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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 1 day ago

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˚˖𓍢ִ໋🫕˚ Synopsis: You are sharing a tent with them on a mission.

˚　.　　. 　 ✦　₊ ˚. 🍥 ⊹₊ . ✦　.　　. 　 ˚��

Includes: Nnoitra Gilga, Äs Nödt, Kenpachi Zaraki, Renji Abarai, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, Jugram Haschwalth, Uryū Ishida, Ichigo Kurosaki x fem!reader

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ Notes: No explicit warnings. Comments and rebloggs are appreciated! Enjoy! <3

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Nnoitra Gilga

The fire crackled softly, throwing flickering shadows around the campsite. Crickets chirped and fireflies drifted through the warm night, filling the air with a quiet, almost sleepy rhythm. You were curled up inside the small tent, rough blanket pulled to your chest. The tent flap hung open just enough for you to see him. Nnoitra was sitting by the fire, his tall frame hunched low. His scythe leaned against a nearby rock, the curved blade catching little sparks of flame. He had his legs stretched out wide, elbows resting on his knees, and one hand hovered dangerously close to the fire, like he was waiting to see if it would actually burn him. His single eye glowed gold in the firelight. You’d never seen it look like that before.

He wore a thin jacket, lazily draped over his shoulders and left completely unbuttoned, showing off his bare chest underneath. The wide pants and tall black boots gave him and almost weirdly and formal look, but he didn’t strike you as someone who cared about appearances.

You shifted beneath the blanket and whispered, hesitant but audible, "Uhm...don't you want to come in?"

His eyes slid over to you slowly, like a blade being drawn out inch by inch. He didn't answer at first, he just stared. You felt it immediatly, the scrutiny. Like being peeled back layer by layer. The kind of look that didn't care if you liked it or not. He fnally spoke, voice low and casual, "Tch. Why the hell would I wanna cram myself in that sardine can with you?"

You blinked, awkwardly pulling the blanket higher. "It's cold." He snorted and tilted his head a little. "Ain't cold for me."

You watched the way the firelight carved out the sharp lines of his jaw, the corded muscles of his neck when he tilted his head. "You just going to sit out there all night?"

"What, you miss me already?," he muttered with a smirk. You frowned, cheeks heating. "I didn't say that."

He chuckled, low and rasping, dragging a hand though his black hair. "You didn't have to."

There was a pause. The air between you rippled, not with warmth but tension. You loked at him through the small slit of the tent's opening. "You will keep staring like that?," you asked, but the didn't flinch. "You poked your head out, not me. Don't start actin' like I came sniffin' around." You shifted again. "You're looking at me weird."

"Am I?," he said, voice quieter and more pointed. "Or are you just used to being looked at soft?"

The fire popped and your mouth dried. You didn't respond right away. "Don't worry. I'm not the cuddlin' type, remember?"

You tried to brush off the weight of his gaze, even as your fingers clenched tighter on the blanket. "I know you're not."

He leaned back slowly, stretching until his spine cracked, then tilted his head toward the sky, watching a firefly drift past. "Then stop invitin' me in like you forgot who I am." His tone wasn't cruel. But it wasn't kind either. It was Nnoitra.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Äs Nödt

The fire outside had burned down to a faint red glow, just enough to hold off the edge of the night’s chill. Inside the tent, everything felt too still…too quiet. The fabric walls pressed in on you, the air felt tight, and you clutched the thin blanket to your body like it might actually help. Your heart pounded against your ribs, louder than it should’ve been in the silence.

You lay there stiffly, pretending to be asleep, but your eyes kept drifting toward the tent’s entrance. Every little sound made your breath hitch. Then you saw it…a flicker of movement. A shadow stretched long across the inside of the tent. A moment later, thin fingers slipped through the narrow gap in the flap. They curled against the seam of the tent and didn’t move.

You swallowed hard, shifting slightly under the blanket. A second set of fingers appeared. They flexed once, then withdrew, as if testing the space. You hesitated, throat dry, before whispering, almost against your will, “...You can come in.” No response. The wind rustled. Leaves murmured.

The flap pulled aside, theatrically slow, and a head tilted sideways slid into view, too far tilted. His neck bent at a jarring angle, like a broken doll. Hair spilled like wet silk, draping down as his face. His eyes, dark and glassy voids, caught the faintest glimmer of light as they looked to you.

“I heard you,” he finally said, voice soft and wrong somehow. Flat, but airy. Like a breath echoing through a hollow shell. You didn’t answer. You just shifted, pulling your legs in and moving a little to the side, offering space. You shouldn’t have. But you did.

He crawled in, not like someone entering a tent, but like something slithering inside a crack in the wall. Slow, limbs moving with too much precision and too little sound. He settled beside you on his back, looking up at the canvas as if it were the night sky. He didn’t blink. You clutched your blanket tighter. His voice came again. “You breathe too fast when you’re lying.”

You said nothing, eyes locked on the roof of the tent. He turned his head with a strange stiffness, toward you. Your pulse spiked. A smile tugged at the edge of his lips, not kind. Not amused. Just... off. “I can leave,” he offered, almost cheerfully. “But I think we both know I won’t.”

Your blanket was drawn up to your chin, your body tense beneath it, curled into yourself like a shield could protect you from something already inside. His face was turned fully toward you, eyes open, pupils like voids. It was nearly impossible to sleep like this. You couldn’t even pretend anymore. “…Could you please stop looking at me like that?,” you finally whispered. “I wasn’t blinking,” he replied softly, almost helpfully. You swallowed. “Yes. I noticed.”

“…You looked different when your eyes were closed,” he murmured. You blinked, horrified and confused all at once. “What?”

“I mean that kindly,” he added quickly, as if that made it better. You turned your head away, toward the tent wall. “Please, just… face the other way. Try to sleep.” He didn’t move.

Then, after a beat, in a voice far too calm: “I don’t usually sleep when someone’s that close. Sometimes they stop breathing. Just… stop.” You froze and he seemed to think for a moment, then added, “Not saying you will. Probably.”

He stopped, and his face moved closer. “You smell like warm fabric. And something sweet. Like… maybe bread.” You turned sharply to face him again, stunned. “Why would you say that?” His brow furrowed slightly. “Isn’t it… polite? Compliments are for comfort.”

“That’s not comforting,” you snapped, voice still hushed but shaking. “It’s really weird.” He blinked, slowly this time. “Ah.”

A faint smile, if it was a smile, twitched on his lips. “I’ll try something else next time,” he said, turning finally, painfully slow, to face the tent ceiling. But he didn’t stop watching you.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Kenpachi Zaraki

The tent was already threatening to collapse under the weight of night dew and poor design when you heard him coming. “Shit. Where’s the damn zipper…”

You sat up, blanket clutched to your chest just as the tent flap violently. He ducked inside like a man who’d never crawled into anything smaller than a battlefield trench. The poles bent. One cracked with a soft, pitiful snap.

“Be careful!” you blurted, shrinking into the corner. He gave the canvas a puzzled look, elbow already jabbing into one wall as his boot stomped too hard onto the floor. “The hell kinda toy tent is this?!,” he growled, shifting onto his side with a grunt. “Feelin’ like I’m stuffin’ myself into a box.”

He flopped onto his back next to you, the whole tent wheezing under his weight. One of his legs kicked against the far corner, the other bent near your hip. You pulled your blanket tighter, bracing for more impact. “I swear,” he muttered, wiggling slightly, “if this thing collapses I’m blamin’ you. You’re the one who picked it, right?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually use it

“Yeah, well,” he grunted, “it’s cold. Deal with it.”

He shifted, trying to get comfortable…which looked more like a bear attempting yoga inside a shoebox.

Then, with all the grace of a falling tree, his arm flopped right over you. You froze like a raccoon caught in headlights. His hand landed across your shoulder, then slid halfway down your back, fingers relaxed like you were just another part of the bed. Your voice came out small. “Um…”

“Mm?,” he grunted, already halfway to unconsciousness. “Your arm…”

He cracked one eye open, looked down at you… and smirked sleepily. “Huh. Thought you were one of those big soft body pillows for a second. You’re warm.”

You stared at him, blinking. “I’m not a pillow.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he murmured, shifting just a little closer until his chest was half against your side. “Kenpachi—”

“Shhh.” His voice was muffled now, cheek against the top of your head. “Stop movin’. You are comfortable. Don’t ruin it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but he was already snoring. Pinned under one massive arm, completely smothered in body heat, and feeling like some kind of oversized plush toy, you lay there, wide-eyed and stunned.

You exhaled softly.

“…I hate this tent.”

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Renji Abarai

You were curled beneath your blanket, legs drawn in, trying not to focus too much on the presence beside you.

Renji was already inside, barely fitting. He lay on his side, one arm beneath his head, his red hair messy and loose, some of it spilling across the shared space. His tattooed chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, but his face was anything but calm.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, shifting a little. “You okay? You comfortable?”

You glanced at him. “I’m okay, Renji.”

“You sure? ‘Cause, I mean…if this is too tight, I can sleep outside. Seriously.” He started moving like he meant it but you put a hand out, stopping him. “No, really. It’s fine.”

He hesitated, eyeing the ceiling of the tent like it might collapse out of spite. “It’s just…you’re kinda, like… pressed against the wall. And I’m…well, I’m not exactly built small.”

You laughed nervously. “You’re… not wrong.”

“…You really sure?”

You sighed, cheeks already warming. “Yes, Renji.”

“Okay. Good. Just…y’know. Tell me if it gets weird or anything.”

Two minutes passed and he shifted again. “Wait. You’re not cold, are you?” You tried not to look at him. “No,” you said, voice slightly higher than normal. “You sure? I got extra cloth in my bag, I could—”

“Renji.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m fine.”

He let out a soft breath. “Okay. Okay. Sorry. I just… I don’t wanna make this weird or anything.” You turned your head to look at him. His eyes were on you now, earnest and a little embarrassed. “It’s not weird,” you lied. “It’s totally weird,” he mumbled, looking away quickly. You both went quiet again.

“Okay, but, like…if it got weird, would you tell me?”

You groaned into your blanket. “Yes, Renji.” He scratched the back of his head. “Okay, good. ‘Cause I’m kinda… very aware of my arm right now? And I keep thinking if I move it wrong it’s gonna land somewhere it shouldn’t, and then I’ll die.”

Your face flushed deeper. “Just… keep it where it is.”

“Where is it?”

You peeked down. His elbow was about a centimeter from your hip. “It’s… fine.”

Another pause.

“Okay. But you’d tell me, right…?”

“Renji,” you said, voice strangled now, “if you ask me if I’m okay one more time, I’m going to scream.” He blinked, then broke into a grin. “Okay, okay. I’ll shut up.”

You turned away at the same time, cheeks burning.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

You lay curled up beneath the blanket, pressed into the farthest corner. The fabric clung to your skin, and the warmth of the night mingled with the warmth of nerves.

You heard him before you saw him, boots crunching the dirt, a faint exhale, then the zipper rasped.

“Move over,” came Grimmjow’s low voice, rough with impatience.

Before you could respond, he ducked inside, crawling in with that same dangerous grace, like a panther closing in on prey. His bare shoulder brushed the tent wall, and then his knee bumped against your leg.

He let out an annoyed grunt. “Shit’s tighter than it looked,” he muttered, twisting to lie down. His side pressed fully against yours. “Hope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t move…You couldn’t. The heat of his body was…overwhelming. Skin on skin where his bare chest grazed your arm, your legs tangled slightly beneath the blanket. You pulled it tighter around you, heart thudding, and peeked over the top. He turned his head just slightly, catching your eyes. A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “There you are.”

You shrank a little under the blanket, only your eyes visible now. He chuckled under his breath, the sound low in his throat. “Cute.”

Your voice came out soft, barely a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d really come in…”

He scoffed, shifting his weight. His thigh brushed against yours fully now. “Was I supposed to freeze my ass off out there for pride’s sake? Screw that.”

“I just thought… you wouldn’t want to…”

He glanced at you, his breath brushing your temple. “Tch. You think I wanna touch people when I sleep? You’re not that special.”

Your cheeks burned.

“Relax,” he said again, voice quieter this time, more like a lazy drawl. “I’m not gonna do nothin’. Just sleepin’.”

You nodded once, too embarrassed to speak.

But then he moved, just slightly, and his hand rested near your waist, not touching, but close enough that you felt it. His leg shifted again, your knees brushing beneath the blanket. He didn’t flinch…he didn’t pull back. You whispered, “You’re really warm…”

He grinned. “Yeah? You nervous or somethin’?”

You looked down, fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. “A little.”

He tilted his head, looking at you more fully now. His voice came low, almost teasing. “You think I’m gonna bite?”

“I… don’t know.”

His grin widened, showing his sharp teeth. “You’d know if I did.”

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Jugram Haschwalth

He entered without a word, silent as ever, his presence more commanding than the cold air he let in. He ducked just slightly to step inside. He removed his gloves slowly, and his gaze flicked over you once before he turned away…too quickly. His composure sharpened into something brittle.

“You’re already here,” he said, voice low. “Of course.” It was almost funny…how pointedly he avoided looking at you again, as though eye contact might detonate something.

“The storm’s coming,” he said quietly, voice low and even. “I heard,” you replied.

You shifted slightly, the blanket dragging against your skin, tugging lower. The cold prickled anew along the line of your back. Bare thighs peeked out of the thin blanket and moved slightly in the dark light. “Don’t”

“What?,” you asked and blinked. “Don’t do that,” he said again, more controlled this time, though the edge hadn’t dulled. “Don’t shift like that.”

“Why?,” you asked, deliberately keeping your voice neutral, edged only slightly with amusement. “I’m just getting comfortable.” His jaw flexed once. “It’s distracting.”

You turned your head, not fully, but enough to glance at him over your shoulder. “You can look away,” you murmured. “I’m trying to,” he said flatly. You could see now that his fingers had curled slightly against the fabric of his uniform.

He lay down beside you, his back rigid with effort not to touch, not to lean too close. But the space was too tight. The blanket didn’t stretch far enough. And his shoulder brushed yours. His breath faltered once. You smiled faintly into the darkness.

You turned slowly, shifting onto your side to face him, your blanket dragging with you in a rustle of cloth and skin. He didn’t look at you, kept his eyes pinned to the ceiling of the tent. But his hair…golden strands falling soft and fine, even in the low light…tempted your fingers.

You reached out, slow, your fingertips brushing just behind his ear first and then combed through the strands gently, as if it were nothing. A low sound came from his throat. His hand shot out, catching your wrist in a firm grip. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice rougher now.

“Just touching your hair,” you murmured. “It’s softer than I thought.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“That’s not the same as ‘don’t.’”

His grip didn’t tighten, but it didn’t release either. “You’re testing me,” he said quietly. “No,” you replied, lips curling faintly,“I know where the line is. I’m just curious if you’ll actually cross it.”

For a second, his gaze burned into yours and he didn’t blink.

Then, finally, he released your wrist, the warmth of his fingers lingering longer than they should have. He turned his head back toward the ceiling. “Sleep,” he said. You stayed close. Your breath was warm against his jawline now.

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Uryū Ishida

The fire was pathetic. Crackling low in the wind, barely more than a flicker and some stubborn embers. He sat in front of it, wrapped in at least ten folded blankets, every inch of him bundled up like he was fighting a blizzard instead of a cold desert night. His jaw was tight. His glasses were slightly fogged. And when the wind cut across the camp again, you saw his shoulders flinch before he drew them back. You watched from the tent’s opening for a moment. Then finally pushed the flap aside.

“Uryū,” you called softly. He glanced toward you without turning his head, strands of black hair moving in the wind.“You are stubborn,” you said. “Come inside.”

“I’m fine,” he said immediately, shaking his head once. “You’re shaking, Uryū.”

“I am not…” His voice caught as another gust hit. You raised an eyebrow. “Should I take a video for evidence?” He scowled slightly but kept his eyes on the fire, like maybe ignoring you would make your concern disappear.

“It’s a shared tent,” he muttered. “You’re already using it. I’m not going to intrude.” You stared at him. “You think being cold to death out here is better than lying next to me?”

“That’s not…,” he paused, clearly realizing what he was about to imply, then cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You said that already.”

“It’s still true.”

“You’re literally wearing every blanket we packed.”

“They’re effective,” he said, arms drawn tight around himself. “Mostly.”

“Mostly,” you echoed flatly. “And if they stop being ‘mostly’ in the middle of the night?” He didn’t answer that. You stepped out of the tent and walked over to him, crouching in front of the dying fire. The heat barely reached your face. Uryū kept his eyes down, but you saw the way his lips were a little pale. “I’m not going to kick you out of the tent,” you said quietly. “If it helps, I’ll stay on my side. I won’t even talk.”

He hesitated. Not for pride anymore. You could see the real reason now…it was written all over his face, even in the dim light: the discomfort, the awkwardness, the tension he didn’t know what to do with. “I don’t mind sharing space with you, Uryū. But I will mind if you turn into an ice sculpture out here trying to impress no one.”

That earned you a look…“I’m not trying to impress…”

“Good,” you said, standing. “Then you have no excuse.”

You held the tent flap open for him. He gave you a long, deeply resigned look.“Don’t say anything,” he muttered.

“I won’t,” you promised.

The moment he stepped inside, he made a quiet sound, almost a sigh, and sat down heavily. You slid in after him, zipping the flap closed. “You’re not going to tell Renji or Ichigo about this, are you?,” he asked. You turned away to hide your smile. “Only if you fall asleep first.”

“…Then I’ll stay awake all night.”

𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ Ichigo Kurosaki

The blanket was pulled tight around your shoulders, the fabric cutting off most of the chill. You figured you’d finally get a minute of quiet. Until you noticed he wasn’t there. Again. You peeked out of the flap.

Ichigo was sitting just outside the tent entrance, his arms crossed, his back to the fire and his eyes scanning the horizon.

“You’re seriously doing this again?,” you asked, pulling the flap open wider. He didn’t even look at you. “It’s fine. I’m keeping watch.”

“There’s no one out here but us.”

“That’s what makes it the perfect time for something to show up,” he said. You raised an eyebrow. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m not cold,” he said immediately.

“You’re shivering.”

“I’m not!,” he paused. “It’s just the wind.”

“The wind is cold, genius.”

He finally looked over his shoulder at you, frowning, cheeks slightly pink. “What if a Hollow shows up? Or something worse? What if you fall asleep and something drags you out of the tent before I even notice?” You blinked at him.

“…What if something wants to eat you, huh?” You stared but he kept going. “Or what if there’s, like, some weird Quincy trap out here? Or…”

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, stepping out of the tent and walking toward him, raising your hands. “That’s enough ‘what ifs.’ You sound like a dad.” He gave you a look. “It’s caution. It’s being prepared.”

“It’s you being ridiculous,” you said, and then you reached out and took his hand. He froze completely. Your hand wrapped around his, warm and steady. His fingers twitched, like he didn’t know if he should pull away or grip tighter. “Come on,” you said, smiling a little. “Come inside.”

Ichigo looked at your hand, then at the tent, then at your face, and somewhere in the middle of all that, he turned red. Not just a slight flush. “W-What if…,” he started again, voice cracking slightly. You rolled your eyes, but amused. You yanked him forward, catching him completely off guard, dragging him up to his feet with a startled grunt and literally shoving him toward the tent.

“Just get in, Kurosaki.”

He stumbled once, almost tripped on his own boots. You followed behind, zipping the flap shut. He sat stiffly beside you, blanket shared between you now and still holding your hand like he hadn’t realized you hadn’t let go. “…What if I snore?,” he muttered finally…too quiet. You glanced over, smirking.

“ICHIGO!”

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 5 days ago

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Cute Yhwach as Gaul chief Abraracourcix, Uryu and Jugram carrying him on shield, then dropping him bc of course they did!

Loved your cute Yhwach >ω<, he kinda looked like character from Asterix to me, so that's why.

I have never heard of this show before, but you're a genius. Ty🐱🫶🫶🎀

EDIT: I re-added tags since they didn't save..😒

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 5 days ago

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 6 days ago

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hii !! tysm 4 doing my ask! i loved the story, it was so cute! ur writing n characterization is actually amazing ur so underrated omg. i’d love more jugram please. ur it’s possible maybe smut with jugram n yandere/stalker reader? but i’d be happy with anything! again tysm i loved it. have a great day !! <33

Thank you anon!!! <3, I enjoyed writing this one, even though I don’t think I’m too good at writing yandere themes. Hope you enjoy!

Obsessiveness, coercion 🔞

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

Jugram Haschwalth never locked his door.

A man like him had no enemies inside the Silbern, only subordinates, shadows, and silence.

Except you.

You moved like the dark between candlelight, never noticed, never named. You smiled politely when he passed in the corridor. Always bowed low when he spoke. You wore the same uniform, took the same oaths. But your loyalty had long since taken root in rot.

You didn’t serve Yhwach. You served him.

Jugram Haschwalth.

The man who bore the burden of divine balance.

The man who, under the cover of night, you followed, you worshipped.

You would wait until his aura shifted—when Yhwach fell into his divine slumber and Jugram inherited the burden of command. In those hours, he was gone from his chambers, wielding the weight of foresight and duty like a blade. That was when his room lay still. Unwatched. Vulnerable.

That was when you entered.

You never took much, if anything. Just time. Just his scent.

Sometimes you would kneel at the edge of his bed and murmur prayers to no god, just him. You would run your fingers along the grain of his desk, press your face to his robes hanging by the hearth, lay your cheek against the cool of his pillow and pretend, just for a second, that he was there with you.

That his weight pressed the mattress. That his voice rasped your name. That his fingers moved between your thighs instead of your own.

You left no traces, at first. But desire is a greedy beast.

You couldn’t help but moan, soft and muffled into the fabric he touched daily. And one night, perhaps on purpose, perhaps not, you came on his sheets.

A hot, shaking release. One that made your hips twitch long after your fingers stilled.

The next day, you watched from the end of the war table, standing straight and composed, as Jugram stiffened ever so slightly when the topic of disorder was mentioned. His gaze had passed over you only once.

You felt it. And you smiled.

✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧ ✦ ✧

He had not confronted you.

Not even after the second time.

Not even after you’d slipped one of your own garments beneath his covers, hidden like a keepsake. That was his mistake. He thought ignoring you would make you disappear.

But you were done hiding.

Tonight, the fortress buzzed with low anxiety. Some mission had gone sideways. A failed skirmish. A loss.

Jugram’s spiritual pressure moved like a thunderhead through the corridors, dense and suffocating.

Perfect.

You were already in his room before he returned.

Wearing his robe. Nothing underneath.

The silk clung to your skin like permission.

You sat in the center of his bed, knees tucked beneath you, his comb resting between your fingers as you slowly ran it through your hair—an imitation of a domestic fantasy that had played a thousand times in your mind.

The door opened.

He stepped in.

He stopped.

Silence.

His expression didn’t falter. Not yet. Jugram Haschwalth was a man carved from self-control. But you saw it, the ripple behind the calm, the deep breath that caught halfway through his throat.

He noticed the robe. He noticed the comb. He noticed the pressed sheets already crinkled beneath your thighs.

You smiled gently, demurely. “Welcome home.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But his eyes burned. Not with desire, with something else. Something closer to dread. You couldn’t help but smile.

You rose to your feet with the grace of a princess. The robe shifted around your body, gaping open just enough to show the smooth line of your inner thigh. You held the comb like a treasure before setting it down beside his untouched tea tray.

“I wanted to be here when you returned,” you said softly. “You’ve been working so hard lately. You deserve comfort.”

His voice was gravel. “Leave.”

You didn’t. Instead, you frowned.

You stepped toward him, slow and barefoot, your gaze never dropping from his. “You knew. You’ve always known. And still, you did nothing. So now you think it’s okay to try?.”

He exhaled sharply, as if your words slapped the air from his lungs.

“Every time I touched your bed,” you whispered, “you felt it, didn’t you? You tasted the air and knew it had my heat in it. I gave you so many chances to stop me. You let me go deeper and deeper into your world until it started tasting like mine own.”

You reached him. Your fingers grazed his belt, but he caught your wrist.

His grip was strong. Vice-like. The kind of strength that should have stopped you cold.

Instead, you smiled again, “isn’t that love, Jugram? Isn’t that your way of saying yes without having to admit it? You must feel it too, right, my love?”

And then—slowly—you slid your free hand to the knot of your robe and pulled. The silk slithered down your shoulders.

Then your arm.

Then your hips.

And hung smoothly at your wrist still in his grasp.

Now you were Naked. Glowing in candlelight.

Staring up into Jugram’s stunned, pale face with something between madness and obsession .

“You can pretend you don’t want me,” you breathed, stepping forward until your bare skin kissed the edge of his coat. “But your body’s already answering for you.”

You pressed your palm to the hard bulge beneath his waistband. He sighed to himself, ‘my body betrays me..’

“See?” you whispered. “I knew you’d be grateful one day.”

Jugram’s grip on your wrist twitched. ‘She’s unwell. Deranged. A parasite that’s latched onto my silence and called it affection. I should stop this. End it now.‘

It would’ve been so easy for him to shove you away. To strike you down where you stood. To call the guards or set the whole fortress ablaze just to rid himself of you.

But he didn’t.

His chest rose, sharp and stiff beneath his uniform. His jaw ticked. His gaze flicked once, lower, and then snapped back to your face. His eyes, they looked afraid. Not of you, but of himself, “You’ve taken this too far…” he muttered as if he was unsure if he even wanted to say the words.

“You work soooo hard,” you sighed. “You deserve to feel good. Just once. Let me be the one to give it to you. You won’t even have to ask.”

You cupped him gently, thumb stroking the shape of his member through the fabric.

Jugram inhaled, harsh and guttural. Still, he said nothing more.

You smiled.

“Give in, my love” you said, voice honey-thick. “Your body knows before you do.”

You leaned in. Pressed your mouth to his neck. Kissed his pulse. He didn’t pull away. His grip on your wrist slackened just enough for you to slip free.

You slid to your knees.

The robe was gone, no longer hanging off of your wrist pooling behind you. Your bare knees pressed against the cold stone floor. Your fingers worked at his belt, tugging the knot loose. He didn’t move. Didn’t help you. He didn’t speak. His hands stayed at his sides, trembling slightly. What was he thinking? Was he this desperate for release that he would allow someone like you to taint him?

You pulled open his coat and the clasp at his pants. The fabric fell away, and you were staring at the heat of him, flushed and stiff, twitching at the base.

You licked your lips.

“Ahhh~ So pretty!~,” you breathed out happily, wrapping your hand around the base. “I’ve seen this in my dreams. Woken up with my thighs soaked because of you. I love you Jugram!”

You looked up at him. He stared down, blue eyes glassy. Shock. Maybe shame. But he was hard, and at this moment, that was all that mattered. ‘She’s ruined me. She’s gotten under my skin like a sickness that feels sweet. I hate her.’

Your mouth opened around him, tongue sliding across the tip as you sank forward. The weight of him filled your mouth easily, and you hummed low in your throat, pressing your nails into his thighs to keep yourself grounded.

Jugram hissed through his teeth, unable to look away as he watched you.

You bobbed your head, lips wet, breath catching as you worked him. You let spit trail down your chin. Let it drip onto your chest, your eyes almost rolling back. You didn’t care how you looked, your moans of pleasure were proof of how much you were enjoying this. He was yours. Finally.

When his hips jerked the tiniest bit forward, you moaned out a cry like he’d blessed you.

“You don’t need to think,” you spoke between bobs, you couldn’t stop, you didn’t want to stop “Just feel my love. I’ll take care of you. I’ve always taken care of you. I love you so much!~ I love you— I’ll do anything for you!~”

You stroked him with one hand and cupped his balls with the other, tongue laving the underside of his cock. Without thinking, his hand raised. He gripped your shoulder, hard, fingers digging into your flesh as his hips finally gave in to instinct, fucking into your throat in sync with your movements. His breath hitched. His cock throbbed against your tongue. Then he came.

Hot and thick, spilling down your throat in pulses that made him curse under his breath for the first time in years.

He looked down as you swallowed it all, moaning like it was the sweetest thing you’d ever tasted. His hand remained on your shoulder—still clutching, still trembling—as if holding you in place made the shame feel less real. ‘This didn’t happen’, he told himself. ‘This can’t be happening.’

You pulled off with a gasp, face flushed, pupils blown. You looked up at him, mouth shiny and lips parted in something near bliss, using your thumb to clean up the corners of your mouth.

You sighed, dreamy. “Now you can’t pretend anymore,” you said in a singsong tone, rising to your feet. Your voice was soft, sugar-dipped and dangerous. “You let me taste you. You came for me.”

You stepped in close again, flushed skin brushing against his pants as they hung open, loose. You pressed your lips gently—reverently—to his chest, just over where his heart thundered. He didn’t move.

“It’s okay,” you murmured against him, letting your breath warm the fabric. “No one has to know. Just you and me. One night. One moment just for us.”

You reached up, took his hand, and guided it to your waist. He didn’t pull away.

You whispered into the shell of his ear:

“Come to bed with me.”

Your fingers entwined with his, slow and tender. You tugged him gently toward the mattress, your movements patient, like guiding a wounded man through fog.

“I’ll be good for you,” you promised, voice silken, whispering right into his ear as you stepped back toward the bed. “I’ll lay back. I’ll open my legs. I’ll let you pretend I’m anyone you want—until you can’t anymore.”

He swallowed hard, jaw locked tight, but his feet followed.

You sat on the edge of the mattress and laid back, parting your legs slowly. Your thighs glistened faintly in the candlelight, and your lips curled into a soft, worshipful smile.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” you asked, tilting your head. “Holding all that tension? All that discipline? You don’t have to carry it right now. Let me take it for you. I want it—I want you. All of you.”

He stood over you, the weight of it all feeling like a decision between divinity and damnation.

And you reached for him, tugging him down with both hands. You whispered again, more breath than voice:

“Please, Jugram… just this once. You don’t even have to love me. I’ll love enough for both of us.”

Your lips brushed the underside of his jaw.

And then—

He moved.

His coat hit the floor. Then came his gloves.Then his breath, sharp and uneven as his fingers trailed along your thighs. They moved stiffly at first, unsure. But they were warm, shivering in their hesitation.

You smiled up at him, eyes wide with need. “That’s it,” you whispered. “Let me be your relief. Let me be the reason you fall apart.”

Jugram still said nothing. He wasn’t able to speak, he could no longer fight.

He knelt between your legs. He aligned himself in one slow, shaking motion. His cock brushed your entrance—slick, flushed, and already twitching with spent control. Your breath hitched, legs wrapping loosely around his hips.

“I’m ready,” you whispered. “I’ve always been ready. I was made to take you.”

And he pushed in.

A strangled sound tore from his throat—half gasp, half growl—buried into the crook of your neck. The stretch was thick, satisfying, everything you’d dreamed of while writhing alone in his sheets. He filled you, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

You clung to him, nails digging into his back. “So warm,” you gasped, arching beneath him. “You feel so good, Jugram—so perfect inside me~”

He was trembling above you from restraint. From a soul being dragged screaming toward surrender.

His hips moved—just once. A single roll.

You moaned with pure ecstasy. “That’s it. Yes! Please— More…”

He grabbed your thigh, lifting it slightly, and rolled again. The next thrust was harder, more certain. Then another. Then another.

Each motion dragged a breathy cry from your lips. The rhythm built faster than he could stop it. He was slamming into you now, the bed groaning beneath the force of it. His hair clung to his temples. His teeth clenched.

And you? You were unraveling. It was if you were being fucked by a god. You’ve never felt so good in your life. You knew you were made to be under him.

Your legs locked around him. Your lips moved at his ear. “I love you,” you whispered between sobs of pleasure. “You belong to me now. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to hear you lose control. You’ve always belonged to me!”

He groaned, low and hoarse. His pace quickened.

“Come inside me,” you gasped. “Mark me. Claim me. I want to carry it—I want you so deep I taste you on my tongue.”

Jugram growled—actually growled—and slammed into you so hard your back arched clean off the mattress. His mouth hovered just above yours, but he didn’t kiss you. He couldn’t. Because if he did, he knew he’d fall.

“You’re sick,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Twisted.”

You moaned louder. “I know. Isn’t it beautiful?”

His hand moved to cover your mouth, like he just couldn’t hear another word from you. He snapped his hips again. And again. And again. You opened your mouth to lick and kiss at his palm, moaning uncontrollably at the way he moved in you.

Your words came out muffled, “ah! I love you so much Jugram! I feel so good— please!~”

‘God help me’, he thought, ‘I’m going to cum.’

Your cunt clenched around him, warm and dripping. “Give it to me,” you begged, “Ruin me.”

His thrusts turned ragged. One hand still on your mouth, the other gripping the headboard to steady himself, Jugram Haschwalth slammed into you with all the fury of a man possessed.

And then—he broke.

With a hissed curse, he came, hips jerking as he spilled inside you in deep, throbbing pulses.

You cried out with him, pulling him down, holding him as he emptied himself into your soaked, waiting body. Your arms wrapped tight around him, nails dragging down his back, breathless laughter bubbling from your throat.

“See?” you whispered into his ear, voice dizzy with triumph. “You were always mine.”

Jugram continued to stay quiet. Because somewhere in the aftermath, buried between the hot spill of his release and the soft echo of your moans—he realized something awful.

He didn’t regret it.

Jugram’s body was heavy against yours, his chest rising and falling with stifled shame, his skin damp with sweat. Your thighs were sticky, still trembling slightly around his hips. His cock rested inside you, softening, but refusing to slip out—like even his body knew better than to leave you just yet.

You stroked his hair. Long fingers sifted through the golden strands, slow and tender, like he was yours to care for. Yours to soothe. Yours to keep.

His cheek rested against your breast. His eyes were open, glassy and blank, staring somewhere past the curve of your ribs into a place he couldn’t name.

“You did so well,” you whispered, lips pressing against the top of his head. “You let yourself feel something. That’s all I ever wanted.”

You cradled him tighter, one hand stroking the back of his neck, the other drawing lazy circles over his spine.

“I’ll take care of you now,” you murmured. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore. You can use me, Jugram. You can put it all in me. Your stress. Your anger. Your burdens. I’ll hold it all.”

He didn’t move.

Not for a long time.

You thought he might fall asleep like that, his body caged between your arms, his cock still buried inside you like a secret no one could ever unearth.

But then—

You felt it.

A twitch. A slow shift in his hips.

Your breath caught.

He was hardening again. Still inside you. Still silent. Your eyes widened as his hands slid under your back, gripping your waist.

“Jugram…?”

No answer.

He rose above you, his hair falling over his face, shadowing his expression. His eyes were unreadable. Not soft. Not cruel. Just… hollow.

His hips rocked forward.

Once.

Then again.

Then a third time—deeper, heavier, forcing a gasp from your throat.

“You wanted this,” he said, voice low and flat. Not a question. A statement. A sentence.

You nodded quickly, smiling through the ache as he began to move in earnest.

“Yes. Yes, I want it. I want you. I want—”

“Shut up.”

He snapped his hips harder, making the bed creak beneath you.

Your words stuttered into moans.

“You made me do this,” he muttered, hands gripping your hips tight. “You pushed and pushed and now—”

Another thrust.

Your breath hitched.

“—you’re going to take what you begged for.”

You cried out, eyes fluttering as he fucked you with a rhythm that felt more like punishment than pleasure. But to you, it was divine.

His release from control was everything you’d dreamed of. He used your body like it was his outlet. His relief. His tool.

And you? You welcomed it. Every thrust. Every bruise. Every shiver of resentment and ruin he poured into your skin.

You clung to him, legs locked around his hips again. And in the dark, in the suffocating silence of the Grandmaster’s chambers, where all you hear are the smacks of skin meeting skin, you smiled—

Because he didn’t love you. But he’d wrapped himself in you. Thread by thread. Thrust by thrust. And by the time he realizes he’s tangled, it’ll be far too late to escape.

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 6 days ago

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Heroes. Giants. Villains. Wizards. True Love. - Not just your basic, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum fairy tale.

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This is a little birthday present for @simonouma as it's his birthday! For his gift, I decided to do a crossover of Bleach and The Princess Bride as I believe Simon is a fan of the film adaption. I drew several characters from the Bleach series with some ocs of ours and it was hard figuring out who should play who, but here's who I settled on in the end: Westley/Dread Pirate Roberts - Uryu Ishida Princess Buttercup - Fiona Amamiya (my oc) Prince Humperdink - Jugram Haschwalth Rugen - Yhwach Inigo Montoya - Ichigo Kurosaki Fezzik - Yasutora "Chad" Sado Vizzini - Kon Miracle Max - Renji Abarai Valerie - Rukia Kuchiki Impressive Clergyman (or clergywoman in this case) - Orihime Inoue I decided to frame it that my oc Rei Takenouchi is reading the book to her son Ryuji (a next gen oc that Simon and I made to be a little brother to Uryu as Rei is Ryuken's pairing), while her adoptive nephew Ren (Simon's oc) seems to act bored, much to his adoptive stepfather's annoyance.

Hope you like it, Simon! Happy Birthday!!

Bleach, Uryu Ishida, Ryuken Ishida, Ichigo Kurosaki, Yasutora Sado, Orihime Inoue, Kon, Renji Abarai, Rukia Kuchiki, Kon, Jugram Haschwalth and Yhwach belong to Tite Kubo The Princess Bride original novel and characters belong to William Goldman Fiona Amamiya and Rei Takenouchi belong to me Ren Takenouchi belongs to @simonouma Ryuji Ishida belongs to me and @simonouma

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 7 days ago

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 9 days ago

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More Bleach Icons! 🎊🎉

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 9 days ago

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˚.🎀༘⋆ Synopsis: You suddenly need cuddles and cling to them like they are your giant, grumpy teddy bear.

✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚

Includes: Grimmjow, Bazz-B, Ulquiorra, Nnoitra, Kenpachi, Jugram, Renji, Yhwach, Äs Nödt x fem!reader (fluff)

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

“I just… need to hold onto something. Don’t move.” You latch onto him like a life-sized stuffed animal.

“The hell are you doing?!”

He would stiffen up immediately, fists clenched, ready to punch whatever dared sneak up on him. When he realizes it’s you, cuddling him like he’s a plush toy, he’d blush furiously, then try to play it off with a snarl.

But he lets you stay. His hand is resting on your back protectively and after a moment, he awkwardly lowers one arm and wraps it around you.

“Tch… I’ll let it slide this once. You better not start crying on me or anything.”

Bazz-B

You literally throw yourself at him.

“Whoa, hey! You’re bold today, huh?”

He actually enjoys affection and will lean into it a bit more than he lets on.

“Don’t make it weird.“

“Too late! I’m the best damn emotional support you’ll ever have.” He’s warm, literally, and emotional. He might wrap an arm around you and act cocky, but he’s definitely blushing.

“You want snacks? A blanket?”

You’re laughing in spite of yourself. He’s good at this. Surprisingly good.

Ulquiorra Cifer

“I know you don’t understand, but I need to hold you. Just…let me.” You rest your head against his chest.

He looks down at you, curious. After a moment he just murmurs: “Very well.”

He doesn’t move away. If anything, he watches your face intently, like he’s trying to understand the meaning behind the gesture.

After a long silence, he places his hand lightly on your shoulder. Not out of instinct…more like curiosity.

“Strange… I do not dislike this,” he may mutter.

Nnoitra Gilga

You suddenly press against him and refuse to let him go.

“Ugh, get off of me! What do I look like? Your damn plush toy?!” He tries to shake you off like a spider.

Hates it… or says he does. He’ll insult you, twist his face in disgust, and maybe even try to shake you off. He lets you cling while he stares at the ceiling, muttering curses.

If you don’t budge, he gives up with a scoff. “Tch, pathetic…whatever.”

He’ll let you stay, and you might catch him resting his chin on your head when he thinks you’re asleep. You catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re asleep. And his hand stays on your shoulder longer than needed. He cares. He just hates that he does.

Kenpachi Zaraki

Even if he doesn't say anything, you storm into his quarters. “Shut up and let me use you as a pillow.”

You throw yourself against his side like a human koala.

“Huh? You clingin’ to me like I’m a blanket now?”

He’s so confused. Cuddles are not part of his daily life. His instinct is to laugh and ruffle your hair, roughly, but not push you off.

“I’m fragile right now, Kenpachi.”

He lets you cling while he leans back and relaxes, grinning. He will probably fall asleep, snoring like a beast with you still on him.

Jugram Haschwalth

“Don’t say anything. I just…don’t want to be alone right now.” You hug him tightly and he flinches.

He reacts calm but is visibly uncomfortable at first. His hands hover like he’s unsure if he should pull away.

He’ll try to gently pull you off at first out of formality.

“This is inappropriate…”

But when you don’t let go, he sighs and allows it, posture straight as a board.

Eventually, he gives in and slowly rests his hand around you. He doesn’t say anything, but it’s a silent show of trust. You feel safe, and he secretly appreciates it more than he lets on.

Despite how formal he tries to remain, his thumb moves slowly in calming motions. He may look like a statue, but his heartbeat betrays him.

Renji Abarai

“Can I hold onto you for a while?”

He’s instantly soft. “Yeah, of course. You okay?”

He opens his arms, letting you dive right into his chest and you clinging to him makes him think you’re sad or scared. He’ll instinctively hug you back, gently and firmly.

“Just needed someone real. You’re good for that.”

He’s the warmest, safest space in the room. You don’t even realize you fell asleep on him until you wake up tucked under his arm like you belonged there.

“Don’t worry, I got you.” He sits with you for as long as you need, even caress your back a little.

Yhwach

“…I need to hold onto something. You’re here. That’s enough.” You carefully wrap your arms around his towering figure.

For a full five seconds, there’s nothing but silence. “This is unexpected.” His tone is even, but there’s a long pause where he doesn’t move.

You expect cold rejection, but instead, he lets you stay. He places one large hand on your back like he’s unsure what to do with it.

He may allow it for a while, almost as a curiosity. He doesn’t return the cuddles, but he does allow it, which is basically his version of cuddling you back.

If you fall asleep, he quietly observes you.

Äs Nödt

“Please don’t freak out. I just need to… feel someone.” You wrap your arms gently around him.

He visibly panics and the second you touch him, he freezes..

He’s not used to comfort, warmth, or being treated gently.

“Why… aren’t you afraid?,” he’d whisper.

He doesn’t push you away. He might tremble slightly, but stays frozen while you cuddle him.

It actually soothes him, even if he doesn’t admit it.

You feel the way he’s trying not to lean into you. Like he’s terrified of shattering something fragile. But still, he lets you stay. And for him, that’s everything.

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 9 days ago

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hii ! loved ur obsessed!aizen x reader n ur other aizen x reader. the characterization is absolutely beautiful! will b stalking ur page for more. is it okay if i could please req any jugram haschwalth? it can b up to u, i wna leave it open but i’d love if it was with a shy innocent reader. jugram needs sm more love! it’s okay if u don’t do the ask. have a great day !! <33

Thank you!!!! I really appreciate this request I’ve been BEGGING for inspiration lol. This is just some fluff, more so a cute little story. If you want me to continue this, or even do something smutty for him, just let me know! I hope it’s not too boring for you T^T <3

He had first noticed her not for her power, because she possessed none worth mentioning, but for her stillness. She did not command attention the way warriors did. She did not step into a room with intent or ambition. She moved like she barely belonged in the same world, as though her soul had been crafted for gentler things, but was unlucky enough to be stuck in a place not made for her kind.

Jugram had watched her in silence. At first, only with the mild curiosity of a man who noticed everything. But over time, her mannerisms, her smell, her existence, began to anchor in his mind in a way he could not explain.

She worked quietly in the archives— organizing records, copying texts, delivering messages with her eyes averted and her words so soft they were often lost. She bowed too deeply. She never asked for anything. And still, she offered the smallest, most earnest smiles to those who would never return them.

He didn’t know when she became the thought that lingered in his mind at the end of each day. Or when his footsteps started carrying him past the hall outside the archives more often than was necessary. He didn’t know when her presence, one so small, so unassuming, began to unmake the armor he had worn for so long.

Jugram had never known softness. He had only known control, duty, restraint. But in her presence, he began to notice the absence of harshness. She never spoke ill of others. Never raised her voice. When she did speak to him, her tone was only slightly above a whisper, as if she feared she might disturb the air around him by accident.

And perhaps that was what undid him the most:

She was kind to him.

Not because of rank. Not because of power. But because… it was simply who she was.

It unsettled him.

Jugram had turned away, jaw tight. Something in his chest had ached. That was when he first realized it. The pull. She stirred in him what no one else had ever dared to touch.

It wasn’t just infatuation. No, Jugram was too measured, too composed for that. It had became something far deeper and aching— Limerence.

It was the longing to protect. To shelter. To take that quiet, trembling creature and place her somewhere no one could ever hurt her again. Not even the world. And it consumed him, painfully so.

But she didn’t know, or at the minimum she didn’t show it. She was so unaware of what her gentleness did to him. So completely oblivious to the storm she stirred beneath the surface of his skin. If he were to let her know… if he touched that fragile purity even once… he might never stop. He was afraid one touch from him was all it would take to tether her to a fate as cruel and lonely as his own. But the ache only worsened. The more he tried to suppress it, the more his mind betrayed him, latching onto every detail, every mannerism like a lifeline.

He started noticing smaller things. The way she’d twirl her hair only when she was nervous. The way she avoided eye contact when anyone stood too close. The way her fingers curled around the sleeves of her robes like she was always trying to make herself smaller. As if she knew she didn’t belong in this violent place, but stayed anyway, out of duty. Or hope.

There was a shift. A shift so gradual, neither of them could pinpoint when the distance between them started to close. She would find him already present when she arrived at the archives, glancing up only to meet his eyes across the room before they both looked away. He never intruded, only occupied the same spaces. He initially had wanted to protect her from afar, remain a silent observer of her quiet light. But now… now he craved closeness. Craved the sound of her voice when she said his name without caution. Craved the chance to see if her gaze could hold his without fleeing. He began to force proximity. He asked for scripts he never read. Brought her rare ink she hadn’t requested. Left notes requesting updated records that did not need updating. Anything. Anything to stay near her. At some point, she had begun to speak more when he was around. Her voice still quiet, but less hesitant. Her smile less fleeting. Jugram was becoming content, having her like this. Because she was becoming comfortable. With him.

Once, her hand brushed his as she passed him a scroll, and she didn’t pull away immediately. She looked up. Their eyes met.

He saw it.

The same ache that had lodged itself inside his chest now flickering in hers—uncertain, unspoken, but there.

And that was when he knew. This was never going to fade.

No passing fascination could make his heart twist at the sound of her laughter. No idle curiosity could make him wake with her face etched behind his eyelids within the night. No simple affections could bring restlessness to his soul at the thought of these feelings possibly being reciprocated.

That night, he stood outside the archive doors for a long time. Not waiting. Just… breathing. As if preparing to step into a decision he could no longer retreat from.

And then, finally, he entered.

She turned at the sound of the door closing, her hands stilling where they rested atop a stack of parchment. Her eyes lifted to meet his, wide and hesitant beneath the soft fall of her lashes. She greeted him simply, giving him that same soft smile he deeply admired.

There was a tension to his frame, shoulders held taut, fingers curled faintly at his sides, as though he were bracing for something he could no longer postpone.

Silence passed between them. Not uncomfortable, but heavy. Saturated with the kind of anticipation that made the air feel too thick, like the sky before a lightning storm.

He stepped forward. Each stride bubbling more anxiety in his chest, possibly a little more aggressive than he wished.

She took an involuntary step back, unsure of what exactly was happening. She watched him, breath shallow, eyes flicking between his and somewhere else like she couldn’t decide whether to stay or flee.

But then, her lower back gently met the edge of the desk, and Jugram stopped just before her.

For a moment, he said nothing. Only looked at her—as if memorizing the way the light touched her skin, how her hands clutched the hem of her sleeves, knuckles pale with nerves. His gaze traced the strands of hair that had fallen loose around her face. One trembled slightly near her mouth with every shallow breath.

“Jugram.. ?” She exhaled.

He sighed, slow and soft, as if he was experiencing some sort of inner turmoil.

“I do not mean to frighten you,” he said at last, his voice low, laced with control. But beneath the surface, it cracked faintly with something far more human.

“I have been…” he hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to the side before settling on her again, “observing you.”

Her breath caught. She didn’t speak.

“I noticed it first in passing,” he continued, voice trembling just slightly, too soft to notice. “The way you move— quietly. Without demand. The way you smile— even to those who don’t deserve it. I find myself waiting for the curl of your lips. Searching for your presence in rooms I do not belong in. You make me feel… peaceful. As though I am not beyond redemption. As though I might deserve to be looked at the way you look at me.”

His hand lifted, slow and uncertain, until it hovered beside her cheek.

“I tried to ignore it. Tried to remind myself of the path I walk… the fate I have already sealed.” His jaw tightened. “But the longer I watched, the more difficult it became to stay away.”

He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, fingertips trembling as they grazed her skin. His knuckles traced the line of her jaw before tilting her chin upward—just enough to bring her gaze to his. His eyes searched hers, drinking in every flicker of emotion and something perilously close to trust. And when her breath caught once again, his gaze dipped, briefly, to her lips. The contact was feather-light, with adoration. As if she might disappear should he touch her with anything more than devotion.

“I am not a man prone to indulgence. Nor am I easily swayed. But you…” He paused, voice a breath above a whisper. “You have undone me. Quietly. Entirely.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against her lips, though he held back, fighting with the weight of restraint.

“I fear that if I do not act on these feelings— if I do not kiss you now, I will live with the regret of not being true to myself. And to you.”

A silence bloomed between them. She stared up at him, trembling now herself—lips parted, lashes fluttering.

Then, as if summoned by instinct, her hands moved. They gripped the front of his uniform, not harshly or with desperation— not even strong enough to wrinkle the fabric— but with the shy, tentative certainty of someone who had been waiting for this moment far longer than she had dared to admit.

His control shattered.

Jugram closed the distance between them, lips brushing hers in a kiss so soft it could’ve been mistaken for a breath. He tasted the fear in her, the wonder, the unshed words. And still, he did not pull away.

Only when her hands tightened slightly against his chest did he dare deepen it, just enough to feel her meet him there in that impossible space between duty and desire.

When he finally drew back, his forehead rested gently against hers, and their breaths mingled between them.

Her voice, when it came, was no louder than a whisper. “I’ve always known.”

He blinked, just barely.

“I could feel your eyes,” she said softly. “Even when I didn’t look… I knew. I just didn’t know how to speak to someone like you.”

His chest ached at that. At the way she still looked at him like he was something too high to reach. A relic, not a man.

But now she was here. And she had not run.

With a tenderness he had not known he possessed, Jugram slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer, and brought her hand into his other, lifting it as though to begin a dance. He looked into her eyes—not as a commander, not as a Sternritter, not as fate-bound—but as a man.

And he kissed her again. Lips moving perfectly in sync with hers. Their breaths mingled, shallow and warm, the space between them collapsing until nothing remained but the hum beneath their skin. This was no longer just a kiss, but the start of something Jugram would protect with his life, willing to go against his own duties to keep.

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 10 days ago

Note

I saw your requests are opened and I thought of submitting something! Can I request modern Jugram and a shy reader having their first time together?

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I'm slowly working through my requests. It's been such a busy summer!

I hope this is what you had in mind, anon! It's my 2nd time writing Jugram, but this is such a sweet request! It was fun to imagine. I sort of took the initial plot idea from a chapter from Spy x Family! Jugram seems kinda of sweet enough to have it happen to him lol. I hope I conveyed what you wanted.

CW: none, penetrative sex, established relationship.

“Ugh, and he doesn’t even clean the toilet bowl!” Your friend exasperated loudly as she complained about her husband.

The rest of your group made sighs and noises of disbelief as they also shared their grievances about their partners.

“But what about you?” Your friend asked, turning towards you, “don’t you have any complaints about Jugram?”

“Complaints? About Jugram?” You said out loud, confusion evident in your voice.

“Yeah, you know, gripes and all that?” Another friend asked. “Mr. Hot can’t be all that.” Your friend said, raising their eyebrows.

You spat out your water at the nickname but quickly dismissed your question as your friend waited for your answer. You thought hard about it, with your friends looking at you expectantly.

“I mean, I guess he’s a bit quiet.” You murmured, but that wasn’t a bad thing to you.

“What do you mean by quiet?” A different friend inquired. “Like… does he communicate clearly to you? Or is he you know” your friend lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, “quiet during sex.”

You choked on your saliva, “what?!”

“I mean, some guys think they’re ‘macho’ or whatever,” the friend explained, “if they don’t make a sound during sex.”

Your face went warm, “I see, well that’s not really a problem.”

“Oh he’s loud?” Another friend asked.

Your face was getting hotter, “I mean, no he’s not loud.”

Your friend stared at you, watching you squirm in your seat. One friend narrowed her eyes, “is he a talker then?”

“Don’t tell me, he loves to talk dirty!” Your friend laughed. You couldn’t help but sputter your drink at the thought of Jugram’s deep voice saying filthy things in your ears.

You laughed harder at the incredulous thought, “he’s fine!”

Your friend sighed, “well Mr. and Mrs. Perfect have no gripes it seems, boring.” You friend sarcastically said, moving the conversation to a different topic.

But in your head you kept thinking about the question. Was it really Jugram’s quietness that bothered you? It was the first thing that came to mind… and well, sex… you didn’t want to tell your friends that you hadn’t had sex with your boyfriend of over eight months. You felt mortified at the thought of sharing that information so openly. You hadn’t even broached the topic with Jugram!

Well, maybe… as your mind flashed to the time you caught him changing his shirt, the way his abs rolled as he pulled the shirt over his head… or hearing him moan your name in the shower, thinking you were fast asleep… you couldn’t help but blush at the thought.

You couldn’t focus on the conversation at hand, a clear sign for you to go home. Your friends waved you off as you headed to Jugram’s place.

Jugram didn’t expect you at his place suddenly, knowing you were having dinner with friends. He noticed the pout on your face immediately though, watching you with curious eyes as you took of your shoes and entered his home.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, getting you a glass of water ready.

He swore he could hear you huff, thinking how cute you sounded, “I’m fine.” You replied, the pout still on your face.

“You don’t seem like you’re fine.” He handed you the glass of water, watching you drink it. His blue eyes stared at you while you avoided his gaze. “Did something happen?” He asked softly.

He heard you mumbling but couldn’t discern what you said, except for the word, “gripes.”

Jugram’s eyes widened slightly, “are you mad at me?”

You shook your head, “it’s silly,” embarrassment welling up inside you. “I just –” You sighed, taking a good look at Jugram.

Physically he was handsome, you and all your friends couldn’t deny it. But that wasn’t the draw to him for you… he was also so calm and collected. He didn’t bat an eye if you needed help, swooping in to save you like a princely knight. You had never felt so cared for in a relationship, but at the same time…

Your eyes widened as it clicked for you.

You went on the tips of your toes and gave Jugram a quick peck on the lips, “sometimes I wish you’d let me take care of you.”

Jugram’s eyes widened slightly, “I don’t understand.”

You cupped his cheek in your hand, but pulled away suddenly, looking down at your feet. Your nerves got the better of you, but as always, Jugram, held your hand in his larger one, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve heard you, sometimes.” You whispered softly, unable to look at Jugram in the face, thinking about the way he moaned your name. Your face was getting hot just at the thought of a naked Jugram, masturbating to you. “You know, I can help you with that.” You stammered.

Jugram was always a quick thinker, and this time was no different, realizing what you meant. A small blush made its way to his cheeks as the two of you stood in his hallway, no words being said.

“I know it’s something I can help you with,” you said louder, a hint of confidence in your voice. You looked up at him, face hot, mind racing, but you couldn’t help but feel satisfied that Jugram was just as worked up as you, with the way his cheeks were tinted pink.

And without warning, he pulled you to his bedroom, having you sit on his lap. You hesitantly gave him a kiss, with Jugram returning it back to you. Quick pecks delved into deeper kisses, as Jugram trailed nips down your neck.

But ever the gentleman, he kept your clothes on. “Are you sure about this?” He whispered, squeezing your hips. You gasped as you felt his erection rub against your crotch. You didn’t say anything to his question, instead you answered him by pulling your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra. A small tug of pride filled you as Jugram looked surprised, but… lustful. His eyes darting around your face and breasts.

He immediately cupped them, lightly pinching your nipples. You sighed softly at the touches, weaving your hand into Jugram’s blond locks. He pulled your body closer to him, sucking on your nipples, taking great care to work you up. He then pulled away, pushing you into the mattress.

You watched in awe as Jugram took off his own shirt, his lithe, yet muscular body had a slight sheen of sweat from your early ministrations and as your eyes trailed down… you gulped loudly at the sight of his erection growing in his slacks.

“It’s alright.” Jugram murmured, “tell me to stop and we’ll stop.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I want this – I want you, Jugram.” You whispered.

He gave a small smirk, “and I want you just the same.” He pulled you in for another kiss, your body giving in to the pleasures coursing through you.

You grabbed at Jugram, your hands moving over his chest, his abs and his back. You were sure you were leaving marks, but Jugram didn’t complain, with the way he continued to nip and tenderly bite at your neck and breasts. You were also incredibly wet, the damp feeling leaving you uncomfortable with your pants and underwear still clinging on to you.

You shimmied your bottoms off of you, then immediately covered yourself up, realizing you were completely nude.

Jugram looked amused a soft chuckle escaping his lips followed by your name, “you have nothing to be shy about. You’re absolutely beautiful.” He said, kissing your lips once again.

“I’m just,” you whimpered, “I’m so wet, it’s embarrassing.”

Jugram narrowed his eyes slightly, “anyone who’s told you that – ” his voice thick with venom, as he spread your legs apart, “is a liar who never deserved to see you like this.” He looked at your sopping wet pussy, juices glistening in the light. He ran a long finger over your pussy, earning a yelp from you.

“Does it feel good?” He asked, as he continued to touch your cunt. You moaned and nodded your head, eyes wide as Jugram lowered himself down to your pussy.

Without hesitation he lapped at your clit as he pushed a finger inside you. His finger was longer than your own, as you had never felt anything this deep before. You arched your back, moans bubbling out of you as Jugram picked up his pace, pushing a second finger deep in you. You clutched Jugram’s head, tears spilling as you felt your orgasm coursing through you.

You hazily watched Jugram take off his pants, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. An unfamiliar ache filled you, as you unconsciously licked your lips at Jugram.

“This might hurt,” Jugram murmured, positioning his cock to your entrance, “so tell me if it doesn’t feel good,” he remarked, kissing your forehead. You nodded, wincing at the unfamiliar stretch in your pussy.

You heard Jugram inhale, followed by a low groan. You whimpered again as you felt your pussy being stuffed full.

Jugram closed his eyes, his brows furrowed as he relished the tight feeling of your pussy. The way you moaned his name, the way you grabbed at him, how needy you are for him… it drove him to a frenzy.

But he was also patient, as he buried his cock deep inside you, letting you get accustomed to his length. You panted, squeezing your walls around him, and to his surprise, rolled your hips. The two of you moaned at the sensation.

“Jugram, you can move” you murmured, giving him a reassuring smile. Jugram nodded, kissing you again as he raised his hips. Jugram was still worried and began to thrust into you at a slow and shallow pace. His fingers lightly tapping your clit.

Then you whined. “Jugram, please, more!”

His blue eyes widened at those words, slamming both his lips against yours and his cock deep into your pussy. You moaned into the kiss as Jugram quickened his pace. Your vision was beginning to blur as the only thing you could see, hear and feel was Jugram. His shaft was being squeezed by your wet cunt, and his fingers covered in your juices from rubbing your clit into a frenzy.

Tears rolled down your face as Jugram drew another orgasm out of you, without even stopping his own ministrations. You clung to him harder and deeper, babbling to him about how good he felt, how good he made you feel.

And it didn’t take long for Jugram to follow his own orgasm, as he pulled himself out. He quickly pumped himself as you felt hot, sticky residue cover the inside of your thigh. You couldn’t help but have a satisfied smile to see Jugram’s pink face, his blond locks clinging to him, chest heaving heavily.

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You smiled, embracing Jugram. You stroked his hair as he slowly caught his breath.

Jugram gave a small smile, kissing your forehead, “as long as you don’t have any gripes about me.”

Thanks for taking the time to read this!

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 10 days ago

Note

I saw your requests are opened and I thought of submitting something! Can I request modern Jugram and a shy reader having their first time together?

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE! I'm slowly working through my requests. It's been such a busy summer!

CW: none, penetrative sex, established relationship.

“Ugh, and he doesn’t even clean the toilet bowl!” Your friend exasperated loudly as she complained about her husband.

The rest of your group made sighs and noises of disbelief as they also shared their grievances about their partners.

“But what about you?” Your friend asked, turning towards you, “don’t you have any complaints about Jugram?”

“Complaints? About Jugram?” You said out loud, confusion evident in your voice.

“Yeah, you know, gripes and all that?” Another friend asked. “Mr. Hot can’t be all that.” Your friend said, raising their eyebrows.

You spat out your water at the nickname but quickly dismissed your question as your friend waited for your answer. You thought hard about it, with your friends looking at you expectantly.

“I mean, I guess he’s a bit quiet.” You murmured, but that wasn’t a bad thing to you.

You choked on your saliva, “what?!”

“I mean, some guys think they’re ‘macho’ or whatever,” the friend explained, “if they don’t make a sound during sex.”

Your face went warm, “I see, well that’s not really a problem.”

“Oh he’s loud?” Another friend asked.

Your face was getting hotter, “I mean, no he’s not loud.”

Your friend stared at you, watching you squirm in your seat. One friend narrowed her eyes, “is he a talker then?”

“Don’t tell me, he loves to talk dirty!” Your friend laughed. You couldn’t help but sputter your drink at the thought of Jugram’s deep voice saying filthy things in your ears.

You laughed harder at the incredulous thought, “he’s fine!”

Your friend sighed, “well Mr. and Mrs. Perfect have no gripes it seems, boring.” You friend sarcastically said, moving the conversation to a different topic.

You couldn’t focus on the conversation at hand, a clear sign for you to go home. Your friends waved you off as you headed to Jugram’s place.

“Is everything alright?” He asked, getting you a glass of water ready.

He swore he could hear you huff, thinking how cute you sounded, “I’m fine.” You replied, the pout still on your face.

He heard you mumbling but couldn’t discern what you said, except for the word, “gripes.”

Jugram’s eyes widened slightly, “are you mad at me?”

You shook your head, “it’s silly,” embarrassment welling up inside you. “I just –” You sighed, taking a good look at Jugram.

Your eyes widened as it clicked for you.

You went on the tips of your toes and gave Jugram a quick peck on the lips, “sometimes I wish you’d let me take care of you.”

Jugram’s eyes widened slightly, “I don’t understand.”

Jugram was always a quick thinker, and this time was no different, realizing what you meant. A small blush made its way to his cheeks as the two of you stood in his hallway, no words being said.

“It’s alright.” Jugram murmured, “tell me to stop and we’ll stop.”

“No,” you shook your head, “I want this – I want you, Jugram.” You whispered.

He gave a small smirk, “and I want you just the same.” He pulled you in for another kiss, your body giving in to the pleasures coursing through you.

You shimmied your bottoms off of you, then immediately covered yourself up, realizing you were completely nude.

Jugram looked amused a soft chuckle escaping his lips followed by your name, “you have nothing to be shy about. You’re absolutely beautiful.” He said, kissing your lips once again.

“I’m just,” you whimpered, “I’m so wet, it’s embarrassing.”

“Does it feel good?” He asked, as he continued to touch your cunt. You moaned and nodded your head, eyes wide as Jugram lowered himself down to your pussy.

You hazily watched Jugram take off his pants, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. An unfamiliar ache filled you, as you unconsciously licked your lips at Jugram.

You heard Jugram inhale, followed by a low groan. You whimpered again as you felt your pussy being stuffed full.

Then you whined. “Jugram, please, more!”

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You smiled, embracing Jugram. You stroked his hair as he slowly caught his breath.

Jugram gave a small smile, kissing your forehead, “as long as you don’t have any gripes about me.”

Thanks for taking the time to read this!

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 12 days ago

Text

⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ˚˖𓍢🌷✧˚.🎀⋆ ⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Synopsis: They find your secret diary and are tempted to read it. They come across pages filled with your deepest fantasies.

Includes: Jugram Haschwalth, Shinji Hirako, Jūshirō Ukitake x fem!reader

Warnings: +18, mature content, rough sex, blowjob, unprotected sex (use protection!), massive dirty talk, dom!male, p in v, full of NSFW

Notes: If you want other characters with this just let me know :)

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Jugram Haschwalth

It happened during a regular post-mission inspection. Haschwalth, as thorough as ever, personally inspected your room, paying attention to every line, drawer and hint of disarray. A leather-bound diary lay tucked beneath a stack of reports, almost as if it begged to be discovered. He opened it with the intention of identifying the owner. But then he noticed it: his own name, engraved in gorgeous, repeated, and ornamented calligraphy. He froze for five minutes, his gaze focused on the pages as he read entry by entry. His gloved fingers curled slightly on the cover, his knuckles pale from the attempt of discipline. There was no smile or scoff, only a strange silence.

You were summoned to his office that night. The lighting was low and there was no movement in the room except him standing behind his desk, arms folded. The diary rested beside him, open to a page you didn't dare to look at.

"Approach," he said without inflection. You hesitated. Your throat was dry but your legs moved. "I trust you know why you are here?," he spoke without looking up.

Instead, he read aloud: "I want him to bend me over the desk, pull off those gloves, and fuck me with silent, absolute control. I want him to hold my hips in place while I moan for mercy. I want him to come inside me and not even look down. Just zip up, walk away, and leave used."

He looked up. His eyes were bright with restraint. "You do not deny this is yours?" His voice didn't rise but it commanded every muscle in your body. "I...mean," you swallowed, "it could be anyone's. I wrote stories sometimes...but..."

He stood up abruptly, the chair falling to the floor as your body quivered. "You will not insult us both by pretending you do not crave what you wrote!"

He walked around the desk, his coat brushing his legs like a cape, stopping just in front of you. His gloved hand lifted your chin. "Bend over," he whispered. His hand reached up slowly and without rush, he peeled one glove from his hand, finger by finger. Then the next. You could hear his breath deepen, feel the heat rolling off of him. His ungloved hand pressed down, between your shoulders. "Stay still!"

His fingers hooked into your waistband and yanked your skirt down, exposing your skin to the cool air. You gasped as his palm slid across your back, slow and possessive. And then you heard the sound of his belt.

When the blunt head of his length pressed against your entrance, you were already soaking. Your thighs trembled. A strangled cry broke from your throat. He said nothing. He began to thrust slowly, holding your hips still as you arched and whimpered beneath him. The sound of skin on skin filled the room. "You imagined being silenced," he breathed. "Then take it in silence."

You bit your hand to keep yourself from screaming. He took you relentlessly. No praise, no teasing. And when you felt him twitch inside you he didn't stop. He fucked you through his climax, driving it deep into you with sharp finality. Then he pulled out, and you were left dripping.

He straightened his coat and smooths his hair as your thighs trembled beneath you. "You will clean yourself and you will return tomorrow evening. The next entry will be written with me present." His gloves were already back on. He didn't look at you as he walked away.

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Shinji Hirako

It started like any other lazy afternoon with Shinji lounging across your couch like he owned it. Arms behind his head, straw bobbing in his drink. You went to get tea. Bad idea. He clocked your little black diary the moment you had left the room. It was barely hidden. He pulled it free with two fingers and flipped through it like it was his latest manga volume. Then he saw his name and froze. "What the hell?"

What followed were minutes of slow, deliberate page turning. His grin crept wider with every line, every dirty word. His eyes darkened, not with mockery but hunger. By the time you returned, he was still there. Legs crossed and book wide open. A wicked glint in his eyes. You froze and your heart dropped.

"That's not mine."

"Oh, come on," he grinned. "You expect me to believe someone else wrote this and just happened to stuff it under your pillow?" You opened your mouth but he held up a finger. "Wait, wait! Let me read my favorite line again." He stopped for a moment before he continued. "I want Shinji to make me gag on his cock while he laughs. I want him to bend me over something, anything, and fuck me until I cry from overstimulation."

He looked up at you, his smile still there. "You wrote that with one hand, huh?" You stammered. "Shinji I was just...it was fiction. I didn't mean-"

"Aww, you're shaking," he said, tilting his head. "Don't be shy now. You already wrote the script." He stood up, stretching.

He grabbed you by the collar and pushed you against the wall so fast it knocked the breath out of your lungs. His mouth was against your ear, his breath curling down your neck. "Thought about this while writing it, didn't you?," he hissed. "Touching yourself with one hand, pen in the other?" Your knees buckled. His hand moved fast, yanking your pants halfway down your thighs. His fingers slid between your legs and came back glistening. "Are you kidding?," he laughed. "You're soaked."

He pushed you down onto your knees before you could blink. His length was already hard, flushed and leaking. He tapped it against your cheek. "You said you wanted this," he said, then shoved it into your mouth. Your eyes widened, hands grasping his thighs. His hips snapped forward, burying himself deep in your throat. "Gag on it," he growled, holding your head still. "Come on! Cry for me!" Your throat spasmed around him, drool leaking down your chin as he rolled his hips. He moaned through gritted teeth, loving the way your eyes watered, loving how you still didn't stop.

He pulled put. "Turn around. Now."

You scrambled to obey, cheeks flushed. He pulled your panties aside and slammed into you with a growl. Your scream hit the pillow as his cock speared deep inside. You tried to brace yourself but he grabbed your wrists, pinned them behind your back, and fucked you like he owned you. "You love this, don't you?" You sobbed out a little "yes," and he laughed, slapping your ass. "You're fucking sick," he breathed, "and I love it!"

His thrusts went deeper, faster until you came, screamig and legs shaking. Your body collapsed and he did not stop. "Oh no baby. No no no...," he whispered, pulling your hair back. "You said you wanted me to fuck you till you cried?" He thrust again, harder. "Keep crying."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Jūshirō Ukitake

It was innocent. He was just helping your reorganize scrolls and books in your quarters. You had stepped away, just for a moment. A book slipped from the top shelf and hit the floor, pages fanning open. He bent down to pick it up. Then he saw his name. It was written like scripture. "I dream of Captain Ukitake fucking me slowly. I want to write him when he blushes and begs me to go slower, and I ignore him. I want to break that perfect man with the filth in my body." He froze.

For five full minutes, he didn't move. The words soaked into him and awoke something he had buried for years. When you returned, the diary was closed but placed neatly at the center of your desk. He didn't meet your eyes and simply said: "Come and see me tonight in my quarters." Then he left.

That night, you sood before his open door, Inside, candlelight glowed softly against the walls. A breeze danced through sheer curtains. he looked up when you entered. He sat by the window. "I read it," he said quietly. Your heart pounded. He didn't sound angry but uncertain. "I wasn't going to. I know i shouldn't have. But once I saw the words...," he paused, hands folded and face unreadable. "I...didn't know you saw me that way."

Your voice broke the silence: "I couldn't help it." His breath caught. "I've spent years controlling every part of myself," he said. "My body, my emotions, my power and you wrote things that..." He looked down. "That I've never allowed myself to feel." He stood and walked slowly toward you. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be what you wrote."

Your eyes met his. "But I want you to," your voice trembled, "I want you to make you lose that control." He froze and then...he kissed you. His hands were warm, but shaking, clutching your face as his mouth took yours deep and almost desperate. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm sorry." But he was already lifting your robe. You grabbed his wrists. "Don't stop."

His lips moved down your neck. "Please tell me if I hurt you."

"You won't."

His hands slipped between your legs and stopped when he felt how wet you already were. Heinhaled sharply. His cock was hard against your thigh and pressed through his fabirc. "I shouldn't," he whispered but you unbuckled his sash, your hands shaking. And then you climbed into his lap, pushing your soaked panties aside and lowered yourself onto his cock, inch by inch, watching his composure shatter. He groaned, head falling back and teeth clenched. "You're so tight."

You began to ride him slowly and his hands gripped your thighs, trying not to grab and ruin you. You leaned in, mouth by his ear. "Do it. Give in..."

He grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him, hard. Now, he was fucking you like he meant it. All those years of gentle smiles, kindness and distance were gone. His length pistoned up into you as you bounced in his lap, his mouth open, sweat running down his neck. "I can't stop. I'm sorry...I'm sorry." But he wasn't. His nails dug into your back and his pace grew brutal, sloppy. "You wanted this?," he gasped. "This is what you wrote about?" You nodded, crying, moaning and shaking. "Yes, yes, please!"

He slammed in you one last time and came deep, cock pulsing inside you. Both of you were breathless. You remained on him, filled and aching. He held you tight against his chest. "I didn't know I could feel like that," he whispered. He looked up at you, eyes soft and wide with disbelief. "I want to read more." His hand slid between your legs again as he hardened beneath you once more. "Every single page."

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jugramhaschwalthsblog · 13 days ago

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭…

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Kuchiki Byakuya, Urahara Kisuke, Izuru Kira, Jugram Haschwalth, Ishida Uryu

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content, nudity, titty sucking, arguments, humour

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: When you two were in a heated argument and you decided to flash your tits to shut them up.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

⋆˚✿˖° Kuchiki Byakuya

You weren’t even sure how this discussion escalated into an argument, more one-sided than anything else—something about conduct, your choice of words at the last clan meeting, how ‘utterly unbecoming it was for a woman of your standing to speak with such uncouth flippancy.’ The sheer audacity of the comment had you rolling your eyes which only made him disapprove more. Now he was halfway through an icy monologue, your name already used thrice in full like if it was your mother who caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. That alone was a sign of his temper boiling under his noble shell.

“You are impulsive,” he uttered clipped. “Disrespectful. It would do you well to consider the example you set, rather than indulge in—”

Sighing loudly, you rolled your eyes once again. “God, Byakuya, do you ever stop?”

Just a brow twitch, a sign that you had gotten under his skin…subtly.

“—in theatrics unbecoming of your rank and name. As a representative of your house and this district, you are expected to conduct yourself with dignity. Not barge into court matters half-dressed and spouting sarcasm as if—”

“I’m bored,” you sighed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said I’m bored, Byakuya. You’ve been yapping for eight minutes. Eight whole minutes. And every sentence sounds like you’re reading off an old reprimand scroll.”

Abruptly he stepped forward, his fingers curling against his robes in the attempt to mask their twitching. “Do not trivialise this discussion. Your actions—”

Before he would finished his sentence, you heaved heavily while maintaining eyes contact and reached your fingers upwards to grasp the edge of your kosode before yanking it apart, baring your breasts to the slightly chill room and his gaze. Your nipples were already perked from the change in air, high and tight, like you were doing this entirely on purpose.

The silence hit like a sealed barrier, and for once, Byakuya’s mouth had halfway hit the floor, eyes slightly widened while his words died on his tongue.

“What were you saying again?” you coyly whispered, tilting your head and pushing your chest out a little more. The action prompting your breasts to shake.

Not once did his stare waver. As for his words? Vanished into the air. You could see the way his throat slowly bobbed as he swallowed, while his eyes, despite his immense training, darted downward—twice.

“You were saying something about dignity? Blah, blah, blah…” Your hands reached up to cup your tits and give them a little lift, causing him to inhale deeply, but softly. “Something about how I shouldn’t ‘indulge in theatrics’? Like these ones?”

He looked like a man physically trying to reboot his entire mind as he stood there with his arms limp at his sides.

“I mean,” you went on casually, “I could button back up. But you look like you’re thinking more clearly now. Maybe I should flash you at the start of every argument. Might save time.”

For the first, he blinked and broke out of his spell, but his voice was as hoarse as expected. “That is wholly inappropriate.”

“Mhm. So is starting a lecture before I’ve even finished breakfast.”

Moving closer until you were right before him, you leaned in for your breasts brushed his chest through his kosode.

“You gonna keep going, or are you finished being my noble disciplinarian for the day?”

His lips twitched just a fraction, but the faint smirk was there.

“You may cover up now.”

You grinned. “Only if you say please.”

Fortunately for you, he didn’t say please and you didn’t cover up. Instead, the argument led to the rest of your closes came off…as well as his.

⋆˚✿˖° Urahara Kisuke

“You knew that would make things worse! But you still opened your mouth and—no, don’t do that thing with your eyes—don’t look at me like I’m the one being irrational when you—”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” you retorted, sitting with arms folded across your chest. “You’re ranting over something that doesn’t even matter.”

“Doesn’t—?!” He stopped mid-step, face twisting into disbelief. “You made a deal with Kurotsuchi! Kurotsuchi, of all people! That’s like asking a Hollow to babysit a Shinigami’s child!”

That comparison made you flinched a little, but your tolerance was already threadbare. “He owed me a favour, so I cashed it in. End of story.”

“You don’t make side deals with men like that. You know what kind of twisted shit he pulls, and you think I’m just supposed to shrug and go, ‘Oh well, she’ll probably survive’?” he growled much darker than his usual argumentative tone.

Rolling your eyes, utterly exhausted, you clearly didn’t have the strength for this—for his righteous anger, for the way he got when he cared too much but refused to call it that. And the direction he was still heading, waving his arms like he needed to physically swat away the idiocy of your actions, was exhausting.

“Do you even think about what I have to do to clean up after you when you get in over your head? Or do you just assume I’ll come running to patch up whatever mess you leave behind? Because if you do, then you clearly don’t—”

Zoning out his voice, you calmly reached up and unbuttoned your top mid-rant until the fabric fell open just enough to bare your tits fully. Not a single word followed your actions, just a simple recline of your position against the chair and a smug expression crossing your face as you stared at him.

Whatever words he was halfway into prattling, died on his tongue as his jaw reached the floor. A subtle blink, once, then twice, before his lashes batted against his cheeks. Then very slowly, as if the air itself had stopped working in his lungs, he took a breath and whispered, “...Are you serious right now?”

You shrugged with a nonchalant hum, tits still out, eyes daring him to continue like it was a totally normal negotiation strategy.

Stunned in silence, his eyes dropped without his permission, flicking to your chest, then back to your face. Then dropped again, lingering this time, eyes dragging over the swell of each breast like he was trying to memorise the curves that’d just sucker-punched his entire argument into oblivion.

“I was—what were we—” He cleared his throat, visibly recalibrating. “We were fighting. Right. Something about...ethics, and possibly your complete lack of them—wait no, that’s not what I meant—”

Encouraged by his reaction, you gave your tits a subtle little bounce, just enough to send them jiggling. Not even seductive—just disrespectful enough to underline your complete disinterest in continuing the conversation.

Kisuke swore under his breath and dragged a hand down his face, grinning despite himself.

“This is against proper argumentative ethics,” he muttered. “Weaponised nudity is a crime.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

He was still staring, trying and failing to look serious. “You can’t just flash me mid-rant and think it’s a valid strategy.”

“But I did flash you mid-rant. And you stopped ranting. That’s called success.”

With a heavy, defeated sigh, he dropped onto the floor in front of you, reaching out with both hands to cup your tits like they were sacred objects now deserving proper attention, and gave them a gentle squeeze, thumbing your nipples until they hardened under his touch, eyes softening, frustration draining from his face. “You’re still reckless,” he muttered quietly, kissing the curve of one breast. “Still infuriating. Still dangerously attractive when you do dumb shit.”

You only hummed, letting his tongue drag over your nipple with slow, lazy strokes, now arching into his mouth just to hear the way he moaned at the taste of you. Threading your fingers through his messy blond hair as he licked and sucked, hot breath now replacing angry words, tongue circling like he was trying to replace every insult with worship, you grinned

“You’re not mad anymore?” you teased.

“Oh, I’m furious,” he muttered, muffled by your tits. “But I’m also busy.”

⋆˚✿˖° Izuru Kira

You quiet-toned boyfriend was never one to raise his voice, but today he was pacing—actually pacing—across the garden of the 3rd Division barracks with that deep crease in his brow and his arms moving in exaggerated frustration. The golden sunlight made his blond hair gleam, and his lieutenant badge clinked slightly as he turned, again and again, caught in the rhythm of his agitation.

“You could have waited, at least,” he grumbled, gesturing with a sharp motion of his hand. “I was in the middle of resolving the forms with the 5th, and you just—you just charged in like it was a battlefield!”

“It was an interdivisional meeting, Kira. Not a hostage situation.”

“That’s not the point! You undermined the entire chain of command, again! Do you even know how much work I’ve had to do to smooth over that stunt?! You—”

He turned again, mid-rant, hands now dragging through his hair in exasperation. It wasn’t even about the meeting anymore—his rants always turned into a swirl of emotional exhaustion and pent-up guilt.

“I try to defend you,” he muttered, half to himself and pacing faster. “Every time you do something like this. Every time I tell them, no, she means well. She’s just passionate. But you keep—you keep doing it, and I—”

“Kira.”

Ignoring you, going off again about your ‘pattern of disruption,’ your ‘habit of steamrolling meetings,’ and how ‘just once’ he wished he didn’t have to apologise for you to half the Gotei-13.

“Izuru.”

“What?!” he barked, turning around mid-stride—and froze.

There you had already stood with your kosode pulled open and your breasts on display. You weren’t even wearing your binder underneath—it was warm today—and the look on his face was a slow-motion slide from stunned to panicked. Round eyes, mouth hitting the ground, and stiff shoulders; hilarious.

“You were saying something about apologising for me?”

“I—what—what are you doing?!”

“Interrupting your panic spiral. Successfully, I might add.”

Spiralling into a further panic, he started waving his hands and searching around like someone might be watching, which was rich considering you were deep in the garden where no one ever came this time of day. “You—you can’t just—this is—!”

“Can’t just what, Izuru?” you grinned while stepping forward for your breasts to meet his chest.

Internally dying, he stared directly at your chest, then visibly flinched and forced his eyes up to the sky. “You’re not even listening to me,” he mumbled.

“Nope,” you said cheerfully. “Because you weren’t saying anything helpful. You were just stress-spiralling like usual, and I didn’t want to waste another thirty minutes waiting for you to reach the end of your guilt parade.”

“This isn’t how you end an argument!” he hissed, still refusing to look directly at you. “This is—this is inappropriate! This is harassment!”

“Oh please. You’ve been in love with these tits since the first time I rode you in the hot springs that one winter night.”

“That’s—that’s not—” His mouth flapped like a goldfish, opening and closing repeatedly, unable to formulate a proper statement.

“Come on, Kirs.” You bounced them slightly. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you haven’t fantasised about burying your face right here.”

Silence.

“I thought so,” you cooed sweetly, and reached forward to pinch his chin between your fingers. “Now stop yelling and start thinking with your real brain.”

“I—” he squeaked, “—I need to sit down.”

You smirked and let go of his chin.

“And I don’t need to be lectured like a cadet by my flustered lieutenant boyfriend,” you whispered as you leaned over, letting your tits fall on his face and smoother him with the innocent intentions to calm him down.

⋆˚✿˖° Jugram Haschwalth

You stood in your shared quarters, one boot still unlaced because he’d started his bloody lecture the moment you stepped inside, ready to undress.

“You’re reckless,” he snapped, brows drawn, and his tone too smooth for how pissed he clearly was. “Charging ahead when you knew they outnumbered you. You’re not invincible. Just because I’ve pulled you out of enough traps doesn’t mean I’ll always get there in time.”

Tired of hearing the same polished concern disguised as scolding, you rolled your eyes. “Jugram—”

“No. Don’t interrupt me when I’m trying to make you understand. It isn’t just about you. What if someone else had to take a hit for you? What if someone—”

Sighing as you two went down the same road countless times, again and again like a merry-go-round, you began undressing as you originally intended, ignoring his words. Removing each your coat, followed by your jacket and shirt, you didn’t even bother to unbutton your shirt ceremoniously, just popping it open, buttoned scattering on the carpet and flashing your tits out for him.

A thousands times he’d seen them, and still, a thousand times all over again, he was frozen in place as they sat there all ripe and tempting for his eyes.

“…What the hell are you doing,” he muttered after a moment, and now trembling slightly with something entirely different from anger. As dedicated and stern of a man he was, everyone man had his weakness.

“I got tired of hearing you go on and on like I’m a child,” you murmured dryly, your tits still out and nipples hardening under the cool air. “Figured this would shut you up faster.”

It only made his eyes trailed downwards, hungrily and angrily, betrayed by his own natural instincts. Darting his tongue out to wet his lips, his jaw tightening as he tried to stop himself from reacting, and was failing miserably.

“You can’t simply flash me in the middle of an argument,” he growled, but his eyes were locked onto the soft bounce of your breasts, the way your nipples had hardened slightly under the cool air.

“You didn’t stop,” you grinned with a lazy shrug, sauntering towards him with a seductive strut. “You only seem to respond when I stop speaking and do something.”

“Put them away.” His gaze flickered back up to yours, dark now.

“Make me.”

The mere audacity of you to challenge him led to him stepping forward so fast, you barely had time to brace before your back hit the nearest wall. One of his hands slammed beside your head, the other cupped your bare breast, while his rough thumb brushed your nipple. “You think this is a game?” he hissed.

“You were too busy scolding me like a subordinate instead of fucking me like a lover,” you shot back and tilted you chin in defiance. “You’re so predictable. Lecturing until your cock’s hard and you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

Exhaling sharply and biting back a curse as his hand slid down to your waist, his grip tightened. “I should leave you standing here like this. Let you stew in the mess you made.”

“But you won’t. You never do,” you purred as you leaned forward and allowed your lips to brush the base of his throat.

Within seconds, he dragged you off the wall and tossed you onto the couch, removing his coat and jacket, ready to teach you a lesson.

⋆˚✿˖° Ishida Uryu

“You omitted the part where you directly contradicted a senior officer’s orders. That’s deliberate, reckless, and—”

You sat across from him, slumped in the chair, and bored out of your mind, idly picking at your nail. “I did what worked. End of story.”

“It’s not the end of the story. You’re jeopardising our trust with the higher-ups! This is exactly the kind of thing that makes collaboration impossible—your refusal to listen, to—are you even listening to me?”

“No,” you said plainly, then stood up, walked over, and unbuttoned your top in three brisk flicks. Pulling your shirt open and letting your breasts spill out in front of his shocked, rapidly flushing face, giving them a subtle jiggle and pushing them further into his face. “There. I’m listening now. Are you?”

He could feel his jaw tensing the close you got to his face. By now, his hands were gripping the edge of the table as he stared—no, gawked. His glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose, mouth opening again but no sound came out—he looked helplessly at your tits, then your face, then your tits again.

“Wh—what the hell,” he croaked, adjusting his glasses with trembling fingers. “You can’t just—this isn’t—!”

You stepped closer, letting your exposed chest brush against his arm. “Still talking and lecturing. I bet if I put your hand right here—” you grabbed one of his and placed it firmly over your breast, watching the way his fingers twitched, “—you’d stop.”

Well, it was then he looked like he might short-circuit.

“This is sexual harassment, you know.”

Scoffing at his attempt at fighting back, you gave his hand on your breasts a squeeze to hold you firmly. “I’m your girlfriend.”

“You flashed me in the middle of an argument!”

“And you’re hard now.”

His eyes widened as if he’d just realised. “I am not—”

Reaching down to palm his erection through his slacks to prove him wrong and foolish to counter when you had already won, his breath caught in his throat.

“…”

“Exactly,” you murmured, tugging him up by his collar and kissing him before he could blurt out another complaint. There was resistance for all of five seconds before melting into the kiss and returning the favour with the kind of frustration only pent-up tension and an aggressively smart-mouthed lover could cause.

Pushing you onto the desk and sweeping aside the mission report with a sharp movement of his arm, your blouse hung open, breasts still bare and bouncing as you laughed at how quickly his righteous indignation collapsed under the weight of your tits and some clever timing. “Now that I have your attention,” you whispered against his ear, tugging his belt loose with one hand, “you gonna keep ranting, or are you gonna shut up and fuck me like you’re supposed to?”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @spellboundsuguru @cookielovesbook-akie @kennys-partner @sovl-society @villainsrtasty @foxycrafterofgreenwood @carnationdoe @darthwhorecrux @dazaisk0rspe @jxstsh

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