Grim grumbles as you slick the bristles of that annoying brush down his back for the umpteenth time that day.
“Aw, Grim! Yours ears are so cute!” You cooed gently at him. Grim can feel the fire in his ears burn bright in annoyance as his ears flick again.
“I didn’t sign up for this when I chose you as my hench-human!” Grim growls lowly before batting at your hands, attempting to get you to knock it off.
You’ve been giving him too much attention as of late after he agreed to have you patch up his bow. Constantly brushing him, decorating his tail in ribbons and cooing at him in a sweet tone, blegh.
Grim puffs in frustration as you put the brush away and pick him up to head towards the lunch hall, apologizing to him on the way. By the time you both make it there and settle down with some food he scarfs down the lunch idly as the others chat.
“Y’know.. Grim hasn’t been looking like a wreck as of late. What’s up with that?” Ace asks, poking at his lunch while he stares at Grim.
Grim can already hear your grin as you brighten up beside him, his ears pin back down in reply. As he stiffens. “Grim let me fix up his bow and has started to enjoy the brush on his fur.”
Ace blinks at you then at Grim before muttering a small ‘uh-huh’. Grim puffs again in embarrassment before turning to you. “I don’t! I only let you do it cause you messed up my fur while putting it back on and you’ve been doing it since then!”
Everyone watches you blink before dropping the smile and nodding at your roommate’s words. “Oh, Grim. I didn’t realize you were so bothered by it..”
Grim winces a little before facing away from you to begin munching on his lunch again, grumbling through it with a “apology accepted” as the table goes silent before the conversation awkwardly continues.
The past few days flow by before Grim really notices anything. When he does he’s in the botanical garden with you for an assignment. You brushing through Ace’s hair as he spouts off some story about how Deuce almost fried his precious locks off in their alchemy class. All while he sits with his eyes closed and that stupid dumb smile on his face.
Trotting over Grim throws the plant you asked him to get on the table and narrows his eyes at Ace. Meeting the freshmen’s eyes when you stop petting at his hair to thank Grim and go back to the assignment you were SUPPOSED to be working on.
As you put your gloves back on and begin fiddling around with the work book for botanical potions he enters a stare off with the red head before Ace grins at him.
“You sure my hair is fine prefect? I’m sure I can feel a few burnt strands!” Ace whines to you.
Petting his hair Grim sees you giggle a little at Ace’s dramatic frown. “Mhm!” You smile softly at him. “Your hair is fine, just put some conditioner in it to help with the dryness.”
Grim watches the display, unimpressed.
Unfortunately for Grim, this wasn’t the last time he’d seen his fellow peers vying for your now open attention as he walks into the living room of his dorm to see you combing through wet blue locks.
“I’m sorry you have to help me do this prefect..” Deuce mumbles quietly as you break his hair into sections and comb through any tangles and dirt that was in his hair still.
Deuce looked ridiculous, Grim notes, staring at the colorful clips in his hair, holding the sections and pinning his bangs back.
“It’s no problem, I’m glad you weren’t hurt!” You smile down at him, oblivious to Spade’s annoyingly red cheeks as he tugs at his pant’s loose threads.
“So,” Grim starts as he plops himself down on your shoulder “Why is Deuce here? Get kicked out or something?”
The grey beast watches you carefully brush through the guy’s hair as you hum in response, picking gently at little clumps of dirt in his hair. “Deuce fell during track and landed in a mud puddle, I’m helping him wash the dirt out.” You replied.
Grim can feel his fur stand up in irritation.
Two might’ve been a coincidence but three’s a pattern as he grumbles in annoyance at Jack.
The beast man had come up to you guys while you were studying next to the library. Rubbing his neck awkwardly as Jack explained that his tail was matted and needed some help getting to the sides of it. Something about it catching on stuff. Grin was too irritated to pay attention to his excuse.
So now Grim sits next to you as you ever so carefully part through the beast-man’s tail and card through the knots with your fingers. Using your water bottle to dampen any knots. While Grim glared holes at Jack’s back. He was already bored and trying to leave but now he has to wait even LONGER.
All while Jack gets to cross his arms as you comb through his tail, something Grim is sure Jack could do by himself. The lazy bum Grim thinks to himself.
Huffing loudly again Grim turns around and claws into the wood of the bench. Ridiculous he thinks. Stupid Jack.
Grim deadpans at Epel crying to you about his house warden killing him if he goes back with his hair a mess.
Glancing Grim scoffs as he frowns, Epel’s hair had just a few obviously out of place strands, but nothing Grim would consider ‘a mess’. But you being ever so helpful, decide the lavender haired freshman needed your help anyway.
The cat like beast watches as Epels babbles about something, a knot forming in his belly as you almost lovingly, Grim notes, moves your hands to fix Epel’s barely messy hair.
As you finish up, Grim jumps on your shoulder and quickly bats at Epel’s head a few times as you pass by him, grinning in satisfaction as he hears Epel curse him under his breath, sticking his tongue out at him.
By the end of the week Grim is found more than happily in your lap, purring at you lightly brushing his coat, accepting any new accessories you present him.
Smirking in satisfaction at the disgruntled stares of the group at lunch, Grim decides maybe being pampered isn’t so bad. After all is coat is so neglected since Grim is so busy, might as well enjoy a free brushing session.
Byakuya did very few things without intention, but last night you made a sound when his teeth grazed your throat and his composure had simply… lapsed.
This morning he seen it in the light, a deep reddish-purple bloom against your skin. You reached for the high-collared kosode you usually wore as part of your uniform and his hand caught yours.
"Leave it," he said.
You looked at him, fingers still hovering over the fabric. "Byakuya, people are going to see."
He wasn't looking at you. He was looking at the mark. "Wear the one with the lower neckline."
You wore it to the division that morning and watched his reaction from the corner of your eye as you walked beside him through the main hall. Officers glanced at your throat and then immediately away, a few of them going red.
Byakuya's pace never changed, but when you passed Lieutenant Abarai, who noticed and choked on his tea, Byakuya's hand found the small of your back and stayed there.
"You're enjoying this," you murmured, keeping your eyes forward.
"I have no idea what you're referring to..." he said, his thumb tracing one slow proprietary circle against your spine.
At his office door, with three officers still in full view, he paused and adjusted the collar of your kosode, not to cover the mark but to frame it better, his fingertips lingering against the bruise.
"This suits you," he said, quiet enough that only you could hear. "I may need to be less careful in the future."
You exhaled. "Why do I get the feeling you're not joking when you say that?"
His mouth barely shifted, but his eyes said everything. Then he turned and walked into his office like he hadn't just branded you in front of his entire division.
Renji Abarai
You woke with three of them this time, a trail down the side of your neck like Renji had been mapping a path with his mouth, which was essentially what had happened.
You were standing in front of the mirror taking note of the damage when he appeared behind you, chin hooking over your shoulder, and whistled at his own handiwork.
"Damn," he said, sounding deeply impressed with himself. "The bottom one kinda looks like a butterfly."
You jabbed your elbow back into his ribs. "It does not."
He laughed and wrapped both arms around your middle, pulling your back against his chest, swaying you side to side like you were slow-dancing in the bathroom.
You reached for a scarf and his hand intercepted it, tossing it onto the futon behind you. "Nope. Absolutely not." He turned you around by the hips and examined your neck with the critical eye of an artist reviewing a canvas. "You're not covering those up. I worked hard on those."
You crossed your arms. "I have to report to the Eighth Division today, Renji. Captain Kyoraku is going to have a field day."
His grin only got bigger. "Good. Great. Perfect, actually. Tell him I said hello."
He pressed one more deliberate kiss right at the base of your throat, sucking lightly just long enough to deepen what was already there, then pulled back and admired the result.
"There. Now you're ready."
He caught your expression in the mirror which was half mortified, half grinning, and pressed his face into the crook of your neck, laughing against your skin. "You love it. Don't even try to front with me right now. You love it."
You bit your lip to keep from smiling. "You're the worst person I've ever met."
"Well, that hasn't made you get rid of me yet," he said, kissing the butterfly one more time.
Later that afternoon, an officer at the Eighth squinted at your neck and asked if you'd gotten hurt during training. Before you could answer, Renji--who just happened to be dropping off paperwork, called back over his shoulder without breaking stride, "That's my handiwork, actually!"
You were going to kill him.
Jushiro Ukitake
He found the mark before you did. You were lying with your head on his chest, half asleep in the late morning light, when his fingers drifted along your throat and paused.
"Oh," he said, very quietly, and something in his voice made you open your eyes.
He was staring at the curve of your neck, his thumb resting just beside a bruise that was already deepening in color. You reached up to touch it and he caught your hand, bringing it to his lips instead.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I'd been so--"
You cut him off. "Jushiro, don't you dare apologize."
He looked at you, surprised and you held his gaze. "I like it. I like that it's there."
His thumb traced the edge of the mark and his eyes went half-lidded in a way that told you the apology had been more reflex than regret.
Later that day you brought him tea wearing your usual kosode. You hadn't gone out of your way to show the mark off, but you hadn't hidden it either, and the neckline sat just low enough that when you leaned forward, there it was.
Kiyone spotted it first. A sharp inhale, then a hard elbow to Sentaro's ribs, followed by the crash of a dropped report stack.
"Captain Ukitake," Kiyone whispered, although not remotely quietly enough. "He looks like he's feeling better, don't you think?"
Sentaro caught on and broke into a grin. "Much better. His energy must really be coming back."
Kiyone clasped her hands together, eyes shining, and turned to you. "You're so good for him. Truly."
You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. Ukitake's hand found yours under the tea tray, squeezing once.
"They're going to tell the entire division," he murmured, cheeks faintly pink.
"Probably," you said, making no effort to adjust your collar. "That okay with you?"
He looked at the mark, then at you, and his fingers came up to trace the edge of it.
"More than okay," he said quietly. "I just hope they don't overdo crediting you with my recovery."
You laughed, but from across the room, Kiyone wiped an actual tear. "She's saving our captain one night at a time."
Shunsui Kyoraku
Shunsui never just leave one mark. He left a constellation.
He spent half the night with his mouth on your throat, humming against your pulse, murmuring things that made your toes curl, and by morning you looked like you'd lost a fight with a very affectionate octopus.
You were examining them in the mirror when he appeared in the doorway, still half-dressed, hat absent, hair loose around his shoulders. He leaned against the frame and took a long, appreciative look.
"Now that," he said, "is a beautiful sight."
You turned and raised an eyebrow. "Shunsui, there's like eight of them."
"Eleven," he corrected, crossing the room and tilting your chin to inspect the tinier ones. "You miscounted the little ones."
You wrapped a bandage around your neck before heading to the Eighth Division, layering it carefully enough that it looked like a training injury rather than a night spent underneath your captain. It worked, mostly. A few officers gave you concerned glances while Nanao studied you over her glasses but said nothing.
Then midafternoon, Shunsui appeared beside your desk with a look of theatrical concern. "That dressing looks like it needs changing. Come on, let me take a look."
You stared at him. "It's fine."
"It could get infected," he said, absolutely shameless, already steering you by the elbow toward his office.
The door closed and he unwound the bandage slowly, each layer peeling away while his eyes stayed on your throat. The marks had deepened inro rich vivid blooms of violet and burgundy trailing from below your ear to your collarbone.
"Oh~" he breathed, tilting your head with one finger to trace the darkest one with his thumb. "These got prettier."
You swallowed. "The whole office thinks I'm injured."
He grinned, rewinding the bandage with infuriating tenderness, his knuckles brushing your skin with every pass. "Good, then I'll get to change your dressing again tomorrow."
He tucked the end in and kissed you right above the edge of it. "A thorough recovery takes time, sweetheart. Let's not rush it."
Kenpachi Zaraki
He didn't even realize he did it until you winced when your collar rubbed against your neck the next morning.
Kenpachi wasn't a man who kept track of the finer details of what his mouth did, he just knew that at some point last night he had his teeth on your throat and you grabbed his hair and pulled him closer, so he kept going.
Now you were sitting on the edge of the futon pressing your fingers to the spot gingerly, and he leaned over to look at it with the same casual interest he'd give a new scar after a good fight.
"Huh," he said. "That's a big one."
You shot him a look. "That's all you have to say?"
He shrugged, grinning. "Looks good on you."
You didn't bother covering it. There was no point, really, you'd learned early on that being with Kenpachi meant abandoning any pretense of subtlety about anything.
So you walked through the Eleventh Division with the mark on full display, a dark angry bruise just above your collarbone, and watched the reactions ripple out like a shockwave. Officers stared, then immediately looked away. A few of the younger ones went red. Yumichika raised one perfect eyebrow and said nothing, which meant he was saving his commentary for later.
Then Kenpachi fell into step beside you, and you watched him clock the way every single person in the corridor glanced at your neck and then at him.
His hand landed on the back of your neck, heavy and possessive, his thumb resting directly on the bruise.
You hissed. "Ow--Fuck--That's tender, you know."
"Yeah," he said, not moving his hand. "I know."
He steered you through the barracks like that, his palm covering the mark like he was signing his name over it, and when Ikkaku opened his mouth to comment, Kenpachi stared at him until he closed it.
"You could be a little less obvious," you muttered.
He looked down at you, thumb still pressing into the bruise just enough to make your breath catch. "Why?"
Ikkaku Madarame
The mark wasn't subtle. He left it right on the front of your throat, dead center, like he had been trying to make a point.
You discovered it in the morning when you caught your reflection in the blade of his zanpakutō, which was propped against the wall, and let out a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.
"Ikkaku."
He was doing push-ups on the floor behind you, shirtless and completely unbothered. "Yeah?"
You pointed at your throat. He looked up, looked at the mark, and his face split into a grin. "Nice."
"Nice?" You grabbed a scarf from the shelf and wound it around your neck before he could stop you. He watched from the floor, mid push-up, frowning.
"That's rude. You know that, right?"
You ignored him and tucked the ends in neatly, checking your reflection. Gone. Completely hidden. You felt his arms wrap around you from behind, his chin dropping onto your shoulder.
"You're really gonna do me like that?"
"I have dignity, Ikkaku."
"Overrated."
You made it all the way to training with the scarf intact, feeling pretty good about yourself, until Yumichika appeared at your side, looked at your neck, and tilted his head like a bird examining something mildly offensive.
"That scarf doesn't match your uniform," he said bluntly. "Take it off."
Your hand flew to your throat. "I'm cold today."
"It is not cold today. It is the middle of summer. Take it off or I will, because looking at that color combination is causing me physical pain."
You tightened the scarf and Yumichika reached over just as quickly and tugged one end loose with a single elegant pull, and the whole thing unraveled, and there it was. Dark and obvious.
Yumichika stared at it for exactly two seconds. Then he turned toward the training yard where Ikkaku was stretching and called out, "You are an animal and I am embarrassed to know you."
Ikkaku looked up, saw your bare neck, and pumped his fist in the air. "LET'S GO."
You buried your face in your hands. "I hate both of you."
Yumichika patted your shoulder. "The mark is ugly dear. He could have at least placed it somewhere aesthetic... You can cover it back up now."
From across the yard, Ikkaku shouted, "DON'T YOU DARE."
Yumichika Ayasegawa
The mark sat in the curve where your neck met your shoulder, placed exactly where the neckline of your kosode would frame it if you wore the one he liked.
You traced it with your fingers that morning and actually smiled before catching yourself.
Then you put on your high-collared kosode anyway, because walking around the Eleventh Division with a hickey felt like announcing something you weren't ready for. When you stepped out, Yumichika was waiting. His eyes went to your collar immediately and his mouth thinned.
"No," he said. Just that.
"No what?"
"That collar. You're not wearing that." He crossed to you and tugged the fabric down to expose the mark, studying it.
"I put that there on purpose. The angle, the placement, the way it sits against your skin tone. That is my best work and you covered it with the most unflattering neckline you own."
You felt your face heat. "Yumichika, it's a hickey, not a gallery piece."
"Everything I do is beautiful dear." He was already pulling out the kosode with the lower neckline. "Change. Now."
When you emerged wearing it, he cupped your jaw and tilted your head, his thumb grazing the bruise.
"There~ Now you look like someone who belongs to me."
He walked beside you through the division with his hand resting on the exact spot, fingers splayed to frame it. When Ikkaku squinted at your neck and opened his mouth, Yumichika didn't glance at him.
"Say one word and I'll tell everyone about that little kendo tornament in the world of the living."
Ikkaku's mouth snapped shut. You bit back a laugh.
"You're terrifying."
"Thank you," he said, and pressed his lips to your temple.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi
The mark Mayuri had left was not something you wanted to explain to Twelfth Division members who already looked at you with a mixture of confusion and pity for willingly sharing a bed with their captain.
You wrapped a bandage around your throat and practiced your "training accident" excuse in the mirror three times.
You'd nearly made it through the entire morning, before Mayuri summoned you to the lab.
He was bent over a microscope when you entered and didn't look up for thirty seconds. When he did, his golden eyes went straight to the bandage.
"What is that."
You touched your throat. "I hurt myself during--"
"You did not hurt yourself during anything. Remove it."
You unwound the bandage slowly and the mark came into view. It was vivid, almost chemical-looking and high on the side of your throat where his mouth had been last night.
He crossed to you, gripping your chin and turning your head. "Excellent pigmentation. The capillary disruption is more extensive than I estimated."
You stared at him. "You're not serious. This was part of an experiment?!"
"I am always serious. This is a perfect record of applied pressure and vascular response and you attempted to hide it under gauze like a common injury."
He pulled a small jar from his coat and you flinched.
"What is that?"
"A fixative. It will prevent the mark from fading for approximately seventy-two additional hours."
Your mouth fell open. "Mayuri, I am not letting you preserve a hickey like a lab sample."
"You are, because I have already applied it." His thumb had swiped across the bruise while holding your chin, and the skin tingled faintly.
You looked at him in disbelief. He looked back with zero remorse.
"You are mine. The data should reflect that. You may leave the bandage here. You will not be needing it."
Shuhei Hisagi
He was mortified at first. You watched it happen in real time--his eyes landing on the mark, his face cycling through recognition, pride, and immediate guilt in about two seconds.
"I'm sorry," he said, already reaching for your neck like he could rub it away. "I got carried away, I should've been more careful."
You caught his hand and kissed his knuckles. "Shuhei. Breathe. I bruise easy and I didn't stop you, which means I didn't want you to stop."
The guilt faded slowly, replaced by something cautious and searching as he studied the mark, a dark uneven bloom right below your jaw.
Your uniform covered it perfectly. High collar, no problems, and you made it through the entire day without a single incident. You honestly forgotten about it by evening, which was your mistake, because your evenings were spent drinking with Rangiku.
You were three cups in, warm and loose, and you tugged your collar open to cool down without thinking twice and Rangiku's eyes locked onto your neck like a heat-seeking missile.
You didn't even get a full breath in before she grabbed your chin, tilted your head, and announced to the entire table, "Oh my god!!!~ Hisagi marked you up girl!!!"
The bar went quiet. Kira choked on his drink. Ikkaku slammed his cup down and howled. You slapped her hand away, face on fire.
"Rangiku, I swear to--"
"Just look at it! That's not even subtle, someone was making a statement last night!~" She was beaming, absolutely delighted, already turning to find Hisagi in the crowd.
He was three seats down, frozen with his cup halfway to his mouth, the flush spreading so far past the 69 tattoo it looked like his whole face might combust.
"Hisagi!" Rangiku called, raising her cup. "I didn't know you had it in you!"
He set his drink down very carefully, stood up, walked over to you, and put his hand on the back of your neck. His voice was strained but steady.
"We're leaving."
You grabbed your cup and downed the rest. "Yep. Great idea."
Rangiku's laughter followed you both out the door, and halfway down the street you felt his grip loosen and heard him start laughing too, quiet and helpless, his forehead dropping against the top of your head.
"We're never going to hear the end of that."
You laced your fingers through his. "Nope. Never."
Izuru Kira
You woke up to the feeling of something cool and adhesive being pressed gently to your throat. Your eyes opened to find Izuru leaning over you, brow furrowed in concentration, carefully smoothing a bandage over the side of your neck.
There was a bruise underneath, you could feel the tenderness, and from the look on his face Izuru been awake long enough to find it, agonize over it, and devise a solution before you even stirred.
"Izuru," you murmured, voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing?"
He pressed the edge down with his thumb, not meeting your eyes. "It's visible. I don't want people to look at you differently because of something I did."
Your chest ached at his words and you reached up and covered his hand where it rested against the bandage, pressing his palm flat to your throat.
"Thank you," you said, and meant it.
He finally looked at you, surprised, like he'd been bracing for you to be upset with him. "You're not mad?"
"Mad? Izuru, you woke up before me just to make sure nobody would give me a hard time today. That's…" You squeezed his hand. "Was really thoughtful of you."
The tension in his shoulders released all at once and he exhaled. You pulled him down and kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.
"You're a good man, you know that?"
His ears went pink. "I just didn't want anyone to--"
"I know. That's why it means so much."
You touched the edge of the bandage and smiled. "Keep being you, okay? I'll wear your little patch job with pride."
A quiet laugh escaped him and he pressed his lips to your forehead.
"I'll apply the next one better," he said. "That one folded a bit while I was putting it on."
a/n. heheheheh i felt way too devious while writing this because of the few peps I had in mind
sanzu "I love my wife" haruchiyo who has been hopelessly devoted to you since the two of you were children. no matter how ugly life got, you stayed - you stayed when his own brother was treating him like shit, you stayed through toman, through tenjiku, through kanto manji, and now through bonten. every version of haruchiyo knew one thing for certain - you would still be there waiting for him. he kept you a secret almost all his life so you would never have to deal with his messed up life. only mikey knew.
sanzu "I love my wife" haruchiyo who accidentally lets bonten discover the one secret he's kept from everyone after an attack at his apartment. expecting to find a furious, bloodied sanzu, the executives are left speechless when the front door opens to a sleepy woman in one of his oversized shirts, a wedding band resting on her finger. ran forgets how to joke, rindou genuinely thinks they're at the wrong place, koko immediately notices the ring, and kakucho can only stare. before anyone can say a word, sanzu appears behind you, bruised but immediately pulling you behind him, gently checking your face for injuries before even acknowledging the others. the room falls silent. nobody can believe the same man who'd slaughter people without hesitation has a wife he'd hidden for years.
sanzu "I love my wife" haruchiyo who buys you flowers so often that every room in your home smells fresh. roses one day, peonies the next, lilies because they reminded him of your perfume, tulips just because he walked past a flower shop and thought about you. sometimes you wake up before him and find a small bouquet already sitting on your nightstand with a tiny note written in his messy handwriting that simply says, "saw these. thought of my wife."
sanzu "I love my wife" haruchiyo who slowly lets go of the drugs because of you. not because anyone ordered him to but because one night you held his face so gently and whispered that you wanted to grow old together. the idea of dying before he got wrinkles beside you suddenly became unbearable. still, there are bad days, sleepless nights, moments where his hands shake and his patience disappears. but every time he's close to giving in, he remembers your sleepy smile waiting for him at home.
sanzu "I love my wife" haruchiyo who can go from ordering someone's execution over the phone to asking if you want strawberries cut into heart shapes five minutes later. everyone in bonten fears him. they hear the coldness in his voice, see the blood on his hands, and avoid looking him in the eyes. then he walks through the front door, slips off his shoes, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, buries his face in your shoulder, and asks if you've eaten yet.
sanzu "I love my wife" haruchiyo who is embarrassingly clingy the second he's home. he'll complain if you don't greet him with a hug, dramatically asking if you've stopped loving him because you were folding laundry instead of running to the door. he follows you from room to room like a cat, resting his chin on your shoulder while you cook, sitting on the bathroom counter while you do your skincare, lying across your lap whenever you're trying to read.
sanzu "I love my wife" haruchiyo who never gets tired of calling you his wife. every conversation somehow circles back to it. "my wife likes this." "my wife made dinner." "my wife hates when I skip breakfast." even people who have never met you know exactly how obsessed he is. the executives exchange tired looks every time he brings you up for the hundredth time that week, but he couldn't care less. he waited his entire life to call you his wife, and now he plans on reminding everyone that you're his every chance he gets.
On Saturday I said to my partner, as I have said for months, "A ten thousand dollar a year raise would solve so many of my problems."
As of this morning I was reluctantly looking for jobs because I love my job and don't want to leave it, but see: $10k raise problem solver.
As of noon today this was no longer an issue, because my boss called me with the news that I was getting a $10K merit raise.
I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. This is roughly $200 extra per paycheck. Enough to pay off debt faster, rebuild my savings, and spend a weekend a month in Milwaukee getting obscenely laid. The sex I'm going to have on $200 extra per paycheck. You can't even.
May all of you get the $10K raise your soul has yearned for. And whatever level of sex you can be satisfied with for $200.
Being Jushiro's young wife, whom he loves to show off to all his friends. He constantly talks about how much fun he has with you and how beautiful you look. His sweetness always makes you smile, knowing you're the luckiest person ever. Your friends sigh, claiming how envious they are you got to bag such a kind, generous, and handsome husband.
Ever since marrying you, Jushiro is determined to get you pregnant, cooing how good of a mother you'll be. He told you on your wedding day he wants a big family, so why not start right away? You learn to prop yourself up accordingly as he fucks you on every flat surface in your new house.
High-pitched whines escape your lips as his thick cock thrusts hard. You hold onto the edges of the table for dear life, certain he's going to split you open. His long locks tickle your back, causing you to wince from the sensation.
"Ahhn, do you...damn....do you think this will be the day it takes?" he leans down and whispers into your ear. "Will you... fuck....will you bear my child?"
"Mmmm, fuuuuckk, get me pregnant," you moan, soon gasping out as his cock drills into your harder and faster. He takes your free arm and pins it behind your back, pressing his torso closer to you.
"AHHH! Ahhh!! Fuuck, yeesss," you whimper. You close you eyes and let your orgasm hit you like lightning, making you lose all control. You cum hard on his cock as his balls begin to tighten.
"That's it, my sweet," he purrs, kissing the back of your neck, "That's it, that's it, fuck!" Hot cum pours into your tight pussy, making you feel even fuller.
You need more. More of him. More of him spoiling you.
Jushiro seems to take the hint as you still try to move your hips against him. "You're made for this, aren't you?" he teases, biting your ear before kissing you again.
Please don't copy, steal, or feed my work to AI. Thank you!
Author's Note: Writing for Jushiro in the last post sparked more inspiration about my beloved. He's so fricking hot! Can you imagine him as a hot DILF? Oh my stars! (≧∇≦
AN: This fic has gone through so many iterations yall and I'm still not 100% sure how I feel abt it, hope yall enjoy some fluffy Ichigo tho.
When it comes to splitting chores, you and Ichigo never really cared about making a strict arrangement of who is responsible for what chore. You both agreed that if something needed to get done, you'd do it and if something was too big to handle alone, you'd call on each other for help.
When you agreed to that arrangement, you didn't think it'd come with the caveat that allowing Ichigo to do your laundry would lead to you running out of clothes.
It had started innocently enough, when washing, neither of you really bothered separating your clothes beyond making sure your white clothes don't get stained, meaning that you and Ichigo's clothes often meld into one giant pile of indistinguishable clothes. When Ichigo popped up wearing your shirt or you accidently wore a pair of his pants, it wasn't a big deal, just a consequence of the way the laundry gets done.
However, after about a month of this happening, you started to notice that your things would end up missing much more often than Ichigo's things. A button up here, pair of novelty socks there, eventually you opened your drawer one day and found that it was almost empty despite the fact that you'd just put a fresh set of clothes in there.
Even more appalling was when the mystery immediately solved itself when your boyfriend came in the front door, greeting you while wrapped up in your jacket, wearing your t-shirt, and you swore if you looked close enough, you could see the familiar hem of your boxers sticking out of his pants.
That explains why you've been walking around wearing laundry day repeats.
"Hey babe, I got you some—"
"Is that my hoodie?"
Ichigo had never been a more fitting name for him, as his face went just about as red as the strawberry he shared a name with. "Uh...", he shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the pockets of your jacket as he tried to think of an explanation for why he'd been stealing your clothes. "No...?"
Alongside his declaration was an extension of the bag of things he'd gotten from the convenience store. He held it cautiously towards you like a peace offering, "I got you that soda you like."
"Can you at least leave me my work clothes? I can't clock in half naked, Ichi."
He immediately slouches with relief at the confirmation that you're not seriously upset, "Yeah, sure."
You take the bag out of his outstretched hands, "Thanks for the peace offering though", though you're not upset, you have no problem rifling through the bag of stuff Ichigo's brought home— you consider it as repayment for emotional distress caused by your boyfriend's thievery.
"Next time you wanna wear my clothes, just ask, I've got a few things I wanna see you in anyways."
You kiss his cheek and turn away, pretending all the while that you hadn't just left your boyfriend in the doorway of your home flustered and flushed red.
Thank you for reading! Hope yall enjoyed a bit of shorter fluff with Ichigo <3 (my tied for 3rd favorite anime protagonist i love him sm)
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