Sin Blog

“What?” Julius mutters, doing his best not to sound affronted. His brows draw closer together in a frown that feels out of place on his face. It isn't an expression he dons often, and he is unaccustomed to the unpleasant feeling in his stomach. He couldn't ruminate over it right now. There were more pressing matters. Julius dismisses the feeling and Eyepatch's look of concern with a wave of his hand. He feels a hand close around his chin, and his face and eyes are dragged away from your laughing face to the dirt road now occupied by magic knights on horseback. Between them, they have a cart with them, dirty blankets stained with blood covering what he could only assume were bodies.

“There are more pressing matters than romance, Julius,” his friend murmurs with equal amounts of impatience and kindness. “Focus, will you?”

Julius stood in silence as the rest of the knights marched on, his eyes narrowed, but on occasion his gaze would drift back to you. As it went, his priorities always included magic at the top, but what was magic without a little romance?

As if by that same magic he loved and was fascinated by, you turn your face to meet his gaze. The sky nearly splits with the sound of thunder. You both look up immediately then back at each other, secretive smiles stretching your lips. Julius feels his chest tighten as he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes from the distance separating you.

“Looks like it's going to rain!” he ventures to call out. Next to him, he hears Eyepatch groan and mumble something about being obvious. If Julius's observation was an annoyance to you, you don't show it. Instead he is delighted to hear the soft tinkling of a giggle carried down to him by the wind.

“Are you trying to get caught up in it?” you ask him with a small tilt of your head.

“It's pretty warm. Might serve to cool us down.”

“Or slow us down.” You nod in the direction of the camp and start walking. Julius ignores Eyepatch's word of warning and trots towards you until he is walking breathlessly next to you. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath and he uses it to the best of his ability to inspect the profile of your face. Inside him, Julius could feel his soul quiver.

“I didn't know you to the be the type to be against adventure,” he says cheerfully. He smiles, hoping you're aware he means no judgement.

“I'm not,” you retort just as cheerfully, your lips pursed as you do your best to stave off a smile. “I'm just against becoming a soaked noodle in public--or getting struck by lightning.” You aim a lofty look in his direction, paired with an arched eyebrow; it is near lethal. He feels his heart stutter.

“Are you referring to that day?” He asks you. You glance at him silently as a reply. Julius chuckles before he plows on but not before he artfully avoids a puddle. “I had it perfectly under control.”

“You could have died!” you tell him loudly, your voice rising in pitch, eyebrows high on your forehead. Julius' smile becomes warm. “We could have died.”

“That was never going to happen.” He sees your lips part for breath as you geared up for your next argument. Julius speaks even quicker. “I was never going to let that happen.” Your eyes meet his, and Julius can hear something sizzling; in the air, in the sky, all around him, like searing hot lightning. “Ever.”

After a prolonged pause, you break the silence with a disbelieving scoff. “What?” you look up as a challenge lurks behind your captivating eyes. “You think yourself the Wizard King or something?”

Julius laughs, delighted by every word you speak.

“Would that impress you?” You shrug one shoulder, and Julius wonders how the soft roundness of it could be so tantalizing. What magic had you just performed to make him think of the skin underneath the fabric, the softness of it, the scent of it?

“Maybe,” you answer at last, looking up at him through your lashes before you walk faster, leaving him behind with his thoughts and a heat that was beginning to shoot into his nether regions.

“If that's what it takes then,” he mutters, stepping oddly as if he suddenly grew interested in doing walking lunges. You look up confused, as if you didn't catch all his words, and look even more perplexed for his actions. Julius is surprised to find that there's blood left to go to his cheeks. Funny, he thought all of it was currently busy with his very inconvenient erection.

“D'you say something?”

Julius furiously shakes his head. He feels a hand clamp down on one of his shoulders. In the time he was taking to adjust himself, Eyepatch had caught up to them.

“Nothing worth remembering, I can guarantee you that,” Eyepatch chimed in with his unsolicited opinion. Julius shot him a tense smile over his shoulder wishing he could beam him away with the simple power of his charm. Unfortunately for Julius, he didn't possess that kind of magic but he was sure that someone somewhere out there did and he would be keen to meet them at least once. That way he could ask them if they had ever used their power to get rid of a very pessimistic gray cloud with two legs and a mouth.

“I was saying!” Julius said loudly—even louder than usual, as he escaped Eyepatch's grasp. “We should race back to camp. Last one there gets to do all of tonight's cooking.” He doesn't wait for you to agree before he starts, laughing as he hears your protests.

“That's not fair!” he hears you shout. “You don't even cook!” As he looks over his shoulder, he sees you racing towards him wearing a fierce expression that makes him howl with laughter.

III - Hail

It sounded like the window was being pelted with rocks. Your penetrating gaze flies to the arched window behind Julius, as if you could incinerate the imagined risks with one look alone. Somehow the thought of someone trying to harm Julius was enough to make your skin feel prickly. Thunder moved raucously through the sky as sweat clung to the dip of your lower back. It was insufferably humid. Your misery was made near palpable every time he looked at you.

If he had any idea of the effect he had on you, would he be apologetic? Would he laugh; enigmatic, friendly yet unapproachable? Would he find any excuse, as he always did, to suddenly disappear from view although his eyes always lingered on your mouth, as if he wanted nothing more than to venture into you instead? Or—by some impulsive whim—take advantage of your weakness and finally succumb to the same kind of madness that consumed you?

You blink yourself back to the present, his melodious voice taking up the space of his office, as the storm raged on outside.

You near forgot what you were in the office for, in the first place.

"Anyway, that was the report," you mumble, hands behind your back, fussing with the rings on your fingers. "Not very exciting, is it? Most missions aren't." You wanted to addend your statement almost immediately. You wanted to let him know, that indeed, most of your missions had been stale, boring, and uninspiring without his company. Yet your tongue remained stapled to the roof of your mouth; soldered by an invisible flame you had no protection from.

"Exciting is what you make of it!" Julius said, in his stereotypical cheery voice. He had an incredible skill into turning everything he said into some motivational speech. Perhaps his real magic was the gift of gab. Julius walked around his desk, fussing with a new magical artifact; the latest object of his attention.

"Besides," he said softly this time. His eyes flicked towards you from across the desk bringing with them an unexpected warm breeze. "It's you." There is a heavy silence that almost takes physical form. You feel yourself drowning in it as he chooses his next words carefully. "I wouldn't dream of calling you dull."

You laugh, as the instinct to fight off his honeyed words seizes your body. You fantasize about falling into his sticky trap every night but the moment you feel a toe dipping into the warmth substance you buck; a bull refusing to give in. You couldn't understand what was wrong with you; as if you were the machination behind your own destruction.

"Weeeell," you start, dragging your vowels as you drag your feet through this ridiculous exchange. As you stall, a deafening thunder catches both of your attentions, right before the room falls into darkness. In the dark, it's as if his breathing grows louder, and louder, until it's all you can hear. You clear your throat as you try to shake free from whatever spell he was casting on you. You hear him moving in the darkness; feel him. "What are you doing?"

It wasn't your intention to sound accusatory. He laughs anyway, his feet soft on the floor. You take a hesitant step back as you feel his body heat grow nearer. Lightning strikes the sky, and for a moment, his silhouette is white against your eyes. It feels as if it would burn forever.

"Looking for you," he says after a while. You feel him in front of you, and after blinking repeatedly and quickly, your eyes adjust in the darkness. You see his face, softened by shadows, but nothing could snuff that treacherous light in his eyes. It was enough to take your breath away.

"Why?" You ask. You draw your hand back as he reaches for your wrist. He tries again. "What for?" Julius hums contemplatively as he finally borrows ownership of your wrist. You feel his fingers drop lower, his thumb caresses the hollow of your palm. You consider it a miracle that your knees haven't buckled.

"What else for?" he murmurs as he lets go of your hand, to barely hold on to your fingertips. The option to run is there on his soft grasp "I have to get to you before you escape again."

It should be diabolical the way his gaze burns through the darkness; a fire erupts within you as the storm rages on. Before you can protest further his mouth is on yours, his lips softer than you could have imagined. His hands are warm on the small of your back, as he presses you against him. You feel them move upward slowly, as his tongue presses against your lips gently. It's a tentative kiss, as if he wasn't sure you'd let him cross the line yet.

You hesitate as usual before you finally give in, bringing your hands up to rake your nails through his straw colored hair.

You part your lips and it's all the permission he needs. His kisses become hungrier, soft moans drowning in the back of his mouth as he explores yours with his tongue. His breath is intoxicating, sweet like malted barley. His teeth snags on the sensitive skin of your neck, making you hiss. He punishes you by taking hold of your ass and lifting you on the desk. You hear items tumble to the ground.

"I didn't take you for a brute," you mumble breathlessly, as his trembling hands take hold of your clothing, pulling and tugging until you sit naked on his desk. His mouth is searing against your skin as he sucks on the hollow spot of your neck. His hands knead your breasts carefully. "I take that back," you remark with an arch of your brow. You crane your neck, doing your best to look down your nose at him. You see him bumping the tip of his nose against the chain around your neck. "You're being gentler than a mouse right now. Do you think me so fragile?"

"You're as fragile as the storm outside," he mumbles distractedly against the mound of one breast before he turns his face to seize your nipple. You inhale sharply at the feel of his teeth. Goosebumps run down your body, all the way to your toes, and they curl tightly as his lips lock around your breast. Your back arches as he sucks, and you try to drown out the small whimper that bubbles up. Heat spreads and consumes you. Every breath you take feels more urgent than the next. His hand slips between your legs, his calloused fingertips expertly finding the swollen bundle of nerves that so desperately needed his attention.

At the pressure, you squirm and moan. He finds your actions punishable, or must have, because he immediately clamps down on a shoulder. He trails wet kisses up your neck to your earlobe as he rubs circles on your clit. You moan louder this time, and you can feel his lips stretch into a grin against your cheek.

"You're being so obedient," he jokes. You frown despite the pleasure making you tremble, your bottom lip quivering as you fight off another moan all in the name of telling him off but he silences you with a quick kiss; salve for your bruised ego. "Of course!" he sings as he laughs. "I admit. This should be considered cheating."

He inserts a finger slowly into you. You tense up. Julius stills his hand.

"You don't want me to?" he whispers softly, his brows drawing together in the darkness. You see his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his tanned skin. Once again, the office is intermittently illuminated by the lightning outside.

"I need a moment," you mumble, your hand finding the necklace around your neck. You fist it nervously in your hands, fingers playing with the medallion as you often did when nervous. Julius tilts his head down to kiss your moving hand. He looks up at you through his lashes and you nod. "Alright," you say softly. There's a quiet moment before he starts again, slipping his finger the rest of the way around your tight walls. You're slick, and warm. His mouth drops open as he loses himself to the sensation, a tingling feeling shooting from his navel to the tip of his dick.

"Sunlight," he pants, inserting another finger that takes your breath away. Your head lolls as you enjoy the stretch, watch him with lidded eyes as he scissors his fingers playfully, testily.

"What?" you spit out, teeth clenched as you fight your irritation for the sake of the impending orgasm. Your teeth bite down on your bottom lip.

"What's that necklace you keep holding on to?"

You blink, trying to focus instead on the way you move your hips in tandem with his hand; it was unsettling how easy it was to fall into his rhythm but what did it matter when it felt this fucking good?

"This?" your voice is a squeak that brings color to your cheeks. You swallow the lump of embarrassment down. "It was a gift. From my grandmother." Did he really need to ask you these kind of questions when he was curving his fingers in such a manner? Did he forget he was two knuckles deep into your pussy?

"Ah," was his first response before he allowed silence to fall between you. Rain pelted the window, but somehow the increased panting coming from you seemed louder. You press your lips together to keep from moaning. As you try to be as quiet as possible, it seems Julius was determined to be the opposite. His fingers worked arduously, enough that you could hear the pockets of air slipping around your arousal; a wet sound so devious that made you victim to a full body blush. From his mouth, were short little words of appraisal, all of which made you wand to catch fire and disappear. "Mood killer," he mumbled in between them before he went back to praising you. "Such a pretty pussy though."

"What?" You cough, and move around, his fingers slipping out of you. You see him pout dramatically before you tear your eyes away from his face. Perhaps you shouldn't have because you spot a smear of wetness on his desk that threatens to make you speechless. "I'll take the necklace off."

You begin to, but Julius stops you, one hand on your hand, and another on the inside of your thigh.

"No, don't," he says gently, a crooked smile taking over his sweet face. He pushes on your thigh with his free hand and slips his lower body between your legs. "Keep it on." You lower your hand. He cups your face gently. Your eyes are ensnared by his. You swear the moonlight is drawn to his irises. You're mesmerized by it, as his fingers travel down the column of your neck. You blink, feeling his erection press against your throbbing core. He presses his hands against the base of your neck before he snatches the necklace in his fist. You choke as he tightens the hold, your eyes widening with a mixture of fear and arousal. "I like it."

He holds you there, between fear and pleasure, as he brings his free hand to guide himself to your entrance. He pokes gently, his eyes low and heated. You stare back at him, and realize belatedly he was waiting for your okay. Unable to speak, you spread your legs wider hoping that was enough to clue him into your consent.

You realize with a start, it certainly must have been, as he slams into you. You gasp out, blinking through the tears as you try to adjust to his size. You squeeze around him involuntarily, fingers grasping at his hips.

"Good," he mumbles, and leans down to kiss you once, twice, before his hips start moving once more. He thrusts into you, creating a rhythm that threatens to disarm you. You feel your apprehensions falling apart, like old thread. You choke out another gasp, his fist refusing to let go of the chain. He shakes it slightly when you try to close your eyes, to focus on the feeling tightening at the pit of your belly. Your eyes flutter open with a start to see him looking down at you, observing you with fascination; his brow knitted together, his lips glistening and parted. "Keep your eyes on me, Sunlight. If you look away, I'll disappear."

You almost headbutt him for the threat but he angles his hips and takes away your will to fight. You moan despite yourself, thrilled by the way he too couldn't keep quiet. His grunts and moans, arouse you, make you feel as if it's only you and could only be you who makes him feel this way. You give in to the delusion, allow yourself this small respite. It would be short lived, you knew. You feel his hold tighten around the necklace, feel him bring himself closer to you even as he slaps his hips against yours repeatedly.

His breath is hot against your face, as he presses his forehead against yours.

"I warned you," he breathes out in a whine. You swallow, unable to form a sufficient thought. "Look at me, Sunlight. Please."

Your eyes meet for a moment, but you shut them tight, feel your walls tighten and quiver as an orgasm wrecks your body. Your legs twitch around his hips, and he kisses your eyes, your cheeks, your forehead right before he reaches his own climax. His hips start to slow, just as yellow light spills in the room, power returning once more. Slowly, he lets go of your necklace, and just as slowly he stops moving against you. You can't help but notice he hasn't pulled out. You look up at him, feeling very wet and sore in between your legs.

"Oh," he says as if he had been struck with a brilliant idea. He still doesn't pull out. Instead, his fingers trail over your neck, his free hand tilting your chin up so he can get a good look. "There's some bruising," Julius says casually. As if looking like you had survived a kidnapping was an ordinary every day appearance. "Maybe you should edit your report. Embellish it a little. Ah!" He looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "You did this on purpose didn't you?"

You blink up at him, and slap his chest as you try to scramble off the desk. Julius seizes your hips and pulls you close instead.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were complaining about how boring your report was. Was this your way of making it exciting?" Your mouth twists, and he laughs through the slew of cuss words you launch out at him. "Alright, alright." He kisses you, even through your annoyed mumbling. "Don't be mad but promise me this? From now on, you'll only give your reports to me, and only me. Lest you get ideas."

Perhaps it had been divine intervention to have Dan Heng of all people discover you, circumstances could always have been worse— especially when he notes that you’re pretty, really pretty. But half dressed, no doubt desperate and particularly vulnerable, so when he had noticed the way your eyes glimpsed to the bag in his hands, he offered you an olive branch.

He shrugged and said, “If you are hungry, I believe I can help with that.” trying to sound as little of a threat as possible and he’d watched your feline ears twitch as you listened.

You had the instinct to think about it at least, though not for aslong as most people usually would— and he took another moment to be thankful that it had been him to discover you, someone with better intentions than most.

Because just like that, you’d followed him back home.

But now, Dan Heng has become somewhat familiar with not only what you are, but also what you’re currently going through.

He assumed the role of being an owner quite quickly. Sure, sharing his apartment with a catgirl is probably much different than just sharing with a cat— but he still follows the duties that are expected of him either way. Some people may even say that he spoils you a bit too much, but that depends on who you ask.

When he had first taken you in, he had taken the time to extensively read through some articles that he had found online about your general care and needs. For the most part, you can take care of yourself the same way any regular human can, despite the feline traits— you eat, bathe and dress in the same way just about any girl might.

(Well except for pants, you’ve never really liked pants.)

But unfortunately, certain circumstances of your animal anatomy do still remain intact.

Most notably, your heat cycles, and Dan Heng has learned to pick up on them immediately.

You hide it well enough, but despite how affectionate you usually are with him— he can still see the change when the time comes around. You tend to linger more often, brushing up against him in circumstances where it isn’t particularly necessary and there’s a permanent knit to your brows that never quite settles.

He doesn’t like to point it out, perhaps you find it to be embarrassing because he’s a guy— probably not the best person to discuss your mating behaviours with considering you live together and well… he’s all human too.

But really, Dan Heng doesn’t mind at all. Actually, he’s subtly began to help you out with things that he’s read usually work; he’s left heating pads around the apartment that he often finds you curled up on, along with encouraging your affection with closer proximity and making sure you’re distracted.

Though he admits, there’s only so much he can do. And really, it pains him to feel useless despite all he’s done for you already.

So when one day he notices you clutching at your stomach from where you’re curled up on the opposite side of the couch from him, he can’t stop himself from speaking up before he ultimately does.

“You’re in pain.” Dan Heng says, matter a fact as he watches you freeze and your head turns to face him as you try and fail to play it off.

“I’m not, I’m perfectly fine.”

“That’s not particularly convincing.”

Your tail flicks once from where it rests tucked beneath your feet, as if peeved at his observation. You sigh, “I mean it’s nothing, it just…. it happens sometimes.”

Dan Heng watches you closely, sees the way you’re biting down on your lower lip now. Your shoulders are still tense, still dealing with the discomfort despite the way your expression is trying to stay still, and as he readjusts himself on his side he can’t help but feel overcome with guilt.

“I apologise if my asking makes you uncomfortable.” He begins but you cut him off swiftly.

“It doesn’t, I just don’t want you to feel awkward.”

“I can assure you I don’t.” He responds with a certainty that makes your ear twitch, and Dan Heng’s come to learn that it’s a trait that you have when you get flustered. He thinks it’s cute, the movement drawing his attention before his eyes fall back down to your features and as he continues to observe you from the sofa, he opts to continue the conversation.

He hopes if anything, it will distract you.

“How did you deal with it?” He begins carefully, hoping not to overstep. “Before this I mean?”

“Not quite as well.” You offer a half-hearted shrug. “Other hybrids can smell it on you, as if the suffering could get any worse. So I’m just happy to be…. safe this time around.”

Dan Heng picks up on the implication, and he watches you zone out as if recalling back on those times. Although he doesn’t feel like he’ll ever understand it, he can imagine how fearful a hybrid like you must’ve been knowing you were being hunted for the most part.

Constantly on high alert. Constantly in hiding, hoping to just coast by undetected and survive another cycle. Until the next.

It makes something sink in Dan Heng’s stomach at the thought of it, and he finds himself suddenly overcome with the need to make you feel comfortable and at ease. His hands almost twitch with it.

He watches your features flinch with another wave of what he can only assume is discomfort, and when your hand clutches at the muscles in your stomach with an urgency— Dan Heng doesn’t think twice before suddenly asking, “Is there anything that I can do for you? Anything at all?”

Your breathing is more shallow now, sweat beading at your brow as your kitten ears flatten themselves against the top of your head and for a moment he wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. Perhaps you would prefer if he just left you alone to suffer, his presence maybe making you feel less at ease than he would like.

But before Dan Heng can offer you that instead, you answer him. Staring back.

“Stay with me?”

And he responds almost immediately.

“I have no intention of leaving you.”

Whatever tension was in your shoulders releases with his words then, and Dan Heng watches you slink back into the couch as if relieved that he’s not going anywhere. Your hand is still resting on your stomach, and your tail has taken to tapping against the cushion but you still appear to be handling it best you can— so without thinking much of it he offers you another thing.

“Perhaps laying down will feel better?”

The question makes you shift a bit, almost folding into yourself as your ears flip upright again and your lashes flutter.

“Is it okay?”

He shrugs, “Should it offer you some relief, I would not mind it.”

“You already give me enough offering me your apartment.”

“I should remind you it is your apartment now too.” Dan Heng says. “But I insist. Trust me.”

“Okay.” You almost purr, nervously smoothing down the fur on your own tail before you cast him a sweet glance. “Thank you.”

You move with the swiftness one would expect from a cat as you push yourself up to your knees, and within Dan Heng’s next blink you’re coming to lay yourself down half-on his lap. Your head is on his thighs as the rest of your body curls up on the couch cushions to his side, and the warmth of your weight on his legs is enough to make him have to swallow and get his bearings.

He hears a small purr as you get yourself comfortable, and as a good owner would Dan Heng immediately reaches out to begin petting you.

The action had been awkward at first, but now it’s almost second nature whenever you’re close by. You like it, the appreciative little trill of your voice taking a pitch higher as his fingers stroke from beneath your ear to your shoulder and then back again. He tries to move slow and soothing, even as you roll over onto your back and try to push yourself closer to his palm.

Dan Heng lets his hand drift up to your ears after a few minutes, massaging the sensitive, soft fur beneath his thumb and forefingers until you sigh and then he goes for your jawline next, scratching there. Another brush of his touch, and he watches your eyes flutter in bliss— the ache in your body half-forgotten as you coo and purr in his lap.

Or almost atleast, your next words catch him off guard.

“Can you…. maybe go lower?”

You glance at Dan Heng from beneath your lashes, and the look is enough to steal the breath from his response. His hand stills its strokes along your body— and for a moment he freezes, thinking of all the possibilities and the rationale. Until his silence urges you to purr low, nudging your nose against his palm again and suddenly his mouth is moving before his mind can process.

“If that would make you comfortable.”

And then his hand is too.

Dan Heng touches you on your chest first, respectfully. He begins with tentative, fine strokes of his fingers; brushing them from your navel to your collarbones and then as low as your waist. You lean into every touch— purring, tail flicking and ears turning out, bathing in the strokes of his hand as you press your head back in his lap.

“Lower.” You gasp, twisting against him.

His hands brush your hips next, to your stomach— his fingers tracing the hem of your shirt and the skin beneath when it rides up. He holds his breath when it knocks your thighs wide open.

“L-lower.”

“Are you sure?” Dan Heng asks, his voice much deeper than he expects.

You look at him again, pupils blown wide this time. The most cat-like he’s ever seen them.

“Please, I can’t deal with it alone anymore.”

“If at any point you become uncomfortable, you—“

“I will.” You cut him off, knowing what he’s going to say. “Promise.”

“Okay then.”

Dan Heng tells himself it’s fine, because it is. After all it’s his responsibility as your owner to ensure your continuous comfort so he would be doing you a disservice were he to flat out ignore you in your current state, especially when he knows what to do to bring you some relief.

He read those heat articles after-all, memorised them even.

But still, Dan Heng starts slow, his fingers graze past your hips until they touch your inner thighs and he begins to stroke you there. He hears you purr, your eyes fluttering closed and he takes note of how warm your skin feels— your ears flicking in time with his fingers.

It’s different to that of a human, even in the subtle characteristics of your reactions past that of your appearance. The sounds you make, the expressions you show him— it’s new, and he’s careful but he finds himself needing to drag his fingers closer until your hips buck up and he knows what you’re asking.

Dan Heng’s eyes glance at you again.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s…. it’s feeling good.” Your breath catches but your eyes are still closed. “It helps.”

“Should I keep going then?”

“Y-yes, please!”

“Whatever you ask of me.”

So Dan Heng continues patiently, stroking a little higher and this is probably one of the times he’s found himself grateful that you hate wearing pants— it restricts my tail, they’re so uncomfy, was what you had told him initially. It may have been awkward in any other circumstance but for right now it’s beneficial, because Dan Heng finds out fairly quickly that you don’t wear underwear either.

He’d never noticed before, considering you usually opted to wear long shirts that covered you well enough where he’d never noticed, but when his hand travels higher and instead of feeling damp fabric he feels skin, he almost groans at the initial touch.

Though Dan Heng does manage to come to his senses quickly when it comes to the first real pet through your folds. It feels like any human pussy would, you’re wet and warm— perhaps a little more sensitive, but maybe it’s the heat.

Regardless, the small touch alone is enough to make you arch against the couch and Dan Heng tries his best to soothe you with his free hand as he brushes it along your sweat-slickened hairline. You settle with it, purring and tilting your head into his palm and he continues, growing hard in his pants as he collects your slick on his fingers and he trails them up with ease until he’s rolling over your clit.

You’re burning up from what Dan Heng can feel, but you’re purring and twisting into him— trilling and meowing as he applies a little more pressure to the sensitive bud of your clit, and he finds a pace before beginning to rub at you with two of his fingers.

He scratches behind one of your ears as he touches you, soothing you with sweet hums of his voice as the wet sounds between your thighs only become louder.

He wonders if other owners have ever resorted to the same strategy, relieving their hybrids by their own hand. Dan Heng rationalises it in his head by assuming it’s better to be done by someone they trust than a stranger, it’s what makes the most sense rather than allowing them to be in pain— or worse.

But he doesn’t think on it too much because your toes are starting to curl and you’re grinding needily against Dan Heng’s hand like you’re equal parts begging and thanking him for this. You don’t seem to be as uncomfortable as you were before, so he assumes that means it’s working.

“Can you take more?” Dan Heng speaks, still so focused on drawing circles into your kitten-cunt that he barely registers asking.

But you hear him, purring louder as your lips part and you sigh.

“Y-yes, it feels much better! Please don’t stop.”

Your thighs begin to shake when Dan Heng sinks one of his fingers into your pussy with such an ease it barely registers. You’re so wet he’s hardly met with any resistance, and he takes note of the way the hackles on your tail begin to raise in response. It’s like the discomfort in your body is responding to being filled, even if only like this— you seem to be grateful for it, the warm twitch of your walls beckoning him in deeper and he feels that first squeeze in thanks.

Your head muses back in Dan Heng’s lap again, and he hadn’t realised how hard he was until he feels you brush against his bulge— making him groan as he plays it off with a clear of his throat. He tries his best to ignore it, but you turn yourself to nuzzle against it, mouthing at his cock through his pants as you purr against his crotch, pawing and kneading there like a kitten would beg for a treat.

You’d never gotten like this before, and again Dan Heng finds himself blaming your heat. He should correct you, probably best not to make a habit of it but when he’s currently sinking his finger into the tight squeeze of your walls a few more times, does he really have a leg to stand on?

“Can I?” You ask softly, motioning to his clothed cock with Dan Heng’s finger curling upwards in your cunt.

“We should focus on you first.”

“L-later then?”

You sigh when his touch appears to press against the swollen, sensitive spots inside of you and he continues with the same pace before he decides it’s best to just respond in kind.

“Later then.”

Dan Heng continues to sink one finger into you until you’re arching again, toes curling from where they’re pressing against the cushions and he can feel your clit growing puffy and swollen with every graze of his palm against it. He takes these as good signs, assuming your intimate anatomy is the same as that of a humans, so he pulls his fingers out of you and rubs more slick around your sensitive bud— trying not to groan at the way it makes your hips buck.

He smooths your hair back from your face as you continue to rub your cheek against his bulge, and he takes the opportunity to admire your bitten lips and twitching nose.

“Tell me if it becomes too much.” He says after a moment, more so to himself than to you.

But you respond anyway, “It’s not t-too much, it’s perfect. I could take more even.” Sighing in a way that’s so breathy and beautiful that it earns you a throb from his clothed cock. So suddenly, smoothly, Dan Heng sinks an extra finger inside of you this time and drinks in the way that your thighs tremble at the sudden stretch.

You keen with it though, purring and kneading and arching into his palms. Its like a scene from the lewdest corners of his mind as he continued to sink his fingers in and out of you, and you bask in the way he pets you in two places at once— his hand in your hair, the other deep inside of you, relieving your heat as your lashes flutter.

Dan Heng curls his fingers up once more, scissoring them against the tight squeeze of your walls as he tries his best to stretch you out, to touch everywhere at once and give you the pleasure your body craves.

“Might I assume this is helping then?” He asks again, to distract from the way his cock is throbbing against your cheek. Your lips drooling all over his pants.

But you can’t speak now, you only offer him a feline Mhmmmm as you try to hump into his hand and Dan Heng feels lightheaded at how desperate you look, watching you shake from where you rest half on his lap.

He pets across your cat ears once more, rolling them between his fingers as he pets against your g-spot at the same time and both sensations at once leave you a mess beneath him. That, accompanied by having his palm grind against the spread, slick surface of your folds every time he sinks his fingers all the way inside of you seems to be working, and Dan Heng starting to wonder if you cum the same way humans do too.

He doesn’t want to think about it too much, reminds himself he’s just doing you a favour but he’s so hard— definitely in too deep, in more ways than one and he feels your walls squeeze again, stretching for him the deeper he goes and he knows your body is begging for that release.

But if you were just a normal girl, Dan Heng reckons you would be close.

Every draw back of his hands is squelching louder now, making a mess between your legs as the slick smears down his hand and you’re kitten licking at his crotch at the same time, arching into his touch and body like he’s your own personal catnip.

But then your lips part again and Dan Heng feels his ears begin to ring as your purrs and mewls sound louder, your pleasure seeming to grow closer. He faintly makes out a trilled “Close.” but had he missed it he would’ve felt the way your body is sending him signals anyway.

Your ears are flicking uncontrollably now, your cute features pinched up as you grind up into the press of his hand and he scissors his fingers inside of you again, making you quake and shiver as he keeps the pressure on your pussy.

Until finally, you grab at Dan Heng’s forearm when your thighs suddenly stiffen and snap closed around his wrist, and he hisses at the way your claws drag red marks up his skin as you finally cum. But he doesn’t stop, he continues to sink both fingers inside of your clenching walls as he sees you through your orgasm— hoping this will be enough to satisfy your heat cycle atleast until he’s calmed down.

But for now you continue to jolt at the pleasure, riding the waves of your relief as Dan Heng pulls his fingers back and rolls them over your clit again— prolonging your blissful state until you’re nipping at his hand with your teeth and he takes that as his cue to stop as he pulls back.

He doesn’t say anything initially, instead Dan Heng just watches you stretch yourself out on his lap and purr— cheek still resting against his obvious bulge, but you look content and at ease for the first time today so he doesn’t mind it too much. Your tail is flicking out beneath you again, as if satisfied with his work and when your eyes open to blink up at him this time, he notes the way they seem to glow— still cat-like in nature but much more dilated now.

“I think it’s safe to assume that helped then?” He asks after a beat of breathing, breaking the tension between you both and he finds himself relaxing when you laugh, scrambling up to your knees.

“I had my doubts at first but it really did the trick.” You respond with a smile, and when you come to curl yourself up on Dan Heng’s lap a little more this time he helps you— petting a hand down your back.

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear that.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” You motion down to the crotch of his pants, looking more feline in your teasing and Dan Heng tries to alleviate his own embarrassment with a sigh.

“I ask that you pay that no mind.” He huffs, a little pink in his cheeks. “My intention was simply to help you that’s all.”

“And help you did.”

That’s when you kiss him. It’s hard and clumsy, and Dan Heng notes the rough surface of your tongue as another feline trait of yours when he feels it brush against his own. But he welcomes it, feeds into it even— cupping his hand around the back of your neck he takes the lead and he feels you melt into his chest, kissing you with an eagerness that’s slow but warm and comforting.

When you pull away you almost look drowsy, at peace.

“Thank you.” You say after a beat, leaning into Dan Heng’s palm again as you urge him to pet at your ears.

He listens, looks at you. “You do not have to thank me. I wasn’t certain it would work to begin with.”

“Still, thank you. Now we know what’ll help next heat cycle too.”

Now that, Dan Heng did not consider.

With silvered moonlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains, the room is steeped in a quiet, luminous glow. Books and scrolls lie scattered across the table, their aged surfaces drinking in the pale radiance. The only sound that dares disturb the stillness is the soft hum beneath your breath, accompanied by the occasional whisper of parchment shifting under your touch.

It is well past midnight—an hour where even the most diligent have long surrendered to sleep. Fortunately, neither you nor your husband belong to the cathedral of most. While the world rests, Dan Heng remains seated across from you, absorbed in the scrolls passed down through generations of the previous Imbibitor Lunae.

His gaze is unwavering, tracing each line of ink with meticulous care. The brush in his hand moves only when necessary, deliberate and precise, as though each stroke carries the weight of something far older than either of you. You find yourself watching him—quietly, almost absentmindedly—as he turns from one scroll to the next.

His dark hair catches the moonlight in soft strands, the subtle teal undertones rendering him almost otherworldly in the dim glow. He has tied it up tonight, a rare choice that leaves the line of his neck more exposed than usual. The glasses resting upon his nose sit perfectly, framing his features in a way that feels unfair—like the world has conspired to make him even more beautiful than you remembered.

And the longer you look, the more details begin to surface—the ones you have memorized countless times over. The quiet sharpness of his eyes, softened now by focus. The faint tension in his brow. The calm, composed way he carries himself, even in something as simple as reading. Each time, the same thought returns, persistent and disbelieving—how did you ever manage to place a ring upon this man’s hand?

Lost in your thoughts, you fail to notice how your gaze lingers—unwavering, unhidden. And Dan Heng, ever perceptive, has already taken note of it. Of the way your eyes rest on him, softened with something warm, something quietly consuming.

It is enough to draw a faint flush across his cheeks.

Even after years of marriage, it has done little to dull the effect you have on him. If anything, it only seems to deepen it. How could it not, when you look at him like that—like he is something to be cherished, something worth memorizing?

He clears his throat, the soft sound cutting through your thoughts.

You blink, returning to yourself—only to catch the telltale signs you know all too well. The tips of his ears have turned a delicate shade of red, twitching ever so slightly. In a futile attempt to compose himself, he lifts a scroll closer to his face, as though it might shield him from your gaze—and the feelings that come with it.

“…You’re staring,” he murmurs at last. There’s a subtle hesitation in his voice, like he’s carefully stepping around something unspoken. “Is there something on my face…?”

The question halts you for a moment.

That tone—quiet, uncertain, laced with something deeper—and the way his breath seems just a touch heavier than before.

Oh.

You know exactly where this is going.

Without a warning do you move closer, placing yourself onto his lap and earning a soft whimper from him. His breathing has already shifted into a heavier pace, a crystal-clear expression of his hazy mind. You can feel the way his movements have grown wobbly as well, perhaps your seat has truly fogged up his already troubled mind.

Instinctively, you place your hand against the dragon's chest and he— without a word— obliges to your silent demand, allowing his back to hit the ground beneath.

Settling your hand by his head, you pin him in one place, gazing down on your beloved— who is admittedly in a trance. It is a play you've partaken in a hundred times, that familiar gaze on you is nothing less than tender and borderline needy.

“Why, can't I admire my husband now? You're all dolled up tonight.” you tease softly, leaning in to press a kiss on the tip of his horn— to which, the Vidyadhara responds with another muffled whimper, one he does not try to hide as he does so usually.

Dan Heng's hands snake around your waist to grip the fabric of your clothes, anchoring him against your softest touches. You are a witch, he thinks— bathing him in touches so gentle, he could have never imagined they existed until you. You can make a mess of him, yet he'll never push your hands away because he knows, it is not in your nature to be overbearing.

“I...” Dan Heng breathes out in another futile attempt to regain his composure. “I should be the one admiring you—” A groan bubbles up from his chest as he interrupts in own sentence, the warmth of your lips on the spot beneath his pointed ear is enough to render him speechless.

You can't help but smile victoriously— to see the guard of the Express be a whimpering mess, you swear the Aeons above have blessed you. But as you pull away to straddle his hips, sharp nails dig into the skin on your nape, wordlessly pulling you into him, only pressing his lips against yours.

Taken aback, you freeze momentarily, letting him peck your lips demandingly. With each moment of your silence, he only grows more demanding, one scaled hand pressing against your nape while the other palms at your hip. Overcoming your initial shock, you angle your head and catch the rhythm of his lips. His hand only presses your further against him, as though a single kiss can steal his words to you.

The moment you pull away to regain your bearings, another whimper leaves him— a verbal sign of his disappointment at the absence of your warm lips. A soft chuckle echoes within the closed chambers as you watch him gasp with half-lidded eyes, mumbling inaudibly to himself.

The man beneath you is gone, by a few light touches only. To think that having the Imbibitor Lunae so pliant within your grasp by mere body heat, it sounds ridiculous. But how can you resist the temptation before you? You ought to savor what you are given.

With little thoughts to your clouding mind, you pluck the jade hairpin off his hair, allowing the dark hair to spill in its glory. “I should be apologising, no?” you ask as you place the hairpin on the ground beside him. “Sorry, love, got carried away. You just look so beautiful like this.”

The sincerity in your words does not miss him, it only serves to spreads the warmth within his ocean-fed heart. You truly believe he's radiant, don't you? Oh, how he wants to reciprocate those sweet words— he would, hadn't he been rendered speechless by a mere kiss.

Instead, his grip on you tightens and he pulls you right back into another kiss. This time, his forked tongue sweeps against your bottom lip, demanding access— and you allow him to slide into your mouth without protest. Your tongues intertwine in a slow, familiar dance. With each whimper and moan falling off his heavy chest, you find your mind more clouded than ever and lost in the way he's palming every part of you that he can reach.

The need for air does not avoid you long. Hesitantly, you pull away with nothing but a string of saliva connecting your tongues. Huffs of warm breath leaves you as you steady yourself but the man beneath you is far from being in that state. The light of moon above illuminates the Vidyadhara's teal-bathed horns— if one were to witness this sight unprompted, they'd be bound to think he was woven by Idrilla THEMSELF.

You can see how needy he's grown by the way he's twitching beneath your grinding hips. Each roll only heightens the sensitivity and endurance of it all. The words have swallowed past his tongue, unable to tell you how much he loves this— your touch, your voice, the way you wrecked with only a few familiar tricks. If he could, he'd dress up like this forever, just to have you on him.

You press another soft kiss on his cheek, hoping to calm his gasping form down. However, control does not favour you entirely tonight. The dragon's urge to please his beloved wife overshadows the want to be made love to.

In the blink of an eye, you feel your back hit against the cold, hardened floor, ripping a soft gasp from you. Above you hovers your beloved husband, who is gazing down with those delirious eyes and long hair spilling on your wrinkled clothes. Dan Heng is a strategic man, and currently, his mind is occupied with ways to have you squirm and gasp his name beneath him. For all know, he will achieve it.

As his lips press against your collarbone, you know you're in for a long night.

How the hell do yall write smutfics, this isn't even one and I was staring my screen like this mid way thru it:

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."

Your husband was a lot of things. 

Strong. Noble. Composed. 

Built from determination, honor, and duty to his family. 

A man who could fell any opponent in his way with perfect precision. An unshakable pillar in his family that his siblings could always rely upon. A quiet, lethal protector of those he considered dear to him. 

Your husband was also a virgin. 

A fact that – while you understood why – you couldn’t help but find utterly adorable. 

Before you came into the picture, Katakuri hadn’t even had his first kiss yet. But a near lifetime hidden behind a scarf and a closed off heart would do that.  

So, when the two of you had wed and over time you had been able to break down those sky-high walls he had built, it hadn’t really come as a shock to you that your husband had never been intimate with anyone before. Upholding his “perfect” image and keeping his true self locked away from everyone else had left no room for such frivolities. 

It just made you all the more grateful that Katakuri felt comfortable enough with you to let you in and see all that lay underneath the scarf. And that you were able to be the one to show him that perhaps he wasn’t above such “frivolous” activities. 

You could still remember kissing him for the first time like it was yesterday. 

Seated in his lap, hands on his shoulders and eye to eye with him – that scarf of his abandoned elsewhere on your bed.  

As you leaned in to kiss him, you had noted the way he quickly swallowed and gently closed his eyes, those long eyelashes of his fluttering softly against his cheeks. How his large hands on your waist tightened just the slightest bit in anticipation. Then you had closed your eyes as your lips met his and the world around the two of you had ceased to exist. 

For such a towering force of harsh power and muscle, he surprisingly had very soft lips. 

Under your kiss, you had felt Katakuri go rigid for a moment and your lips turned up at his predictable reaction. Pulling away slowly, you opened your eyes and after a second, he opened his as well. Katakuri’s eyes had flicked from yours down to your lips and back as he lightly panted, his cheeks dusted in an adorable shade of pink. 

Then he tugged you closer and crushed his lips against yours. 

A squeal of delight had escaped you as held onto him, your body rocking backwards as Katakuri pressed himself against you. His hands held on securely to your waist, keeping you close and making sure you didn’t fall. 

One of your hands had moved to the back of his head, fingers threading through his short hair, as you happily kissed him back. As Katakuri desperately pressed his lips against yours, you melted into the kiss, loving the feel of those remarkable teeth brushing against your skin. 

It was clumsy. It was unpracticed. It was perfect. 

Since then, it was like Katakuri couldn’t get enough of you. Fleeting kisses in between tea parties and patrols, sensual make out sessions in the privacy of your bedroom, quick pecks in empty hallways. It always left you breathless and with that burning desire deep in your core, but you would never push him into anything further. Taking that next step was something you left in Katakuri’s hands. 

And tonight, that step was finally taken.  

Katakuri mid kiss had told you he wanted you, all of you. It had left you stunned for a moment, and, as you quickly recovered, you checked with him that he was sure. And even with the faint blush blooming across his face, Katakuri held firm to tonight being the night. 

So now you found yourself seated on his impressive length, Katakuri underneath you on your shared bed and breathing deeply at how your lush pussy felt around his cock. All you had gotten to so far was sitting on his cock and he was already coming undone. But you were eating up the way he was reacting to everything you did. Even just taking your clothes off in front of him earlier had made him short-circuit and you had to try to hide your delight. 

You braced your hands in front of you on his abs, causing your arms to press your tits together. Katakuri’s eyes roamed wildly over you, unsure of where to settle on – your face, your tits, or where your bodies were now one.  

“Just relax, love,” you cooed to him, the fingers of your right hand lightly tracing the pink lines of his tattoos. “Let me take care of you.” 

Katakuri let loose another deep breath and nodded his head, eyes finally landing on your face. You gave him a small, sultry smile and tried not to get too lost in the sight beneath you. The soft blush that had taken up permanent residence on his face along with the way his broad chest lightly heaved with every breath he took was fueling your desire like no other.  

Feeling that telltale heat start to build in your lower stomach, you began to roll your hips, rocking yourself up and down on his cock. Slow and sensual – nothing too crazy out the gate lest you’d probably give the man a heart attack.  

“Oh, fuck,” Katakuri whispered, his deep voice sending a tingle down your spine. His hands listlessly pawed at your thighs as you continued to rock your hips. Concentration etched into his features, Katakuri let out a shuddering breath as he continued to keep his gaze locked onto you. 

“Doing okay?” You asked him between airy breaths, and he could only reply with short, rapid nods.  

Each time you brought your hips up and then back down, his large cock glided deliciously along your inner walls, causing you to dig your teeth into your lower lip. Small moans started to build up in the back of your throat as you pressed your hands further against his chiseled abs. 

Just as you started to find a nice rhythm though, Katakuri groaned deep in his throat and suddenly began to try to prop himself up. 

“Sh-Shit,” Katakuri tripped over his words as he hastily tried to grab your waist. “Wait, wait, wait-” 

But it was too late. 

Just as his large hands squeezed around your waist, you felt the warm rush of his cum filling you as his brows creased harshly and he choked out a strained moan. A sharp gasp forced its way out of you before you could stop it, and you slapped a hand over your mouth, staring wide eyed down at Katakuri. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as everything came to a complete stop – the room now near silent, only your light, muffled panting and his heavy breathing to be heard. 

Katakuri sunk back into the pillows he had been resting against, like he wanted to disappear into the pile. He turned his face away from you; his cheeks now fully enflamed in crimson. At this point his face was going to be permanently stained in a shade of red.  

Slowly, you began to remove your hand from your mouth while you leaned over him. 

“Katakuri...” 

“Don’t.” He cut you off, his hands still on your waist, digging into the skin there. “That was incredibly-” 

“Hot?” At your interruption, Katakuri looked up at you with confused, narrowed eyes. You fully brought your hand down from your mouth to reveal the lustful grin on your face. It clearly hadn’t been the reaction he was expecting from the way he now blinked at you, mouth slightly agape, and that furious blush still ever present.  

With careful hands, you cupped his face and rubbed your thumbs along his cheeks, the pads of your thumbs stroking over his scars.  

“That was incredibly hot, Katakuri,” you repeated as you leaned closer to him, your face now hovering above his. You lolled your head to the side, smiling at him while your eyes were drinking in the adorable expression on his face. “Did it feel that good, love?” 

Katakuri quickly averted your gaze, flustered by your words, but he still nodded his head in response. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth as your smile only grew. 

His larger hands then came to hold onto yours still cupping his face. 

“You’re also just so beautiful,” he whispered, making eye contact with you once more. His eyes were soft and hesitant but held a lingering desire underneath it all.  

Now it was your turn to blink down at him as your heart leapt in your chest, all words escaping you. 

Then you were on him in a split second, your mouth pressing hard against his.  

The sweetness of this man was going to be the death of you. 

Katakuri welcomed your kiss, passion now fully reignited between the two of you. His hands moved from yours to your back, holding you close to his strong body. It caused your hips to shift, and you both shared a moan as you rocked forward on his cock – which you could feel getting hard inside of you once more.  

Removing your hands from his face, you gripped his shoulders and directed him to roll sideways with you. Katakuri followed your lead, moving with you so he would stay inside of you as your back hit the bed. It ended up breaking the kiss and your tongue swept across your lower lip as you tried to catch your breath. With your hands now loosely around the back of his neck and your legs spread wide around his hips, you relished the sight of his powerful form above you.  

Hooking your thighs further up on Katakuri’s hips, you wrapped your legs around him and used them to pull him in closer. 

It caused his cock to slide into you at a better, deeper angle, and Katakuri let out a choked moan as he dropped his forehead onto your shoulder. Rolling your hips, you guided him to start thrusting into you, and an airy moan came from you as his thick length rubbed along your inner walls once again. 

“Your cock feels so good, Kata,” you moaned to him, your hands running along his muscular back. His breath hitched and a groan that almost became a whine sounded from him as Katakuri started to earnestly thrust into you, his hot breath hitting your skin with every breath he expelled. The way he was now giving you everything he had made your heart want to burst from your chest, and you kissed his temple. 

Each time he drove his cock into you, it pressed you further into the bed beneath you, and moans and mewls started to spill from your lips. You breathlessly whispered words of encouragement to him – right there, so good, yes yes yes – and Katakuri let out shaky breaths and moans at every one. 

Soon enough, he lifted his head off your shoulder and braced himself above you, biceps flexing as he held himself up. 

“I’m already close again,” he told you, breathless and with that flush back in full force. You brought a hand to his face again and nodded your head. 

“It’s okay.” 

Katakuri looked down to where your bodies met and then back up to you, “But you haven’t...”  

A small smile graced your lips. This was for and about him, and here he was still thinking about you and your pleasure. You were about to brush it off and tell him not to worry about it, but the impassioned way he was looking at you made you stop.  

Again, the sweetness of this man would be your ruin. 

Sliding a hand between your bodies, you dipped two fingers into your wet folds to begin rubbing at your clit. It sent sparks of pleasure through your veins, and you gasped out a high-pitched moan.  

Katakuri tilted his head down to watch, and his thrusting faltered for a moment as another deep moan rumbled through him. A curse tumbled from his lips as he continued to stare at your fingers expertly work over yourself. Smacking his hips harder against yours now, the sound of skin slapping together and wet, squelching noises reverberated throughout your bedroom. 

The combination of you now toying with your clit and his cock plunging into your pussy was making tension in your lower stomach build and build until you could hardly take it anymore. 

“Look at me, love,” you ordered him breathlessly, using your hand on his face to have him gaze back up at you. Your head tipped back into the pile of pillows, but you kept eye contact with Katakuri as your breathing started to become rapid. The look in Katakuri’s eyes was enough to send you spiraling – so earnest, so loving, so hungry.  

The word yes a chant on your tongue, you felt yourself come undone.  

With a loud, pleasurable cry, your legs tensed around his hips, and you felt your orgasm surge through you relentlessly. Katakuri’s eyes widened as he stared at you writhing beneath him, his brow creasing and mouth falling open in awe at your raw, sexual beauty. Rocking your hips to ride out the aftershocks, you desperately tried to catch your breath as your pussy spasmed around his cock.  

Katakuri shuddered out another moan at the way your pussy now clenched around him, making him spill deep inside of you once more. The feel of his cock kicking inside of you and filling you up made a light gasp escape you. Letting loose a long breath, Katakuri slowly rested himself on his forearms over you while you untensed your legs around his hips. For a moment, the two of you just laid there, melded together and sharing panting breaths. 

“That was...” Katakuri couldn’t even finish his sentence as he breathed deeply, his chest heaving all the while. 

“Incredibly hot?” You threw out cheekily and the two of you shared a huff of a laugh. 

Your husband was a lot of things. 

Sweet. Gentle. Shy.  

And no longer a virgin.