shishibazz

[shishibazz]

𝐁𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐲𝐚, 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐚 and 𝐉𝐮𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦’𝐬 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Kuchiki Byakuya, Izuru Kira and Jugram Haschwalth

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hayooo! Im so happy, that I found your blog!!! Can I ask headcanons for Byakya, Kira and Jugram, what they looking in their s/o? Appearance, character, how strong they can be etc. anything that you can and want to add, because these requests are often made pretty short, although the person's personality is quite complex. Take your time and thannnkssss ;3

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Once again, my bias showed heavily when it came to writing for Jugram >.< I can’t help it. I also excluded physical appearance because that takes away from the idea of this being reader-insert content. And you’re right, the personality part is complex 🥲 I hope this was done to your liking.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

☾ Kuchiki Byakuya

˚₊‧꒰ა Byakuya isn’t the type to entertain fleeting attractions, nor is he particularly inclined towards dramatic, all-consuming passion. If he were to choose a partner, you needed to be someone who could stand as an equal, not necessarily in power but in presence. He has no patience for bootlickers, nor does he care for those who lacked a sense of self. Strength to him isn’t just battle prowess but confidence, intelligence, and the ability to navigate the complexities of life without crumbling under pressure.

˚₊‧꒰ა He would prefer it if you were a Shinigami. A human would bring difficulties, and a Quincy would undoubtedly create unnecessary political complications. But it was more about whether you could handle the reality of being involved with him. The weight of his name, the expectations of the Kuchiki Clan, and the scrutiny that came with it were all factors he could not ignore. If you faltered in the face of such things, then there was no future to consider.

˚₊‧꒰ა His ideal partner would possess a composed nature, someone who did not overindulge in dramatics or emotional outbursts. That did not mean he wanted someone cold—he had enough of that in himself—but someone who knew when to express their emotions and when to exercise restraint. If they were the type to throw tantrums, demand constant attention, or sulk over imagined slights, he would tire of them almost immediately.

˚₊‧꒰ა “If you wish for a lover who caters to every whim, you have overestimated.” If you were sharp enough, you’d recognise it for what it was: an invitation to prove him wrong.

˚₊‧꒰ა Strength was important, though not necessarily in the traditional sense. He wasn’t seeking someone who could match him in combat—such a feat would be difficult for most, and he had no interest in such trivial competitions. Rather, he respected those who had their form of strength, whether it was in intellect, strategy, or sheer resilience. If you couldn’t wield a blade, then you should at least know how to wield words, influence, or something that made you formidable in your own right.

˚₊‧꒰ა He appreciated intelligence, but more importantly, he valued wisdom. Someone could have all the knowledge in the world and yet be a fool if they did not know when to apply it. If you were sharp, witty, and capable of engaging him in meaningful conversation, you’d earn his genuine respect. If you could navigate the complexness of nobility, politics, or strategy without needing his constant guidance, you would have his admiration.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Your perspective is commendable.” If he ever conceded to saying something as direct as “I appreciate your insight,” it meant he truly valued your mind.

˚₊‧꒰ა He had no patience for recklessness. If you were the type to throw yourself into danger without a plan, expect grand rescues, or act on impulse rather than reason, you would find yourself met with his disapproval. He would not entertain the idea of someone carelessly disregarding their own life.

˚₊‧꒰ა “If you intend to act so thoughtlessly, do not expect me to indulge in such behaviour.” The way his eyes lingered, the way he ensured your safety despite his words, the way his presence always seemed to arrive at just the right time—it would be evident that he cared, even if he refused to say it outright.

˚₊‧꒰ა He wasn’t a man prone to excessive affection, nor would he be one to make grand declarations of love. However, if you understood him, you would know that his love was woven into the quiet details—the way he ensured your comfort, the way he took your opinions into account, and the way his presence remained constant even when words failed.

☾ Izuru Kira

˚₊‧꒰ა Kira wasn’t someone who pursued relationships lightly, nor did he fall for frivolous charm or surface-level attraction. If he were to be with someone, it had to be someone who truly understood him—not just the face he showed to others, but the parts of himself he often kept hidden. He was drawn to those who had a calm strength, the kind that did not need to be loudly declared or put on display.

˚₊‧꒰ა He didn’t particularly care whether you were a Shinigami or a human, though a Quincy would make things far more complicated than he would prefer. He was already well-versed in walking the fine line between duty and personal feelings, and he had no desire to add unnecessary turmoil to an already uncertain life. That said, if you were someone he truly cared for, he would bear whatever difficulties came with it, even if it meant shouldering the consequences alone.

˚₊‧꒰ა “It wouldn't be easy,” he would admit, almost hesitantly, his eyes downcast. “But if you think it's worth it…then so do I.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He gravitated towards those who had a sense of understanding, not necessarily because you had suffered as he had, but because you could recognise the weight he carried without needing him to explain it. If you expected him to constantly be the composed lieutenant, the one who always held everything together, you would be disappointed. He needed someone who could see beyond that, who knew that strength was not just about being unshaken, but about continuing despite the fractures.

˚₊‧꒰ა He did not mind if you were stronger than him—in fact, he found it oddly reassuring. He had spent so much time carrying burdens that the idea of someone being capable of standing on their own, without relying on him to be their emotional anchor, was something he deeply respected. If you were someone who had a calm aura, and who could face adversity without falling apart, he would admire you even more.

˚₊‧꒰ა “You're stronger than you realise,” he would say, watching you with an expression that was both wistful and sincere. “Sometimes, I think you don’t even see it yourself.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He did not seek out someone who was constantly cheerful or optimistic—he had no illusions about the world being a kind place—but he did appreciate those who could bring warmth into his life without forcing it upon him. Someone who understood that not every moment needed to be filled with words, that sometimes silence was just as meaningful.

˚₊‧꒰ა He was drawn to those who were genuine. If you wore masks, if you played games with emotions, he’d see through it eventually, and it would only create distance between you both. He didn’t need extravagant gestures or excessive declarations; he only needed the quiet certainty that you meant what you said and that you would not turn away when things became difficult.

˚₊‧꒰ა “I don’t need promises you can’t keep,” he would say, his voice steady despite the weight behind it. “Just…mean it, whatever you say.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Hmm, he wasn’t particularly possessive, nor was he prone to jealousy, but he was deeply loyal. If he was with someone, then that was that—he would not waver, nor would he entertain doubts. However, if you ever betrayed that trust, even in small ways, it would cut deeper than he would ever admit. He wouldn’t rage or seek revenge, but the distance that would form between you would be impossible to bridge.

˚₊‧꒰ა Love to him wasn’t about extravagant devotion or extreme displays. It was about being there, about understanding even when no words were spoken, about knowing that even in silence, there was something unshakable between you two. If you could give him that, then he would give you everything he had in return.

☾ Jugram Haschwalth

˚₊‧꒰ა He was definitely not a man prone to frivolous attachments, nor was he the type to seek companionship out of loneliness or fleeting emotion. If he were to have a partner, it would be someone who could stand on equal ground with him—not necessarily in power, but in presence.

˚₊‧꒰ა He had no interest in those who bent too easily to the will of others, nor did he care for those who sought validation through constant reassurance. If you needed to be coddled, constantly reminded of your worth, or expected him to prioritise you over his duty, you would not last long by his side.

˚₊‧꒰ა He would prefer if you were a Quincy, compared to a human, a Shinigami was out of the question unless you were interested in Quincy ideals and were willing to abandon your own—what mattered was whether you could survive in his world. A fellow Quincy would have the easiest path, given your shared understanding of the Sternritter and Yhwach’s rule, but that did not mean he would reject someone of another race outright.

˚₊‧꒰ა That being said, if you were a Shinigami, the complications would be nearly insurmountable. He had no time for petty grudges, but his loyalty to Yhwach was absolute. If you were his enemy, then you would have to accept the reality of that.

˚₊‧꒰ა “Do not mistake patience for leniency,” he would say. “If you stand against His Majesty, you stand against me.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He was drawn to those with a subtle kind of strength—the kind that did not need to be loudly declared or constantly proven. He had little patience for arrogance. If you were powerful, that was well and good, but what mattered to him was how you carried yourself. Were you reckless? Did you act without thinking? Did you crumble under pressure? He had no use for those who could not maintain their composure.

˚₊‧꒰ა That did not mean he expected you to be emotionless. He was not blind to the weight of the world he lived in, nor did he believe that suppressing one’s feelings was a sign of strength. But there was a difference between feeling and losing control. If you were the type to lash out impulsively, to let your emotions dictate your actions, he would find you frustratingly inefficient.

˚₊‧꒰ა He didn’t require you to be his equal in combat—he had fought alongside enough warriors to know that strength came in many forms. If you’re skilled in battle, he would acknowledge it, perhaps even admire it, but it was not a necessity. What he valued more was intelligence, strategy, and the ability to see the broader picture. If you understood the weight of leadership, the burden of making difficult choices, then you would earn his true respect.

˚₊‧꒰ა He surely didn’t tolerate recklessness, especially if it placed you in danger. If you were the type to throw yourself into battle without a plan, believing that sheer willpower would see you through, he would not hesitate to make his displeasure known. He didn’t believe in pointless sacrifices, nor did he appreciate those who acted without thinking of the consequences.

˚₊‧꒰ა “If you intend to die so carelessly, do not expect me to mourn,” he would say coldly. And yet, his actions would betray him. The way he ensured your safety without making it obvious, the way his eyes lingered just a moment too long, the way his presence always seemed to be near when it mattered—it would be clear that he cared, even if he refused to say it outright.

˚₊‧꒰ა If you needed to be reminded of his affections every moment, if you demanded that he prioritise you over all else, you would be deeply disappointed. His duty came first. His loyalty to Yhwach was absolute, and while he could care for someone deeply, you would never come before his purpose.

˚₊‧꒰ა “If you cannot accept that, then you are not suited to this life,” he would state plainly. It was not cruelty, but honesty.

˚₊‧꒰ა Despite his stern nature, he was not without warmth, though it was subtle and often difficult to perceive. His care was woven into the small, seemingly insignificant details—the way he remembered things you had only mentioned once, the way he ensured your comfort without drawing attention to it, the way he would listen even when he had little time to spare.

˚₊‧꒰ა He wasn’t prone to jealousy—but had his jealous moment (possessive). He had no interest in controlling you, nor did he believe in demanding loyalty through fear. If you chose to be with him, then that was your decision, and he would expect you to stand by it. However, betrayal—true betrayal—would be something he would never forgive.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @stygianoir @edensrose @spellboundsuguru @cactimorada @kennys-partner @cookielovesbook-akie

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[shishibazz]

fuckin problems. .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊ toji fushiguro.

sum. toji’s prepping for a fight night match and his trainer was adamant that women would be a distraction. when he sees you in the gym late one night, obviously all of that changes.

wc. 4.8k

tags. boxer!tojixcollege student!reader, (it isn’t mentioned in the fic.) toji and reader are mid-twenties, reader is fem and black. modern au, unprotected, pússy eating, shower sèx, toji’s a bit of a hoe, dacryphilia, praise kink (lots of pet names!!) set in a gym, some workout terms used.

an. i’m back . . . did you guys miss me? 🥹 i worked really hard on this. i hope you enjoy it.

i love bad bitches, that’s my fuckin problem . . . and yeah, i like to fuck, i got a fuckin’ problem.

loud music blaring through his black airpod maxes drowns out the harsh clang of the weighted barbell making contact with sleek, black hardwood beneath him. chest heaving, toji wipes his sweaty forehead with the hem of his compression shirt. he’d just finished his last set of heavy romanian deadlifts, the last exercise of five—and he doesn’t know if it was through discipline or pure willpower. he’s internally cursing his trainer. he’s a boxer, not training to be a part of the fucking avengers.

and with being a professional boxer, being physically fit comes with the territory. toji knows that. it was recommended he switch from his last gym to this one. virtually unknown and far from paparazzi and groupies. lowkey. he can deal with that. this new regimen his mentor had implemented, though? it would be his undoing.

aside from working out six days a week with a new grueling routine, there were now rules toji had to abide by—upon breaking them, he’d be ineligible for the upcoming heavyweight championship match in a few weeks. there were only four temptations he was to avoid: liquor, greasy food, staying up late . . . and this last one toji dreads, no women. no sexual intercourse of any kind.

that was a fucking problem.

no conceited shit, toji knows he is attractive. he’s built. tall, tatted from the neck down with sculpted abs that could’ve been crafted by god himself. he can’t even go to the grocery store without being approached by women. and whether these women were drawn to his fame or brawn, toji didn’t care either way—what sane man would turn down pussy without any attachments?

halle berry, hallelujah. holla back, ima do ya, beast!

taking a seat on the rubber bench behind him, toji stares at his reflection in the mirror. dim hex lights that hang from above cast dark shadows over his bulky figure, highlighting the definition in his biceps and glinting micro cuban link dangling from his neck. veined, inked hands reach for the nike water bottle on the floor, tipping his head back as he shoots a stream of cold water into his open mouth. as much as he hates this new routine, he’d be lying if he said the results weren’t rewarding.

toji has no intentions of abstaining from sex completely. sure he could do a few days, he wasn’t an addict . . . but two weeks? fuck no. there’s too many beautiful women out here that deserve his dick and undivided attention . . . and when his tired eyes land on you, setting up on a smith machine across the room in this navy matching set that molds on your body like a second skin? toji’s never been more sure that he’d break a rule in his life. not like he’s ever been much of a rule follower anyway.

he watches you, shamelessly. upon doing so, he realizes this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you. you always stick to the smith machines and free weights right next to them, minding your business in your own little world. he doesn’t think you’ve spared him a glance since he’s joined. with interest now piqued, steel eyes observe you mid-workout with newfound curiosity.

you’re pretty. glossed lips pouted in exertion, sweat glistening on exposed skin like diamonds. chocolate brown eyes glued to your reflection. the navy blue crop top and legging set compliments your brown skin, accentuating the curves toji can tell you’ve worked hard for. he almost catches himself drooling . . . but the longer toji watches through your set of squats, there’s something glaring at him that he can’t quite ignore.

your form is fucking terrible.

maybe it’s fatigue or the weight being too heavy for you to handle—but years of training makes it easy for him to spot the mistakes being made. rounded shoulders, anterior tilt, and poor foot placement. your back will be sore as fuck once you’re finished, he’s sure of it . . .

. . . it’d be wrong to not help fix your problem, right?

locking the bar into the safety hook, you plop yourself down onto the nearest bench, completely out of breath. this workout had you fighting for your life. it’s been a while since you’ve been to the gym, but damn, you didn’t realize you fell off this badly.

this is why you always come to this gym late at night: free to make a fool of yourself without having to worry about stares from nosy strangers. motivation’s been low but with discipline, you’ve made so much progress towards your body goals—you can’t tap out now.

you look down at your apple watch. 1:35 am. if you lock in for this last set, you can pack up and be out of here by 2. leaning forward, you tighten the laces of your grey new balances. cockiness by rihanna blaring in your ears, you nod your head along to the beat, mentally psyching yourself up to push through this shit. you almost don’t notice the person standing in front of you, their black nikes in your peripheral vision.

almost.

what the fuck? you straighten up, blood rushing to your ears from the quick movement. angling your beats off your ear, the words come out before you get a good look at this person who decided to rudely disturb you, “can i help you?”

the person, a man, chuckles in response. “nah . . . i was thinking maybe i could help you, though.”

oh? you have to crane your neck to really see him, he towers over you. shit, you don’t think it’d make a difference if you were standing. grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, sharp v-line peeking over black calvin klein. he’s got a white towel slung over broad shoulders, contrasting the vibrant hues of ink on his neck. he looks . . . familiar. his cool steel eyes and scarred lip are ringing bells in your head but he looks so fucking good, you aren’t really thinking about a damn thing.

he doesn’t wait for your answer, noting the way you’re ogling him. “i’m toji and you are . . . ?”

yes, toji. you remember who he is now. your best friend had shown you a reel of him boxing just the other day. you didn’t know much about boxing but toji is finer in person. finer than the pictures you’d seen when scrolling on his instagram. (how was that even possible?)

shit, you’re staring hard as fuck. “( 🫶🏾 ).” you say with a sheepish smile. he returns it with one of his own. you extend your hand for him to shake, “i know you, i’ve seen you before.”

“beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” he muses, lifting your hand into his much bigger one, kissing the back of it. you roll your eyes. the compliment was corny, predictable even . . . so why does it have your heart beating in your chest and between your thighs?

“you said you’ve seen me before. you don’t look like much of a boxing fan . . .” he probes with a brow raised. he isn’t surprised when you shake your head no, nothing about you gives avid sports watcher. he doesn’t press on it, opting to get straight to the point. “mhm. i don’t want this to sound weird but i was watching when you were doing squats and i noticed that your form could use some . . . work.”

damn, was it that obvious?

heat prickles up your neck, flushing your face in embarrassment. you can’t believe he saw you … had he been watching the whole time? you’re mortified at the possibility. you attempt to hide your face in your hands but it does little to ease the self-consciousness twisting your insides. with your words muffled, the only thing toji can make out is you muttering i feel so stupid.

“hey, hey. don’t say that. you’re not stupid.”

he crouches down, his touch gentle as he coaxes your hands away from your face and into his again. you’re avoiding his gaze, thick brows furrowed and glossy lips pouted. so cute. “it happens to the best of us, don’t overthink it.” he stands to his full height, tugging you up with him. “i can help you correct it and you’ll never have to worry about fucking up again . . . sound good, doll?”

his reassurance makes your heart flutter. he seems genuine so why would you decline his offer? just like that, any lingering feelings of embarrassment are gone. you give a quick nod, biting back a smile. “mhm, sounds good.”

he leads you over to the smith machine, bright pink neck pad on the bar a clear indicator it was the one you’d been using. you bend below it, eyes following his form in the mirror as he swaps out current weight plates with lighter ones, you presume. it’s hard not to watch him. veins bulge through the colored ink on his forearms, beefy muscles flexing with each plate he lifts. he has this aura about him . . . masculine. mysterious. it turns you on. everything about this man makes you horny and you just met him.

his eyes catch yours in the mirror, smirking at the way you quickly avert them. “is it okay if i . . . ?” he stands directly behind you, thick fingers hovering over your hips. you nod consent, breath hitching at the way they shape on your curves. you swear you feel them through your leggings. (or maybe that’s just what you want to happen instead.)

he’s keeping a respectable distance between your bodies but he’s close enough that the scent of his expensive cologne lingers in the air. it’s making you dizzy. he leans down, lips brushing your earlobe as he directs you. “tilt your hips forward, baby.” his thumbs lightly press on your lower back for emphasis. he hums in approval when it feels right. “that should help your back . . . and feet should be parallel, doll. you’ve got em too far.”

after a few more adjustments, he does a onceover, taking in your form. you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on your ass longer than they should. not that you minded. you fight the urge to bite the tip of your acrylic. you know you’ve gotten thick, he can barely handle it!

“mhm, you’re ready.” he says, lifting the bar off the safety hook and lowering it onto your shoulders. you wrap your fingers around the cool steel, preparing yourself for what’s to come. “you’re gonna push this set to failure for me, baby.”

“what?” you weren’t prepared for that. does this man want you to die? you’ve been through enough tonight. you shake your head with your face scrunched up in disapproval, “i can’t do that shit—“

“you can.” he reiterates, cutting your train of thought short. his hands gently rub up your hips, settling at your waist. “you can and you will.” the dominant edge in his voice makes the hairs on your nape stand on end, next words caught in your throat as your eyes meet again in the mirror.

his glare is smoldering, dark with such raw intensity that you can feel the lust exuding off him. god, it’s intimidating. he’s intimidating but you can’t look away, your own arousal pooling in your panties. he commands your attention without saying a single word. it’d be embarrassing if you weren’t utterly and completely enamored with this man. you’re ready to fold and let him have his way with you.

he maintains that eye contact as he leans down, tilting his head to ensure his words meet your ears. his voice drops to a husky whisper, raspy with a hunger that threatens to consume him. “i got somethin’ for you when you’re done. so be a good girl and finish up for me, hm?”

goosebumps raise on your soft skin like wildfire, audibly swallowing once his words completely settle in. “oh . . . o-okay.”

you’re not sure if that was a threat or a promise. either way, the implications of what he said sent a shock of nervous excitement coursing through your body. it serves as the motivation you need to push you through the rest of your workout, and there’s one thought plaguing your mind while you’re doing it:

what exactly is he going to do to you?

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊

toji knows eating it from the back in the gym shower when he just met you less than two hours ago is crazy. does he give a fuck? absolutely not.

you’re pressed up against the shower wall and toji’s kneeling behind you, his big hands trailing up the back of your thighs. you thought the warm stream of water on your skin would ease the anxiety bubbling in your belly. but it only serves to heighten your sensitivity even more—each graze of toji’s fingertips sends spikes of heat up your spine, breath hitching the closer he gets to your most sensitive parts. the steam envelopes the two of you in the small space, and it’s like it clouds your vision and common sense.

“toji, c’mon—need you, hurry up.” you whine, looking back at him over your shoulder with needy eyes, impatience growing by the minute. it’s obvious he’s dragging this out to tease you and you’re over it. you need his mouth—his tongue— on you now.

toji chuckles; the desperation in your voice makes his dick pulse against his thigh. unbeknownst to you, the feeling is mutual and he’s about to show you how real it is. “i told you i got you, didn’t i? just relax baby, lemme take care of you.”

he spreads your asscheeks with his palms, using his thumbs to part your lower lips at the same time. your pussy is so pretty, gleaming with slick, swollen clit peeking out your folds. he groans low in his throat as your hole clenches around nothing, the urge to devour you whole overwhelming him. usually, he wouldn’t eat a stranger out, but something tells him it’d be a disservice to himself to fuck without tasting you first.

fuck it. he leans in, plump lips latching onto your lower ones before dipping his tongue into your hole, lapping up all your juices that have accumulated there. he’s so into it, he doesn’t even fight the moan that slips out when your pussy is sweeter than he thought it’d be. and you’re gasping at the vibrations that ripple through your body like shockwaves, your hand reaching behind to grab onto his damp locks. the tugs on his scalp urge him on, and he lays his tongue flat, dragging up your slit until he reaches your clit, sealing his mouth around the bud.

your jaw goes slack, unable to contain the whimpers and moans that fall out your mouth as your hips jerk back onto his tongue, your hand buried in his hair, pulling him deeper into your cunt. “ahhn toji, oh f-fuck, feel s’goodd.”

“mhm, pussy tastes so good, baby. ride my fuckin face, c’mon—” his words are muffled within your heat, but you get the idea when his strong arms wrap around your thighs, ensuring you won’t slide on the slippery tile beneath you. water cascades off the curve of your back as you arch up into his mouth, using the grip you have on his locks and your other hand bracing the wall to fuck his face with precision.

instead of keeping his head still, toji moves in tandem with your hips—up and down, side to side, licking and slurping anywhere his tongue can reach. he’s eating you like a man starved, sucking your pussy into his mouth greedily, nose bumping your perineum as he fucks you with his tongue, meeting each grind of your hips halfway like he’s fucking you for real. moving both hands to cup and smack on the globes of your ass, he pulls and tugs on your throbbing clit with his lips, producing sounds so sloppy and nasty, louder than the water rushing between your bodies—and your cries reach beautiful crescendos that have his ears ringing delightfully and dick throbbing, painfully hard and oozing precum on his toned stomach.

(the thought of dropping a hand between his legs doesn’t even cross his mind, not when he’s so focused on making you cum.)

all that’s coming out your mouth are praises, curses and his name. “t-toji, toji! baby, oooh shit. don’t stop, don’t stop!” you can barely think, let alone breathe—he’s taking your soul, and you can’t keep up, legs trembling and stomach caving in as you succumb to the pleasure overloading your body, “m’closee, gonna cum!”

toji keeps his movements consistent, staying right where you need him, tongue heavy and long on your aching cunt. his voice is hoarse as he encourages what’s to come, rough and demanding, “yeeeah, gimme that shit, mama. cum for me.”

his words are the final thread that makes you snap. that invisible knot in your stomach unravels and you’re cumming hard, his lower face drenched as you bless him with your essence. toji works you through your orgasm, not stopping until you weakly attempt to push his head away, body shuddering in the blissful aftershocks. begrudgingly, toji parts from your pussy, dick jumping as he watches the mix of his saliva and your own cum drooling out of you before standing up, turning all his attention to your slumped form.

you’re a mess, the prettiest mess toji thinks he’s ever seen—his arm slung around your waist is the only thing keeping you upright. disheveled curls stick to your hot skin, chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath, head lolling back onto his broad shoulder. he has to laugh. you’re so fucked out and he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

“already tired, mama? m’just gettin’ started.” he murmurs teasingly, licking a stripe of the column of your neck. he leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, stopping the moment his lips hover over yours, contemplating what he should do—he really wants to kiss you. and he can tell by that doe-eyed look you’re giving him that you want to kiss him, too. so you make the decision for him, curling a hand into his hair and tugging him down so your lips can meet his halfway in a passionate kiss.

you moan into his mouth as he slips his fat tongue in yours, water beating on his back as he bends down to deepen the kiss. tasting yourself on his tongue feels so sinful, but you can’t get enough of it—clinging onto him to ensure your lips stay connected. his hands grip at your ass roughly, and you gasp when you feel his dick prodding between your thighs, hips rolling as he slides his length against your cunt, polishing it with all the juices there.

“so fuckin’ wet for me,” he mumbles against your lips, separating them with a lewd schlick. he wraps his fist around the base of his cock, tapping his swollen tip on your clit, bottom lip caged under his teeth as he watches you twitch and whine from his teasing, a hot rush of blood shooting straight to his dick. he knows your pussy will feel as heavenly as you taste—he’s itching to be proven right. “gonna be a good girl and take all this dick?”

his question is rhetorical—because he knows you will—but you answer it anyway, nodding as you look up to him with lidded, lust-filled eyes, hips arching back with desire, “mhm, i will. give it to me, toji.”

he feels his balls tighten at your erotic profession. damn, he thinks as he tilts his head to the ceiling. when you talk like that, how could he not fold? who would he be to deny you of what you need?

. . . he’s so cooked. he’s certain that out of all the woman he’s fucked in his life, he doesn’t think he’s wanted of them half as bad as he wants you right now.

with his free hand on your hip, he eases himself into your cunt, the both of you letting out sighs of pleasure as your folds latch onto his length immediately, sucking him in—greedy for every inch he’s gifting you. he has to take deep, slow breathes once he finally bottoms out—you feel so fucking good and he hasn’t even started moving yet.

his hand around your waist slides upward, cupping around the fullness of your breast, rolling a pert nipple between index and thumb fingers. he seals his mouth over yours again, nibbling and biting at your kiss-bitten lips. you’re melting into his touch, you’re so gone—you don’t even realize that he’s distracting you until he draws his hips back, pulling out until only his fat tip is left inside to drill his dick right back in, balls slapping against your throbbing clit from the sudden movement.

it catches you completely off guard, nearly choking on your spit as his pace picks up. your lips separate from his abruptly, saliva stretching between your mouths as your head tilts back, crying out, “t-tojiii, ohmygod!“

the pace he sets isn’t too fast nor too slow—but the force of his thrusts are enough to have your whole body jolting each time his hips connect with the swell of your ass. you’re clawing at his forearm, searching for something to ground you as he handles you like a doll. your mind is going hazy, and the sound of your asscheeks clapping on his pelvis intensifies your lust-induced trance tenfold.

“shit girl,” toji grunts through gritted teeth. he’s looking down, damp bangs clinging to his forehead as he watches where your bodies connect—his dick is glossy with your essence. your lips drag and clamp down on his shaft tightly with every grind of his hips, forming a ring of cream around his base. it’s hard to focus with the squelching of your pussy ringing in his ears, and combined with your moans echoing on the walls like a broken symphony, toji feels his restraint slipping too. his jaw slackens, allowing all his expletives and praise to flow freely, “fuck back on me, baby—mmm, just like that—feels so fuckin’ good.”

“you’re so b-big,” you whine pathetically, stuttering when his cock nudges that sweet spot along your gummy walls. your thighs tremble and burn with exertion as you obey, meeting his powerful thrusts in earnest. he’s too big, too thick—too much. the weight of his dick stretches your puffy lips to their capacity, bullying in deeper and deeper every time your pussy clenches in protest. so deep, you think you feel him in your stomach. too much, too much!

you grip his arm tighter, acrylic scraping veins as a broken cry rips from your mouth. god, your own voice doesn’t even sound like it belongs to you anymore, “nghh, too much! i c-can’t, i can’t!”

toji laughs. a deep, sexy sound that only amplifies the white heat searing through your bloodstream. you can’t see him, but you know he’s got that disgustingly handsome smirk on his scarred lips. you yelp when he lands a heavy hand on your ass, soothing the blow with his palm. “you can’t? but you’re takin’ it. i’m watchin you take it, just like you said you would. good girl, good fuckin’ girl.”

his nasty words are punctuated with every thrust, sending waves of euphoria right to the pit of your belly. you feel a familiar pressure building there, a tight knot forming that has every nerve in your body going haywire. you feel delirious, completely weak in this man’s hold as he’s fucking you dumb. it’s as if toji can sense what’s coming because his arm is on your waist again, tugging you back onto his chest—but this time, his other hand snakes over your throat and squeezes, momentarily cutting your access to oxygen and reality, drawing your head back to meet his piercing steel eyes.

oh god. he has to stop himself from pumping you full of nut as he studies the dazed, fucked-out expression contorting your pretty features. it fucks with his train of thought, sends all the nerves in his brain into overdrive. he’s losing the last semblance of control he’d been desperately trying to hold onto, all thanks to you. or maybe, he was never really in control in the first place. maybe it doesn’t even matter as long as—

“gonna cum for me again? gonna cum all on this dick, baby?” he’s slurring over his words, keeping that firm pressure on your throat to elicit what he wants to hear. your chest caves in, little hiccups caught in the back of your throat, fighting for the air needed to speak.

“yesss,” you hiss, struggling to maintain eye contact with him as he pounds into your g-spot, over and over and over with no intentions of relenting. you’re seeing white. “s’close, s’closee. please please please—nghh yes, right there!“

“where? right here?“

he snaps his hips forward mercilessly, groaning carnally at the way your velvety walls lock down on his dick with pure desperation—for your release or his? toji’s not sure, nor does he care; all he knows is he’s falling in love with your pussy and how good it feels on his cock, his own orgasm approaching fast. “fuuuck, squeezing me so tight. ugh—tryna milk me, pretty girl? want me to fill you up? talk to me.”

“yes, yes, ooohh shiittt.” your high-pitched cries and gasps of ecstasy echo off the tile walls, fat tears brimming at your lashline. toji’s assault on your poor pussy is brutal and unrelenting, he won’t let up—and the moment his swollen tip grazes a sweet spot, deeper than he’s ever reached before? that tight knot in your belly forcibly unravels and explodes, your release gushing out of you before you can properly announce the flood incoming, “nghhh ah, m’cumming!”

“m-mhm, let it go baby, lemme feel it.”

with a shrill cry of his name, you do as told and cum hard. entire body quivering, shaking like a leaf, eyes scrolling back into the depths of your skull with tears streaking down your cheeks. you can feel your soul transcending onto another spiritual plane as the flow between your legs just won’t stop, and toji’s drowning in it—the tight contraction of your sopping walls and creamy squirt flowing out your cunt like a waterfall, pushing him out and sucking him in at the same time—it’s a battle that he’s bound to lose.

he doesn’t bother fighting it.

his thrusts come to an abrupt halt and with heavy, panting breaths, he’s cumming right with you—body shuddering as he paints every inch of your pussy with his nut, plugging his dick in deep to keep his seed from spilling out, though it seeps from the corners of your sore lips, a combination of both of your cum trailing down your trembling thighs in a nasty, sticky trail. it’s vulgar, obscene and he’s a whore, a true slut. of course it makes his softening dick twitch inside you at the sight. you whine in overstimulation, pushing at his chest for reprieve and he pulls out slow, compensating for the soreness he knows is imminent.

the small space is silent besides the sounds of rushing water and heavy breathing. coming down from that glorious high, post-nut clarity begins settling in and toji finds that it doesn’t push him to clean up and disappear, forget you, find another body to replace yours like it usually would.

no, it makes him want to . . . stay?

he’s been around the world, had women in positions you couldn’t even imagine and it’s never been a problem for him to move onto the next, no feelings or strings attached that’s just how he operates. so what makes you different? what is this weird feeling festering in his fucking chest? and why are you looking at him like you could be thinking the same exact thing?

he doesn’t even remember when you turned around or why your hands are caressing his face so gently, but he’s watching your plump lips move and he’s not hearing a word you’re saying.

“toji? you okay?”

he never thought he’d ever want to be tied down but how could he let you slip out his grasp? he’s ready to do the unthinkable, fuck what his coaches and pr team says. when toji has his eyes on something he wants, he gets it. it’s his world and he’s willing to give you a glimpse of what it’s like to be a part of that.

“if i told you i wanted to fly you out to vegas for fight night in a week, would you come?”

your eyes grow to the size of saucers, brows raising so high they almost disappear into your hairline. is he being serious?

“don’t play with me, toji. that’s not funny.”

he cocks his head to the side, thick brows furrowed. “why would i be playing? you think i do shit like this often?”

you suck your teeth. “of course you do, i know you got hoes, boy. i hope you don’t think i’m not tryna be a part of your little harem—“

you squeal as he swats your ass, holding your cheeks in his palms to pull you close. he lets your hoe accusations slide for now, but he’s waiting for your answer. “stop stalling. answer the question, girl.”

a free trip to vegas doesn’t sound too bad. you’re not too sure of what toji’s intentions are, but with the way he’s looking at you right now, biting his lips like he’s nervous about what you’ll say next? you don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, a wide smile etched on your lips. “of course i’ll come.”

@screampied @sunasbon @sugultt @preciousamethyst

steal my work and you die.

[shishibazz]

Name change alert: ryukenzz > shishibazz

[shishibazz]

Hey ya'll, it's been a small minute. I hope everyone's Christmas Eve / day is going well. Below is a small Bleach drabble for Tosen. This is the first thing I've written since last November, lol. I'll do full-on writing some day, but for now, I will stick to small pieces. This is very short, lol. Hope ya'll enjoy. 💖

Word Count: 279

Dreams are an anomaly for Kaname.

Being blind from birth, the captain couldn't navigate the world the same way as those with vision. Touch, smell, sound, taste. These are the anchors that guide him through life. It led him through his path as a Shinigami, propelling him to his captaincy. Although…

It also led him to what he considers one of his greatest blessings. You.

Ever since he met you in the Soul Reaper Academy, Kaname's mind has become filled with everything there is to know of you. It started with thoughts of your weekly conversations, but they soon developed into full-time dreams.

A remembrance of your favorite puff pastry transformed into an intimate thought of you baking said dessert. You knead the dough as his hands follow along on top. A reminiscent of that haunted romantic movie you love.

Every time his eyelids close, Kaname descends into a world where nothing spiritual exists. Hollows, Shinigami, Quincies. Only a space where he can openly adore your being and soak up the love from your heart.

Dreams bring Kaname comfort. Relief from the realities of Soul Society's culture. As much as he wants to continue living in the blissful illusions… he knows his planned betrayal and conflicting alliances will never allow that.

One day, he hopes you understand. The blind captain prays that you will see his reasoning. Until then, he will continue to dream and long for a life that will never come to fruition.

Author's Note: I rushed the ending, I won't lie, fbhdbd. It's not exactly in season with the holiday, but I wanted to get at least ONE draft out before 2025. I hope everyone has a great Christmas, whether you celebrate it or not! Stay hydrated and warm ❤️.

[shishibazz]

Hello dear .. My name is Abdul Rahman Halas, married to the martyred journalist Alaa Al-Dahdouh. My journalist wife works for the Watan News Agency and we had a beautiful child named Karam. The real disaster began on Wednesday, May 31, 2024, when my wife, my child and I were surprised by a huge missile that fell on us and exploded in the place where we were, targeting the house we fled to and other neighboring houses

. At that moment, my journalist wife Alaa hugged our child Karam to protect him from the hell of the missile, but she turned into pieces and died immediately. My child Karam and I miraculously escaped certain death when the pressure of the missile threw me a long distance, which resulted in me being injured by numerous shrapnel and multiple injuries that led to severe fractures in my leg and damage to the nerves in my hand and foot and various shrapnel in different parts of my body

. My wife is a journalist covering the crimes of genocide against defenseless civilians in the Gaza Strip. With the intensification of the bombing and the scarcity of food and water, my wife and I struggled daily to secure food for our only child Karam, who was also suffering from severe fear because of The brutal bombing of the Gaza Strip.

Now after the disaster that befell my family, I need your generous support to overcome my ordeal and pay for my treatment and surgeries. I need several surgeries outside the Gaza Strip that cost a lot of money, and I am in dire need of your tears and support.

I am confident that after reading my sad story, you will sympathize with me and share with me and will not leave me and my child Karam alone.

Donate to me or share my campaign with your friends to donate to me

No matter how small your donation is, it means to me a chance for me and my child to be treated and to stay safe.

[shishibazz]

Please don't skip my message 🍉🇵🇸 to our honorable people in the world My name is Abdul Rahman from Gaza.. I lost everything in life.. My wife was martyred and my child and I were injured by a missile that fell on us.. My life was completely destroyed and I was severely injured all over my body especially my legs.. The missile tore my wife apart while she was carrying our child.. I ask for your support to start my life anew and overcome the tragedy I am going through.. Please help me with any amount no matter how small to treat my injury and my child's injury and get out of the Gaza Strip and start a better life.. And spread my campaign and my story so that everyone can see it 🍉🍉🇵🇸🇵🇸

Vetted by 90-ghost

https://gofund.me/c810ba27

GoFundMe Here!

[shishibazz]

Help us, my children are eating tree leaves because there is no flour 😭😭

For the fifth day in a row, we cannot provide bread The price of bread has become fifty times its price a month ago.

The price of a bag was 5€. Today, the price of a bag is 500€.

During the crowding at the bakeries, 3 women were killed as a result of the stampede, and a week ago also 3 women were killed.

My family is asking you to help them save on bread.🙏

Vetted by: @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #1 )

@90-ghost

[shishibazz]

Hello my supporting friends

I would extend my deepest gratitude and thanks for being supporters of people who are in dire and bad need due to the shortage of all living necessities. 😥😥😥

My family has been undergoing all forms of humiliation and oppression for almost ten months . Being jobless, my father is suffering much because lots of our basic living necessities can't be attained. 😢😢😢

Living circumstances are getting harder and harder, and this makes our daily life tragic and disastrous. Getting the basic needs has become our biggest challenges, leaving behind our dreams and aspiration. Our daily sufferings have become too great for us to bear. ,😥😥😥

A photo taken for the same girl before the war and nowadays.🤯🤯🤯

A photo of our beautiful house taken after the invasion of our neighborhood. Much destruction and rubbel have taken place. Nothing has been left for us to live in. Our belongings and possessions were completely destroyed😥😥😥

The life inside the tents under the hot weather is another tragedy. Such a life of sufferings and hardships is adding to our pain and sorrow. But with your support and standing by us, you have been lessening our loads lifted on our shoulders. So please keep helping us by donating whatever you can, sharing as much as you can and reposting messages to help get the campaign promoted.

[shishibazz]

Save My Brother Samer’s Life 🚨

If you scroll past this, you are ignoring a life that can be saved.

I’m writing as a brother watching Samer struggle for survival. His health has deteriorated to the point of falling into a coma, and we are unable to provide him with the necessary treatment. 💔

Samer suffers from bipolar disorder, and his stability relied on daily medications including LeponeX (Clozapine), Depalept Chrono (Sodium Valproate), and Lithium CO3 (Lithium Carbonate). These medications helped stabilize him, but without them, his health has worsened significantly. Every moment is crucial, and the pain and worry are relentless. 😞

There is no place for my brother in the hospital, and we cannot secure the treatment he needs. Imagine being unable to help your own brother as he struggles, without a way to provide the medicine he needs to recover.

Your donation could be the only hope to bring Samer back to life, giving him a chance to heal and come back to us. 🙏

Every contribution, no matter how small, could make a tremendous difference in saving Samer’s life. 💙

My campaign verified by:

@dlxxv-vetted-donations & @a-shade-of-blue

@gazavetters , my number the list is ( #75 )

paliliberation , my number the list is ( #171 )

Our important links here

[shishibazz]

"Trapped Dreams"

.help me family🍉🍉

https://gofund.me/409f63bb

In a small corner of Gaza, where the lights fade and darkness falls, Mahmoud sat alone, thinking. He was a young man like any other, dreaming of a better future, a safe home, and a job that would provide him and his family with a decent life. But the dream turned into a nightmare, and life into a daily struggle for survival.

Mahmoud's family, which includes 43 members, lived under the burden of siege and war. They lost their homes, and watched their dreams fade before their eyes. Every day was a new challenge, searching for a living amidst the lack of water and electricity, and the fear of bombing that could come at any moment.

"I saw hope in the eyes of my children, but the siege was taking it away from them little by little," Mahmoud says sadly. "They wanted to play in the streets, and go to school, but all that surrounded them was destruction and fear."

Mahmoud's dream now is simple, to get his family out of this hell, and to start a new life in a safe place. But the costs of migration are high, and far beyond their means.

Noha is a story of courage and determination. She reminds us that disability is not a barrier, and that anything is possible if you are determined enough.

“We need your help,” Mahmoud says, his voice trembling. “We need a chance to build a better future for our children.”

Certified and accredited by

@90-ghost

@bilal-salah0

[shishibazz]

Urgent help 🙏 📣

I stand on the rubble of our home, but my heart is filled with hope. I need your help to leave Gaza and complete my education to build my future. Every donation, no matter how small, will help me achieve my dream. Join us on a journey of rebuilding

GoFundMe link: https://gofund.me/463cbf01

Thank you for your support. Every bit of your kindness means so much to me 💔

My campaign has been vetted by:

1-@beesandwatermelon here #190 link here

2- @gazavetters

Shared by :

1- @a-shade-of-blue here

2- @dlxxv-vetted-donations here

Tags for reach, please rebloog 🙏

@tamamita @northgazaupdates2 @90-ghost @schoolhater @timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips @mazzikah @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @transmutationist @sawasawako @feluka @appsa @anneemay-blog @commissions4aid-international @wellwaterhysteria @mangocheesecakes @kyra45-helping-others @7bittersweet @tortiefrancis @ot3 @amygdalae @ankle-beez @dykesbat @aristotels @komsomolka @neptunerings @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @heritageposts @watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @lacecap @determinate-negation @deepspaceboytoy @paper-mario-wiki @kibumkim @neechees @chilewithcarnage @ghelgheli @sayruq @himejoshikaeya @rooh-afza @nabulsi

[shishibazz]

Little Majd needs your help

Majd Al-Habeel @youseffamily has known little of life without suffering. After losing his home to IOF bombardment, he and his parents were forced to live in a tent. This wreaked havoc on Majd’s health, as he is diagnosed with a serious respiratory illness that limits his ability to breathe. Living in a tent leaves one exposed to dust, dirt, debris, vermin, mold, fungus, and harsh weather—the worst possible environment for a child with his condition.

His family requires mutual aid to provide for Majd’s life-saving care, as well as to procure food, water, medications, other supplies, and clothing and gear for winter. They are a little over two-thirds of the way to their current listed goal, with still a long way to go. Please help this family out and give sweet Majd a better chance at life.

Thank you❤️

Majd’s family’s campaign was reblogged by 90-ghost and is supported by @khanger

[shishibazz]

Dear 🇵🇸

It is unfortunate that my family is in this ordeal. And my children are in this famine, cold and tents 💔

We cannot find anyone to help us.

Donate 50 euros and help save my children from their screams of hunger and cold pain 💔🙏

Your standing by my side is my pride and honor. I wish you safety and security

https://chuffed.org/project/117668-help-my-family-get-out-gaza

Chuffed Campaign Here!

[shishibazz]

My name is Basel Ayyad, a 28-year-old Palestinian from Gaza. My family of eight was forced to flee our home in northern Gaza, which was destroyed by the war. We now live in a small tent in Rafah, struggling daily to survive without shelter, food, or medical care.

The most heartbreaking struggle is watching my daughter, who suffers from a rare disease, worsen due to the lack of treatment. We urgently appeal for your support with food and essential aid. Even the smallest donation can make a difference and save our lives. Please help us.

GoFundMe Here!

[shishibazz]

Urgent help to buy medicine

Dear human,

I am writing to you as a human being like you. I am part of a family that is going through difficult times amidst this genocide. My brother suffers from bipolar disorder, and we only need 60 euros to buy his essential medication.🇵🇸

We ask you to stand by us, whether by donating, sharing our story, or talking about us. 💔🙏😔

https://gofund.me/917ecb89

GoFundMe Here!

[shishibazz]

Hello dear friends! ❤🤍🖤💚

🍉I am Mahmoud Ayyad, a Palestinian from the besieged and destroyed Gaza 😭😭, coming from an extended family of young children, women and elderly people ❤❤ who have been suffering😭😭 for 300 difficult days from an aggressive war.

Our lives are harsh because we lack all the basic necessities of life. Everything has become scarce and unattainable. There is no food, no water, no medicine.

So, I ask you to help me keep my family safe and alive, especially after we had lost all our sources of livelihood.Please do not leave my family to struggle and suffer these difficult days alone. You can support my campaign by donating whatever you can or by sharing my posts to reach others who can help us survive the war to safety and peace. You are helping the lives of many people with your small contribution. Every donation makes a difference in our very difficult lives. But this is a legitimate campaign and has been checked by 90-ghost.

https://gofund.me/31c5cbe3

GoFundMe Here!

[shishibazz]

Hello dear friends, 🌟

I'm Mahmoud Jihad from Gaza. My family and I have lost everything—our home, my university, all of it. Now, we find ourselves living in a flimsy tent after losing everything. I was studying Information Technology and supporting my family, but now we are left with nothing. 😔

We are enduring unimaginable destruction and desperately need your help to survive. 😭 Even a small donation can make a huge difference. Every single contribution is a spark of hope in this dark time. ✨

Our campaign has been verified by: @beesandwatermelons ✅ #190 and @gazavetters ✅ #63.

You can make a difference by supporting us through this GoFundMe link: https://gofund.me/463cbf01

From the depths of our hearts, thank you. Let's rebuild our lives together. 🙏❤️

Thank you so much for your generosity and support!

Your donations will directly help us in rebuilding our lives. Thank you again for your kindness and generosity! 🌹

GoFundMe Here!