_debbiechan_ (_debbiechan_) wrote in bleachness,

Fanfic, NC 17 Shinigami Wedding Night, Ichigo Rukia

It's been two years since I wrote Quincy Wedding Night and ever since then I've been wanting to write this piece. I don't know why I kept getting stuck on it.

Warnings: manga humor, het sex, drunk Isshin

Shinigami Wedding Night
by debbiechan

Description: Ichigo and Rukia get married. NC17. It’s quite the special day and very much a special night.

Disclaimer: There’s a Jewish saying that goes “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine,” Bleach belongs to all that love it. According to copyright, it belongs to Kubo Tite, Viz. Comics and Perriot Studios

Thanks to Finnigan Geist for early draft beta.

This one’s for Ileenka.

Weddings, sacred celebrations of love and commitment. That’s what all the bridal magazines said. That’s what the guests gushed about as they entered the Urahara shop. That wasn’t what Ichigo or Rukia had firstmost in their minds.

Rukia thought: three dress changes, don’t step on the kimono hem, keep smiling.

Ichigo thought: I’m going to have sex, I’m going to have sex, I’m going to have sex tonight.

No one was surprised when Byakuya allowed Rukia to forego a proper Soul Society noble’s wedding and have a Living World one instead. The man had been getting lenient lately. Ichigo said that soon Byakuya would be breaking rules right and left, but Rukia said that the reason her brother didn’t want noble nuptials was because the pageantry would remind him of Hisana.

“Oh yeah,” said Ichigo. “I forgot that you look like her.”

A trace of sadness passed between the couple, but then they were bickering about who looked weirder in a formal kimono. Ichigo finally conceded that yes, he looked weirder, but at least Ishida had embroidered a “somewhat manly” flying eagle on the sleeve of the dark blue silk. Rukia’s kimono was deep red with what Ichigo called “girly” flowers.

“You do look weird,” he said, “but it’s ….” He lowered his voice. “It’s a beautiful-looking weird.”

At that, Rukia blushed the shade of her kimono. Then she punched her groom’s arm and told him to find his place because everyone was waiting.

Because marriages between Spirits were not legal in the Living World, the rites tool place in the Urahara Shop no-longer-secret underground. Performing the ceremony was not a temple priest but the new Soul Society Head of Research and Technology, Urahara Kisuke himself.

“Ah, here they are! Places everyone!” Urahara wore his hat and clogs. He hadn’t yet adopted his new Captain’s robes or worn Shinigami clothes once since acquiring his new status, but for some reason, his shopkeeper’s clothes didn’t seem disrespectful. Most of the people there had come to think of the uniform as one befitting a wise and powerful mentor. A man of authority.

Urahara stood in front of a leaf-less tree (Rukia frowned: He didn’t even bother to replace the dead trees?) and the bridal couple knelt before him.

The sacred moment was witnessed by only a special few. Kneeling behind the bride and groom were Isshin (weeping), Karin (squirming in a dress) and Yuzu (smiling at her new pink shoes). Yoruichi the cat wore a gold braided collar.

“We are gathered here today to witness the destined union of two Shinigami….”

Byakuya, appropriately solemn, and Renji, smiling a faint, wistful smile, knelt next to one another. Ishida and Orihime sat in matching blue kimonos almost as opulent as the bridal couple’s, and Tatsuki wore a velvet pantsuit with a bored expression. Chad, Keigo, and Mizuiro (with his latest older girlfriend) wore dark suits and ties.

Tessai put an album on an old-fashioned record player, and unobtrusive albeit scratchy flute music played during the ceremony.

Ichigo and Rukia had not written their own vows on the grounds that they had nothing to say and wanted the ceremony to be short. Urahara, however, spouted so many fountains of philosophy and anecdotes that later Rukia would grumble about how lovely-dovey vows would have been better than The Urahara Kisuke Show.

The ceremony had been deigned to conclude in a non-demonstrative, non-affectionate, non-Western manner, but Keigo started the chant of “Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.”

Ichigo looked worried.

Then Isshin, still blubbering, said, “It’s okay, son--everyone knows now that you’re not a homosexual.”

That was going a bit far, Ichigo felt.

So, in a sudden move, he bent over, placed his large hands over Rukia’s tiny shoulders and planted a hard kiss on his startled bride.

The room went silent for the length of the kiss, and only the record skipping on a pretty phrase of music was heard.

Keigo would say later that he counted thirty seconds.

“Okay, show’s over,” Ichigo said. “Let’s go to the party.”

Because banquet hall reservations for ghosts were hard to come by, the reception was held in the assembly room of the Gotei 13, not far from the Kuchiki palace. Most of the guests were whisked away through Urahara’s spiritron converter, and the newlyweds and other Shinigami took the dangai route.

Awaiting Ichigo and Rukia were two rows of captains and vice-captains with zanpakutou held high forming a canopy. Ichigo didn’t understand what this construction was supposed to mean and whispered at Rukia to explain. She told him that they were supposed to walk under it, and they did--looking embarrassed and wondering why their Shinigami comrades stared dead ahead and looked so military.

The moment the couple passed through, the mood broke, and Iba announced that there was sake.

“I’m still not of age to drink the stuff,” Ichigo said. He was seventeen.

“I’m a couple hundred years old,” Rukia whispered, “but trust me, you don’t want to drink anything that the eleventh division has scrounged up. Very low quality stuff. Stick to the champagne.”

“Champagne?” Isshin’s super-talented Shinigami ears had caught that word. “Where?”

Rukia’s head cocked in the direction of a long, cloth-covered table behind which Hanatarou stood pouring liquor into glasses.

It was at this point that Isshin stopped crying and started to drink. Within a few sips, his demeanor evolved from sentimental to jocular, and he declared Shunsui-san his new best friend. Shunsui was given to wooing ladies with his verbal charms, but Isshin liked to fondle them outright. The pair spent most of the evening getting slapped.

The transition from a solemn ritual to festive gathering had required a costume change for the newlyweds. As many people complimented Ishida for Rukia’s strapless white sheath as congratulated Ichigo for having landed such a pretty bride. Ichigo wore his Shinigami clothes because, oddly enough, he felt most comfortable in this persona now than any other.

“Well, we’re married,” said Rukia. “Do you feel different?” She didn’t like champagne as much as she didn’t like sake and was drinking from one of the many juice boxes imported from the Living World to Soul Society for this special occasion.

“Not me,” said Ichigo. “Isn’t that dress a little revealing for your taste?”

“I like it,” said Rukia. “It would’ve been an insult to Ishida to refuse it.” Conversation and partying noises roared behind Rukia’s words. “He’s got another dress for me to change into before we leave for the honeymoon.”

“Damn,” said Ichigo. “Ishida really went all out.”

“It’s customary in Japan for brides to change clothes many times during wedding celebrations. Don’t you know your own customs?” Rukia’s voice rose in pitch. “Haven’t you ever been to a wedding?”

“This is my first one.” Ichigo looked at his feet.
“Well, there’s Ishida and Orihime’s next month,” Rukia said.

”That one will be my first human wedding.”

Ishida and Ichigo had contested as to who would get married first; Ichigo won only because human Ishida and fiancée could book a hotel, but they still had to wait for a reservation.

“Human…,” said Rukia, her voice soft and pensive now. “If I hadn’t gored you with my zanpakutou that night, what sort of person would you have been?”

“A bored one.”

The couple walked out of the crowded assembly room into a courtyard. Twilight was falling in blues and grays against the Seireitei buildings, and a crescent moon was rising.

Nothing was different: Ichigo and Rukia had been interlocking portions of shadow and light since a long-ago evening.

A spirit wind blew and stirred orange hairs on one head and black hairs on another.

The couple leaned against one another and kissed.


The wedding night happened near dawn. The revelers were supposed to cheer the couple who were supposed to leave the party covered in confetti and rice. But everyone was too drunk. Ichigo figured that the drunks had forgotten that he and Rukia even existed, so as a purple streak appeared on the night sky, and dawn was minutes away, he grabbed Rukia by the arm. Grinning at one another, they both shunpou-ed out of the assembly room.

Ichigo couldn’t wait to see what Ishida had sewed for the wedding night. He tried not to think about the Ishida sewing it part. Even if the Quincy’s motives had been nothing but the good-will of a friend, it was still too … weird that Ishida designed the sexy outfit that Rukia was supposed to shed upon coming out of the bathroom.

Or maybe Ichigo was required to tear it off?

He didn’t know the protocol. He really didn’t care.

I’m going to have sex, I’m going to have sex, I’m going to have sex.

He hadn’t done it with Rukia yet.

Oh, he’d tried. After a few passionate kissing sessions and a mutual agreement that they were stuck with one another for all eternity, Ichigo had slipped his hand under Rukia’s school skirt but she had told him to stop it right there, Kurosaki Ichigo.

“Just where do you think you’re going with that hand?” Rukia looked beautiful when she  was indignant. “I’m pure, Ichigo. That’s not to say I’m not horny but I am pure.

“I’ll be gentle.” Ichigo had leaned forward for another kiss.

Rukia had grabbed him by the hair. “No, I mean I want to stay that way.”

“You mean you and Renji never--?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m pure. You’ve seen my zanpakutou. And besides, I’m royalty. You just can’t go around banging royalty in your own family’s house with your sisters sleeping down the hall.”

Ichigo had been reluctant to understand anything that Rukia was saying at the time but when she reminded him that Nii-sama would have his HEAD if he ever found out about Ichigo’s demolishing Rukia’s purity, the hand under the skirt had pulled away.

“So…are we ever--?”

“Not unless we get married.”

Ichigo had wasted no time. “Will you marry me, Rukia?”

“Idiot, you’re supposed to be romantic when you ask me that.”

“What do you want? Hearts and flowers? I love you goddammit. You have to know that we’re going to get married eventually. So let’s get married.”

Rukia had melted at the I love you part. Ichigo hadn’t said it before. “I love you too,” she’d said, at which point Ichigo shoved his hand under the skirt again and Rukia had grabbed his fingers and squeezed… hard.

“Nuh-uh. Not until after the wedding. Haven’t you been listening, dumbass? I’m pure.”

Now the defining moment was at hand. The reason Ichigo had suffered through being fitted for a kimono by Ishida (thank the gods he didn’t have to wear trousers--he would definitely have balked at Ishida’s measuring his inseam).

“Are you reaaaaady?” came a bright voice from the bedroom.

Ichigo and Rukia were temporarily being housed in the Kuchiki palace until a proper home could be found for them in Soul Society. A Soul Society honeymoon--that was as weird an idea as a Soul Society reception, but nothing could put a damper on Ichigo’s anticipation now. Not even the fact that Nii-sama himself was somewhere in this edifice.

“Yeah,” Ichigo said in a voice that he hadn’t meant to sound so choked and shy. “I’m ready.”

She walked out the bathroom with the moonlight.

Maybe it was Ichigo’s imagination but later he would swear that the moon rose in the window the moment she appeared.

Rukia’s nightgown was not in the slightest bit sleazy. A shiny white gown with a modest neckline. The sleeves were transparent and reached past her tiny hands in a regal style. The outfit suited her. It was perfection.

Thank you, Ishida.  Ichigo didn’t feel the least bit weird thinking that.

“Do you like it?” Rukia looked shy.

“It’s very pretty.”

Rukia walked to the foot of the bed where Ichigo was seated and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Aren’t you going to take it off?” Ichigo asked.

Rukia made a face. “Aren’t you going to even try to be a little more dignified?”

“No, no, what I meant was--” Ichigo put his hands on Rukia’s forearms and looked at her with the most sincere face he could manage. “I just don’t want to tear it or smoosh it or anything. It looks so … fragile.”


To hell with tearing it. Ichigo pulled Rukia into his arms and flopped her beside him on the mattress. His hand felt at her cleavage for buttons. He felt around for a zipper.

“How does this thing open?”

“You pull it off over your head,” Rukia said.

So Ichigo did that for her. In a careful but unhesitant motion, he pulled the fabric to Rukia’s arms and then felt his arousal double in size at the sight of her perfect breasts.

This, thought Ichigo as his crotch reassured him of his manhood, is the real reason I didn’t drink the sake.

Her skin was so white. Translucent almost. Not a trace of a blush on her elegant body. Her eyes challenged him. She was not afraid.

Ichigo was so glad that she wasn’t afraid.  He pulled her arms out of her sleeves and swept the shiny fabric over her head. He tossed the bundle of whiteness behind his shoulder.

“I don’t want you to take your time about this,” Rukia said resolutely. “Let’s get it over with.”

“Huh?” Ichigo frowned. “I thought--”

“I mean the first time. It supposed to hurt so just stab me like you’re doing a quick overhand sword thrust only don’t pull back to the guard and keep stabbing.”

This was terribly clinical. And not very attractive of Rukia.

“I wanted to take it slow,” Ichigo whined .“This is my first time too.”

“Look, we can do both--quick and slow. I just don’t want to be getting fondled all over before getting stabbed. I think I’ll enjoy it more after. Otherwise, I’ll be all anxious waiting for it to happen.”

“Oh.” That made sense.

Still, Ichigo couldn’t resist grazing on Rukia’s neck for a while. It was the softest part of her he’d touched so far. He kissed her there, covered her tiny breast with his large hand, and closed his eyes.


Rukia knew that Ichigo was going to need a lot of help. As instinctive a fighter as he was, he knew nothing about women, and she figured that his body wouldn’t adjust to hers right away.

She kneaded his shoulders as he kissed her neck. Really nice shoulders. The nicest she’d ever seen on anyone and that included all those showy Shinigami who liked to walk around half naked displaying their tattoos and explaining that oh, they’d “accidentally” forgotten their nagajuban when showing up for training.
Rukia smiled. Training troops in the fields last week and tonight training a lover.


Ichigo breathed the word against her neck, and even if she hadn’t felt his arousal stiffening against her, she would’ve known he was more than ready.

Let’s see… was there anything else she hadn’t addressed?  Most Shinigami couldn’t produce offspring but powerful spirits could make babies with other powerful spirits. There was no issue here. She and Ichigo wanted babies ASAP.


He was having altogether too much fun caressing her breasts. He could do that later.

“Ichigo? Please?” She wanted to get onto the actual de-virginization.

He hadn’t taken off his white robe, though and here she was completely naked. Not fair. She undid his obi and parted the fabric.

He flinched at the touch of her fingers. “Uh?”

It was like she’d woken him up from sleepwalking. “Do it now.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” Ichigo said. His eyes were full of tenderness.

“Dammit Ichigo, I’ve been punched through the abdomen by an Arrancar’s fist. I can take the pain; I just want to get this part over with so I won’t be nervous about it.”


He understood now, and in that moment, her thighs were in his hands and his groin positioned. His eyes were watery, tender and drunk with love. Rukia thought that maybe this part might be a good part after all.

Like an overhand thrust only don’t pull back to the guard. Do it, Ichigo.

“Here goes,” said Ichigo.

To Rukia’s ears the words were romantic in a way. She would never forget them.

Their hips collided and both said “ahhhh.” Ichigo’s ahhh was a sigh of appreciation; Rukia’s was merely an expression of shock at how forcefully Ichigo could pitch his lower body.

It didn’t hurt.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she told Ichigo.


There could be all sorts of reasons why; she would explain them to Ichigo later. Right now she was so happy that her virginity was over and she could start enjoying this marital bliss that she had been promised.

“Move,” she commanded. Her own hips were already moving--much to Ichigo’s gaped-mouth surprise.

“Take that robe off.”

Ichigo let it slide off his shoulders onto the floor.

“Kiss me.”

Ichigo’s kiss was so earnest and warm that Rukia was no longer the sergeant-major of this activity. She was melting. Swooning against the soft hairs on his chest. Sweeping hands across the smooth muscles of his arms.


It was love-making. It was sudden and intense and utterly new. Rukia’s spine arched and Ichigo pounded her with a confident, steady rhythm.

“I love you Rukia, I love you.”

If sex made him say that then Rukia was going to make sure they had sex very often.

When he began to grunt and his thrusts became more urgent, she realized that the passion in her body wasn’t on the same schedule as his. She felt for her clit and rubbed. Ichigo’s hairy groin knocked against her hand. Three rubs, one knock. Three rubs, one knock.

It drove him wild.

He was gritting his teeth not to finish before her.

The very sight of that struggling face made Rukia feel wet as an ocean. Her knees pressed his sides. The familiar current of pleasure shook her, but this time was different.

This time his arms held her as she orgasmed. His mouth breathed into her hair. He said something that sounded like her name, and in the throes of spasming, Rukia realized that this was losing one’s virginity. She would never be alone again; her joy was his joy. His joy was hers.

He came with his mouth open on her forehead. Hard. He sounded like he was dying. The low groan grew louder and then cut off.

He was panting. He was done. He flipped her over easily so that she lay on his chest, and Rukia was amazed at the naturalness of the gesture.

“I didn’t want to squish you,” he said.

“I know.”

This time looking at one another would have been too much for either  to bear so Rukia merely lay her head on Ichigo’s chest and listened to the roar of his heart.

Much later she said, “a sacred celebration of love and commitment.”

“Hmm?” He was still breathing heavy.

“What everyone said the wedding would be.”

“I know! It didn’t feel like that big of a deal. I know that for girls the dress, the party--”

“It wasn’t that big a deal to me either.”

It was early morning, maybe an hour or so past dawn. The wedding partying could still be heard from some distance, and Rukia just hoped that the eleventh squad wouldn’t find their way to this palace wing, sing ballads and pass out in the hedges.

“Do you feel different now?” Rukia asked. Her index finger was trailing small circles around Ichigo’s nipple. She knew that she was going to be ready for some more action soon.

“Oh yeah,” Ichigo said. “The whole universe is different now.”

What he didn’t say was because of you.

What she didn’t say was because of you.

But both felt the words in their hearts--you have changed my world--and kissed.

They would speak nothing else for a very long time.


More sexy one-shots to come. Tis spring, tis spring.
Tags: ichiruki, shinigami wedding night
  • Post a new comment


    Comments allowed for members only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded