and you clapped your hand over your mouth as you spluttered and coughed, struggling to swallow the rest of the water in your mouth without drowning yourself. Your eyes darted over to Ichigo and Grimmjow. Kurosaki was pulling his shirt on, his face bright red as he tried to look anywhere but at you or the Arrancar. Grimmjow, on the other hand, was now openly staring at the cookie in your hand. You could feel the heat radiating from your cheeks all the way up to the tips of your ears.

“Welp! Lunch break is over!” you announced, a little to loudly, while leaping to your feet and shoving the entire cookie into your mouth and ignoring Grimmjow’s startled ‘What the fuck?!.’ You turned and sprinted for the ladder leading up to the shop, then began to climb like you were being chased by a serial killer. You were about halfway to the top when Grimmjow’s voice floated up to your ears. “Fuckin’ pervert!” This was followed by a very satisfying shriek from your boss.

The sun was just setting when you put the last of the dishes away. It was your night to clean up after supper, much to everyone else’s delight. Kurosaki and Grimmjow had been trying to beat the crap out of each other down in the underground training area for the better part of the evening, but after the incident from a couple of days ago, you steadfastly refused to go watch them no matter how much your boss tried to talk you into it. You dried your hands, then grabbed your water bottle and the little paper sack off the counter and headed to your room. This time, you were going to enjoy the cookies Inoue-san sent for you in peace and quiet.

At least you thought you were. You hadn’t been up there five minutes and there was a very loud knock at the door. You furrowed your brow, scowling at the door as you finished pulling on the little shorts you always slept in. “Just a second!” you hollered, pulling your tee shirt back on as a second volley of impatient knocking rattled your door. Clothing in place, you stomped over to the door and slid it open. “Look, Urahara-tencho, I’ve finished everything, so whatever this is about, it can wait until tomo— Oh!” You interrupted yourself with a surprised yelp as six feet of blue-haired Arrancar muscled his way past you and into your room without preamble or invitation. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, mouth ajar as he stood there, examining your space with interest. His eyes landed on the little bag with the familiar bakery logo and he quickly looked away, shuffling his feet and turning those intense blue eyes on you. “Gr- Grimmjow! Umm… I, ah… Is there something I can, uh, help you with?” you finally managed, your hand still on the open door. “You weren’t there today. Why?” he demanded. Your eyebrows rose in response to his terse question. He’d actually notice your absence? A few little butterflies took wing inside your stomach at the thought, but you firmly ignored them. “I- I had extra things to do today,” you lied, smiling weakly. You could tell by the look on Grimmjow’s face that he wasn’t buying it. “I mean, I have school and today was my day to wash dishes and clean the kitchen and there was stock and—“ Your babbling was cut off by Grimmjow’s towering presence looming over you as he slid the door shut with a clack. You blinked, and your breath caught in your throat at his sudden nearness. You were alone in a room with a being that could end you in less than two seconds and all you could think about was the way he smelled– the scent of his styling products plus something nice that you couldn’t place– and how much you wanted to reach up and touch the markings under his preternaturally blue eyes. He was making it very difficult for you to focus as he stared down at you with one brow cocked, silently calling your bullshit. “Okay, l-look, Grimmjow, I just needed a break. I didn’t feel like being harassed by my boss tonight.” That part was true at least.

“So it ain’t got nothin’ to do with those cookies?” Grimmjow tossed his head in the direction of the bakery bag sitting on your night table. “C-cookies?” you squeaked, a mental picture conjured by Urahara’s perverted sense of humor and Grimmjow’s presence in your bedroom floating to the forefront of your mind unbidden. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. Other places… not so much.

“Yeah. Cookies,” he said shortly, the tiniest bit of color gracing his cheeks as he remembered Kurosaki’s mumbled explanation of Urahara’s double entendre and why you had seen yourself out so abruptly. “As in those cookies,” he clarified, pointing this time. “You know, the ones ya been stealin’ from me for the last month. “Wait. Wha-? Stealing?!?” He seemed amused rather than angry, and your indignant response only served to widen his cocky smirk.

“Yeah. Stealin’. So I came to take what’s mine.” Grimmjow took a step closer to you, standing so near that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You took a step back, unsure if it was prompted by fear of the Arrancar or the fear that you might do something stupid, like reach out and run a finger over the scar that disappeared beneath his half zipped top. “Kurosaki’s woman used to bring somethin’ for both of us… ‘til a couple of weeks after you showed up.” “Oh.” You weren’t really sure what to do with that information. “So... you think that I’m taking your cookies?” You scrunched up your nose, feeling that this whole situation was bordering on ridiculous. “But I never really see Inoue-san! She always drops them off with…” You grit your teeth in sudden realization, then looked up at Grimmjow. From the look on his face, he’d come to the same conclusion. “Urahara!” “That pervy bastard!” you both growled in unison. You both looked at one another for a moment, then you sighed heavily and turned to retrieve that bag of cookies. Your fucking boss had been giving you the cookies just to start drama. “I’d like to say I’m shocked by this… but I’m not,” you grumbled. You held your arm out toward Grimmjow, bag in hand. “Here. I’m sorry for the confusion.” “Tch! The fuck you sorry for?” Grimmjow was glaring daggers at the door, his ire clearly reserved for your boss, you were relieved to note. He stopped trying to bore a hole through the walls with his eyes long enough to look down and unroll the top of the sack. There was a look of mild surprise on his face as he fished out two cookies and held them out to you. “There’s four. Here. Take ‘em,” he ordered, practically shoving the chocolatey treats into your hands. The next thing he fished out of the bag was a small piece of paper, a note. Grimmjow squinted at it, then turned it upside down and squinted some more before thrusting the paper into your face. “Read it. I can’t make out that pervy bastard’s handwriting.” In truth, Urahara had very neat, precise handwriting, which meant Grimmjow probably couldn’t read all the kanji. You wisely kept your suspicions to yourself and took the note. “ _____-san~!” you began to read aloud. “By this time I’m sure you have company, so I’ll keep it brief. I normally wouldn’t resort to such trickery”— you snorted at that statement — “but your presence in the training grounds seems to be quite the distraction for Grimmjow-san—“ Your eyes darted up and caught the murderous look on Grimmjow’s face so you quickly continued. “—and I fear that you will strain your eyes during your increasingly long breaks, so I thought it best to arrange for the two of you to have a private meeting so you can...” Your eyes scanned ahead and you stopped reading aloud abruptly, your face going bright pink. “I’m gonna kill ‘im,” Grimmjow growled. “Not if I get to him first,” you ground out between clenched teeth as you tossed the cookies and note onto your nightstand. You stalked past Grimmjow and reached for the door but were brought up short by Grimmjow’s hand wrapping around your arm. “Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?”

“To kill my boss,” you said between clenched teeth. “Okay. Maim. I need the paycheck,” you corrected, pulling against his grip.

The ‘Tch’ was all the warning you got before Grimmjow yanked on your arm, pulling you face first into his chest. For a moment, all you could do was blink in startled astonishment and rub your nose. Your mind immediately noted how solid he was, and how warm, much warmer than you’d expected for some sort of… ghost or spirit or whatever. Your thoughts took a hard right turn toward the gutter, and you could feel the heat creeping into your cheeks. You fervently hoped that they weren’t as pink as you felt like they were because you realized that he was saying something, meaning you had to look him in the face again any second now. “… ‘cause you can see him don’t mean you can take him in a fight, so you let me handle your boss.” Grimmjow’s words carried their typical condescension, but you could swear that his tone was a little protective. You shuffled back a step, mouth half open to protest, but it snapped shut again as your head was tipped back by Grimmjow’s finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Pay attention when I’m talkin’ to you, woman, or I-” Grimmjow arched a brow at you, not bothering to finish his sentence as he studied your face, a wolfish grin breaking out at the sight of your flushed cheeks.

“Heh. What’s a matter? Your face is all red,” he taunted, his voice dropping to a rumbling baritone as he leaned down to put his face closer to yours. “N-nothing’s wrong! Except that you have me by the arm,” you huffed, your face giving Grimmjow the lie by turning a deeper shade of red. You half-heartedly tried to jerk your arm out of his grasp, a futile gesture you knew, but your pride demanded that you at least make a show of it. Truthfully, you really weren’t all that invested in getting away, not that you were going to let him know that. He’d just be an insufferable arrogant ass about it any time you came down to watch him face off with Kurosaki. “You’re a shitty liar, ya know that?” Grimmjow’s grin had expanded into that feral sort of look he got during a spar. You swallowed hard. Part of you knew you should be terrified of that look. However, most of you found it incredibly sexy, and right now all his attention was on you. All your attention was on him, too, and you just couldn’t keep your eyes from dropping to his lips. It was at this point that the absence of his bone mask finally registered. It was a sight you’d never seen before, and you were intrigued. Before you could stop yourself, your hand was halfway to his cheek. You paused, wide eyed and moved to pull your hand away, but Grimmjow had you by the wrist with his other hand before you could. “Gigai,” Grimmjow said in response to your unspoken question. He walked around you, easily turning you with him. “But forget about that. Now tell me, what should I do with a little thief like you, hn?” His voice carried a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Grimmjow leaned down a little more, his brilliant blue eyes boring into yours. “Th-thief?! What do you mean, ‘thief’?!” You protested, your indignant words coming out in a much higher pitch than you would’ve liked. You tried to lean away from him, but only succeeded in losing your balance so that Grimmjow was holding you upright by your arm and your opposite wrist. You didn’t even realize he had been walking you backward until your calf hit the mattress as you stepped back to try and catch yourself. You didn’t think your eyes could go any wider, but they did.

“I mean, I think I deserve a little something to make up for all the cookies you stole over the last few weeks.” His smirk made you want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both. Definitely both.

 “That wasn’t my fault and you know it!” you shot back instead, turning your head to the side and tilting your chin in a dismissive manner. “Besides, I’ve watched you try to steal Ichigo’s cookies for the last three weeks, so isn’t that a little hypocritical?” “Pfft. I definitely do not want Kurosaki’s ‘cookie.’” Despite what you might say about Urahara, you couldn’t deny that there was a part of your mind that lived in the gutter. You didn’t even try to hide your snicker at Grimmjow’s comment.

“You sure about that? Not that Kurosaki-san has a cookie for you…”

“Oi! Your as bad as that fuckin’ boss of yours, ain’t ya,” Grimmjow growled, now completely up in your face. You had nowhere to go unless you wanted to end up flat on your back on the bed. ‘Might not be so bad…’ the dirty part of your mind suggested helpfully.

“Ya know… that might not be such a bad trade, a cookie for some cookies,” Grimmjow said as if reading your thoughts. He was openly leering at you now.

“I- What?!?” you squeaked.

“Ain’t like I don’t see the way you watch me.” Grimmjow smirked down at you.

“O-of course I watch the fights! It-it’s like… li-like free pay-per-view!” you stammered, too flustered to come up with anything better. Grimmjow obviously wasn’t buying it because his smirk only grew wider.

“Well I sure as fuck don’t see you drooling over Kurosaki.”

“Of course I don’t! He has a girlfriend!” You belatedly realized that you only denied ogling Kurosaki when Grimmjow leaned down to chuckle right next to your ear. Your traitorous body shuddered visibly at the feel of his breath ghosting over the side of your neck. “Heh. I think you’d like that trade more than you’re willin’ to admit,” he whispered in a velvety sort of tone, one that you had never heard from him before. Hell, you didn’t think Grimmjow had it in him to be that… smooth. That was probably why your breath hitched when his hand slid over your shoulder and up your spine until he had a firm grip around the nape of your neck. “Gr-Grimmjow?” You could feel his nose brush your temple as he inhaled your scent. “Holy fuck. You’re fucking serious aren’t you…” you blurted out in disbelief.

“The fuck? You think I wasn’t?”

You didn’t have a chance to answer his question before his mouth was fastened to yours in a demanding kiss that left no doubt about the sincerity of his ‘offer’. Your gasp of surprise left Grimmjow the perfect opening to slide his tongue between your parted lips, his fingers tangling in the back of your hair to tug your head back to a more favorable angle. At first, you couldn’t do anything but let Grimmjow kiss you, but once the shock wore off, you found yourself giving back as good as you got. By the time he was done kissing you breathless, you had one hand under the collar of his jacket, holding onto his shoulder for balance and the other around his waist, fingers splayed out over his back. You felt Grimmjow twitch, like a cat who was getting a good scratch down its spine, and it dawned on you that your hand was over the spot his hollow hole would be if he weren’t in the gigai. With a wicked grin, you flexed your fingers to see if that would get the same result. “Dammit, woman!” Grimmjow growled. Oh! That was certainly a nice response! You did it again, but that was one time too many apparently. Before you could blink, you were on your way down to meet your mattress with Grimmjow looming over you, his knee between yours on the edge of the bed.

“Yes or no?” Grimmjow demanded, “Better tell me ’cause you keep doing shit like that, I’m gonna take it as a yes.” “Yes or…? Oooh. Right. A cookie for cookies,” you breathed. ‘Holy shit… is this really happening?’ you thought. Your mind was reeling. ‘Yep, it’s happening... Say something to him, dammit! Don’t blow it!’ You gave yourself a mental shove, then with the most innocent face you could muster, you let your fingers trail down his spine again. “You mean ‘that shit’?” Your cheekiness prompted Grimmjow to pin your wrists over your head in one of his hands. “Okay, Okay! Yes! Deal!” you hastily consented. “Good girl,” Grimmjow practically purred, nipping at your ear. He continued his way down, lips and tongue and teeth teasing the side of your neck until he reached your collarbone. There, he let his teeth scrape along the sensitive skin before sucking on the spot hard enough that you knew it was going to leave a very obvious bruise. “Ow! What the fuck, Grimmjow?!” you yelped. He chuckled darkly and tugged on the neckline of your shirt to work his way along more of your collarbone, not bothering to give you any other response. He left a few more love bites along the way, but always soothed them with his tongue before moving along. The gentleness of the gesture caught you off guard the first time, making your breath hitch in an embarrassingly loud fashion. You waited for the inevitable teasing from Grimmjow… but it never came, only a low sort of rumble as he reached the limit of how far your tee shirt would stretch. “This one of your favorite shirts or anything?” Grimmjow asked. The sudden questions made you blink. Why the hell was he concerned about your fashion sense now, of all times? “Huh? I mean, not real— Wait! No, Grimmjow don—“ The small part of your brain that was not yet occupied with Grimmjow finally caught up with the situation, but it was too late. The sound of ripping cloth drowned out your strangled cry of protest as he stuck the hem of your shirt between his teeth then used his free hand to give it a good yank, ripping it all the way up to the collar. With a feral grin, he leaned down and caught the collar of your ruined shirt in his teeth and popped it apart the same way. “Was that really necessary?!” you almost shrieked, more from shock than any real outrage. “You tell me,” Grimmjow murmured smugly, his lips already against your neck. He worked his way down and across your other collarbone, leaving patches of colorful flesh to match the other side. By the time he reached your shoulder, you were struggling in his grasp, unable to hold still and unable to completely stifle the little whimpers he drew from you with every new mark he left on our skin. “Hmm, not bad.” Grimmjow smirked as he leaned back to admire his handiwork. You took a look at yourself and groaned. “Grimmjow!” you whined. “My pervy boss is never gonna let me live this down!” You got no sympathy from him; he thought it was funny as hell. “Not my problem,” he said dismissively, reaching down to give your nipple a pinch through your bra. You yelped, and Grimmjow grinned wider. You had a feeling that you’d be making that noise a lot and were immediately proven right as your other nipple got equal attention.

“Who taught you to treat a lady like that?!”

Again, Grimmjow only chuckled at your indignant squawking. “Good thing you ain’t a lady. And don’t gimme that look. You got a mouth on you to put Kurosaki to shame,” he pointed out, running a finger under the edge of your bra. The bra did happen to be a favorite. “Don’t you fucking dare Grimmjow! That one is expensive!” you barked, trying to spare any more of your clothing from getting shredded. “The clasp is right there in the front. Here. Just let go of my hands and I’ll get it,” you offered, wanting the use of your hands, not just to save your bra from becoming a pile of scraps, but also to peel him out of his jacket.

“Nice try sweetheart,” Grimmjow practically purred, his grip on your wrists tightening fractionally. Well, at least he popped the closure of your bra open instead of tearing through it. One out of two wasn’t bad, you supposed. Worries about your bra or the use of your hands or anything else were shoved straight out of your head as Grimmjow wasted no time in reaching up to palm one of your breasts, giving it a firm squeeze. “Oh shit!” The word slipped out before you could check yourself and Grimmjow arched a brow at you, his trademark smirk still plastered on his face. “Like that, do ya?” he asked smuggly. “Ya ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” With that, Grimmjow let his head drop to your chest, his mouth closing over the tip of your other breast with a single hard suck before he began teasing the hardened peak with his tongue. His hand left off its soft massaging in favor of using his fingers to torment your other nipple, alternating between circling it with the calloused pad of his thumb and rolling it between thumb and forefinger. He mirrored these motions with his mouth, licking and sucking with the occasional scrape of teeth and a corresponding sharp pinch to match. You seriously wished you had an arm free to throw across your face because there was no keeping your mouth closed around the clipped moans and soft gasps you were making. You squirmed under him, pulling against his hold on your wrists again with no better luck this time than the last. “Ah! You could at least… mmnh!... take off some clothes,” you whined between the naughty little noises you were trying to hold back. Grimmjow lifted his head to look you in the eyes, snickering openly as he leered at you.

“Hmn. Somebody’s soundin’ a little desperate.” His tone had a mocking edge that made you want to slap him. You tugged against his grip on your wrists on reflex and his grin widened.

“Bastard,” you huffed under your breath, jaw clenched in frustration. His grin widened when your words were followed by a sharp intake of breath as he gave your pebbled nipple a hard pinch.

Grimmjow leaned in, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dropping half an octave as he practically purred, “Aww, what’s wrong, kitten? Mad that you can’t use those claws of yours?” He squeezed your wrists just enough to make his point; he was the one in control. “Hmn. Might be more fun to let ya.”

With that, he went after your neck again, but this time he was less interested in marking you up and more interested in working his way back down your body with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, stopping to lick the curve of your breast before lifting his head again just long enough to shoot you another one of his trademark smug smiles.

Grimmjow knew exactly what he was doing to you as he dropped his head and latched on to your other nipple, sucking hard before swirling his tongue around it. Your back arched off the bed in a manner he found most satisfying, for all that you were trying to act unaffected. The feel of him lapping at your already over sensitized nipple wrung a high-pitched whine out of you that you couldn’t quite repress. This turned into a gasp as his hand followed the line of your ribs, warm palm caressing your belly with a gentleness that surprised you as it dropped lower. Then his fingers curled under the waistband of your little pajama shorts and he gave them a sharp yank, pulling them down to your knees without even lifting you up. So much for gentleness.

You watched the expression on Grimmjow’s face change as he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes glued to the damp spot on your panties. He took a long, slow breath through his nose, and his entire expression shifted to something less smug and more… hungry.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. You followed his line of sight and felt yourself turning a nice shade of tomato red, but that didn’t keep a smug grin of your own from creeping onto your face. Before he could get his hand back to its intended destination, you took advantage of his moment of distraction to plant both of your feet squarely in the middle of his chest. “The hell, woman!” he growled, clearly not happy about being blocked from his next meal. “Ditch some clothes,” you insisted defiantly, despite Grimmjow still pinning your wrists firmly to the mattress. You toed the zipper on the front of his outfit. “Oh, come on!” You cringed inwardly at the whine in your words, but went on anyway. “If I’m giving up my… uh, cookie, the least you could do is give me something nice to look at!” “Tch! You sayin’ I’m not nice to look at like this?” he goaded, making a grab for your ankles with his free hand. You were just quick enough that he could only grab one of your feet. If he wanted the other one, he would have to let go of your wrists. You ignored his attempt to ruffle your feathers and gave him a lazy smile as you ran a foot over his abs lightly, right where his hollow hole was when he was out of his gigai, never mind that teasing him like that is what had gotten your arms pinned over your head in the first place. “Dammit, woman!” Grimmjow growled, trying to evade your touch, but he couldn’t exactly get out of your reach without letting go of you, and he wasn’t ready to admit defeat. You weren’t sure if you were brave or just stupid to taunt an arrancar this way, but in the moment it hardly mattered. You ran your foot over his abs again, this time bringing it all the way back to the center of his chest where you once again poked at the zipper with your toe. “Please?” You pasted on a doe-eyed expression. “I promise I’ll be good,” you added in a sugary whisper, leaving it open to interpretation whether you were referring to behaving well… or performing well. Grimmjow snorted. “I bet you will.”

PART TWO!

switching back and forth between Euphoria and JJK on HBO Max

Would you ever write for gin, mayuri,aizen,shinji,szayel,yumichicka, as nodt,nnoitira,ulquiorra, izuru or adult uryu ? It trickster or the doctor?

Shinji, 100%, request or not!!!

As for the others, I'm not super confident that I'd do them justice but if someone had a request or prompt they'd want written I am certainly open to trying!