Still more sentences!
These are from the Genre One Sentence Challenge, hence the reason the prompts are genres. Enjoy!
Angst (Shuuhei, Kensei, mentions of previous Aizen/Shuuhei and Kensei/Shuuhei)
When it was all over-when Aizen had been finally defeated and his body reduced to nothing more than ash and a handful of unpleasant memories for them all-Shuuhei found himself drifting about Las Noches and then Soul Society without purpose; months-no, years-spent playing his assigned role had left him feeling as if he were a ghost left to wander, and those around him who had once been his friends (and lovers-he couldn't forget that part) treated him as such; the Hisagi Shuuhei they had known was gone, either so long-buried he couldn't remember how to be that man anymore, or the one who had been pure fiction in the first place, and if anyone looked to him it was with suspicion or outright hatred-like his former lover's Vizard companions, though he couldn't blame them for that in the least, not when he had used and hurt one of their number so very deeply; glancing around the ramshackle apartment he had taken in one of Rukongai's higher districts one last time (not home, never home, he had thrown away the closest thing he could have called home when he had thrown Kensei's love in his face with his spectacular act in Aizen's throne room)he shouldered the bag containing his meager possessions and walked away, heading for the gate Ukitake-Soutaicho had ordered opened for him and an attempt at finding out if he could rebuild Hisagi Shuuhei from the ashes of what he had left behind.
Backstory (Shuuhei, Kensei, mentions of Ukitake, Unohana, and Shunsui (WARNING: imp. sexual abuse of a minor)
With the return of the Vizards to Soul Society, the dirty jokes and comments about the tattoo on Hisagi Shuuhei's face were finally silenced-the former fukutaicho of the 9th division had been all too happy to tell anyone who would listen about the day her former commanding officer had rescued a much younger Hisagi from a Hollow-and the Gotei soon moved on to other fodder for gossip; only a very small number-Ukitake Soutaicho, Kyouraku-taicho, and Unohana-taicho specifically-remembered the feverish, badly hurt nine year old who had been found wandering and delirious by the White Way Gate with blood running down his thin legs and a dead man's brand freshly etched in black upon his left cheek, fierce pride shining in his eyes even beneath the fever and pain as he demanded to see the man who had saved him; the three who remembered never spoke of the sacrifice the child had made to revere his hero, and even now-even faced with Muguruma Kensei's questions about his new fukutaicho and those sharp golden eyes that missed nothing-they held their silence and said nothing...it was not their secret to tell.
GenderBend (Kensei/femme!Shuuhei)
Kensei nearly swallowed his tongue when the slender, dark-haired woman's head turned his way and he caught sight of the tattoo etched prominently across one razor-edged cheekbone, instantly recognizing his fukutaicho even in this feminine form, Akon's smug smile and murmured "Maybe now you'll stop avoiding the issue, Silver," suddenly made sense, and he was drawn to her-his-side with all the helpless fascination of a moth to a flame, achingly aware of the fact that no matter the gender, he wanted Hisagi Shuuhei in his bed.
Death Fic (Kensei, Byakuya, Shuuhei)
He stood over the bed, staring down at the peaceful features that showed more expression now than they ever had in life, gaze sliding lower to the livid bruise around the slender throat that was not quite covered by a long swath of fine, pure silver-white material that could build several mansions in Seireitei-a poor trade for the life snuffed out by that very scarf-and lifted his gaze to the man who had done this, gold eyes molten with incandescent rage and just starting to swirl with Hollow-black, taking in the mussed hair, reddened mouth, and the gray eyes showing aching loss for just an instant before they returned to their normal detachment as he lifted his gaze from the lifeless figure lying among the mussed covers in a room that still reeked of sex to meet the Vizard's gaze, quiet voice distant yet not as he spoke: "I won't apologize for doing as he asked, Muguruma-san", and Kensei couldn't stop him as the noble turned away, leaving him alone with the cooling body of the man the Vizard had feared loving.
Hurt/Comfort (Urahara/Shuuhei (continued from Dark and Angst prompts pertaining to Shuuhei being a traitor)
The former captain of the 12th division had been waiting for him when he stepped through the gate, his expression unusually grave as he eyed the exhausted young shinigami who had devoted decades of his life for a cause that had to remain secret; Shuuhei had expected more of the same treatment he had received in Soul Society from the man-after all, he had played his dual roles here as well-but instead of treating him like a pariah, the shopkeeper had merely held out his hand with a murmured It will be alright, Hisagi-kun, you're safe here with me now and the relief that had washed through him would have sent him crashing to his knees right there in the street if it weren't for the warm, strong arms that caught him and drew him close, taking his weight as he broke down and cried for the first time in over a century.
Fluff (Renji, Kira, Rangiku, Kensei/Shuuhei)
Freed from their desks and the industrious bustle of their divisions in honor of the holiday, Renji, Kira and Rangiku left the Seireitei to join in the festival atmosphere blanketing Rukongai, bantering easily among themselves as they made their way past the crowded streets to find a quiet spot to dine on the picnic basket Kira had so thoughtfully packed-only to pull up short at the sight of the two shinigami seated on a blanket beside a small stream, Rangiku shushing her two companions and drawing them back among the cover of the trees so they could observe the private moment they had inadvertently stumbled across unseen; unaware that they were being watched, Kensei drew Shuuhei back against his chest with one arm while reaching down to tangle their fingers together, lifting the younger man's hand to his mouth to press a tender kiss to the freshly inked band that marked Shuuhei as completely, utterly, irrevocably his, smiling with contentment when he felt Shuuhei nestle closer and turn his head to press his lips against the matching tattoo on the older man's finger that marked him as Shuuhei's.
Prenancy/MPreg/2nd Generation(Kensei, Torao, Bykuya (mentions of Shuuhei)
Identical pairs of gold eyes locked and held-one pair curious and the other wide with shock-and Kensei tore his gaze from the small creature perched atop his desk to look up at the noble who had set the child down among the clutter of paperwork and reports only moments before, wordlessly demanding an explanation as to why Kuchiki had brought him a kid-one who could have been a carbon copy of the brat Kensei had rescued from a Hollow over a century before, though this version was a few years younger than his missing fukutaicho had been-and the noble lifted one dark eyebrow, "As captain of the investigative division, Muguruma, I had hoped that you would not be so dense as to overlook the blatant evidence right before you" falling from his lips in freezingly polite tones; Kensei looked back down at the child who smiled up at him, reaching for him with chubby four-year old hands, and without thinking about it, he gathered his missing lieutenant's son into his arms, closing his eyes as he buried his face in the child's messy dark hair while a ray of hope blossomed within him at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Shuuhei had been found at last.
PWP (Kensei/Shuuhei)
Fuck, fuck, fuck...Shuuhei's head dropped back on a long, throaty moan as large hands pinned his hips against the wall, holding him still as his captain swallowed him down to the root while gazing up at him with molten gold eyes that silently promised wicked, wicked things; fifteen minutes later Shuuhei was sobbing out his pleasure as the Vizard fucked him up against that very same wall, long legs gripping the older man's hips tight, wrists pinned above his head by a gloved fist, his entire being owned by the one man who had once been only a cherished memory but now was the center of his world.
PWP (Grimmjow/Shuuhei)
Blunt nails scratched down his back, leaving long red trails in their wake whose sting only fanned his lust higher and hotter, his hips snapping forward to drive his cock all the more fiercely into the writhing, panting, swearing figure he had pinned beneath him on the shining expanse of mahogany desk who demanded more, harder, faster... in a rough, damaged voice that had set his cock hardening the very first time he'd heard the 9th division captain speak (it had been fucking embarrassing, getting a boner in front of his own captain from just a 'hello', and he'd had to deal with Madarame and Ayasegawa's teasing for fucking weeks afterward); reaching between their straining bodies, he closed his hand around Hisagi's straining cock and stroked the steel-hard length roughly, in time with his thrusts, a feral smile curling his lips as the dark-haired man under him arched with a particularly violent "Fuck!" and came, the long, bare line of his neck too much temptation to resist as the tight sheathe surrounding him clamped down, dragged him straight over the edge, and he sank sharp teeth into the beckoning curve of throat, marking the other man and muffling his own hoarse shout of completion.
Humor (Kensei, Torao [Kensei and Shuuhei's son])
Little feet pitter-pattered across the floor (the kid was just like Shuuhei, running around barefoot whenever he could get away with it, which, considering the fact that Torao was only four-and-a-half, was quite often) and Kensei automatically set aside the reports he'd been reading to catch his son when the child hurled himself into his lap, one silver eyebrow lifting as a sticky mess of bread and jam was shoved under his nose, but he gingerly took the offering while hiding his dismay-the blindingly bright smile he received made it more than worth it-patiently waiting to hear what he had done to deserve this "gift"; Torao's little face turned very serious as he looked up at his father with wide, innocent eyes: "Uncle Shinji said you better eat Papa up soon before someone else did, but I don't want you to eat Papa, so I made you a san'wish instead", and for a long moment Kensei could only blink down at the child as his brain processed that innocently-delivered statement that, thankfully, Torao had not understood and hopefully wouldn't understand for a very, very long time; a sticky hand patted his face, drawing his attention away from thoughts of killing Shinji and back to the child's anxious little face, "You won't eat Papa now, right Daddy?", and what else could Kensei do but shake his head, take a big bite of the "san'wish", promising himself that he would have a little talk with Shinji later about inappropriate topics of conversation around toddlers and what Kensei would do to him if he didn't keep his mouth shut in the future.
Crossover (Kensei, Shuuhei, Dr. Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)
Two heads bent together over a file-golden brown and midnight black-and Kensei couldn't help but step back and admire the pretty, pretty picture they made, even surrounded as they were by gruesome pictures of the Unsub's work; his usually taciturn partner had opened up to Dr. Spencer Reid after only a few minutes in the agent's company, offering the other young man fleeting smiles that had yet to be directed Kensei's way in the eight months they had been working together, and the older detective didn't know whether to be grateful to the genius or jealous of the attention Hisagi paid him-but damn if he didn't go home every night these past few days and jerk off to memories of those rare smiles while fantasizing about having both young men eager and waiting for him in his bed.
Friendship/Family(Shuuhei, Muguruma Hikari (Kensei's mother)
The tiny woman seated at his kitchen table had him automatically reaching for the zanpakutou strapped to his back (he always shed his gigai the minute he set foot in his home, grateful to be rid of the mildly claustrophobic sensation wearing it gave him), but stilled when she turned eerily familiar amber-gold eyes on his face, a faint frown marring her otherwise smooth brow as she looked him over silently; ten minutes later Shuuhei was staring at her in numb shock, his already fragile world turned upside down once more as his ex-captain's mother quietly told him that he was to pack both his and Torao's belongings to return to Soul Society-to the Muguruma estate-where he would take his place back at her "blockheaded son's side where he belonged."
Threesomes/Moresomes(Kensei/Shuuhei/Ukitake)
Kensei had never before been the possessive type-his past associations had tended towards loose and easy-but with Shuuhei he'd discovered an entirely new side of himself that had him growling warning at anyone who even so much as looked at his lover; that said, however, there was one man whose interest in the dark-haired fukutaicho didn't leave the Vizard ready to commit murder, and one night after dinner at Ukitake-Soutaicho's private residence, Shuuhei turned to his captain/lover with a tiny frown and a questioning glance that resulted in Kensei flat on his back in a wide, low bed, Shuuhei draped across his chest and whimpering with pleasure-pain as both his Vizard lover and his Soutaicho moved within the tight confines of his leanly-built body.
Non-Con/Dub-Con(Kensei/Shuuhei, implied Tousen/Shuuhei, Aizen/Shuuhei, and Gin/Shuuhei)
"Isn't this what you wanted, Hisagi? Isn't this what you've been begging for? To be owned by me: my possession, my toy, my dirty little slut?"-his captain's voice harsh in his ear, teeth closing on the fragile lobe hard enough to draw blood, and Shuuhei closed his eyes and bit back a sob, fighting the iron-hard grip holding his wrists pinned at the base of his spine to no effect which only served to earn a derisive laugh from the bigger man above him; he wanted to scream his denial, but his voice was lost beneath the steadily growing horror of what was happening to him, memories of the past and the three other men who had turned him into their plaything rising from the darkest depths of his mind to bleed into the present until he didn't know if the hands and cock tearing into his body belonged to one of the three traitors who had made them their pet or to the silver-haired Vizard he had admired and worshiped as a hero since that day over a hundred years before-right now they were all one and the same, and it shattered his very soul.
Dark Fic(Kensei, Aizen/Shuuhei, past Kensei/Shuuhei)
He was forced to his knees at the foot of Aizen's throne-the two massive Arrancar flanking him on either side easily holding him in place no matter how much he struggled-swearing bloody blue murder at the ex-captain looking down at him from his seat with amused brown eyes and a very faint, very sharp smile, all the while wondering what the man had done to his lover, who had gone missing nearly a week before during a mission in the Real World; Aizen's smile merely widened and he stretched out a long arm, holding out his hand-and Kensei's enraged tirade shuddered to a halt as Shuuhei slinked out of the shadows behind the throne, all feline grace and predatory eyes, taking the would-be god's hand and allowing himself to be drawn down into the seated man's lap, sprawling comfortably sideways and kicking long, white-clad legs over the arm of the chair, allowing himself to be cuddled close even as he sent Kensei a razor-edged smile that was nothing like the fleeting curve of lips that the Vizard had come to cherish these past few months but matched the purring drawl that shattered Kensei's entire world in a single blow: "Did you really believe that I loved you, Kensei? You were nothing more than prey to me-easy, gullible prey who fell for an illusion of worshipful devotion and a willing body beneath yours in bed."
Fetish/Kink(Kensei/Shuuhei (panties, bondage, impl. D/s; they have lots of kinks)
Even Kensei had been fooled by the persona his fukutaicho showed in public, not realizing until much, much later (weeks after he had first caved in to his desires and taken the younger man to his bed after denying his attraction for months) that Shuuhei's everyday behavior was nothing more than a facade used to hide the passionate, deviant little minx that was his true self; no one but Kensei knew about the silky black panties that cupped his gorgeous little ass so beautifully, or how wild he became when bound even with the simplest of ties around his wrists (elaborate shibari demanded they have at least two days away from duties; one to play, another just to recover), or how Shuuhei would remove his everyday, functional choker once they walked through the door of Kensei's quarters and allow the older man to secure a wide collar of black leather around his slender throat that would remain in place until morning; no, he hadn't expected this deviant side to his lover, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.
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Opiate (Kensei/Shuuhei)
He was like a fuckin' drug, a smokey-sweet poison slipping through his veins and clouding his mind until things like can't and shouldn't and won't became can and should and will and everything else became hazy and distant and unimportant as he succumbed to the addiction of long sleek limbs, midnight hair and feline eyes the exact shade of secret pools that he would gladly drown himself in over and over until there was nothing left of the man he had been.
Oblivion (Kensei/Shuuhei)
The white poppy of the 9th symbolized oblivion, and for decades Shuuhei had unknowingly allowed himself to be unraveled bit-by-bit by Tousen until he barely remembered who he had been before; Muguruma-taicho's sudden reappearance and subsequent reinstatement to the Goeti's ranks had led him to think that maybe he could reclaim what he had lost, but he soon realized (impaled on the thick length of the Vizard's cock and at the mercy of those greedy hands and voracious mouth) that he had forgotten one very important fact...Kensei had been the captain of the 9th long before Tousen, and 'oblivion' was etched into his very core.
Sin (Urahara, Vampire!Shuuhei)
He didn't regret creating the device that had allowed Aizen to nearly destroy two worlds and thousands of lives (that had destroyed the lives of eight captains and vice captains), nor did he lose sleep over turning the half-grown, half-human child of one of his oldest and dearest friends into a weapon to be used against the madman who thought he could be a god, not even when he had to bear witness to that same boy skirting the very edge of madness in the weeks and months following Aizen's defeat...Soul Society had long been stagnating, rotting from the inside out (much like Rome and Byzantium and the Imperial China of the human world had done), and he couldn't regret the steps he had taken to lance the festering heart at its center; in light of his success-a new, better Soul Society that had risen from the ashes of the old, led by men and women who looked to the future instead of the ancient traditions of the past-there was only one thing he regretted, one sin he could not (would not) absolve himself of, borne not from careful machination or serpentine plot but a quiet offer of assistance and a selfless act to shield one of his own from falling shelving in the former captain's workroom; he glanced at the still figure curled up in a corner of the cage nearby and felt his chest tighten with suffocating guilt as he met Hisagi's glittering green eyes through the kido-reinforced bars that had been proven necessary after the former shinigami had bent ordinary steel in a feral rage, holding the younger man's gaze as he blindly picked up a scalpel and sliced deep into his palm, watching as those vibrant eyes narrowed at the scent of blood and full lips parted on a snarl to reveal the razor sharp fangs that would soon be buried in the tender flesh of his wrist once Hisagi lost the battle against his vampiric nature.
Hell (Kensei, mention of Shuuhei) (con't from Rouge)
He searched for well over a year (they told him to give up, to let it go-he had been missing far too long to still be alive-but he had refused to listen and stubbornly continued his search, telling himself over and over again that they were wrong and he would find him), spending all of his spare time hunting the back alleys and tenements of Rukongai's higher districts for the least little sign of his prey (he knew he wouldn't find him in Seireitei or a lower district, someone would have spotted him long ago), but as the days turned to weeks then into months, his certainty that he would find him began to flicker and die, and the guilt that haunted him (he'd sent Hisagi out alone on that last mission, needing to escape his growing attraction to the younger man, and his disappearance was entirely his fault) grew steadily until he thought he'd go mad with it; pure chance brought him to a certain narrow street in the 78th district-Ukitake Soutaicho wanted him to investigate a string of murders that had been brought to his attention by an angry merchant whose high-strung, spoiled daughter had been one of the latest victims-and he'd started as he heard an all-too familiar husky voice drift down from the open window above his head, pleading for 'More' and 'Harder' before spiraling up on a moan that had the Vizard hardening instantly before bright, white-hot rage swept away his arousal and sent him stalking into the building to confront and punish his no-longer missing fukutaicho for the hell he had endured this past year.
Rouge (Prostitue!Shuuhei, mentions of Kensei (one-sided)
The tiny, age-spotted glass reflected glittering, night-painted eyes and sultry, carmine-stained lips that promised sinful pleasure, careful artifice meant to entice all who looked into spending coin and overlook the bruises and pallor and drowning despair flickering through hollowed green eyes as greedy (gloveless) hands held him down to be broken, the near-rancid smell and taste of cheap cosmetics blotting out the remembered scent of honest sweat and clean skin and the taste of his former captain's bittersweet reiatsu heavy on his tongue.
Smile (Kensei/Shuuhei)
Somber and serious, his new fukutaicho was the polar opposite of his former, and for the first few months Kensei had found the respectful distance his subordinate kept between them a refreshing change after more than a century of Mashiro's disruptive antics and petulant whining that could so easily change into a full out temper tantrum; eventually, however, he found himself missing his old lieutenant's lively (chaotic) presence, the silence filling the office he shared with Hisagi turning oppressive as he began to notice little things about the younger man that had nothing to do with work: the way the sweep of dark hair (grown out of the messy spikes he'd sported when they had first met) curled about the strong column of his neck, drawing the eye to the latticed collar that Kensei had discovered was no mere decoration (when he'd first found out he'd had nightmares about the kid accidentally blowing his head clean off for days afterward); the slant of those feline eyes that appeared dark gray one moment and dark green the next, heavily shaded by thick eyelashes that any girl would envy; the way he would shed sandals and tabi when he thought himself unobserved and dig his bare toes into the floor with the faintest flicker of pleasure lighting his normally expressionless features (Kensei made sure to bite back his chuckle each and every time and allow the younger man to think it went unnoticed)...countless tiny details that told Kensei a great deal-and at the same time very little-about the man the brat had grown into, until the Vizard realized one day that his attention was bordering on obsession (Lisa's words, not his) and he found himself chuckling ruefully to himself at the inevitability of it all when Hisagi slid into his lap and murmured "It took you long enough, taicho", finally obeying the order Kensei had given him over a century ago as he leaned forward and pressed the lush curve of his faintly smiling lips against his grinning captain's.
Hunt (Shuuhei, Kensei)
Hunter and hunted, predator and prey...the chase carried them all over Seiretei and Rukongai, into the Real World and back, the days and weeks turning to months while he patiently waited for the right moment to claim what was rightfully his (what fate had decreed his on that fateful day a century before), and finally the day arrived when his prey made a fatal error and dropped his guard for just one brief moment, and he closed in for the kill-only to find himself flat on his back on the floor of their shared office and his fukutaicho gazing down at him with a serious expression that was belied by the tiny curve of his lips (he'd spent many a night fantasizing about that lush mouth, how it would taste, how it would feel against his skin, wrapped around his aching cock) and wicked amusement dancing in dark eyes as the younger man let him know in no uncertain terms (a slow, deliberate roll of slim hips rocked that gorgeous little ass down against his already steel hard arousal) who was prey and who was predator, and Kensei could only grin, knowing that he was well and truly caught, beaten by a master.
