Disclaimer: Bleach does not belong to me.

Special thanks to Tanya Lilac for edits.

In a week, the full chapter will be moved to my livejournal because of the lemon. Enjoy. And yes, this will be a multi-chaptered story. I started it months ago and most of it is finished. I decided to post for my birthday to help me keep track when I should be updating. Probably the 18th of each month (so I'm late two days! Oof!)

Warning SMUT.

Rating: M


Kurosaki Ichigo was always obstreperous. He was unruly, wild, and aggressive. Though deep down he had a good heart, there was a part of him that was bad, wicked, and just plain unholy. A dark look of when evolutionary desires of a horny hollow get in the way with your heart.

His eyes gleamed with a dark fire that burned with the lustful desires of the Hollow with a hold over his heart.


1. not holy; not sacred or hallowed.

2. impious; sinful; wicked.

3. Informal. dreadful; ungodly


In the wild, the strongest, more attractive male gets the prize, the female, the bitch. Sometimes it depends on ornamental traits the male displays, such as horns or antlers, to attract the bitch. This is the case where the female has mate selection. For example, the male peafowl, more commonly known as the peacock, has iridescent blue-green plumage, which is displayed as an extravagant tail for courtship.

Other times, it depends on battles for possession of the bitch. This means less female-selection because the bitch doesn't really have a choice. In the wild, there are quite violent mating practices such as forced copulation. For instance, the male bottlenose dolphins are known to corner a female and perform tricks for attention; if the female tries to run away they will slap her, bite her or slam into her with their bodies. At some point, the female will mate with the male. Similarly, in some birds, such as ducks and geese, females must be careful in emerging from their nest burrows because they can be forced to the ground and mated with by other males.

It takes the more dominant male to make the move and claim the bitch as his.

It takes the fiercest male to keep the bitch as his.

It takes the better male to win the bitch in the end.

Humans are not exempt from such evolutionary desires and needs for sex, for a mate, for a bitch. Females often eye men with good looks, or money, or all the above. Some men take women, without consent, or play sly games in order to fulfill their desires. Hydraulic intromittent male sexual organs – or dicks – are not unique and want release.

Now, mix a human with a hollow. Matters of the heart and lust aren't so simple.

They never are.


Kurosaki Ichigo was always obstreperous. He was unruly, wild, and aggressive. And though deep down he had a good heart, there was a part of him that was bad, wicked, and just plain unholy.

He shivered. He screwed his eyes shut. The air in Seireitei always had a fresh quality that the living world lacked. Perhaps it was the spirit particles that fuelled and complemented his incredible energy. Or perhaps it was the lack of pollution he was usually subjected to during his time in the city.

He smiled to himself as he clenched his fist. Such an odd thing to do, wasn't it? To smile, to show some sort of happiness, yet to fist the hand, displaying such helpless gloom, was hypocritical, wasn't it? Like him… he was good. He was a hero.

Or not.

His hand shook. The smile faded.

Six years had passed since he had last seen her.

A lot had changed.

A lot hadn't.

He chose her.

He chose her.

And six years had flown by. She didn't know.

Ichigo needed to change that.

In eight seconds he would finally see her again.

The office to the thirteenth division looked the same. He was partly glad that he managed to pass without hindrance as many of the shinigami subordinates recognized him by his bright hair. The other part itched to fight, a distraction, an outlet for the uncomfortable feeling that had settled heavily in his stomach. This feeling spread upwards to his throat by the time he heard her voice, inviting him in.

"Ichigo?" she said, startled, eyes wide. The tiny woman sat at a large, orderly desk opposite the door. She looked almost the same – crystal purple eyes, soft plump lips and jet-black hair that immediately called his attention. Her tiny nose flared in need to take a breath and then her entire body froze.

It was probably from fear or shock. He couldn't tell which one.

The stack of papers ruffled when he walked inside her office. He couldn't quite speak yet. That feeling handicapped him ruthlessly.

She blinked her bright eyes at him. "Ichigo? What are you doing here?" She blinked some more and her pretty lips dipped into a frown. "Is…something wrong?"

Her change of expression forced that feeling down so he could speak words. "Rukia. I," he hesitated, "you," he paused and settled with, "Is there something wrong with you?"

"Me?" Now she dropped her quilted pen and the soft thump sound against the page was no sort of distraction to his presence in the room.

The four walls of the square office seemed to close in on them, the room becoming incredibly tiny, the air dense. The door behind him closed when he took another step. A stream of sunlight from the open windows illuminated her flustered face.

"Yeah, you. It was six years. You didn't come back."

The expression on her face changed again. Now her brow creased as confusion and guilt glowed from her eyes. "Nothing is wrong with me."

"Then? Did anyone tell you not to come back?" He took another step toward her desk. He flung his sword to the ground. It clattered loudly, and they felt the tremor in the floor, but neither flinched. "All you said was see you later and that's it."

Rukia stood up, palms hitting the desk but it wasn't a violent action. "Why are you so angry?"

"I just want an explanation!" He was directly across from her now, his hands also flat on the desk. They were mirrored, like so many times when they fought. The challenge aroused excitement in his blood, rushing southward furiously.



Because… he chose her.

"You wanted me to come back?" she asked, and there was definitely an inflection of disbelief in her tone.

The answer was instantaneous."Yes!" He nodded furiously.

The confusion faded to something else now. Gloom. "I couldn't," Rukia trailed, eyes lingering on the trashcan beside her desk. "It would be easier if you forgot about me. You were building a new life with new people." She shrugged, and it wasn't out of nonchalance but of uncertainty. "I'm not part of your world. I'm not supposed to be a part of your world."

He growled. It was so loud that it diverted her attention back to him and she watched with apprehension as he walked to her, on the other side of the desk. His hands grabbed her arms, holding her still, and his hazel eyes fixed her with the fiercest glare anyone had ever given her. Including her brother.

"Idiot," he growled again, and it was throatier this time. "What a stupid idea. Six years is a long time. You think I wouldn't come after you?"

Rukia couldn't find the fire to fight him, not yet at least. "I…I did think you would just go on with life like you never met me," she replied coolly.

"Idiot," he repeated with a murmur. "How could I," his voice was cracking, which made him pause, "do that?" The question lingered in the small space between them, and he watched with satisfaction as her lips parted and her breath quickened. "I chose you."

Her eyes seemed to ask him, "What?" but she had no chance to voice the query when she noticed his breathing had picked up, mirroring hers. She watched his lips quiver before he broke and crashed them unto hers.

She let him melt into her.

She did not resist.

She was ready.

Rukia felt the fierceness of what he was in that one kiss. She could feel the hunger and the need and the want all rolled together in his lips, so greedy, so passionate, so hungry, that she had to cling to his shoulders for balance and some leverage, despite being almost ineffectual. The Kuchiki even let him lift her onto the desk, swiping the papers and ornaments to the ground with an arm before setting her down.

"Ichigo," she breathed, shutting her eyes, almost dizzy. She felt his hands on her obi and felt him remove it within seconds. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel his gaze on her like a hot brand eliciting fire along her skin. His hand touched her neck and he kissed her lips briefly.

"Why did you leave me?" he asked between several breaths. "Why?"

"Because," she answered, "I had to! I had—" The fire was growing, fanning down to her core.

Bitch. "You—" He grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling her head back. His teeth were set on her neck. "Mine." Bitch.

His jaw shut as much as her neck allowed and teeth pressed into perfect skin, tearing it. Immediately, she cried out, her fingers digging in his shoulders in retaliation. Little droplets of blood spilled onto his tongue as he held her tight.


He groaned; hearing her cry out his name like that made his cock hard. Ichigo held her close, nibbling and gnawing on her skin. His fingers made small circles on flesh, taking time to hear her gasp and moan. Each sound she made things inside of him tingle and then boil.


Fuck. She had no idea how delicious she was, or how sexy her breathy voice was. He bit into her throat again leaving love bites along the base of her neck. Ichigo was determined to take his time, but he couldn't abate the need that throbbed almost painfully through his veins, as he moved southward to her erect nipples. One hand left fire blazing across her breast while the other still held her hair, pulling her face towards the ceiling.


He bit into a mound of tender flesh after licking coral tips, and then teased them with tugs and pulls. Rukia cried out again with her hands in his hair, fingers digging in his scalp.

Ichigo groaned; his balls tense with need.

Calloused hands moved further, over the planes and dips of her belly. Rukia was unaware of how soft and tender her flesh was compared to his as she was unaware of how he wanted to bite and lick every inch of her. She also didn't know how he had waited six years to have her.

With another growl, he pushed her down flat on the desk.

When her violet-blue eyes looked up at him, she saw a man starved. When his brown eyes looked down at her, he saw a woman in heat. Her swollen lips could not press together with the gushes of breaths exuding from her lungs. Her flushed face would only continue to get hotter and pinker, ultimately red, as his continued his ministrations. She gripped her hands on the side of the desk until her knuckles turned white and without thought Rukia closed her eyes. She waited.

His growl this time was more like a purr, a content sound signifying that his appetite was appeasing. Planting a knee each side of her, his mouth travelled to her stomach, kissing her navel. His tongue explored the crevice of her belly button, swirling in circles before his teeth once again bit into her skin. She couldn't help but moan out again when his bites became selfish and harsh.

It was around this time his fingers found her curly hair at the apex of her thighs. Slyly, he felt her core, waiting for a reaction. She didn't punch him or freeze in terror. They were too far gone for that now. Instead, she simply bucked against his hand. When she mewled, breathing his name, he bit hard again.

That bite was hard enough to make her lose grip on the furniture, fingers moving instinctively to his shoulders, a plea to be gentler, a plea to move elsewhere.


His lips returned to her mouth, and somewhere amid breaths he understood. In between the sweat, his fingers glided along her pink folds, gauging her readiness. Slightly moist, he began to massage her bulb, eliciting need and wetness. It was then she stopped.


Her hand touched his chest as if to echo her protest. Rukia turned her face away, so he kissed her shoulder. She attempted to scoot backwards but couldn't when his hand caught hers.

Ichigo looked at her rose-tinged face and saw conflict. His wet fingers worked to dissolve whatever stopped her. "What?"

"I…" Rukia blinked, her eyes traversing the lines on his hand, then up his arm, shoulder, and finally his face. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing coherent came out. He took his chance to pause and strip, shedding all clothing as he had done to her.

She still had nothing to say, though her eyes seemed to tell a story. Violet widened at his chest, lips smiled at his torso, and looking at his sexual organ, her mouth fell open. It was approval to desire to shock and back to desire again.

Ichigo smirked in satisfaction and wasted no time in crashing his lips on hers. He continued where he left off; fingers were playing near and in her pussy, mouths and tongue were dancing, bodies met, rubbing into each other like a match on a matchbox. Now she had something to take in – his body, his muscles, his strength – and whatever held her back seemed to fade with each stroke of her clit, each stroke of his firm body and each stroke of lips on lips.

At this point, she did not resist anything. She mewled. She kissed. She burned with drunken passion. Rukia unconsciously spread her legs around him as her back rested down on the desk again. And though his back blocked most of the sunlight, fragments eluded his shadow to illuminate her chest and chin. She simply glowed with delight at his attentions. Ichigo saw this and worked to release this pressure developing inside of them.

"I want you," he breathed in her ear. He pushed the tip of his hard dick into of her.

She didn't say, "Okay," or, "Yes," or, "I want you," but stretched her creamy legs wider fractionally, enough for him to notice. Taking this as affirmation, he made his way inside of her.

Rukia froze.

He pushed.

It hurt.

It must have showed on her face because he stopped for a moment, letting her feel him inside of her, letting her get used to the pain. The moment was short because he pulled away and moved into her again, his size preventing him to get in with one stroke. The pain came again, Ichigo could tell by her frantic groans, yet still, she didn't tell him to stop.

Rukia could not, especially with his lips on hers again.

His patience was soon dissipated and he moved in and out again and again and again. As the blood dripped down her thighs, another sensation started to set in: pleasure.

His thrusts became quicker, and she realized that she was crying out incoherent words. A tiny hand was in his, the other on his shoulder. Her hair became plastered to her face from the sweat and heat they were creating.

"Look at me, Rukia." It took a few breaths to say it but he took pleasure at the sight of her struggling to obey him, delirious with delight. She looked at him in a daze, her mouth slack.

"Don't fight it. Scream."

She did. She screamed as he stretched a leg above his shoulder, penetrating deeper with pounding thrusts.

"Say. My. Name," he gritted next.

She cried out louder, calling out his name as her nails bit in his flesh, and his teeth attacked her breasts again. Her toes curled at the pleasure setting in, like a spark burning up the fuse of a firecracker.

"Nnngg." Rukia was whimpering incoherently.


Her eyes couldn't watch his beautiful face anymore.


"Nnn." She was gasping violently for breath.

"Me," he grounded out, groaning at his quickened pace.


She really couldn't. The firecracker was set loose as her pussy tightened around him, weeping as he spilled his seed into her. Her moan came out slowly, loudly, and her head felt so light she thought she was going to pass out. At the same time, Ichigo shut his eyes, burrowing deep as he could, releasing six years of pent-up passion. His roar rivaled her cry as his body trembled and stiffened, and then slowly relaxed as the orgasm faded. As breaths grew calmer, he pulled away, calculating the damage he created.

Blood still dripped from her neck and between her legs. Red bruises splotched her creamy-white body. She was marked by the devil. She was marked by him.

Rukia was his.




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