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diorsbrando · 2 months

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I’D DIE FOR YOU (AND I HAVE). ( s.a. )

sousuke aizen & black!fem!reader.

cw ━━ ! minors, blank and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is portrayed as a black woman but you do not have to imagine her that way. using this map of the seireitei as a reference (i searched high and low for a consistent accurate one but it was hard). the first half is set pre-ryoka invasion / pre-soul society arc. the second half is aizen-centric (from his pov told from the 3rd person) and set post-tybw arc, years after he was sealed away in mugen, also including mention of events from vol. 1 of can't fear your own world (a light novel that's post-tybw & can be considered canonical); so all this being said: SPOILERS i guess???? of course you're welcome to read if you don't care about spoilers! somewhat based on 'die for you' by the weeknd & even more loosely based on 'dark red' by steve lacy. contains themes of heavy-ish angst, existential crises (?) & inner emotional turmoil within reader + aizen (separately). descriptions of character death, blood and violence. descriptions of manipulation/mind games. aizen is an unkind man. proofread (i did my best).

word count ━━ 11k

notes ━━ ! the way this fic was supposed to finished a month ago...but life once more gets in my way. and the way that it's this long....i anticipated the max being 10k but i greatly underestimated how long it would take to flesh out my idea. anywho i'm somewhat reentering my bleach era again. i’m not sure what it is but character analyses in the form of fanfiction is my jam rn like i really enjoyed writing this (i got tired of the length by like... 7k words lmao) but i like how this turned out. i've watched & read quite a bit of content that provide explanations as to why aizen is the way he is so i wanted to try my own portrayal of that in the context of canonical events. how i characterized him here is partially inspired by a fic i read about him last year so shout out to them for their support :D i hope i've depicted and humanized aizen well ♡. reblogs + commentary are heavily appreciated!!!!!

THE PAD OF YOUR THUMB SLOWLY glided against your bottom lip, the lingering aftertaste of jasmine tea still on its surface and on your breath. The absentminded motion of your thumb caressing your mouth, as if in deep contemplation, continued as you stared at the clock hanging on the wall above you.

It was past eleven, and the midnight hour only continued to draw near as time sustained its temporal march. And there you sat at your desk, floating in the limbo of your mind that was filled with hesitancy and admittedly, budding anticipation.

Your gaze lowered to the now empty porcelain cup, nothing remaining of its contents except the shriveled remnants of herbs and a few wayward drops of the brew.

Your senior comrade, captain Sōsuke Aizen, was correct in his prediction that you'd take a liking to its floral and delicate taste when he gifted you a jar full of the jasmine tea leaves as well as other ingredients.

The captain of Squad 5 seemed to be correct about a lot of things.

His intelligence and foresight, along with his kind and politely witty disposition, were qualities that you found somewhat charming, and gradually drew you closer to him.

Being the current third seat of the 9th company, your barracks and those of squad 5's were relatively close to each other's, so often you'd catch glimpses of and run into Captain Aizen on a pretty normal basis. Over the years, the conversations that bounced between the two of you expanded past the realm of formalities between a higher and lower ranking officer, and instead ranged in territories from literature, to art, to food & drink, and even to the politics of the government for which they were soldiers for.

Sometimes, you found it hard to believe that you managed to befriend a man like him. A man who seems to have mastered the balance between being a gentle soul, helpful to others, but also possessed enough refined power and skills to be named a captain within the Gotei 13.

Especially a man who wasn’t even of your own squad.

Despite the increasingly friendly relations and generally pleasant conversation, there were few moments where Aizen's words didn't feel quite. . . . real━ he didn't feel real. He spoke eloquently, often relying on figurative language to further illustrate his point and to breathe meaning into seemingly plain and meaningless words. But at times those words, his tone felt stained; stained with some substance or color you couldn't quite place. An enigmatic façade was painted over his speech, and it took too much mental capacity to try and find your own meaning in it.

So you'd often brush it off. Your over-reliance on your own reasoning that 'you weren’t able to come to a conclusion because there is no problem a conclusion could be generated from' successfully quieted your mind’s voice. You'd also frequently blame exhaustion, or your newfound hobby of watching human psychological crime shows during your off days for these subconscious ideas you had.

But you feared that the request Aizen made of you yesterday, the source of your current predicament, couldn't be blamed on any of those things. You looked at the clock again before returning to stare at your empty tea cup. For what reason could Sōsuke Aizen wish to meet you outside of the 1st division barracks? Specifically at this hour? You immediately thought of his question as uncharacteristic of him but prevented yourself from jumping to any further conclusions.

Aizen was a reasonable man, and you were sure there was a reasonable explanation.

With a final sigh of acquiescence, you stood up from your sitting position to retie your yukata before slipping a thicker, dark colored haori on top. You were unsure how cold it was this late at night or how long you'd be out, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

You paused for a moment, glancing longingly at your vanity mirror a few times, clearly torn between a decision, before giving in with a soft groan. Grabbing your favorite perfume, you quickly spritzed the spray onto both your inner wrists, either sides of your neck, and stray areas on your clothes. You’d proceed to make sure your hair was in order and your lips were as moisturized and glossy as a pair of tear-filled eyes before making your way to the door and slipping on your sandals.

Meeting with a captain— with Aizen of all people— in the dead of night resembled too closely to forbidden lovers rendezvousing under a fruit tree to fulfill their desires of embracing one another, with no one but the moon as their witness. The comparison alone caused the apples of your cheeks to burst aflame with embarrassment, and you lightly chastised yourself for even indulging in such an inappropriate train of thought. Such a scenario seemed far too deluded to even be considered ‘wishful thinking’.

But those delusions still seemed to make more sense than whatever other conclusion you have yet to reach.

Making your way out of your personal quarters, you activated your shunpo technique, stealthily hopping from one rooftop to the other in an effort to make it to Squad 1 barracks quicker.

After several minutes, your mind mostly engulfed with the 'what if's', the soles of your sandals finally touched ground, and you stood a few feet away from the massive walls and bridges that connected to and from the barracks. Even at night you were able to make out the bold-printed kanji for the number 1 that was painted on the building.

When you arrived, even from a nearby rooftop, you didn't see anyone around. Feelings of confusion and worry began to creep up and flicker to life in your mind.

But, as if your thoughts were as audible, you felt a light breeze of wind behind you, a familiar sound that indicated someone had made their presence known.

Startled, you reflexively reached for your zanpakuto, when you remembered that you hadn't even brought it with you. It still laid against the wall near your bed, just where you placed it earlier when you were relieved of your duties for the day.

You didn't think you needed it necessarily if you were just going to meet with Aizen, hence why taking it with you slipped your mind.

The flickers of concern were swiftly extinguished as your brain caught up with your body upon realizing who just appeared. A relieved sigh left your lips, a breath of air that seemed to release all the tension that had a grip on your heart and wound tight within your muscles. "Ah! Good evening Captain Aizen. You caught me off guard for a moment there."

"My apologies, that was not at all my intention." The Fifth Division Captain sported a dark colored scarf, his long captain's coat and the standard shihakushō all Gotei officers were supposed to wear. In the sash around his waist resided his own sheathed zanpakuto. His tawny hair maintained its usual part but looked slightly tousled, yet still remaining so in a meticulous fashion that made it look intentional.

The state of his hair alone, and his current facial expression made Aizen look more . . . approachable if that’s how you were to describe it. There was a glint in his eyes that you had seldom seen before.

"Thank you, for making your way down here to accommodate my rather. . . . atypical request. I again extend my apologies if I have inconvenienced you in any way."

You shook your head in reply, "It's alright, I wasn't doing anything too important anyway. Just having a cup of tea and delighting myself in a book before bed."

You glanced downwards at the foot or so of space that was wedged in between the two of you. You forced away the murmurs of your lingering thoughts that took note of how the moonlight and shadows danced across the surface of Aizen's face just right, and emphasized his decidedly handsome features.

"But having a complete and good night's rest is important to be fully functional in all areas of one's performance. Wouldn't you agree?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Yes, I do agree with that sentiment."

Aizen all but hummed in acknowledgement, letting a moment of silence fill the air before speaking again.

"Shall we be on our way?"

You nodded in agreement, following him as the both of you walked about the First Division grounds. From what you could tell based on your position, your aimless nightly stroll drew you closer to where Sokyoku Hill was located. The area became increasingly more grassy and contained less buildings.

Although Squad 1 grounds weren't terribly far from either of your barracks, you still weren't sure as to why Captain Aizen wished to meet out here. Initially you thought that perhaps he was just fond of this particular scenery, but really it could have been anything.

But still, you believed Aizen always had a purpose for everything he did.

After several moments, his warm voice replaced the evening silence, vocalizing your current thoughts. “I assume you are contemplating why it is I have asked you here, and I’m afraid the reason is quite benign. Truthfully, I just wished for your company. I often go on night walks to clear my head after a long day and thought I might invite you to join me this time, and have a conversation with each other."

Your brows shifted upwards, for that was not quite the answer you were expecting. It seemed too . . . simple. “Really? You just . . . wanted to talk with me? Plainly?”

The Squad 5 captain let out a short, soft laugh at the disbelief that was painted on your face. There was an expression of fondness present in his eyes and in the light smile he offered you. “Yes, exactly. I quite enjoy our discussions actually, they’re intellectually stimulating and relatively pleasant. You crossed my mind, and before yesterday, it has been quite some time since we’ve had the opportunity to unwind and talk.”

You hummed an mhmm in agreement, tearing your eyes away from Aizen’s side profile in favor of the hem of his captain’s haori, watching how it danced in the soft breeze. It seemed to be less distracting than the way Aizen peered down at you from time to time.

"I see. I am. . . . truly flattered by your words, Captain Aizen; you're too kind. Forgive me for asking but," you took longer strides so that you could fall into step next to him━ as if to speak to him more directly, "Why at this time? To talk with me, I mean. It couldn't wait until more . . . . . conventional hours?"

He chuckled again, and answered as smoothly as if he were awaiting you to ask him that. "Unfortunately, today's tasks ran a little long today, so I had to stay at my office later than usual." The spectacled man paused for a moment, before setting his soft gaze on you, "And besides, that completely defeats the purpose of inviting you on a night stroll, doesn't it?"

You ignored the heat flaring up in your cheeks again. Your mind refused to move past the fact that you had crossed Sōsuke Aizen's mind enough times━ or the times that he thought about you were significant enough━ and highly enough to invite you into his realm and indulge in these moments with him, when he very much could have done that alone.

A tender smile appeared on your lips, more towards yourself than the man next to you. "I. . . suppose it does."

The ashen-white moon only rose higher in the sky, providing an ambiance of tranquility as the both of you talked about whatever crossed the surface of your minds. Other times, the stillness of the night did the talking, and you'd listen to the leaves, and the wind, and the crickets sing together in harmony. Gradually as you walked and the beaten path grew more narrow, your figures drew closer together, until you could feel the long sleeves of his haori brush against your own.

You hadn't noticed that the two of you eventually stopped walking and paused under a tree until Aizen struck up conversation once more. When he called out your name in that gentle, velvety voice, you swore your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The sound of your name rolled of his tongue so smoothly, the desire to hear it again grew within you.

"Uh━ yes, Captain Aizen?"

"Are you satisfied with way things are at the moment?"

You stood next to him, perplexed at his inquiry due to its vague nature. "Um, what. . . . things? I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking."

The wind brushed Aizen's dark ochre tresses across his face as he took a step towards you, like the breeze itself was pushing him towards you. "Hm, perhaps I should be more clear then. Are you content with being a soul reaper? Are you satisfied with being a soldier for the Soul Society?"

With your brows slightly furrowed in thought, you remained silent for several seconds and overanalyzed his every word, trying to predict where he might be steering the conversation now. The longer you thought it over, the stronger that nagging feeling from within your soul became. The one that often told you what he was asking wasn't exactly . . . it didn't quite feel . . . . .

"This feels like a prelude to another insightful discussion on Shinigami━ and by extension━ Seiretei politics." Your words cut off your own thoughts, as if your mind was trying to sweep something under the proverbial rug.

Aizen huffed in amusement, before lightly shrugging, leaving your statement definitively unanswered.

You sighed as you seriously considered his question this time. "I mean sure, I guess. I'm somewhat satisfied with my job and all of . . . this," gesturing your hands in the air around you to emphasize your point. The 5th Division Captain made another humming noise, indicating that you still had his full attention. He inched a little closer into your personal space.

The mere action caused your next words to die in your throat and a quiet chuckle resounded from his, before your thoughts revived themselves again.

"Of course things could always be better but. . . . y'know. This is just how it is." You weren't quite sure if you should voice negative opinions about the Soul Society so plainly to a senior officer, even if he was the one who asked you in the first place, so you treaded lightly.

The same plainly relaxed smile from earlier remained painted across his lips, held in his chestnut irises was an emotion akin to affection. He seemed somewhat pleased that you were expressing your thoughts with him.

“And you? Are you satisfied, Captain Aizen?” You were unable to keep the teasing endearment out of your tone as you returned his gaze, casting aside the notions of Gotei officer seating and ranks for the moment. The air seemed like it shifted━ towards what, you weren't sure of━ but it kind of made you feel like you were adrift, floating in isolation from everything else around you.

It was still hard to process that you were alone with Captain Aizen right now. . . . at night.

A low hum reverberated within his chest, contemplative in nature as he replied, “Perhaps.”

The wind whistled lowly again, erecting goosebumps on whatever part of your skin happened to catch the midnight breeze. You fought the instinctual urge to twitch towards the nearest source of heat, which happened to be Aizen. Now that would be even more wholly inappropriate than the 'lovers meeting at midnight' scenario.

The silence between the both of you was brief, but comfortable nonetheless. Once more his mellifluous voice cut through the quiet, leveled and calm, like still ocean waters.

“Come. I want to show you something,” Aizen reached his arm out towards you, your spine as straight as if someone stuck a metal rod dipped in ice water down your robes.

The captain's movements seemed steady and slow━ it had felt like time itself had hesitated for several moments. You thought he was going to . . . . well you weren't sure what he was going to do, and that's what you made you nervous.

Was he going to touch you? Cradle your cheek? Remove a stray leaf that happened to land on your head? You were left somewhat dangling in anticipation, not daring to flinch backwards because you felt it would be disrespectful or offensive. You hadn't even blinked, subconsciously fearing that this was only a very vivid daydream.

But alas, when his arm drew near it extended past your head, slightly above you, and held a small branch in his palm it like a delicate flower. You released a breath you didn't know you were holding, but that breath drew short again when your gaze was eye level with his lower neck and chin.

He seemed . . . . closer.

“I think that regarding the condition of the Soul Society," Aizen began in a quiet voice, referencing his own reply to his earlier question, "and therefore my thoughts about it, is akin to this set of leaves on this branch."

Snapping out of whatever stupor you seemed to have slipped in, you exhaled softly before stepping back a bit to look at what he was talking about. In his palm he cradled a wayward branch that grew from one of the other sturdier branches of the tree. The green foliage of its arms had started to weaken and dull in color. The cold air due to the seasonal transition to autumn caused the leaves become brittle, nearing closer to the edge of death.

The sound of just how brittle they were resounded in the air when Aizen thumbed the leaves in between his fingertips, observing their texture with pity laced in his small movements.

"These leaves will fall off as it gets colder. And soon, the rest of this tree will be bare as well. When the time comes, when the right circumstances fall into place, the old die to make way and usher in the new; it's simply the way things are. I think of the Soul Society government is structured in a similar manner."

You hung onto his every word, like he were imparting crucial wisdom to you. Even though you were a bit confused on the last part, and on the connection between dying leaves and Soul Society, you still listened intently, waiting for him bridge the gap between the two.

"The Soul Society as it is now can be thought of as a season. And this particular season, this climate has remained so for several centuries. How can nature continue━ how can we continue to progress when the old have yet to be washed away by the currents of time? It defies that of nature, yes?" He directed this question at you specifically, in search of your agreement.

You nodded your head, tearing your gaze away from the branch and directed it at the grass beneath your feet. Your brows furrowed a little as you mused over Aizen's words. He gave a rather ambiguous answer before but now, his words sounded like vague displeasure and muted criticism. Everyone was entitled to their opinion, and on some fronts, you'd sometimes agreed with the 5th Division Captain. The Soul Society was far from perfect, too much emphasis on nobility and status, the government resembled too closely to an oligarchy . . . But you didn't━ wouldn't voice these thoughts, though.

Instead you hummed quietly under your breath. There was that tugging sensation again. This time it told you that there was something deeper to this conversation than meets the eye. But what could there be? Was there anything at all or were you just overthinking it?

The voice-like sensation in your soul was calling out to you, but you couldn't hear it that well or quite make out what it was saying. It's as if someone was calling out to you in a crowded room that had music playing on the speakers: you felt like if you listened hard enough you could make it out but ultimately, the result would fruitless.

"And when that happens," Aizen continued, "sometimes nature has to be gently nudged back on track to keep things moving smoothly. That may require . . . shaking the tree. Pulling a few harmful weeds from one's garden, so to speak."

"Weeds?" You echoed. You felt like you understood this analogy and therefore what he was trying to say, but at the same time you didn't. Or was it . . . . you didn't want to understand what he was implying?

Because if you were interpreting his words correctly, if he were inconspicuously comparing the higher-ups and the government itself to dying leaves and harmful plants that needed to be removed, then . . . .

"You, dear child, are a mere weed in this scenario."

Wait, what did he just━

Your thoughts were cut short when a gush of air that smelt strongly of Aizen━ warm oak, vanilla, and a kind of musk that you weren't sure how to describe but was still pleasant all the same━ brushed against your face and took you by surprise.

But there was another aroma that arose, steadily becoming more apparent alongside the increasingly painful throbbing feeling you felt in your abdomen.

It smelt metallic. And it was something that you've smelt all too many times before.

It was blood.

Your gaze that was initially narrowed in confusion lowered as it followed the source of this pain. Your eyes slowly widened in as you struggled to comprehend the blade that was currently ran through your torso.

Aizen's blade.

"Actually, instead of weeds, a more accurate and befitting analogy perhaps would be blades of grass. You unfortunately have to step on them in order to reach the weeds you want to remove."

You couldn't really focus on what the captain was saying, because your brain was still struggling to process what the hell just happened. Your hands slowly rose from their sides and shakily grazed the zanpakuto, wanting to believe that if you touched it, it would pass right through your fingers like mist. But no, the sensation of cold steel was as real as the robes you wore on your back. You only just now are processing the muffled squelching sound of his sword impaling your flesh.

You wanted to scream, to cry in pain, to vomit, to push him off━ something. But all you could do was stand there, stunned, words completely failing you. "Wh. . . . what? Why did . . . . you . . . . "

A cough replaced your attempt at a comprehensive sentence, and you tasted iron in your mouth.

Fuck....was this really happening?

"Please don't push yourself trying to talk," His voice was like an index finger to one's lips, similar to a parent's gentle caress to quiet and sooth their child, "You'll only hasten your death. And I'm sure you wish to know the reason for my killing you, yes? You'd have to be alive for that."

'Killing me?' 'My death?' The certainty that rang in his words chilled the blood in your veins, and they confirmed the one conclusion you hoped wouldn’t come true: that you were going to die.

The frigid embrace of fear and dread engulfed you from behind and you shivered, causing the blade snugly lodged in your organs to shift. The pain of that foreign object moving even a little bit shot through your entire body, causing a groan to emerge from your throat.

Desperate to conserve your energy and the oxygen that was becoming a little harder to take in, your breathing became uneven and a little wheezed. Even then, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet the gaze of Captain Aizen to confirm if this was really happening or just an extremely realistic and vivid nightmare. The sight you might be greeted with could be more frightening than the actual impaling of his sword.

As if his betrayal couldn’t actually or figuratively cut you any deeper, just then there was a noise that grew louder and louder within a matter of seconds until it was almost deafening. You’ve distinguished it to be the sound of glass crackling.

Your surroundings formed cracks everywhere on its surface, like it was just an oversized window. Even on the grass you stood on, or what you thought was grass, began to crumble away.

A dumbfounded but panicked look was plastered on your face when your world literally shattered around you, the only remnants of it being you and the Captain.

What was underneath the mirage━ or you should say, the fact that it was a mirage at all━ only disturbed you and increased your perplexity.

Slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, it took a minute to process where you were, but you noticed that now the two of you stood in a formal room that looked like it was used for important meetings. The lights in the room slowly started to brighten, most likely due to motion sensors. Even with Aizen's scent lingering in your nose, you could still pick out a rather stale aroma that hung in the air like dead fruit that hadn't fallen off the tree.

"Is . . . this Cen . . . tral━ "

"You are correct. Where we currently stand is the assembly hall for Central 46, the judicial power of the Soul Society. All judiciary as well as legislative trials and proceedings are held here."

All around the room were seats with partitions, the kanji for 1 through 46 printed on them. In the seat for the 19th member, your gaze caught onto something on the translucent barrier. It was a little farther up so you had to squint your already blurring vision to see it properly.

You saw, and your heart promptly sank as a result, eyes widening once more.

There were splatters of a dark colored substance on the partition━ undeniably blood. And the lithe, bony fingers of an older man laid lifeless, peeking out from the side of the screen like the appendages themselves were trying to escape from the body they were attached to.

That man . . . was dead. That stale aroma you smelt was the stench of death.

It was only after that unsettling epiphany did your eyes dart frantically around the room and realize that every member of Central 46 was dead.

The disturbed expression on your face only intensified as your stare was pulled back down to where Aizen's blade still resided in your body.

" Cap.....Aizen," you uttered, swift to correct yourself. All the moisture in your throat dried up like water underneath the unrelenting rays of the sun. You kept gulping your saliva in an attempt to assuage the sensation, but relief only last for a fleeting few seconds. "Did you ━ you killed them . . . didn't you?" Your question was laced with shaky hesitance and swelled with apprehension, fearing that you already knew his reply even before he answered.

There was a moment of silence and a hum before he replied. "Smart girl."

The muted mirthful tone in his voice sounded like sarcasm, and it was enough to finally draw your attention away from everything else and directly look at him. Almost instantly, you regretted it.

His umber tinted gaze was colder than you remembered. You couldn't find anything in his eyes that hinted that all of this was just a big misunderstanding, or a dream, or that Aizen had a secret sense dark and complex humor.

This was your first, and apparently your last time, that you have ever felt a fear such as this. Your mind was struggling to comprehend this was the same Aizen that spoke with you so gently, full of encouragement and wisdom. The same man that recommended you books to read and gifted you tea to drink and gazed upon you like . . .

Well, none of that mattered now. In this moment, Sōsuke Aizen wasn't the same man anymore. This Sōsuke Aizen was someone else, and it frightened you.

"When?" you croaked, your voice no longer sounding like your own. Nothing felt real anymore. "W-When did you . . . . . how? Why?"

Another noncommittal hum resounded from the spectacled man as he closed his eyes, feigning the action of thinking of an answer. When he reopened them, his narrow gaze returned to you.

"Everyone in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads was previously aware that the ability of my zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu, allowed me to confuse the enemy using bodies of water, mist and even moisture in the air in order to attack. However, that is not my zanpakuto's actual power; there is more to it than just simple confusion. Kyoka Suigetsu's true power is Complete Hypnosis. Essentially, when someone looks at my blade, I am then able to take control of that person’s five senses, causing them to believe that something is real ━ or that something isn't real. In a way, once glancing at my unsheathed zanpakuto, that person forfeits their sense of existence to me. Kyoka Suigetsu is quite flawless in its deceptive abilities."

A heavy silence, aside from your uneven breaths, endured in the space between both of you. You didn't need him to spell out what he was trying to say.

It was all . . . . an illusion. A convoluted, premeditated illusion. And you walked right into it without even knowing or considering, that it was all fake.

The Fifth Division Captain inwardly smiled at the despair clearly written on your face as he watched you mentally put the pieces together. He took your lack of reply as a sign to continue. "The members of Central 46 have unfortunately been dead for quite some time now. And as for your question of why......"

The taller man stepped towards you which inadvertently (or purposely, you began to fear), drove his sword deeper into your abdomen without warning and slight force. You bit down on your bottom lip hard to stifle your exclamation of pain. In an attempt to somehow resist him, with the little strength you had left, your hands automatically took purchase in his oversized sleeves, but it did nothing. You found it ironic that you could feel how warm Aizen was underneath his robes, but his soul was anything but.

" . . . . I believe I already mentioned it earlier, yes? All flowers die eventually and the weeds......must be removed."

At that moment you remembered that tugging sensation that told you something felt off in some instances whenever you talked with Aizen. This must have been what it was. Damn it all. You still didn't understand exactly what bad things Central 46 and the Soul Society have done to cause his actions, but based on what you've been told and your current position, it must have been heinous. Again, you actively swallowed the urge to vomit.

"You . . . you lied. I can't believe━ how could it have all b-been a lie?" Another nasty cough rattled your body, followed by a shiver and a groan.

The brown-haired man slightly tilted his head, like he was truly confused. "Lied? Hmm, well. I suppose you could put it that way based on your limited knowledge of the circumstances, but I wouldn't put it that way. Besides, this isn't really about truth or lies. It is, and always has been, only about the reality of what is. And what is, is that you were unable to anticipate my deception. No one could, because it was outside the domain of your thoughts. What is, is that the current way the Soul Society operates is tainted, and I shall be the one to remedy it."

You drew another shuddering breath and looked down at the ground with a grim expression as your blood continued to pool at your feet. Briefly, you even considered unsheathing yourself from his blade and take the chance to make a run for it, but the chances of you making it to the outside world, let alone coming across someone before you bled out and died were slim. Besides, it was clear that you couldn't even trust your own senses anymore after Aizen demonstrated that he had complete control of your reality.

Which reminded you of something else.

" . . . when?" you asked the same question again, but much quieter than before, despair palpable in your voice. 'When and how did you subject me to your zanpakuto's Complete Hypnosis?', is what you were really asking. And being as intelligent as he was, the spectacled man understood.

Abruptly, with a large palm on the small of your back, Aizen used his gentle hold grip to pull you towards him in order to close the remaining distance, causing him to drive the remaining length of his zanpakuto all the way through until the tsuba of his blade rested against your stomach. You looked like a skewered piece of meat.

You didn't have the willpower to hold back the piercing shriek of agony and physical anguish as tears sprung forth from your eyes. You could no longer tell if your blurry vision was due to your tears obstructing your sight or if it was from being a step away from death's door.

"Do you remember . . . the first time we met?"

The hand that rested on your lower back slowly glided upwards until his fingers found your jaw. With a tenderness that reminded you of a time before his betrayal, he lifted your chin and guided your gaze to look at him directly. His thumb moved to graze your bottom lip just as you've done mere hours ago━ as if he knew that, as if he watched you do it. His thumb was dangerously close to slipping inside your mouth and that both excited and scared you. Your breasts against his, your breaths synchronized with his, your body and his were fully pressed against each other and it made focusing on his question more difficult.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The first time . . . we met? Sure, with a little bit of effort you could easily recall the first time you formally met Aizen. It was sometime in the spring, and you remembered him running through combat formations with his lieutenant and the rest of his squad. But why d━

A silent gasp left you. Another epiphany, another figurative blade piercing your heart.

Battle formations, and he . . . offered you to join them . . . his zanpakuto . . . . .

Confusion crumbled away, and was replaced with vacant horror and sadness. It seems you've already been defeated, for many, many years now.

Aizen seemed to murmur something under his breath, a pleased sound you couldn't quite decipher. His mouth brushed over yours, rendering you literally speechless, before he closed the distance and brought your lips together. You could barely process what was happening.

It was ironically tragic how soft and skillfully gentle his lips were against yours. The kiss felt longing, like a departure between two sweethearts and their last meeting together. It also felt heavy and final, making you want to cry.

And you did. Silent tears streamed from your eyes and rolled onto the fingers that still held your face so affectionately. The captain reacted by guiding your chin up a little further, dipping his head a little lower, so he could deepen the kiss. You weakly scorned yourself for thinking about how the two of you must really look like lovers now, sans the sword sticking out from your back.

Oh, how cruel this was; how cruel he was. It was cruel for him to kiss you like this, hand still splayed on your back like he needed to touch you stay sane. And how cruel it was that still managed to enjoy it, even as you stood there dying. Your lips moved together in tandem, slow and almost passionate, all while tears stained the apples of your cheeks, drying up the plush youth that once resided in them.

Aizen's tongue had slithered its way into your mouth, and you suddenly felt like crying harder. There was a tart, sweet flavor lingering on his tastebuds, and you absently wondered what is was. Perhaps hibiscus from tea, you surmised. And he too tasted the sweet jasmine and citrus that clung your tongue and lips. At this, he chuckled quietly into your mouth, humming before retracting from you by a few inches so he could speak.

"I knew you would like the tea. It's sweet and flavorful, isn't it?" You hated how low his voice was, how its timbre pleasurably vibrated and rumbled against your lips, and you hated that lidded stare he gave you. You again thought it unfair that you couldn't even revel in the rare sight of Aizen's lips slightly wet because your lips were intertwined with his.

"I have to thank you for humoring me and my recommendations. I really appreciated it. And I also," you winced loudly and cried out in affliction as Aizen finally began to withdraw the sword from your body, "must to bid you farewell now. It seems you don't have any more time left, and this has dragged on for longer than it needed. I'm not surprised you've held out for this long, as I already knew you possessed commendable strength. But alas it wasn't enough. I am sorry that you have to die; it's rather regrettable that you happened to be that blade of grass that ended up underneath my foot."

Another wail was yanked from your chest as he steadily removed his sword from your abdomen. The pain was becoming excruciating, you would have collapsed by now if the taller man weren't holding you.

You saw two things before the light in your eyes had all but faded away. The first were the colors of faux pity and apathy that swirled in Sōsuke Aizen's irises, spiraling like a storm that was certain to wreak havoc in its wake. His gaze was devoid of any regret or remorse; the final metaphorical nail on the coffin. The second was a small smile.

But this wasn't one of his smiles you were familiar with. No wait . . . . the one you knew was simply a veneer of what is.

This smile was slanted, the corners of his lips tilted upwards and was sharp. Sharp enough to cut open your already gaping wound further and completely tear you apart, spelling out your demise. It looked insidious as if it were hiding razor-edged fangs. This was what is; Aizen's real smile.

"I. . . I see. Aize. . . ." were the last words you were able to manage. You didn't have the strength to be upset or hurt any longer, so you gave in to the exhaustion.

Your body permanently relaxed, long lashes veiling your now empty eyes as your arms lifelessly dropped to your sides. The captain found a disturbing amount of pleasure in his name being the final word you attempted to speak before succumbing to the sleep of death.

And even after the fact, the facade of doomed, star-crossed lovers persisted as your body slumped backwards. Aizen's strong forearm wrapped tightly around your waist being the only reason you didn't fall to the ground in a puddle of your own blood.

That day was the last anyone saw of you, your zanpakuto still laid idly in your room, its spirit destined to forever wander in the afterlife between worlds alone, eventually fading from existence without ever feeling the presence of its master again.

They had declared you missing by the end of the next day. Lieutenant Hisagi was probably the most perturbed about your sudden disappearance. Days, weeks passed, and they never located you. The Gotei 13 was left unsettled by the lack of progress, but ultimately had to rule your case inconclusive. Some believed that you were simply killed by a stray hollow, or even ran away from your duties because of the stress.

The news of what happened spread like wildfire across all the squads, that a high-ranked officer just up and vanished without a trace. The spirits and morale of the thirteen companies dampened, sorrow and worry swelling like a festering boil.

And that boil burst when Ryoka infiltrated the Soul Society, and when it was revealed that all of it was carefully orchestrated by Sōsuke Aizen.

Like a blade of grass that somehow snuck into one's sandals or in between their toes, during his time in Hueco Mundo, images of you flashed in his head at unexpected times when his mind was quiet. He'd remove the grass, tossed you aside, and moved on with his day. There was no room for you in the grand scheme of things. Such reminisces were beneath someone like him.

And yet.

He'd always find another piece of grass from the greenery he stepped on whenever he advanced a step in his plans. There you were again.

It was common knowledge that if you kept repeating the same action over and over, it will eventually wear you down.

━━━━━━ 鏡 ━━━━━━━

It was dark, and there was nothing.

There had been nothing for quite a long time now. Utter darkness and the abyssal shade of black engulfed every inch of Aizen's body and surroundings.

He saw nothing, the seals over his eyes too opaque to let anything through. And even if they weren't obscuring his vision, he would barely be able to see three feet in front of him; there was seldom a few lanterns in his cell to begin with. He felt nothing but the bindings that kept him imprisoned in one of the deepest pits of the Seireitei. At times it felt like even his internal organs had stilled in their functions. He heard nothing but the unrelenting quiet of his cell within Mugen's maw. The only thing that served as proof that he hasn't spontaneously grown deaf yet was the occasional muffled noise that originated from outside of the entrance. And even then, he could hardly hear much of anything.

Such is an ironic fate for someone who, with a stray thought and a glint of his blade, could control someone's senses and take away their free will to experience those senses in their reality. And now, he was stripped away of all of his in nearly every capacity.

Sōsuke Aizen was rendered stationary and stagnant, qualities he detested and were the antithesis of his ambitions and plans, perhaps even his existence.

Aizen had always believed in being in control of your own destiny and making your own choices; if you had the opportunity and the power to change something━ especially if it was something that was wrong, unfair or immoral━ then one should be able to move towards that goal by making change, even if by force. The former captain had always been intentional about his actions and his desires right from the start.

And yet, here he ended up.

Spending years strapped to a chair in this dark, cloistered hole, Aizen had nothing but time to reflect the reason for his arrest: that orange haired Ryoka boy, Ichigo Kurosaki. He had nothing but time to admit to himself and settle on the conclusion that his last battle with the substitute Shinigami . . . did something to him.

Fighting the Ryoka boy ignited something inside him that he previously believed would forever lay dormant.

The thrill of a challenge.

Adrenaline was injected into his veins with each clash of their swords, spreading far and wide across every inch of his body. It no longer reacted in the measured, calculative manner he had programmed it to, but with unadulterated, pure instinct and raw power━ all in an effort to not only withstand such potent spirit energy from his opponent, but to come out on top and win.

It made him feel alive.

Aizen's desire to be the victor in battle and in his philosophy━ to prove himself right━ both fueled him and consumed him so thoroughly it led to his own downfall. That was a rather difficult fact to acknowledge; so much so his head started to pulsate intensely whenever it crossed his mind one time too often.

All of it unfolded right in front of his eyes and yet . . . he didn't really see it happen.

As time passed during his perpetual incarceration, with hooded eyes, the former captain spent an unfathomable amount of time tossing and turning every single event that led him to this underground prison, even pondering his temporary release by the Head Captain Kyōraku to fight in the war. Scenarios both minor and significant displayed itself in front of his mind's eye as if he were watching a film.

Every so often, a blurred visage of your image would make a brief appearance, like the flickering sparks of a match before they were able to come to light, fading away into the void and were overshadowed by his other thoughts. It was as if his own consciousness and intentionally muted any manifestations of your existence in his memories. As if he wasn't able to or allowed to see them━ to remember you for too long.

Mentally reliving moments from the last several months, years, decades, centuries━ trying to analyze each moment and decipher where it could have went wrong━ turned out to be quite an exhausting task. His mind and body would grow heavier with inertia, and eventually he would succumb to the alluring pull of slumber. After some time he would rouse from his sleep, and continued from where he left off.

These were his daily activities day in and day out (even though he had trouble distinguishing day and night in his chambers) for years. He saw a positive side to it though. He'd instead think of it has him getting stronger because he had spent so long . . . thinking. Ruminating. Contemplating every possibility in the past, present, and future. His mind would become as sharp as his zanpakuto.

Aizen had always been intentional about what he did, what he said, and how he conducted himself. He was sure in his abilities to orchestrate an image━ a belief for others to have faith in, and act on it in order to further his goals. He was always sure in that image, knowing who he was and what he stood for.

Or at least, that's what he thought.

Aizen wasn't consciously aware that his certainty in this crafted image had already begun to waver. He could not and was unable to anticipate how severe these small fractures had become until after a certain lieutenant paid him a visit outside his cell of confinement, right before he was scheduled to be thrown back into that dark hole of the Mugen.

Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi was quite emotive when he burst through the doors. His expressions were contorted in volatile mixture of frustration, anger and sadness. His emotions were every which way, directed at everything that has happened so far, including himself. He was especially emotive at Aizen specifically for what he did to former captain Kaname Tosen and 'corrupting him with his twisted ideals.'

Aizen found amusement in that.

Before he was rolled away by the punishment force and therefore out of earshot, a particular set of Hisagi's words caused the small, content smile on his lips to uncurl ever so slightly. "Everything . . . and everyone that has ever gotten themselves involved with you has been trampled on by you and your ideals one way or another, and they all end up dead. If you think what you did to Captain Tosen was justified━ to call it mercy . . . . . then there is truly no justice in this world. You will . . . forever be the enemy in my eyes."

There was a trembling anger in his voice. Pain that wanted to cry out and be set free but, the thin lid of reason prevented it from doing so. And after a moment of silence, the corners of Aizen's lips curved upwards once more. A little bemused, a little more wolfish this time. He maliciously imagined Hisagi's reaction if he ever discovered the true reason for your disappearance.

But instead, all he said was. "What an interesting thing to say, Shuhei Hisagi. Your conviction is admirable." Any evidence of emotion that might have been reflected in his sepia irises was swallowed up and obscured by the darkness of the Mugen's jaw.

The cracks in Aizen's sense of self, in his beliefs, in the image he invented started to cave under the weight of Hisagi's words before he himself realized it was happening. They were like stains in the fabric of his mind that refused to come out.

What puzzled him more, was that with each attempt to figure out just why Hisagi's words echoed in his mind, they all lead back to you, the third seat of the 9th squad. Annoyingly so.

The tattooed lieutenant hadn’t said anything particularly profound ━ at least, Aizen didn't think so. Your name didn’t even fall from his lips. So why were memories of you and your likeness the only clear thoughts he could make of Hisagi's speech? Was it because he was aware of how close the two of you were? He doubted the reason were that trivial and insignificant.

His thoughts grew more discordant by the day, his soul a little more weighted than usual. Perhaps these new seals that Urahara had fashioned actually had an effect on him, Aizen thought. It made sense. His intellect, other than his own, were the only ones capable of creating such effective restraints.

After a while, he had a revelation. This was a different kind of weight.

This heaviness, the closest word he knew to describe it as . . . . was loneliness.

Time taunted him as it seemed to drag on━ Aizen grew even less sure of how much━ when he came to this realization. Hisagi's words were a clear mirror to the loneliness that echoed within him after what happened to you and to Tosen. It was so . . . potent, that it seemed to strike some chord in Aizen he had never heard before.

Such a chord, this sound of loneliness, it was strange and uncomfortable; he wasn't very fond of this sensation. He'd try to scrub it away, but it was all for naught.

His eyes had slid shut at some point, his ruminations leading to dead ends and wearing him down. And, almost as expected, there you were again, in all your translucent glory. The hem, the sleeves, and even the smell of your yukata slowly dragged across his dreams, haunting his thoughts like a lonely wraith.

And Aizen hardly dreamt of anything.

When he regained consciousness he was plagued with yet another epiphany. An additional reason behind this newfound depth.

Aizen's own loneliness. Guilt. Much to his own quiet horror.

How foreign and unusual a thing like guilt is. It was like looking into a mirror and not recognizing something you had never noticed before, but wondered if it had always been there.

But the thing Aizen did recognize, how lonely he actually felt, was something he had hoped would never resurface again. It was a notion he hadn't had the time or regard to consider━ 'loneliness'. Its only purpose, if any, was solely to serve as a motivator. At times though, it was more like a hindrance.

Something akin to nausea slowly started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach, but he suppressed the sensation before it became any more intense.

What of his previous actions did he need to feel guilty for? He hadn't felt it then, so why would he feel it now? Again he ruminated such a question endlessly into oblivion.

The former captain had no doubts that his plan to remove the Soul King, and therefore the Soul Society's sins, were necessary.

Nor did any hesitancy about removing the opposition or dead weight━ whether shinigami or arrancar━ existed.

He certainly had no reservations against killing Kaname Tosen, for he knew the man well enough to know that Tosen would have been so thoroughly appalled with what he had become, it would have drove him mad.

So what was it, then? Why were such useless emotions as guilt and loneliness being amplified n━

"Y....know, S....."

Even covered by the seals, Aizen's eyes widened and his brows were slightly furrowed in distress. Had his mind finally tipped the scales of sanity and madness, to the point where he was hearing things?

It was quiet for several moments longer, before his senses caught onto the sound of water dripping onto a hard surface.

One drop at a time.

Its cadence a little too rhythmic to be natural. And for a second time, he heard that soft, ominous sounding whisper. Its voice a little clearer this time.

"You...know.....Sōsuke."

In the second it took for his eyes to flutter shut behind its seals to blink, when he reopened them, he was no longer sealed to the walls and floors of the Mugen, nor was he surrounded by every shade of darkness imaginable. His limbs and senses were finally freed to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages.

That relief was short-lived when his senses absorbed the unending landscape of water underneath his feet, water lilies lifelessly floating on its surface, and the dim sky illuminated by a full pale moon.

Aizen was in his inner world, and now he was aware of how he got here, or rather who brought him here.

"You . . . already know the answer to that question, Sōsuke." The voice was even more clear, its sentences more comprehensible. And it sounded it eerily like you.

Why the voice was impersonating your likeness had caught him off guard for half a second, but he realized it was only the work of his zanpakuto, Kyoka Suigetsu.

An illusion it may be, there was an untouchable quality about your voice and how you spoke that even Kyoka Suigetsu couldn't replicate.

A few feet away from him, the water was disturbed by a being emerging from the depths. Ripples formed around a manifested version of his zanpakuto, who took the form of you, smiling ever so gently. The smile felt airy, and it didn't seem like the same one that haunted his dreams and every waking thought as of late. It felt....knowing.

Still, the former captain couldn't be bothered to maintain eye contact with his sword spirit, so he turned around and opted to keep his unreadable stare trained on the vast expanse of water and white lilies.

"It's been quite a while since I have stepped foot into this realm. There must be something you want . . . Kyoka."

The zanpakuto chuckled, it sounded like the way you would softly laugh at one of his clever quips. But this wasn't you.

He didn’t want to admit that something about that fact didn’t sit right with him.

"Judging from your tone, would I be correct in assuming you don't want to be here?"

Silence rang out within the soul scape, before Aizen interrupted it, his gentle voice colored a shade darker, and a little rigid. "And I fail to see the reason why you must take that form when you revealed yourself to me. Is your aim to get a reaction out of me? Or something along those lines?"

Your eyes━ the eyes of Kyoka Suigetsu━ narrowed at its master's back, as if they were trying to create concavities in his skull. But the expression was washed away the moment it appeared, the serene smile from before was back in place.

"You know . . . it's considered quite rude to not look at someone when you're addressing them. That, and when you deliberately ignore things they say. Your manners have been deteriorating, Sōsuke. Tsk, tsk."

Kyoka-dressed-as-you suddenly appeared before him, as if they had teleported. Even when they were in his peripheral vision, Aizen still maintained his stare off into the distant nothingness.

"Unless, you can't find it in yourself to look at me. . . that's correct, isn't it? It's because I look exactly like her, right?" The zanpakuto continued to provoke him, taking a step closer into his personal space.

With an exasperated sigh, his eyelids fell shut for a second, using that time to gather the strength he didn't know he needed, and directed his gaze to meet his spirit's. Aizen's face gave nothing away, but his heart lurched about his chest when his bronze eyes met with yours, or what was made to look like yours. The undesired affect it had on him was all the same.

"If you wish to chastise me about manners, I suggest you take your own advice. You didn't answer my first question, either: what is it you want? Why am I here?" Again the former captain chose to not address the other parts of Kyoka's statement. For the sake of his sanity and his thinning patience━ or was it to preserve his resolve?

Its smile widened a bit, moving another step closer to their master. God, Kyoka even smelled like you, mimicking your signature honeyed scent that Aizen didn't realize he found so intoxicating until this very moment.

"I called you here to save you from yourself."

Aizen remained silent, only narrowing his eyes in speculation. "Meaning?"

"Didn't I already say it earlier? I think you already know what I'm talking about, Sōsuke. You've always known."

Fate's pairing of Kyoka Suigetsu with Aizen was a match crafted from the spindles of heaven, but also a maddening curse pulled from the depths of hell, for they complimented each other a little too well. The zanpakuto was too perfect a reflection of Aizen and his soul, looking at it started to hurt his eyes.

His sword spirit insisted that he already knew the reason for his coming here, and perhaps he did have an inkling the moment the light of epiphany was shone on his profound loneliness and guilt. But that couldn't have been what it was referring to . . . . could it?

"You cannot feign ignorance here, my dear Sōsuke, however I do find it rather humorous you bother trying. If you'd like, I don't mind humoring you by spelling it out for you. I'd be glad to unearth the truth that you have buried in the most neglected corner of your heart."

"When you were . . . . subjecting yourself to such mental torment, it had an affect on this world as well. The ripples, the waves in this scape become quite . . . tumultuous." The nuances in your voice were perfected by his zanpakuto, but the way it talked sounded like a fog that was gradually closing in from over the horizon. The uneasy feeling that resided in his chest traveled down to his stomach, but Aizen's face remained steely, even when Kyoka Suigetsu took that final step to close the gap in between them. "And the reason for that, the reason why Hisagi's words rattled you so is because you regret killing that woman."

The creased line in Aizen's brow grew more prominent as he stared down his sentient sword spirit. With its breast pressed against his, they placed a hand on his clothed chest in a tantalizing manner, but he felt nothing. There was no warmth from its palm, much unlike when your hand touched him. There wasn't even a cool sensation either. Even minutes before your death, your touch brought a soothing heat that permeated through his shihakusho and penetrated his skin.

Kyoka's face grew nearer, their smile━ although still tender looking━ grew cold at its edges, nearly resembling that of a predator eager to see despair reflected in the eyes of its prey. It didn't fit the graceful allure of your face at all, and seeing this expression deeply unsettled the former captain more than he would like to admit.

"You regret . . . killing me."

A chill tore through Aizen's body, the weight of Kyoka's words adding onto the heaviness that still hasn't been alleviated from his heart; he was hardly able to suppress the involuntary shiver.

Without warning, Kyoka's mouth suddenly became dangerously close to their master's, its lips brushing against his in a provocative manner. Aizen's expression darkened when he realized that it was reenacting his last encounter with you when you were alive. His mouth started to grow uncomfortably dry, despite his soul scape being full of moisture, and there was a taste on the back of his tongue that's been lingering there since he arrived.

The lilt in Kyoka's tone continued to taunt him. "That is the reason for your guilt: regret. You have been in denial. And in the spirit of unearthing truths, I suppose I can admit that perhaps . . . . I've been . . . . encouraging said delusions, adding drops of fuel into the flames of your emotions and ambitions. But after all that's happened, when it comes down to it there's no point in continuing this hallucination any longer. I've grown tired of this game, so it's time to for you wake up now, Sōsuke. I've brought you here to release you from your own illusion, to completely shatter it."

Aizen's back was as stiff as a board, not moving a millimeter when Kyoka's lips grazed his again. They were breathing softly onto his mouth, but he hardly felt any puffs of air.

The former captain was having a rather difficult time processing the fact that his zanpakuto had its own agenda and had been manipulating his emotions without him noticing. Specifically the emotions he felt towards you.

He never truly believed that such a thing was possible, one's own blade having such a deep-rooted influence━ no, control over their master. Or would it be more accurate to say that he never expected himself to be controlled to such a degree? He that prided himself on being freed from the marionette strings of fate that were tied to his limbs and mind, he that relished being able to do what he wanted, think what he wanted, feel what he wanted━ or what he didn't want━ it was hard to believe that none of that mattered in the end.

Kyoka Suigetsu's deceptive abilities were indeed undeniably perfect. No one, not even Aizen himself could have anticipated that Kyoka's most absolute and complete hypnosis would be enacted on himself.

"Do you know now, Sōsuke? Do you understand?" Kyoka's voice was as soft as a whisper, but it couldn't hide the edges of its tone that were still sharpened from finding amusement of seeing the truth flash across its master's face. "You had destroyed the solution to your existential question of loneliness, before you could fully understand the question itself."

Yes . . . . . Aizen understood now.

He didn't bother acknowledging what Kyoka had said. His grim facial expression━ still, tinged with dolor, and paired with an indescribable, distant look his eyes━ said all that it needed to. His silence was as much as an admission as any.

Kyoka-dressed-as-you leaned forward again to fully close the gap between their lips and Aizen's. Tenderly, like the intentions of a lover, it spoke against his nearly closed mouth. "Have you figured it out yet?"

Nothing but quiet could be heard between them, as Kyoka's mouth moved about their master's face and placed something like kisses upon its surface, but not quite.

Aizen's cocoa-shaded eyes slide down to stare at his sword spirit pressed up against him. His gaze was hard, and yet something swam underneath its surface that his zanpakuto had never seen before. Melancholy, it guessed? They weren't quite sure.

Kyoka pressed on when Aizen remained quiet. "The taste in the back of your mouth. Have you figured out what it was? You know it quite well....."

Aizen's tongue grazed the roof of his mouth, sensing the rather unpleasant taste that has coated the inside of it. And within a moment, because he was faced with the current circumstances, Aizen had finally placed a name associated this particular taste. How unfortunate this was.

Upon his realization, Aizen's head lowered, and his brown tresses hung freely over his lashes. Perhaps it was so Kyoka couldn't properly see whatever remorseful expression painted their master's face, but it mattered not. Even from here, the sword spirit could already sense exactly what it was he was feeling.

And they loved it.

"It's a sweet and flavorful taste, isn't it? Quite lovely." Kyoka Suigetsu mimicked the exact words he uttered against your lips all those years ago when he tasted jasmine tea on your tongue, and sealed your death with a kiss. "It's too bad you don't seem to enjoy it anymore."

Aizen's chest continued to rise and fall calmly, and the hands of his sword spirit that rested there glided upwards to cup his strong jaw, caressing his skin with its thumb. Its phantasmic touch did nothing to stir their master.

"Sōsuke, do you know what the jasmine flower from that tea symbolizes?"

Aizen's lips were slightly parted, but again he didn't say anything. Instead, its corners twitched and lifted upwards by an inch, and he huffed softly.

Kyoka Suigetsu grinned in reply. "Good."

The next time Aizen blinked, he was plunged in darkness yet again. The restrictive feeling that swallowed his being whole had returned, and was an indicator that his zanpakuto had released him from his inner world. He was consciously back in the Mugen, back in this abyss they called a prison cell.

Kyoka was indeed as much as a formidable force in its own right, as much as, if not greater than Aizen himself.

The conversation he had with his sword spirit would be cemented in his head for all eternity. When he grew senile and began to physically wither away, the one thing that would remain vital like a young heart, was this epiphany that he had. This realization that he actually . . . .

As the chains of despair bound him tighter to the bottom of the metaphorical pit, regret and his loneliness corroding his flesh and spirit like metal exposed to moisture, a stray memory of his time in Hueco Mundo flashed in his mind. He recalled having tea prepared for meetings with his Espadas and he could not pinpoint when, but at some point, Aizen developed an aversion for jasmine flavored tea. For one reason or another, he no longer found its taste appealing; whenever he drank it, it always tasted bitter.

Now that reason had become painstakingly clear.

The binding on his mouth muffled a rueful chuckle at the though, and it trapped the flavor of jasmine on his lips.

(#) @soaringmirror @stygianoir @ryukenzz @blkjupiters @chrissie2003 @nymphoheretic @dejwrld @triangularz @souyaszn @kuujo @honeybleed @valentineluvu . let me know if you’d like to be apart of my tag list ♡♡.

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archie-sunshine · 4 months

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YEAHH THE RUNG ERA!!

GIVE US ALL YOUR RUNG IDEAS!!

also the way you draw Meg’s shlong oh my gawd holy moly I’m panting 😩

OK SO I GOT CARRIED AWAY AGAINNNNNN!!!

OK! SO FIRST OF ALL TO PREFACE I FULLY BELIEVE THAT THERE ARE NO ULTERIOR MOTIVES FOR RUNG TO BE FRAGGING HIS PATIENTS, HE GENUINELY ONLY WANTS THE BEST FOR THEM.

that being said, I hc that rung happens to have an incredibly high libido. I think he has exceptional self control, because he has no shame about sexual self care or what he finds arousing or sexually stimulating, so he probably is VERY regular about masturbating, and thus, is not nearly as pent up as most other characters I write about.

I think as a dominant rung tends to be very clinical with his patients, very patient, giving, allowing his patients to learn and express their desires in a safe environment. He'd definitely be very big on like bdsm tests and safety and safewords, his form of control would feel less like dominance and more like guidance, which could be strange for bots who frag a lot and aren't used to bots using terms like 'session plan' and 'internalized shame' during sex.

I also feel like he has a lot of theories surrounding the use of sex as part of healing from trauma, which should be pretty evident considering the way i draw him fragging. I imagine he's acutely aware of the fact a lot of bots on the lost light have issues with vulnerability and submission, and rung would probably use something like that as a foothold to introduce the idea of 'hey maybe if you let me take the reigns in a fun sexual situation, you could find handling a lack of control easier in your day to day life!' I do think that rung would in many ways get off on the submission of others, though it sounds predatory when put that way. I think Rung likes making bots feel good and seeing them relax in a way that following sexy orders does.

In addition to that, I think rung has a mild(huge) fixation on messing with bot's valves, specifically bots who usually spike. Even if he is typically more a valve than a spiker, i think he does enjoy giving valve oral or fingering a lot.

I also think he especially has a bit of a thing for size difference, whether he's fragging with a bot as huge as fort max or one as little as minimus. I do think his sterner side comes out to play more with bigger, more reluctant bots, though he's never really truly mean so much as chiding or scolding.

MOST IMPORTANTLY THOUGH! AND I BELIEVE THIS SHOULD GO UNSAID!

Rung is the MASTER of aftercare. he's a big believer in skin to skin contact(plating to plating contact??), so it's lots of petting, snuggling, hugging, hand holding. I think he would likely warn a partner coming down from a scene that he was going to stop touching them if he had to go get them energon or a towel or something, but he would try to keep at least one point of contact.

So yeah! valvedom/gentle dominant rung is my favourite hc for him personally. I'm sure you can sense a theme with my enjoyment of 'tiny top big bottom' but I think you'll forgive me for that right?? right?? yeah.

#archie answers #my art #my requests #mtmte #valveplug #transformers #megarung #megatron #rung #/nsfw #/nsft #lemon

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swartists4palestine · 3 months

Text

Meet the team!!

Here’s a little bit about the people behind the project.

"Hi! I'm Moss, my comfortless comfort character is Boba Fett, and I'm offering icons and busts! Also, I'm big on AOTC but I turn it off right before the battle of Geonosis starts." -@baufraus

Howdy! I'm @maulfucker but you can call me Youni, I love alien ocs and villains the most, and my favorite star wars is Phantom Menace :]

Hi! I’m Ty! (they/them) I’m offering half or full body drawings of your OCs or fave characters! At the moment I’m pretty into rebels and the clone wars :)) -@tyquu

“Hii! I’m gooserolls! (they/he/xe) I am offering pencil or colored digital portraits of ocs or canon characters! I love all things mandalorians, although the clone wars has a special place in my heart too :] -@gooserolls

"Hiya, I'm Mel (or Melon) (she/her) I'm offering coms of ocs or canon characters! I especially love drawing togruta and prequel era characters but have fun with most any portrait :>" -@notsomeloncholy

"Hello, I'm Nova (he/they) and I'll be offering commissions of your OCs! I am obsessed with Mandos, Chiss and the First Order, and a big fan of Empire strikes back". -@mandalorian-general

"hello hello, I'm Crypt, (they/them) lover of animation, ocs and all things silly. Offering half body and full body sketches and doodles. Favourite characters? No one in particular, but I'm fond of the clones and Hondo" -@dragon-subway

“I’m Ben, (he/him) an art student who aspires to be a character designer. I’ll be offering character portraits and sketches! My favorite Star Wars tends to be animation, in particular the Clone Wars and the Bad Batch!” -@phi-guy

"Hey I'm @stealingpotatoes, (she/her) but you can call me Potes! I'm offering half-lined doodles for donations! My favourite sw character is Cal Kestis (closely followed by Ahsoka and the Skywalker fam), but I can't wait to draw your faves too!"

Hello! I'm Anemonet and I will be doing coloured sketches ^-^ I'm a big Aayla Secura fan and togruta enthusiast, I am also very fond of the prequel trilogy (its so bad, I love it to bits). -@tenomenema

hi, i’m caws!! (he/him) i’m a big fan of the prequel trilogy, the clone wars, and rebels :) i’m offering colored digital sketches of ocs and canon characters! -@cawsceries

hihi! I’m Ophelia, doing comms of ocs or canon characters! Offering digital art—big fan of pantorans but I’ll do my best with anything -@sithbian

"hi!! my name is deck. im offering colored half body drawings of ocs and canon characters. im all about prequels era and tcw but tbh like anything" -@ddeck

“Hi! I’m sam (he/they), I’m an art student who loves the original trilogy, clones (especially cody)and mandalorians. I‘m offering colored sketches and painted pieces, from headshot to full body, depending on the amount donated. I’m alright with most subjects, oc and canon, but I particularly love drawing clones and most sw alien species :)” -@aspic31

Hello there! My name is Lee and Im a big ole fan of clone wars, bad batch, and the Mandalorian! I’m happy to do half body digital drawings of canon clones, clone ocs, and mando ocs (if you have an approved Mandalorian Mercs armor happy to do them!!! -@ofteasandherbs

"Hello, I'm S_C_G! (she/her) I'm offering short one shots. I love the prequels, jedi, mandalorians, and star wars in general." -@s-c-g-s-c-g

“Hello there! I’m @steepedfoxglovetea (they/she/he) and I’ll write medium length one shots. I love writing about The High Republic, the Rebellion, and just after RotS”

“Hi I’m @lost-in-derry (she/they) on tumblr and ao3! I can write short to medium length one shots about Rebels and Clone Wars”

“hi!! i’m lee (she/her), i’m offering short fics between 300-600 words of canon characters/ocs from the prequel/tcw era or original trilogy era.” -@kookyburrowing

"Hi! I'm Lil, (she/her), and I'm a big fan of the Bad Batch, but open to drawing any Star Wars characters or OCs with clear references. I'm taking comms for bust, half-body, and full body colored sketches. Willing to do flat color for higher donations! From the river to the sea." -@the-little-moment

Hi! I’m Trip (they/them) I’m a disabled artist and I’ve been a star wars fan since 2008 I am a really big ahsoka fan, Cody fan, Just mostly a clone wars guy but I love all of star wars all around I will draw any star wars characters but I prefer clone wars era :) -@triple-a-artist

my name is cer (he/him) and i draw sometimes. i also write but poorly so i probably won't do that. i like drawing clone troopers and ahsoka...mostly anything star wars the clone wars 2008 related. i still don't know how to draw anakin but i can definitely figure that out given time -@aliettali

i am ochi and i draw/animate (mostly draw)!! i like star wars the clone wars 2008 a lot and also bright colors and lighting. happy to be here!! -@ochi-does-art

Hi, I’m @chiliger and I’m offering sketch and simple flat color portraits of OC’s and canon characters. I especially love the clones, but Rogue One and Screecher’s Reach have a special place in my heart.

#artists for palestine #meet the team

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moony-2001 · 7 months

Text

How I would’ve constructed the 10 year time skip

✨Brought to you by my deep loathing for Lore Olympus✨

•warnings: super long post (I’m not joking), death, kidnapping, violence•

What The Fuck Happened

There was so much potential for the punishment arc. We could’ve seen a lot of character development, fleshed out storylines, reconciliation between certain people. We could’ve seen both Hades and Persephone going to therapy instead of claiming that one therapy session has fixed all their problems and then never going again.

Instead we got horny Persephone, pretty much no clue about what happened to Demeter OR Persephone during that time, and an easy plot device (sorry Cerberus) for Persephone to be like “I’m a big girl now harrumph harrumph, time for me to go reunite with my crusty ass bf who I’ve only know for a month”.

I hate the way she reunited with Ares. Ares is just a bonafide creep throughout the whole comic (although I liked when he attacked Zeus lol). I guess what I mostly hate about Ares and Persephone’s interaction is, yet again, it’s another example of every guy in the comic going AWOOGA over Persephone. Also Athena’s design is so fugly. I guess Rachel is completely incapable of drawing masculine presenting women as actual women.

The whole Kronos plot line is stupid. I hate it so much. Imo the whole “the titans are trying to escape so they can rule Olympus again” is overdone and not particularly done well. The fight between Kronos and Persephone is lame as shit. Like what, she gets big for all of 20 minutes, burps out a bunch of bees (which aren’t even aggressive creatures), and then does her version of the Wuxi Finger Hold from Kung Fu Panda and has Tartarus spirit Kronos away, magically fixing all of their problems (except it doesn’t and nothing is actually fixed).

Also I might get a lot of flack for this, but I don’t think the addition of Morpheus’ character was necessary. I like Morpheus. I think she’s cute. But she’s a) slowly turning into another version of Hecate and b) not really vital to the narrative imo. We already have so many other characters and plot lines that take away from the central “romance” the story is SUPPOSED to be focused on. I just don’t think we need ANOTHER character whose arc is probably not going to go anywhere.

So yeah, overall very L writing, L plot, and L characters.

What I would do differently

The first thing I would change is that the whole punishment arc would be an entire season unto itself. You’ll see why it has to be a separate season.

The second thing is (and this literally pains me to say) in order for me to rewrite this portion of LO without rewriting the entire comic, I kinda sorta have to throw the entire timeline of Greece out the window. If I try to follow a timeline based on the history of Greece, the entire timeline of LO has to shift massively. I’m already getting a migraine trying to think about how I could possibly make it work.

I do know this: Instead of 10 years I’d do somewhere between 1,000-3,000 years. 10 years is a joke. When you’re a god, 10 years is a trip to the time out corner

For now, let’s just say (assuming LO takes place in the Ancient Greece era) and Ancient Greece spanned ~1500 years, Persephone’s punishment would’ve needed to have been established near the very end of the collapse of the Late Bronze Age, spanned the entirety of Ancient Greece as we know it today, and ended some time in the very early Byzantine era. So like what, 1500-2000 years? Fine. I can work with this.

The Famine

You know how the first 400 years of Ancient Greece was deemed the “Dark Ages” and it was a time of war, famine, and loss? I want to start the punishment there. It would make sense for what we know about the characters thus far:

Demeter has had complete control over the growth of the flora and fauna on earth. She’s the goddess of the harvest after all. But we also find out that while Persephone has been in Olympus, Demeter has also been carrying out her duties as the goddess of spring. Plus Demeter has been around for forever and a day. She knows what she’s doing

Persephone doesn’t (at this point in the comic) really have control over her powers. Even in her fits of rage, she ends up doing more harm than good (i.e. her act of wrath, turning Minthe into a plant, etc.). In comparison with everyone around her, she is a literal infant. I mean shit, she’s only been alive for 20 years compared to the fact that everyone else has most likely been around for a minimum of 500 years.

If Demeter is stripped of her status as a goddess (and thus her powers) it would make sense that there would be a lot of death and famine and war over territory/food. Persephone would be left with nothing: no guidebook, no how-to. Of course a lot of people would die while she’s trying to figure her shit out. It could also be a very interesting tactic for psychological warfare on Zeus’ part. Zeus KNOWS Persephone doesn’t know what she’s doing. He knows people will die. And he knows that since life is precious to Persephone (or at least that’s what she claims), it would punish her further.

We can see episodes of Persephone struggling to provide for humanity. We could have real world examples of the affect of famine and depopulation. We would see her struggling with her powers, her mental health. We could get an episode that explains how her hands got destroyed from trying to mimic her mother’s powers. We can see what the fuck happened to Demeter in Attica.

Now obviously things will eventually go on the up and up for Persephone and her compatriots. The whole 1500-2000 years isn’t just going to be one big clusterfuck. As time progresses and chapters pass, we could see real character growth for Persephone not just mentally, but in almost every aspect. Since she will have been alive at that point for over 1000 years, the readers would be able to see her newfound maturity. We could also see her build strong female support systems and strengthen her friendships, something we NEVER saw in the OG comic (or at least they never happened without Hades somehow being involved). You get the point.

What’s Old Man Hades up to?

I have big plans for Hades and none of them involve him going into a 1000+ year coma or getting possessed by his creepy-ass dad. He is an asshole though. I kinda wanted to portray him in this the way he is in the original myths (which for those who don’t know or haven’t read it, it’s not good).

So in Greek mythology, Hades actually had a wife before he even met Persephone or Minthe. Can you take a wild guess as to who?

Bingo! It’s Leuce. Contrary to popular belief, Leuce is actually NOT a home-wrecking POC version of Persephone (don’t @ me we all know the nymphs represent the lower class and POC). In mythology, Leuce was Hades’ first wife/lover and she died sometime long ago and I believe was turned into a white poplar tree. No she is not a cousin of Thetis and Amphitrite. She is not even remotely related to them. And Thetis and Amphitrite are sisters, not cousins. Do your fucking research Rachel.

Unfortunately, Greek Mythology doesn’t really mention all that much about Leuce outside of the fact that she was a daughter of Oceanus, she was kidnapped by Hades, and when she died (for unspecified reasons) she turned into a tree. Which means I’m going to be taking a lot of creative liberties for this portion of the post. Sorry to all you diehard fans of Greek myths out there. I shall try to do her justice.

In my head-cannon Hades and Leuce had been in an arranged marriage for thousands of years. Leuce was offered by Oceanus as a peace offering after the War and Hades, not really having any other viable options for a wife, agreed to take her to the underworld (much to her dismay). Over time, they grew to have a mutually loving/caring relationship. Unlike LO Persephone, Leuce was a good queen and she worked hard to make sure the denizens of the underworld respected her and that they were well cared for. Unfortunately, they got divorced because Hades starting having an affair with Minthe. Even though she loved her kingdom and the people of the underworld, she divorced Hades because she couldn’t stand to be around him, which, y’know. Fair.

A few notes: in my head-cannon, Leuce is still around leading up the the trial and punishment. Her portrait would still be up, we would see signs that Hades and Leuce still interact (more in terms of business, not romance), etc.

Also, unlike Persephone, Leuce would not take her anger out on Minthe or turn her into a plant or destroy her apartment. She would simply wish her good luck. She would be mad at Hades for cheating and for taking advantage of Minthe while she’s at her lowest. But I’m going to be straight up: even though Leuce is meant to be the better Persephone, she still has her flaws. She’s not going to feel inclined to help Minthe in any way. Would you want to help out the person who your partner is cheating on you with? The answer is no and if you say yes, you’re lying.

Anyways, during the Punishment, Hades and Leuce reconnect and Hades finds out Leuce is dying. He tries to convince her to leave the underworld and return to her father, but she insists that she is going to stay, even if it means she dies away from everyone she loved. She won’t abandon her kingdom, her people, or her ex-husband (although that’s much better than he deserves). They move in together and Hades begins to take care of her, even as she begins to deteriorate. They also begin to rekindle their past relationship and (with the help of a therapist) work through some of their past problems together.

Note: their relationship rekindles a couple hundred years into the punishment so by the time the punishment ends, they’ve been back together for a minimum of 1200 years

The aftermath and the Rape of Persephone

Before any of you go gaga over me for the title used above, the original title used for the myth is The Rape of Persephone (or if you want to be really original, The Rape of Proserpina). In the context of the title, the term “rape” means to be taken/kidnapped rather than having sexual violence inflicted upon you. Rape stemmed from the traditional Latin word “raptus” which means “to be seized” or “carried off”. Okay? Okay.

So after the Punishment ends and Persephone feels like she has thoroughly improved herself, she goes to find Hades and talk with him about their relationship. Mainly that she feels they rushed into it, and even though she does like him she wants to take things really slow (kind of like how she wanted before getting married 3 episodes later).

Upon arriving to the underworld/Hades house, her worst fears are realized: not only has Hades (seemingly) moved on, he has found someone else. Or rather, he got back together with his ex-wife.

Persephone freaks out (“who is she?”/“I’m his wife!”)

Persephone, throughly upset for getting her hopes up, flees back to mortal realm. Hades goes to leave Leuce, but not before she tells him that if he leaves her for Persephone, she will never forgive him. Hades leaves anyways, much to the absolute despair of Leuce, who is left wailing as he runs off.

Persephone returns home and finds Demeter and they hug. Demeter is initially horrified to see what happened to her hands, but is proud of the work she did during the punishment. Persephone cries to her mother about Hades, and Demeter tries to comfort her but it inadvertently comes off more as “I told you so” rather than “I’m sorry you had to experience that” (although Demeter is sorry that Persephone’s heart is broken). Persephone, already feeling incredibly emotionally distressed, lashes out at Demeter and they start to argue. This is when Hades arrives.

Hades sees Demeter and Persephone arguing and inserts himself into the situation. Persephone becomes more upset after seeing him and Hades (assuming that Persephone is upset about the fact that Demeter is getting in the way of their “relationship” and not the fact that Persephone discovered Hades went back to his ex-wife after saying he loved her) whips out the the “one personal question, no exceptions” card and proposes to Persephone. He insists that he loves her and only her and that they should spend the rest of their immortal lives together.

Persephone says no.

Hades, not taking no for an answer and not wanting to leave the mortal realm empty handed, kidnaps Persephone, much to the dismay of Demeter, Artemis, and the nymphs. Hades returns with a traumatized Persephone to the underworld to find that Leuce has died and turned into a white poplar tree. While Persephone is sobbing on the floor, Hades weaves a mock crown from the branches and leaves of the tree, places it upon Persephone’s head, and tells her she better get used to their life together.

Thus ends the season and the punishment arc.

Afterthoughts

Thank you for sitting through my ramblings. I officially joined the anti-LO community about the time the trial happened and had been wanting to make a post like this for a reaaaaally long time. Besides the fact that the trial in of itself was completely unethical (@genericpuff made a whole post about that) the punishment arc just really pissed me off. Like go girl, give us nothing!

Anyways, I may or may not do a whole timeline reconstruction of LO depending on how much I feel like offing my sanity with the amount of research that would have to go into that. Until then, I hope you like this post and look out for other anti LO posts coming your way :)

#lore olympus #anti lo persephone #anti lore olympus #unpopular lo #unpopular lore olympus #kung fu panda #anti lo #lo criticism #lo critical #long read #lore olympus criticism #lo critic

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squipedmew · 1 year

Photo

well, since the Dream SMP has officially come to a close, I thought I’d share what I’ve been up to for the past 2 years - making character designs for every single one of the characters!

I really wanted every character to look distinct, with really distinct color pallets, unique weapons for each and every character - basically like each one of them could be the protagonist of a wildly different story from one another. Feel free to steal them (with credit) if you want!

I kinda dropped off working on it in late 2022, so I think I missed a few characters, as well as going back and re-doing some of the oldest ones (that’s why some of them are more detailed - those are the 2023 versions)

As strange as it is for me to say this, DSMP had such a big impact on me, especially over COVID. I haven’t had a piece of media fill me with such a passion to create art and improve probably since Undertale all the way back in 2015, if you can believe it. I owe a lot of my art improvement to this silly little Minecraft series, and though I may have lost touch with it near the end, it will always hold a special place in my heart.

o7 you crazy, wacky, depressing, stupid, unsatisfying, joyful, hilarious, and amazing series. I wish everyone involved in it the best!

(A few extra designs under the cut!)

This is a 2020 Pogtopia Wilbur I made, and if I were to draw it now, I probably wouldn’t change a thing. This design fucking slaps imo, I’m still super proud of it.

Exile Era Tommy. Wilbur’s old Pogtopia coat has been passed around so many times between so many different interpretations of characters, so I thought it made more sense for Tommy to take the L’Manberg era coat from Wilbur, since that was the version of him he idolized (This is an old version of Wilbur’s coat btw)

Post Dream-Getting-Sent-To-Prison Tommy! I wanted to emphasize how Tommy was trying to move past his trauma, so he shaved off the grey streak he got from the Withers in the L’Manberg explosions (I gave him the grey streaks before Revival canonized it - don’t ask me why)

Las Nevadas Quackity. It’s basically a 1 to 1 for his skin, save for the really ugly blue patches and hoodie I gave him. If I were to do it again, I would def change that.

Snowchester Tubbo. Also still holds up, though I’m not 100% on the pants. This was kinda before goat Tubbo got super canonized, so I just decided to have the eyes. The scars are from the execution.

Revivbur. He looks pretty good for a dead bitch - though I messed up the L’Manberg flag colors on the bandanna on his ankle. Guess he’s french now.

Team Rocket era Niki! She took custody of Wilbur’s Pogtopia coat, albiet cutting off the parts that were covered in blood and soot (which was most of it) I also made her a fire-born like Sapnap, though you can’t see from his design - her hair is on fire when she feels strong emotions, and she’s basically going through it 24/7 during this part.

Syndicate Niki! She’s calmed down and is no longer on fire, but her hair is still pink from all those weeks of constant rage and sadness. Also dressed more appropriately for the snow.

Dream Post Prison. Mask no longer has invisibility enchantments, so he doesn’t bother hiding his face. Gotta wonder how it’s staying on though. Get this man some moisturizer.

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brairslair · 7 months

Text

FEEL BETTER? ˗ˏˋ P.B.P ´ˎ˗

“all you have to do is ask”

confident!peter parker x shy!gf!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.0k

REQUESTED: no requests are open! fandoms: marvel, stranger things, harry potter (any era), scream

WARNINGS: fem reader, shit writing, established relationship, peter and reader are implied to be in college/uni, SMUT (18+), very little plot tbh, heavy praise kink, softdom!peter vibes, fingering (f!rec), very light nipple play, SUPER slight dacryphilia if u squint, peter is talkative, not proofread and written instead of sleeping, lmk if i missed smth!

A/N: is it 8am? yeah. did i just spend the last two hours writing this mess? also yeah. enjoy!

ALL CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE 18+ remember to like, comment, and reblog to support my writing!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Six hours. That’s how long it’s been since you showed up at Peter’s front door. Six hours spent right next to him, talking to him, touching him, and yet you still find yourself longing for more. Even now as you sit between his legs, back to his chest, his hands kindly twisting at your hair, your thoughts have you squirming in your seat.

The two of you had set up this study date a few days back, anticipating the opportunity to spend time together (without sacrificing your grades). Unfortunately, you were having a hard time focusing on schoolwork.

No matter how much you tried to focus on your paper, you couldn’t stop your mind, and your eyes, from wandering. You caught yourself staring at how pretty his hands looked as he hurriedly wrote down equations, admiring how cute he looked sitting crisscross in his plaid pajama pants and science pun t-shirt, how his voice sounded just slightly deeper when he was concentrating, or how soft his lips look right now. You actually thought you were going to lose it when the praise “Good job, babe. This looks perfect!” fell casually from his lips while reading your completed assignment, sealing it with a kiss to your temple.

You felt like you were going insane, but the thing is, so was Peter. You hadn’t seen each other for nearly three weeks prior to this study date, outside of passing in the halls or a quick call before bed. Between you trying to prepare for a major presentation coming up and Peter’s multitude of responsibilities, neither of you had much energy, let alone time, left to spend on anything else.

Of course, you love everything about Peter, unconditionally. That includes his web-slinging alter ego. However, it can get a little frustrating having to go weeks on end without being able to hold a conversation with him. Especially when all people talk about is the amazing spider-man, listening to girls fawn over your boyfriend for hours a day, and feeling just as fangirl-ish. You found yourself daydreaming about him to pass the time, acting like a schoolgirl with a hopeless crush.

Seeing him again after so long with so little contact is like a wake up call for your senses. You'd been so buried in your studies that you didn’t even realize just how much you missed him until you knocked on his front door.

- “Are you okay?”

Your thoughts dissolve as Peter draws your attention back to the present. When you snap back to reality, you’re immediately reminded of what caused the spiral of daydreams to begin with. You can feel the warmth of his body behind yours, the contour of his toned chest pressing against your back. You feel your whole body heat up.

“Mhm, I’m great!” you squeak out, internally wincing at the shakiness in your voice. Your usually bright and vibrant tone is completely gone, replaced with something resembling more of a whisper than anything else.

Safe to say, Peter isn’t buying it.

His best guess is that you’re upset about something that happened today. Maybe stressed about the presentation you have coming up. He knows it sometimes takes you a while to open up, so for now, he decides to let it go. In an attempt to settle your mind, he slides a hand down your arm to lace his fingers through yours.

Unfortunately, it does the exact opposite. The innocent action leaves a trail of goosebumps behind and makes your breathing pattern pick up ever so slightly. You can only hope that Peter doesn't notice.

He does.

“Are you cold?”

You shake your head, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. “No, I’m alright.” Loosely translated, means I actually feel like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Do you not like the movie? We can change it if you want to watch something else.” he offers sweetly, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’ve been all spacey for the past half an hour.”

Your breath hitches, feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. Of course he would notice. He may be a little oblivious sometimes, but when it comes down to it, Peter knows you better than you know yourself.

“The movie’s fine.” You struggle a bit to formulate a response, feeling your whole body heat up like a furnace. To evade the silence, you stutter out a weak, “I was just… thinking?”

You immediately want to light yourself on fire, deciding the silence would have been better.

“Thinking about what?” he asks. Not prying, just curious. “Must be something pretty important. Your heart is beating a mile a minute.” He softly laughs at his own words, causing you to shrink into yourself. He’s not laughing at you, but it definitely feels that way.

You fidget with Peter’s fingers in your palm, eyes locking on the movie as nerves wrack through your body. “It’s nothing.” You speak so quietly, he’s thankful for his enhanced hearing.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” you can practically hear the concerned furrow in his brow as he brings your still interlaced hands to his lips, leaving feather-light kisses to each knuckle. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

His patient and caring nature never fails to make you fall more and more in love with him, if that’s even possible.

Then, as if you weren’t enough of a mess, what really does it is when Peter leaves the faintest kiss to the base of your neck. A gesture meant to signal patience and understanding towards your “anxiety” only causes your thighs to squeeze together against your will, and before you can think enough to stop it, an airy, barely audible whine escapes the back of your throat, so soft it could pass as a sigh to the average ear.

Nothing about Peter is average.

He stills against your skin, causing your eyes snap open in horror as the realization hits you. Manicured hands immediately cover your face to shield you from the embarrassment.

They don’t stay long as Peter wastes no time in reaching up to gently pry your hands away. You feel like you could burst into tears at any moment from the sheer shame and frustration.

“Hey, hey-”, he holds both hands gently, rubbing sweet circles to soothe you, “No need to be embarrassed. You can talk to me.”

You don’t move your gaze from your lap.

“Come on, beautiful. Look at me.” He asks so gently that you comply before you can even think otherwise. His eyes are soft and kind, looking at you with all the love in the world. He makes you feel safe.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about? Hm?”

You blink up at him owlishly, feeling like there would be a question mark floating over your head if you looked up.

“That’s why you were all spacey? You were thinking about me…” he leans his head down, lips grazing your collarbone, “kissing you?”

Your breath catches.

"Or, maybe..." your eyes are glued as he moves his hand from your hold, delicately trailing it down your stomach, past your hip, and slowly down to the inside of your thigh. So close to where you’ve needed him for the past three weeks. “-you were thinking about me touching you?”

Your heart rate picks up by a tenfold, and Peter can hear it hammering in your chest.

Waiting for a response, he’s met with nothing but your heavy breathing. He carefully digs his fingertips into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to touch you?”

Another airy whimper tumbles from your lips, reluctantly nodding in response to his questions, needing him too badly to care about the shame you feel at your neediness.

Peter smiles, rewarding your response by trailing his sweet kisses up your neck, taking his time to feel you shiver under his touch. His warm lips finally reach the shell of your ear.

“All you have to do is ask.”

He resumes his attack on your neck, now bolder in his movements as he licks and bites and sucks at your skin, trying to find the spot that makes your eyes flutter shut.

Caught up in the feeling of his warm mouth against your skin, you don’t even notice as he hooks your ankles over his, slowly spreading your legs wider and wider, until your skirt rides up your legs.

Peter smiles against your skin when a shaky sigh reaches his ears, your hips bucking up in sync. He’s found it. Peter focuses all of his attention on that spot, nipping and sucking at it until you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark. The hand on your thigh squeezes gently every time you move your hips, and you have to chew on your lip to stop the mortifyingly desperate sounds from spilling out.

“Is this what you had in mind, baby?” the words rumble against your skin, sending a chill down your spine, “Is this what you needed?”

Your hips buck again at that, pouting with the hope that he takes the hint. You feel your body melt into him when his tongue darts out to soothe the fresh mark he’s left on your neck.

Of course, he does get the hint, but there’s no way he’s letting you off the hook that easily.

He inches his hand higher and higher up your thigh, slipping underneath the pretty little skirt he had bought for you as a gift a few months ago. You tense in anticipation.

“What is it?” amusement evident in his tone as he asks you. He loves that he gets to be the one that makes you this needy. “Come on, baby. Tell me.”

You almost sob in frustration, not wanting to say it out loud, but the ache between your legs is becoming unbearable.

His hand barely brushes against your panties, making your chest tighten as you suppress the urge to grind into it.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

You can’t handle it any longer.

“Please!” You all-but shout, free hand grabbing at his arm, “Please touch me, Pete!” You cry out, already sounding wrecked and he hadn’t even really done anything yet.

Peter beams at how vocal he had gotten you, leaning his head further down to meet your lips for the first time since you got here all those hours ago. It felt like drinking water after being stranded in a desert for days. You missed the way his lips felt. The way they tasted. You crave more.

Then, he mutters two words against your lips that manage to make your hazy brain short circuit.

“Good girl.”

Your groans are pathetic, being swallowed by Peter’s tongue as he rocks his palm against you through your pretty pink panties.

He can’t help but laugh a little, giddy at the sounds spilling out of you at even the lightest touch of his hand.

“Is that better?” he asks, breaking away for air. “This what you've been daydreamin' about?” He already knows what you really want, he always does, but he wants to hear you say it one more time. Just one more confirmation and he’ll give you anything you need.

Now that your mind is so clouded with pleasure, you don’t give it a second thought. “More-” you can’t barely get out a sentence between mewls, “Please, Peter, I need more-”

Before you can say another word, he’s pushing your underwear aside. Your head falls limp against Peter’s shoulder as he gathers your slick, dragging it up to finally circle your puffy clit.

Without his mouth to drown them out, your moans flow freely from you, drowning out the long-forgotten movie playing in the distance. Peter goes back to kissing your neck, deciding to mark every area of your skin that he can reach.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he soothes, nipping at the skin right under your jaw, his own heartbeat jumping at every noise he pulls from you, “Bet you’ve been achey all day, huh?”

You nod your head, barely registering his words as pleasure rolls through your body.

He lets out an almost mocking “Aww, honey…” as you buck your hips against his fingers, “Been so patient for me, huh? Waiting all day for me to make you feel good?”

“Mhm” mixed with your pants, words tumble from your mouth without a single thought to how eager you sound, “Feels so- ohhh… sososo good-”

All you can think about is the way Peters rough fingertips feel absolutely euphoric as he swirls and flicks at your clit, and how his lips sear every inch of your skin, and how his scent and his warmth consumes and takes over every thought floating around in your blissed-out head.

“You sound so pretty-” he peppers hot kisses across your shoulder, “Making so many pretty sounds…”

Peter bends his legs a little, which in turn, bends yours. The move spreads you out just a little bit more, but its enough to send little shockwaves of pleasure through you, making you jolt and gasp at the feeling.

Peter loves the way you look when you get like this. Skin sticky with heat, eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open in bliss. He thinks you looks like a goddess.

Your moans start to sound more and more like a plea, hips grinding against Peter’s fingers subconsciously as you feel the heat slowly taking over. You need more.

“Peter, pleaseee-“

“Shh, It’s okay.” his fingers glide down to your entrance, coating themselves with slick, “I’ve got you, pretty girl.”

Your eyes practically roll into your skull as he slips two fingers inside of you with ease. The stretch feels incredible, and you can’t help but squeeze the hand that's still holding yours, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Oh my god-“

Peter kisses back up until he reaches your lips again, grinning as you can barely reciprocate. The gentle nature of his kiss makes your head spin and your core clench around his fingers.

“Doing so good for me, sweetheart.”

You feel your lashes begin to collect tears at the overwhelming feeling pulsing through you. This has been building up for weeks.

“Always so good for me.”

Achey little noises spill from your lips onto Peter’s, breathing labored and heaving as the only thought filling your head is Peter Peter Peter.

Then suddenly your mind goes completely blank, gasping back a choked moan as your body goes limp, jaw slacking against Peter’s deep kisses. Your whole body feels like it's buzzing with electricity, and your head feels static in the most amazing way.

Peter pulls back for a moment to watch your face scrunch up in ecstasy, as he rubs against your spot over and over and over again. “There she is.” he coos, admittedly a little proud of himself, and you’re too fucked out to pick up on the mocking tone. He watches in awe as you start to fall apart.

“Takin’ my fingers so well, baby.”

You start to clench tighter around him, using your free hand to grip his wrist like a vice. Peter goes back to kissing your open mouth, sucking and nipping at your bottom lip as you pulse and twitch under his touch.

Panting turns back into whimpers which turns into tears as Peter massages your walls just right, hitting all the right places and stretching you out sooo perfectly.

You can feel pressure building up rapidly in your stomach, back arching up as your body starts to shake from the intensity. Peter shifts so he can watch the way your hips chase his fingers and your chest heaves for air.

“You’re so close, sweetheart. You can do it.” he praises, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge, “Almost there-“

The knot keeps winding tighter and tighter, and whiny begs and pleads start to pour out of you. Lots of “Oh my god, Pete“ or “Please” and “So good-“

Hand over yours, Peter glides your intertwined hands up your body and over your arched ribcage. He slides your hands under your his t-shirt, using his thumb to push your smaller one back and forth over your peak, a long chant of mumbled Peter’s tumble from your kiss-bitten lips.

“I know, baby, I know.” he consoles you, copying the pouty tone of your voice, “Just feels too good, huh?”

You nod your head frantically, still not catching onto the the tease, only caring about chasing your release.

He presses his lips to your ear, “Waited so long for this, honey. You deserve to feel good.”

He pumps his fingers a little bit faster.

“Gonna make you feel so good-“

You start to grind your hips up again, gasping when his palm rubs against your clit with each thrust.

“Pete-” the knot is getting tighter, “Oh my god, Peter- I’m…“ and tighter, “I’m gonna-”

“Let go for me, babe.”

Thats all you needed for your vision to go white hot, mouth falling open with a silent scream as stars dance behind your eyelids.

“There ya go”

“Just like that, pretty girl”

“Let it all out, baby”

He peppers kisses on your burning skin and slows his movements as he works you through your high. As you come down from it, your body goes limp on top of him, a lazy smile stretching on your lips. Peter can’t help but smile too, chest swelling in satisfaction that he was the one who put that smile on your face.

You wince a little as he slowly pulls his fingers from your core, eyes following as he brings them up to his lips to clean them off.

“Feel better?” this time you can definitely hear the cockiness in his tone, smacking him weakly on the arm. “Shut up.”

You turn around just enough to kiss him. This time, it’s slow, and careful, and loving, and you have to pull away and bury your face in his chest to hide the lovesick look in your eyes. Both of you burst out giggling, and Peter can't stop himself from wrapping his arms around your waist to keep you as close as possible. He’s missed you more than you could possibly ever know.

As relaxation coats you like a warm, fuzzy blanket, you shift your weight to get comfortable.

“Ah, don’t-“

Peter squeezes his eyes shut, hissing at the sudden pressure and gripping your hips to keep you still. “Can't do that...”

Now it’s his turn to get flustered.

His face goes beet red as you jump up in confusion. When you look down, you notice a painful looking bulge in his jeans. Your stomach twists with the knowledge that you did that to him.

You weren’t the only one who’s been touch deprived.

“Oh! Sorry…” you giggle a little at the accidental stimulation, looking back up at Peter with a playful smile of your own. “Your turn!”

______________________________________________________________

part 2??

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