Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach.

So, this is a lemony treat. Hope it doesn't come off as OOC. This is a two-shot, the first being a fan-service/context builder while the second is the whole point of the oneshot/prompt. I hope you enjoyed this. If you have any suggestions to fix it, please don't hesitate to put it in a review or send it in a PM.

I was wondering what you guys thought; do you think people would really allow Mayuri and Nemu to marry each other? Or would they say something like, "It's not as if we doubt your feelings for each other, but we cannot condone incest. As long as she carries your blood in her veins, she is essentially of your flesh and we cannot sanctify and legalize the union."
Or would they actually agree if Mayuri promises that they won't pro-create because the only problem with consensual incest is that the offspring will have genetic defects.

What do you think? Could you answer please?

Prompt: Frightening

As she tried to recount the events of the day so far up to this moment, his lips buzzed electrically on the pulse of her neck and she let out a moan, quickly derailing her train of thoughts. He usually wore his mask when he did it, she would've preferred that he at least take the ornaments off if he still wanted to keep the face paint on. Ah, she then remembered as his hands left her for a second to loosen his belt and remove his zanpakuto from the front of his waist.

Something had happened in the labs, a small word here and there that soon escalated to him accusing all that they were being dubious of him, of his genius and abilities. He was always so prideful. She tried to calm him, it would not have bode well to have stepped back and allowed him to destroy his lab in anger or kill more shinigami. And so, she bravely stood before him, every part of her save her voice begging him to stop and, if he needed, to take his anger on her instead, she could endure it better than the others - he had constructed her with that in mind. The beating had been brutal, even more so than she could remember. He had taught her never to scream in front of company and so when he delivered the first blow into her ribs, she contained the shriek that threatened to pour from her and instead it came out as the driest gasp.
With the excellent control she had over her body, she willed herself to simply shut down, to numb herself as he released all of his pent-up stress and fury on her.

It didn't take him long to finish, it took about 15 minutes before he found that he was too bored to continue, that he had enough, or felt that she had had enough. When he left, that was when she willed sensation back to herself and when it definitely started to hurt.

From the vibrations on the ground, Nemu tried to make sure that he would be far enough to not hear her ask the shinigami that were surrounding her, "Please, would you bring me to the 4th division?"

They had practically dragged her purple-bruised, bleeding body through the doors, passing by the disapproving glances of some of the members there.

One medic had eagerly volunteered to heal Nemu, a medic by the name of Inari Shirayuki. During the healing process, the friendly shinigami had said over and over that Nemu did not deserve such treatment, that perhaps she should try to stand up for herself; it could not be so bad to go to another captain to discuss the amount of abuse from her captain, maybe she could get a transfer to another division. Nemu did not want to talk, she kept quiet.
The shinigami continued talking until she slowly halted her words and asked, "You must think I'm being nosy in your business. But he's your father, he shouldn't treat you so badly. Fathers are supposed to love and care for their daughters."

Nemu did not respond.

The shinigami smoothed out Nemu's hair, "The bruises should be gone tomorrow if I did the job right." She laughed and then her eyes appeared to look sad, "I'll let you rest in here. Okay? If you need anything, just holler."

Nemu looked away, a long tired sigh escaping her.

"Or, I'll check in on you now and again." came the response with a nervous chuckle accompanying it.

As the shinigami was leaving, Nemu spoke out to her, "Thank you, Inari-san."

She slept. Or rather, she tried to sleep. It was basically her closing her eyes and seeing darkness, various images flickering past her sight as she tried to think of something to keep from going bored.

Then as she had struggled to sleep, she heard the door open. She had half-expected to see Shirayuki walk in again, but it was not her. Kurotsuchi Mayuri had entered the room, his expression indifferent and unreadable. She was not sure if he was disappointed in her that she had asked to be brought to the 4th division to be healed when perhaps he had expected her to stay in the 12th division to be healed by him. He may be angry, she thought, that she had probably insulted him by seeking out the help of the 4th division captain instead of him.

Then his hand raised up. She was frightened that he would strike her but felt this was probably the best place to get hurt, medical aid was nearby. But the back of his hand brushed soothingly across her cheek. He sighed. He leaned over the bed where she lay and all she could see was him afterwards.

Reader, this brings us back to the beginning of our story. He pulled her to the edge of the bed, his mouth over hers. They kissed and yet they did not kiss. There was only the willingness to submit, countered by the desire and the hunger to conquer. She loved the feeling of their face touching: to feel their foreheads tap against each others', their cheeks brushed as their lips moulded against one another's…

His hands roamed all over her body, the body that he knew by heart and memory to every inch, every nerve. Her hands found themselves entangled in the folds of his haori, gripping it as her legs shook. Her stomach did flip-flops. Their lips parted for but a second, until they resumed their lips' prayer quite like the hands of saints. His hips moved against hers, she grinded back until they both got into the rhythm that incited shrill moans from her and breathless grunting from him. One hand sandwiched itself between their chests, his palm cupping her breast and fondling it happily.
The other slid downwards beneath her skirt, tugging the white panties she wore down her thighs. She shimmied her hips as best as she could out of the panties, though only one leg was able to free itself from the cottony thing. There was a growl rumbling in the back of his throat as she felt it on her own. He moved his arm beneath the knee of her free leg, hitching it up the side of his arm.

Reader, surely you still recall that he had loosened his belt and removed his zanpakuto.

Suddenly, she felt all the more exposed to him, all the more bare if you can imagine. Still, she kept her composure for him; he despised shyness and elusiveness in women, thus already having taught her to be straightforward instead of playing games. He released himself from his hakama and nailed himself deep within her. He thrust-ed into her, his grip on her arms and hips tightening. Her legs hooked around his form, wanting to be close despite he was hurting her and being too rough.

She brought her hips to join his time, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her moans escalated to screams. She chanted his name between breaths like a mantra, "Mayuri-sama, Mayuri-sama, Mayuri-sama…"

His head dove to the hollow of her neck, biting and licking vigorously. A rule that he had taught her well, had beaten and drilled and pounded into her that no one but him was allowed to hear her scream. Her screams were only for him to hear alone, if she allowed anyone to hear her scream he would punish her until she learned to control herself. And so alone, she screamed for him, he loved to hear women scream more than women. It was more lustful, she remembered he had remarked one day, more exciting. She felt horribly sore as he charged into her and she willed herself to be moist down there for him.

His enjoyment came before hers, if she even managed to come, it was because she was lucky and he was feeling generous. His movements changed and varied themselves, as though trying to find what would accommodate him best. She didn't mind, she didn't care; as long as he was inside her and with her. She closed her eyes and tried to think back to another time they were together, she fondly recalled an occasion when he had come home tired beyond measure and they were both in the bath… The memory brought the pleasure and she tried to hold him closer to her as he moved inside her.

He raised her one leg up high to his shoulder, she fell back onto the bed as he continued charging her. Her hands gripped the sheets at her side with white knuckles. She felt him deeper, could feel herself getting closer to the edge. His moves became more erratic: sometimes halting, sometimes going faster. Her screams ran from her throat as she grew louder, her legs aching and shaking. His fingers(except the middle of his right hand) dug and clawed into her hips and the top of her thighs. He lifted her core, moving it to how he wanted it, Reader, and she wanted him to control her, to bring himself to satisfaction because that was what she wanted too.

By fortunate luck they came together, violently and ardently. Reader, my words would only pale to the experience and I will not shame myself so. But she felt frightened for being so close to this man, this man who could easily break her in two and she would let him. This man she admired from afar, wanted, lusted for, desired and loved. Nemu felt her sticky skin grow hotter as he traced a long finger down from the red choker with teeth marks pressed into it to where they were joined. His hips jolted and she produced a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a scream if you can imagine such a sound, Reader. He bent down and that tongue of his crept out of his mouth, licking her lips until she parted them and accepted his invading tongue. She felt all at once satisfied, satiated, fulfilled, healthy, and cleansed: all from his touch and ahem, his surprisingly healing endowment, Reader. His hands came round her neck and pulled her up until she easily saw into his eyes. Her hands came up to the sides of his arm, just below his shoulders. "Mayuri-sama..." she breathed passionately.
Their cheeks touched together before their lips met. As quickly as he had kissed her, he ended it just as tersely.

He moved away from the bed and her, already feeling his absence between her legs too acutely; and he fixed himself up, making sure that everything was in order and that there was no mess on him. Despite the strenuous activity they had done, his legs remained steady and unwavering. Hers, on the other hand, felt like rubber. Seeing him adjusting his belt and replacing his zanpakuto at his waist, she copied him and adjusted her clothes to dismiss that they had just had just been together in such a way.

His eyes scanned her over, "You've been here long enough, Nemu. Don't be so impudent to think that a body like yours would be so taxed by what I did to you."

She nodded her head, "Yes, Mayuri-sama."

She followed him back home to the 12th division.

If you remember episode 200 of Bleach, he had healed Nemu in such a way, it suggests that it was sexual because of her blushing, the... suggestive movements of Mayuri, and Renji's and Ishida's reaction to seeing it. So, it's basically a guess that Mayuri has some sort of holy dick and he can heal her with it because... geez, I don't actually know how to explain it. I guess it jumpstarts her heart? I don't know. Anyone have any ideas? There's another chapter to this and that's it.

I hope the lemon scene was okay. If it seemed too short or too 'je ne sais quoi', please tell me so and I'll try to make it longer and... better, I suppose. Is there anyone out there who's good at writing lemons and likes Bleach? If so, would you help me write lemons?