#readers realm map

[thelunarpages]

aren’t maps in books just so gorg? 

#book maps #reader #victoria aveyard #bookworm #bookish #bookstagram #booktok #realm breaker

[infinitystoner]

First Light

AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Vetrnætr (Winter Nights) is a time to welcome winter and honor the gods of old. But, on the first morning of festivities, the only thing Loki wants to celebrate is you.

Pairing: Prince!Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Tags/Content: Fluff, Praise, Smut (Fingering, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms), Established Relationship, Pre-Thor (2011), Asgard AU

Rating: Explicit; 18+

Author’s note: A belated birthday gift to my amazing friend @loki-cees-all. You are the Goddess of Patience and Mercy and I appreciate you so very much! I hope this one lives up the hype. xx

It was easy to dismiss quiet mornings on Asgard in favor of boundless nights under the stars. But you never felt more content than when the first rays of daylight bathed the kingdom in a hazy glow. Beyond frost-kissed windows, the wind whispered a tale of winter’s early arrival, and you burrowed further under the protective arm curled around your shoulders. 

Waking before Loki was a rare occurrence, and you offered up a prayer of gratitude to the Norns when you realized your lover was still slumbering beside you.

He was a being of little sleep, often arguing those bestowed with divinity had more stamina than the average Æsir, therefore requiring less rest. You disagreed.

Well, somewhat disagreed. 

You pulled your lip between your teeth as you observed evidence of the prior evening’s chaotic activities: clothing and armor were strewn about the room, pillows and pelts haphazardly adorned the hearthside, and papers from Loki’s desk littered the floor, his bookshelves standing slightly askew. Even the bedposts seemed to be off-kilter. 

Loki absolutely had the stamina of a god.   

Still, he hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately. The past few weeks preparing for Vetrnætr had taken a toll on him. Loki had been responsible for coordinating the arrival of visiting dignitaries and nobility while also leading what he’d described to you as “lighthearted diplomatic discussions” with the royal council of Vanaheim. Queen Frigga, however, had confided that he was single-handedly responsible for not only fortifying Asgard’s long-held alliance between the Vanir and Æsir but also negotiating a new trade agreement between the neighboring realms. 

You carefully tilted your face upward, committing the splendor of him in this moment to memory. Swathes of amber light illuminated the rise and fall of his chest, mapping the gentle exhales through parted lips that assured you he was alive. That he was real. That he was yours.

Your family and fellow courtiers had thought you mad when you turned down the advances of several of the Allfather’s golden warriors. But it was when you refused Thor that you’d stirred up any true semblance of trouble. Then again, the elder Odinson had attempted to court at least half the eligible maidens of Asgard, so it wasn’t that scandalous.

What everyone didn’t know then was that your heart secretly belonged to another. And even now, years later, it was hard to comprehend that he returned your affections. But he did, and he made sure you’d never have reason to doubt him.

For so long, he had existed in the shadows of those around him. Only a sacred few saw his light shining through. And once he’d revealed the whole of himself to you, how could anyone else possibly compare?

True, he could be unpredictable and disruptive, but Loki approached everything in life with an unwavering sense of humble dedication. His fidelity was one of the things you loved most about him.

“My beautiful miracle.”

You’d only meant to think it—but hearing the whisper of affection fall from your lips seemed the perfect way to commence the day. Tracing patterns across the exposed skin of Loki’s abdomen, you studied the contours of his handsome face. Long lashes fluttered against high cheekbones as his eyes darted back and forth behind closed lids.

“What is it you dream of?” you whispered, gently placing a kiss on his sternum.

“A prince dreams of many things.”

His reply caused your heart to stutter within your chest. The trickster had been awake all along, basking in the warmth of your sentimentality like a cat soaking up the sun.

“I should’ve known you were only pretending to be asleep,” you pouted as he finally cracked open his eyes to peer down at you.

“Mmm, you should have,” he said as he wrapped his hand around yours, bringing it to his lips and tenderly pressing his lips to your fingertips. “But, I did have the most interesting dream. It’s worth hearing, I assure you.” 

Loki was nothing if not convincing, and you were curious.

“Go on then. I’m listening,” you replied with a playful roll of your eyes. 

Loki cleared his throat as he fluffed the pillow under his head. Stars above. He was as dramatic as he was mischievous.

“It was the final night of Vetrnætr and the kingdom was blanketed in snow. I was  tasked with riding into the forests alone,” he said, absentmindedly trailing his fingertips  down your arm as he spoke, “to defeat a great beast with my magick.” 

His voice was impossibly alluring, much like Loki himself. Soon, you were clinging to every word—mesmerized by the magnificent man beside you. 

“I found myself in the depths of wilderness—where no other soul had dared to tread before. I, of course, was quite brave in the face of this unknown danger.” 

“Fearless, some might say,” you offered. 

He hummed in agreement, his eyes sparking with amusement. “Finally, I reached my destination. But a horde of Bilgesnipes was blocking the creature I’d come to slay.”

“Oh?” you said apprehensively. He solemnly nodded. 

“So, I conjured a simple spell to vanquish them. Imagine my surprise when I realized they were not, in fact, angry Bilgesnipes but your dreadful snores plundering into my subconscious mind.”

Your brain stuttered—did he just? Bilgesnipes?! Loki smirked at the utterly bewildered expression on your face before mimicking the way you opened your mouth in shock. You’d walked right into his little trap and he was enjoying it far too much. 

“Loki Odinson! I do not snore.” 

You sounded less defiant than you hoped, and—in a bid to get him to renege the obvious lie—you wriggled out from under his arm and tossed a pillow at his stupid, handsome face. 

“I beg to differ.” Deep, mirthful laughter rumbled in Loki’s chest. “Now, wait a minute—”

Much to his dismay, you’d moved to the edge of the bed. As you gathered one of the fur blankets around your nude form, Loki propped himself up on his elbows, those stark green eyes focusing on you with an intensity that didn’t seem justified this early in the day.

“Darling, don’t go. I was only teasing.” He grabbed your wrist, and the coolness of his fingers against your flesh sent a thrill rippling through you. “Allow me to make it up to you.” 

The offer was tempting but, with Vetrnætr on the literal horizon, you had a never-ending list of obligations to attend to.

“You know we’re both expected at the first morning feast.”

“Yes, and that is still hours from now. Come back to bed.”

“It will take me hours to get ready for the celebrations.”

Loki clicked his tongue as you shimmied off the bed. “What a shame you don’t have a skillful sorcerer at your disposal.” 

“Such misfortune,” you quipped, fingers reaching to secure the fur around your shoulders. A curse left your lips as nothing but cold air enveloped you instead. Loki shot you a wink as a wisp of seiðr danced across his palm.

“You’re not playing fair.” 

“Where there are wolf’s ears, wolf’s teeth are near.” Dimples adorned the corners of his mouth as he grinned up at you. 

“And now you’re not making any sense!” 

“So come back to bed, little fox. Please. Help me make sense of things.” 

Three thoughts inhabited your mind in this moment: a persistent chill was quickly settling in your bones and Loki’s bed was impossibly warm; applying the ceremonial makeup you were expected to wear today would take at least an hour—and having Loki glamour it on would be terribly convenient; and, finally, you were absolute shit at denying him anything. And Loki knew it.

He stretched his long legs as he awaited your submission. The action caused the silk sheets to settle low around his waist. Shadows traversed the deep V of his Adonis belt like divine brushstrokes while sunbeams highlighted the devastating muscles of his godly physique. 

You never stood a chance. 

Your pulse quickened as you propped a knee on the mattress, giving him a coy smile. “Satisfied, your highness?”

Loki inhaled as he surveyed your figure. It was easy to assume he was memorizing the smooth curves and soft dips of your body. Every imperfection, dimple, scar—he’d studied and worshiped each precious part of you. But in truth, he knew the map of your body better than he knew the wilds of Asgard—how to expertly navigate your release, to intimately claim you as his time and time again.

“Not quite.” His eyes glinted with desire as he curled his hands around your waist, guiding you to settle against the pillows. You watched in awe as he pulled the sheets over the both of you, adjusting the layers of covers and pelts as he caged you in his arms. 

“Perfect.” It was no more than a whisper. But the sense of pride that thrummed through you must have been palpable, because Loki leaned down and brushed his mouth against yours. You barely had time to inhale before his tongue was swiping over your bottom lip and then moving against your own in eager, equal measure. He was heavy on top of you as he settled between your open legs—your collective arousal evident as your bodies seamlessly slotted together. It was exhilarating and grounding and you ached for him. When you dug your fingertips into the firm swell of his ass in a silent plea for more, he broke the kiss. 

“What is it, my love?” you asked, noticing a glimmer of tears swelling in his eyes as he pulled away from you. You cupped his cheek, and his gaze flitted across your face. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” Loki took in a deep, shuddering breath before kissing you once more. Sparks of white-hot heat ignited your skin as your heart hammered in your chest. Could he sense how wildly it was beating for him? “I’m so proud of you. You know that, right?” 

How could words ever truly express that the love you possessed defied explanation, transcended comprehension, and overwhelmed every fiber of your being? How could you adequately convey that his praise was your Valhalla?

You finally managed to say, “I know,” but your response melded into a moan as Loki’s lips made contact with your nipple, rolling its twin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re so good to me.” 

“So good,” you echoed, arching into his touch as Loki’s hand skimmed your curves before dipping between your legs. 

He found you slick and ready for him, and he easily slid two fingers into your cunt, his palm pushing upwards against your swollen clit. Delicious pressure built in your hips with each skillful turn of his wrist and you greedily bucked into his hand, grasping at his biceps for leverage. 

You were quickly losing yourself to the adrenaline searing through you, igniting every nerve ending like a thousand meteors shooting across the night sky. Still, you knew Loki revelled in the euphoria of your unraveling just as much as you did. He yearned to hear your small whimpers of pleasure, to feel your hands on his body and your fingers twisting in his hair as you came undone at his touch. To be connected without reservation. 

He’d once confided in you that the reassurance of your touch sparked something within him comparable only to his seiðr—you had become just as much a part of him as the ancestral magick that flowed through his very veins. Imagining a reality without either was like envisioning a world without sunlight or stars. 

“Loki. Loki.” His name was witchcraft on your lips and his fingers deftly twisted inside you in response. When he slowed his movements, you clenched around him, desperately running your hands over the broad expanse of his shoulders. His skin was damp with sweat, his muscles quivering under your fingertips.

“And so eager. Gods, you’re gorgeous when you’re about to come apart.” 

When Loki was nestled between your thighs, worshiping your body as if you were the only thing in all the Nine, time stood still. You were teetering on the edge of sweet release—right where he wanted you. A frustrated noise caught in the back of your throat as he removed his fingers, your thighs trembling as your climax began to ebb. 

“Patience.” He spoke purposefully against your heated skin, as if reciting an invocation.

“Til árs ok friðar.” Loki paused, looking up at you with eyes so full of adoration you felt as though your heart would burst. He repeated the ancient phrase. “For a good year. And peace. That is my wish for you—for us—my love.”

You were completely lost under his spell. Your only tether to reality was Loki. His forearm heavy across your midriff. His tongue flat against your clit. 

“F-faen, I’m– please,” you slurred, your chest heaving with ragged, uneven pants. 

“That’s it,” Loki coaxed. “Come undone for me.”

At his words, the overwhelming tightness in your core snapped. Your orgasm ripped through your body—your mind clearing itself of every lingering thought. The wild beat of your heart became the soundtrack of your bliss and you sobbed as the tip of his regal nose rubbed against your sensitive clit. His tongue continued to lap at the warm center of your cunt as aftershocks rolled through you, your body involuntary jerking at the overstimulation.

“Too much…”

“One more, darling. If not for me, for Asgard.” A wicked grin spread across his face—his lips and chin glistening with your arousal—before he dipped his head back between your thighs. “Consider it a royal decree.”

It was pointless to argue with him, especially when he set his mind to something. You wound your fingers into his unkempt hair, and before long, you were curling up off the bed as you juddered under his touch for the second time.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you came down from your high. Loki pressed his forehead to yours.

“A final gesture of goodwill,” he murmured, the blunt tip of his cock nudging your entrance. 

“We’ll be late to breakfast. I- I dare not disgrace your good name, my prince,” you said, gasping into his mouth as he pushed deeper inside you. You didn’t care if you missed every single celebratory banquet this week. 

“I’m honored you think so highly of me, little wife.” You groaned in unison as he bottomed out with a swirl of his hips. “But it would not be the first time we’ve vexed the House of Odin thus. Nor the last, I hope.” 

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki laufeyson

[willowbelle]

Stay Here, With Me

part one

❤︎ trafalgar law x fem reader ❤︎

༉‧₊˚✧ (nsfw, afab!reader, 18+ only) ༉‧₊˚✧

cw & summary: established relationship, piv sex, cervix kisses, mating press, comfort and reassurance. mentions of reader's unidentified trauma, reader has a habit of crying after sex, law is comforting.

word count: ~1,300

note: this one is more poetic, and i wrote it to help me through something i am dealing with. :')

i hope you all enjoy soft, sweet law ♡︎

part two is here! : You Know Me

Stay Here, With Me

part one

Law challenged you in ways you weren’t prepared for. 

He beckoned you into realms uncharted, testing the fibers of your being unanticipated.

You had always buried your anguish; covered it in dirt to be forgotten, locked it away and swallowed the key.

And it petrified you, an inexplicable fear, the way that your pain always trembled on the verge of unveiling itself in his presence.

Not because he echoed your burdens, or reminded you of your baggage, oh no, quite the opposite. It was because, with Law, you had finally discovered solace in the company of another soul. And for once in your life, you wanted to let it out, unlock your chest, crack open your skull, expose your brain, and let it out. 

You wanted to tell him; to cry to him, to sob until your lungs gave out, to rid of all the contributors of your displeasure. 

But you didn’t; too frightened of the guilt you’d feel if your burdens were to meet the weight on his already-heavy shoulders. You were stubborn, and you were determined to keep this distress as yours and yours alone. 

You chose to stay numb in the home that you had built in your mind; made of iron walls and iron doors, shackling you to the metal. Each chain of your confinements spell out your anguish, far too long and far too heavy to name, so you locked yourself in your iron brain.

But, he knew, you poor thing, of course he did. 

Law’s analytical, observant nature kept your relationship, unbeknownst to you, essentially secretless.

He didn’t miss a thing; from the way in which your eyes told a different story than your mouth, to the tears rolling down your cheeks that you disguised as sweat, he knew why you opted for excusing yourself to the bathroom following intimacy. 

In defiance of his accustomed nature, this stone-faced “surgeon of death” taught himself to be comforting. Because he had come to learn that, above all else, this is what you needed. 

You needed him to hold you, to redirect your restless mind, to curb your enigmatic sorrow. 

Because when your tears threatened to escape; unexplainable, uncontrollable, Law remained, like he always did, lingering by your side, a constant presence in the ebb and flow of your emotions.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to cry after sex, though you didn’t know why; tears flowing down your cheeks without remorse, betraying your intention to conceal your trauma in the recesses of your soul. 

And Law would listen, though it broke his heart to do so, to the cries you tried so desperately to muffle from behind the bathroom door. 

And as the echoes of your cries made their way to his ears, he made a vow to himself. 

He studied you intensively, silently, making a map of your body inside his own, determined to understand your tears in the only way he knew how. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The grasp he held on your delicate body remained gentle and kind as he fucked you into the mattress, a stark contrast to the jarring heaves of his able hips. 

The softness of his touches, coupled with the sweet words of reassurance he whispered into your ears, made up for the unruly pace of his thrusts. 

The lewd sounds of moans and skin slapping together dismissed the silence that hung in the air earlier, and even amidst the noises, the movements, he could sense you starting to slip away and into your mind. And so, he decelerates, a gentle hand on your cheek, ushering you back to the shared embrace of the present.

“Hey, y/n,” he begins softly, his velvety voice beckoning you out of your head. His hips stall, throbbing member still engulfed within your tight warmth, “Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?” he asks, his countenance and voice carrying an earnest concern.

“N-No, Law, please keep going,” you whimpered softly, nails digging down the muscular flesh of his back.

He kisses you in response. But not a typical Law kiss, no, this was different. This kiss was an ardent embrace of lips, a dance of passion. This kiss conveyed an unspoken promise solace, of pure understanding and security. With your cheek in his hand, tongues still dancing together, Law begins again, bringing his hips back to thrust into you. The sensation of being stuffed full again forces a moan to escape from within your throat, into Law’s mouth. You feel the corners of his lips twitch upwards against yours, satisfied with himself. 

It’s hot. The room is hot. Your bodies are hot, pressed together, intertwined. Law breaks your kiss, tilting his head down to watch himself disappear into you over and over again, groaning at the sight. 

“God-, you-take me so-well,” he slurs, enunciating each word with a harsh thrust. 

With one arm holding him up, he uses the other tattooed limb to press one of your legs down, forcing you harder into the mattress, and it turn, pressing himself deeper into you. 

Another moan emerges from your lips, this one more of a cry, as the tip of his cock now hits that one sweet spot within you dead-on, over and over again in time with his thrusts. 

“A-ah-! Law-!” 

His breathing begins to grow heavy, low groans and huffs rumbling out of his inked chest. He grips your leg tighter, his thrusts becoming sloppy and unsynchronized. He’s close. 

He sits up a bit on his knees to give himself more room to move faster, now bringing both of your legs up to rest on his strong shoulders.

You throw your head back and moan loudly at the sensation. Goosebumps begin to bud all over your spent body as his blunt tip continues to bully your cervix, sending shivers down your spine with each bump to your sweet spot.  

One more glance down at you, writhing and whimpering beneath him, causes the coil growing within Law to snap, and he shudders, groans, and unapologetically paints your insides white. He looks heavenly like this; head thrown back, damp hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, inked chest rising and falling with each exhausted breath, his powerful, tatted hands now trembling as they gradually relinquished their bruising grip on your legs. 

As the two of you come down from your highs, your unspoken vulnerability begins to surface, like it always does. Law senses the impending swell of tears in your eyes, even before you do.

He knows it’s coming; it’s routine at this point for you to dart away afterwards, retreating into the bathroom to come undone on the cold, harsh tile. He wants nothing more than for you to abandon the hard and unforgiving flooring, stay in bed with him, and just unravel in his arms, instead.

So this time, he stops you. 

The moment you begin to stir beneath him, he gently grasps onto your wrist, halting your movements. 

“Law, what are you-” you begin, your lips trembling, trying your hardest to keep your tears at bay. 

“y/n,” he starts, his free hand finding its home on your cheek, “You don't have to grin and bear it,” he smiles weakly, “Not around me.” 

You could feel tears pricking in your eyes, and as you stared into his nurturing steel irises, you swore you could feel all your pain and discomfort seeping out of your skin.

His thumb rubs gentle circles into your cheek, 

“Stay here, with me.”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.

part two is here! : You Know Me

©this work belongs to willowhaze26.

do not repost, modify, plagiarize, translate, or share on other platforms. 

comments, likes, and reblogs appreciated!

#one piece #trafalgar law #law one piece #trafalgar law one piece #one piece law #trafalgar d water law #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law smut #one piece fluff #one piece headcanons #Trafalgar law x reader #Law x reader #Trafalgar law imagine #Trafalgar law one shot #One piece imagine #One piece fanfiction #One piece x reader #One piece one shot #One piece fic #Trafalgar law headcanon #Law headcanons #Trafalgar law headcanons #One piece headcanons #one piece smut #op x reader #one piece trafalgar law #one piece x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n #one piece imagine #trafalgar one piece

[exemintes]

reverence.

yandere pyramid head x gn reader, sfw.

You don't say anything as he runs gloved fingers through your hair, pulling at the knots built up from running and struggling in his grasp.

His movements are so gentle, a harsh contrast to his behavior when interacting with anything but you. He's aware of your fragility, aware of how easily he could break you if he wanted to.

He swipes a tear from under your eye, and the rest of his fingers grip the side of your face, admiring how soft your skin is compared to his.

Even if he could speak, he would have no words to describe his utter infatuation with you. Each time you were put in a trial with him, he could never find it in himself to kill you, or even hook you, for that matter. To him, you were something to be revered, to be kept perfectly preserved.

Even now, with dirt and blood caked on your face, you were still so alluring.

The familiar toll of a bell reverberates across the map like thunder, bright fiery cracks encircling you both, signaling that your time together would soon come to an end.

A grumbling sound emits from Pyramid Head's throat, almost sounding like a sigh. It never feels like he gets to spend enough time with you. He effortlessly lifts your shivering body with him as he sets off in an unknown direction. You fall limp in his arms, too exhausted to bother struggling as he carries you across the map.

Panic settles in your stomach as he begins to approach a hook, only to take a sharp left away from it. What is he doing? Is he waiting for the timer to run out?

Your thoughts are interrupted as he kneels to place you by the hatch. You look up at him and find the courage to speak.

"T-Thank you..."

He nods, his metal helmet groaning with each movement.

Could you get any cuter?

You spare one last glance at him before crawling into the hatch, right as the timer hit zero.

A dark fog surrounds Pyramid Head's body, pulling him back into the Entity's realm to wait for another trial.

His mind fills with thoughts of you. Your voice, your face, your scent, your touch. Each second spent without you becomes more and more agonizing. He needs to see you again. Perhaps if the Entity is gracious enough, he'll see you soon.

And next time he'll take you back with him.

#pyramid head x reader #yandere #fanfic #tw yandere #dead by daylight x reader #oneshot #yandere dead by daylight #yandere pyramid head #mine #writing #pyramid head #dbd x reader #yandere dbd

[sashiavi]

•······🍑·······• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓓𝓪𝔂 𝓔𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•·······🍑······•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#8•𝚂𝚎𝚡 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗•#8

𝙰𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙺𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚑 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ².⁷ᵏ

•· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·····.•🍑•.····· ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪·•

→ᴰᵃʳᵏ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵂᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ←

ᵀʰᶦˢ ᴾᶦᵉᶜᵉ ᴹᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ⱽᶦᵉʷᵉᵈ ᴬˢ ᴰᵘᵇᶜᵒⁿ ⁻ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᴰᶦˢᶜʳᵉᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᴵˢ ᴬᵈᵛᶦˢᵉᵈ

This was supposed to be a simple endeavor. Scout out a new location for Kaveh's client and be done with it. But no, of course not, of course something had to go wrong. Kaveh alone was already a liability to his own health. Add [Name] into the mix? You've got yourself twin tornadoes, barrelling tail first into trouble and chaos. Now they weren't lost, insists Kaveh, just taking the scenic route. Yeah, the scenic route joins [Name]. Alhaitham's eye twitches, he wasn't born yesterday unlike these two bone heads. He can see the slight confused head tilt Kaveh gives towards the map in his hands and the anxious glances their other travel companion gives the forest around them.

Alhaitham couldn't remember how they even managed to convince him to tag along, he wasn't a part of their respective Darshans, nor did he have the freetime. The forest was humid, typical for Sumeru's tropical landscape, his body felt clammy and gross. At least they weren't in the desert he supposed, there'd be a lot more whining and a vast lack of shade. Plus, he'd rather have his boots caked in sticky mud and leaves than have sand in his shoes.

"If you keep scowling like that you'll age worse than you already are." The prissy voice of Kaveh snaps him out of his train of thought.

Alhaitham's eye twitches again, Archons, sometimes he wanted to strangle him. Squeeze his neck while his pretty vermilion eyes roll back into his skull, forcing pretty glittery tears to roll down his cheeks. What..? Nothing. If there were someone reading his mind he'd tell them it was a joke. Blink if you're a mind reader. He ignores the passing glance [Name] gives him, blinking in concern, preparing herself for an explosive argument. Alhaitham signs and wipes his palm over his face, perhaps he ought to relax, it was a rare opportunity to be partnered up with the rowdy pair.

"Gah! What in the name of the Sevens- What is that!?" Never Mind. Relaxation ruined. Kaveh's screeches were back in his ears. Alhaitham's irritance is quick to fade when his eyes reach towards the sound. Kaveh sputters and coughs, frantically swatting a thick pink dust away from his face. [Name] was not faring any better, equally as coated in the mystery cloud as Kaveh. Alhaitham is quick to find the source, an otherworldly flower, stained pink and red with ornate petals. The plant had sprayed some sort of spore or pollen over the pair, perhaps a defense mechanism of some sort - Alhaitham was no Amurta student, this was definitely out of his realm of knowledge. He sucks in a breath, staunching over and brushing the pollen from the two, ignoring the sneeze you blow into his face. The pollen tickles at his nose, nearly forcing his throat shut, his body was definitely aberrant to inhale whatever the substance was.

The group manage to control the spore cloud, swiftly trekking down the path to avoid the majority of the affected area. A thought strikes Alhaitham; Was the plant toxic? He hadn't particularly worried about it in the moment, and the group seemed to be fine. Visibly, Kaveh and [Name] were stained a little pink, a thin sheen of dust covering their hair and clothes. Otherwise, they seemed completely normal, even though he wasn't feeling any concerning side effects - Apart from an itchy throat and a runny nose.

"How are you feeling?" He directs to no one in particular. The pair hum and shrug in response, they seemed to be fine. The group continue on their search for the elusive location for Kaveh's next big project.

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

They were not fine

At least an hour had passed since the pollen incident, everything had felt fairly normal. If you discount the warm, tingling feeling the group felt in their tummies. Until now, symptoms were at an all time low.

Kaveh was not faring well. His stomach felt cramped, tight and nauseating, sending cold shivers down his arms. His legs wobbled as he walked, he had half the mind to catch any imposing stumbles. His skin was warm, unnaturally so, clammy, sweaty and cold, unusual for the Sumeru weather. Was he sick? He felt feverish, the unbearable kiss of a migraine threatened to break in his head.

One glance at [Name] and even he could tell she was in a similar state, face flushed and breaths shaky. Small Kitten-like cries whimper from her throat with every few steps she makes. She hugs her arms to her body, eyes glazed and bleary, barely focused on the road ahead.

Alhaitham notices the state of his travel companions, swaying from one side of the path to the other, boots catching on pebbles and nearly toppling them over. It's Kaveh that's knocked down first, landing right on his knees, scuffing them into the mud below. [Name] spins around blearily, mumbling a short 'huh?' Barely managing to keep herself upright. Alhaitham is quick to his side, knees bent, hands hovering over his form.

"Kaveh, are you alright? Can I touch you?" He asks. Kaveh groans and nods dopily in response, a large frown sits itself on his face. Alhaitham presses his palm to the blonde's forehead, he was definitely warm, unnaturally so. He keens into his hand, eyebrows scrunched inwards, his discomfort well shown on his face. Alhaitham's head swims for what to do next, give him water? Some food? Let him rest? He wasn't well versed in the human body - Humans in general for that matter.

Alhaitham slides his palm to Kaveh's cheek, just as warm, as he suspected. The blonde hiccups a small cry, squirming in his spot in the mud. Alhaitham brings two fingers to Kaveh's neck, pressing into the hot pulse point under his chin. Kaveh keens, moaning breathily at the hard press of his fingers at his throat. He must really be feeling sick if he was moaning in pain like that - Alhaitham muses.

Kaveh whines as he pulls away from him, crouching and sifting through his pack, ready to get to the bottom of the situation. Alhaitham is quickly stunned however, when he feels a soft press on his front, down there. He looks down, finding a flushed Kaveh nuzzling his nose into the crotch of his pants. His hands hook into his trousers, snatching him down, closer into him. Alhaitham lands on his behind, ass in the wet mud of the forest floor. He leaves wet kisses against Alhaitham's clothed cock, staining his dark pants with his spit. The pit of Alhaitham's stomach warms, head spinning momentarily, what had gotten into Kaveh? And why wasn't he stopping it? Alhaitham wracks his frazzled brain - The Pollen. Gods he could feel it now, his body burning hot, cock aching in his trousers. He sucks in a breath as Kaveh mouths at his clothed head, kissing open mouthed, breath hot through the now tight fabric.

"K-Kaveh- This isn't funny-" His words are cut short buy a hard lick on his trousers.

Alhaitham feels a breath against his neck, he nearly jumps back. A soft, low moan erupts from [Name's] throat, right into his ear. Her arms wrap around Alhaitham's front, pressing him into her chest. She kisses at Alhaitham's skin, warm, glossy lips stick to his neck, leaving sweet wet marks over the surface. Alhaitham breathes a moan, bumping his hips into Kaveh's lips. His tongue laps at his cockhead, tasting the cheeky dribbles of pre that seep through his trousers. Archons Alhaitham should stop them, restrain them, anything. They wouldn't do this on their own accord, it was the pollen! But Alhaitham couldn't bring himself to do it, the wet lick of Kaveh's tongue, sweet kisses pressed into his neck from [Name's] soft lips. It was too good to not indulge.

Alhaitham's moral compass is completely shattered by a sweet little moan. He couldn't even remember who made the noise, but he couldn't withhold. He hastily works at the button of his trousers, pulling them down just enough to reveal his swollen, achey cock. He taps his sticky head against Kaveh's lulled out tongue, groaning as he eagerly laps at him. The lips on his neck turn to teeth, sinking softly into his decadent, milky skin. His chest heaves, his breaths shaky and uneven. [Name's] snug grip on him tightens, one hand pets over Alhaitham's ribs, caressing him tenderly. He swallows and licks at his lips, plump and parted from the heavy petting he had been recipient of. He suddenly hiccups, eyes widening and looking down, seeing Kaveh wrap his pretty, pink lips over his fat tip.

Alhaitham let's out a strangled groan, his throat buzzes under [Name's] lips. She giggles a deranged little noise into his skin, breathy and keening before nipping hard at his neck. He swears a short profanity, tilting his head back and nosing into [Name's] cheek. Kaveh's warm mouth engulfs his thick cock, bobbing up and down, licking and kissing at his weeping cock. Alhaitham thrusts his hips forward, gently nudging his cock further down Kaveh's throat. Kaveh whines on his length, greedily wrapping his arms around Alhaitham's hips, hugging at his body as he takes him down his throat.

Gods they were going to kill him. His body was on fire, achey length twitching hard as Kaveh swallows around him. The soft breath in his ear sends hot shivers down his spine, [Name] sinks her teeth into his earlobe and he keens. Not a sound he would usually make. His hands find their way into Kaveh's shiny hair, threading his fingers through the pretty strands. He wasn't going to last, the hot mouth sucking his cock, dribbling drool and pre down Kaveh's chin as he swallowed him down. The sweet caress of his body, the soft pinch at his nipples through his top. His cock aches and his heavy balls tighten, he couldn't take anymore. Alhaitham cums with a startled groan, shooting thick, milky ropes into Kaveh's mouth, who keens and laps at his thick pulsing head. [Name] hugs him tight, hushing his noises with a soft giggled 'shh' in his ear.

Kaveh moans sweetly around Alhaitham's thick cock, licking and suckling at his sensitive tip. He pops off of his cock and climbs over Alhaitham's frame, grabbing at [Name's] chin and pulling her into a searing kiss. They lock lips next to Alhaitham's ear, tounging into eachothers mouths, swapping hot spit and Alhaitham's milky, salty cum. Alhaitham's noses into Kaveh's warm neck, catching his breath as the pair ravish each others lips.

What happens next is a blur in Alhaitham's vision, all happening far too quickly for his gluggy brain to keep up. [Name] straddles Alhaitham's lap, hands planted firmly to his chest, pinning him onto the sticky mud below. She kisses him, tonging through his lips, forcing him to taste his own mess on her tongue. Alhaitham openly moans into her mouth, lapping eagerly at her wet tongue. She giggles airily into his mouth, grinding her hips into his half hand groin. A half rakes through his thick, grey hair, petting him sweetly. Alahitham's eyes crane upwards, finding Kaveh's pretty vermilion eyes staring down at him. How did his head end up in Kaveh's lap? He couldn't recall and frankly neither did he care.

A small hand wraps around his hardening cock, tugging him sweetly, edging his length into a stiff, achey mess. She grips his base tightly, threading his fat tip through her wet creamy folds. Her slick coats over his head, creating the most delicious ache in his length. Gods everything was a blur, he couldn't remember anyone removing their clothes, and yet it somehow happened. His skin finally felt cool in the misty forest air, no longer confined by the thick heavy clothing he wore. His eyes wander back to [Name], her cute, plump thighs straddle his hips, squeezing teasingly.

Her hips lift, catching the thick tip of his cock on her gushy cunny hole, circling his length like a minx. She sinks down, so, so slowly, relishing in the thick stretch of Alhaitham's cock in her cunt. Alhaotham flings his head back, eyes rolling, vaguely seeing Kaveh's face above him. Kaveh tuts, caressing his thumb over Alhaithams lips. He slips his thumb into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, forcing him to look down at his thick cock, stretching out [Name's] sweet pussy. He moans wantonly, pitched high and throaty on Kaveh's thumb. He bottoms out into her, her cunt kisses at his groin, dribbling sweet, sweet slick into his lap.

[Name's] hips bounce up and down on his lap, humping and riding on his thick cock. Her arm reaches, palm wrapping nicely over Kaveh's freed cock by his cheek. She strokes him eagerly as she fucks herself in Alhaitham's lap, grinding her puffy clit into his groin with every hump of her hips. She laughs again, breathy and cunning, she leans down, sinking her cunt right on Alhaitham's cock, forcing his fat tip to kiss at her cervix. She takes Kaveh's pretty pink tip into her mouth, sweetly suckling and kissing him. She humps into Alhaitham's lap as she sucks Kaveh off, kissing and licking at his length while she fucks herself. Kaveh moans deep, pulling Alhaitham by his mouth to his cock. Alhaitham laps and kisses at his milky base, licking heavy lines over the pretty vein that ran under his length.

[Name] pops off of Kaveh's cock, straightening up and slamming her hips into Alhaitham's lap. She grabs his hair, angling his mouth just right for Kaveh to press through his lips. Alhaitham suckles at Kaveh's flushed tip, moaning stupidly as he takes him down his throat, painfully angling his neck to achieve such a feat. Alhaitham felt pathetic but he couldn't care, his mind swam with only them, their lips, their bodies, their sweet and pretty cock and pussy. He ought to take a sample of that dreadful pollen himself, if this was how they were going to behave around him. Alhaitham wraps his palms around [Name's] waist, driving his hips upwards into her cunt.

[Name] squeals as Alhaitham thrusts into her, breaking her pace for something far quicker. Alhaitham whines on Kaveh's cock, fucking up into her juicy pussy feverously. He licks and laps at Kaveh's pink tip, dipping his tongue into his wet slit, drinking up any milky pre that dribbled out. The three cry and moan, thrusting and grinding and fucking into each other with haste. Minds fogged, eyes bleary, cock throbbing and aching, sweet cunny spewing creamy slick everywhere. Gods Alhaitham could feel it, the way Kavehs pretty cock twitches on his tongue, the hard clench of [Name's] cunt on his cock.

[Name] falls first, sweet pussy squirting hard all over Alhaitham's lap, pretty spurts of slick messing everywhere as he fucks her at a brutal pace. She squeals loud, her little cunt clenches on his cock, milking at his fat length with her hot orgasm. Alhaitham fucks thick and hard into her pussy, buying her quivering hole with his slower pace. He groans over Kaveh's cock as he cums again, spouting creamy ropes into her messy pussy. He humps into her, using her pussy to milk up all he had to offer. [Name] giggles dumbly, kissing at Alhaitham's lips, wrapped around Kaveh's length. He pops off of his cock, lapping and licking his aching head, catching his tongue against [Name's] own as they kiss at his slit. [Name] humps her pussy into Alhaitham's lap, whining into Kaveh's cock as she fucks Alhaitham's half hard length.

Kaveh threads his fingers through both of their hair, tugging at the strands, whining as they bring him to fruition. Kaveh cums hot spurts on their lips and tongues, relishing in the two as they lap up his mess between each other's lips. They kiss and suck at Kaveh's leaking head, swapping spit and sharing Kaveh's cum.

•··········🍑···········• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𖹭⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•···········🍑··········•

Everything had calmed down, clothes were back on, albeit caked in mud and leaves, heads were clear and some were feeling guilty. [Name] and Kaveh nearly grovel at Alhaitham's feet, sniffing up snot and tears as they apologize to him profusely

"We're s-sorry we're so sorry!" Cries [Name].

"Is there anything we can do to make it better? I'll- I'll clean the whole house for a full year! I'll deliver you lunch! I'll… I'll kiss your boot! I'll-" Kaveh babbles on and on.

Alhaitham huffs, and shakes his head, a ghost of a grin washes over his lips. His eyes fall behind them, on a dainty, pink and red flower. Kaveh paces back and forth, still spouting nonsense before his eyes light up.

"I know! I'll-" He's cut short, in his usual Kaveh manner he poses dramatically as he speaks, subsequently slapping his hand right into the plant. With a sigh Alhaitham holds his breath, watching as the pastel pink pollen fills the air around Kaveh once again.

I usually post 10-11am my time and it's 5pm heheeuhabm oop

In my defense.. I have no defense heheh

Anyway I just think Alhaitham also deserves to be wrecked - initially I was going to have Kaveh but it was his turn ♡

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Thank You For Reading! Comments Are Always Appreciated! Ily ♡

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[hyperactively-me]

ask from @redzscare

(king!ghost x princess!reader au) -- anger

i just wanna say oh my god, thank you for your inbox message with those two amazing and well thought out ideas!!!! i would also love to know your other ideas if you still have any :) and i know its been over a month since you requested, but i wanted to do your ideas justice! i decided to split them up into two separate pieces so that it can flow better in the story, but i have your first request in my "to be written" notes, and it will be posted in the future!!!! i hope you like it! the angst is immaculate and heart-wrenching. anyway, here is #2!!!

word count: ~3.6k

warnings: fighting/yelling, angst lots of angst/hurt (like A LOT, A TON, he's so mean, you've been warned), hurt/comfort, happy ending!!!

The past few weeks have been nothing but stressful for Kastron. A southern kingdom, for no clear reason, has been trying to infiltrate the borders of Kastron. As the tension between the two realms escalated, King Simon found himself ensnared in the web of political turmoil and military strategies, his every waking moment consumed by the threat looming at the kingdom's doorstep.

As the southern kingdom persisted in its attempts to breach Kastron’s defenses, Simon’s frustration grew. Kastron’s forces have been able to hold off the enemy for the past few weeks, but the battle was proving to get more difficult by the day. His days were spent in council meetings, devising counterstrategies, and restless nights plagued by the knowledge of impending conflict.

Throughout the past few weeks as Simon was extremely busy, you had taken to caring for more things around the castle. By no means was it an easy task. Your already busy schedules were now packed with more mundane, tedious tasks. You had to step into a few roles that Simon usually took care of, thrown into uncharted territory that you now had to know like the back of your hand. 

To say you were stressed was an understatement. To say that you felt secure in this new position would be a lie. Hell, even with your lessons, you were still slightly insecure about helping run a whole kingdom. The lessons were truly helpful, and you really were learning useful information, but to actually put this knowledge into practice proved to be more difficult than you thought; a learning curve, if you will. 

Every evening before you went to bed, you watched Simon with a heavy heart. Stress etched lines on his face, and the once affectionate bond between you strained under the weight of your responsibilities. 

The command room now had countless maps, scrolls, and military reports scattered across the tables, and you found yourself poring over them, trying to decipher strategies that seemed more like cryptic codes than plans for defense. The language of war was harsh, and its intricacies were not easily grasped. You also had to take care of more civilian matters, tending to disputes and other technicalities that arose when handling such matters. Managing the palace as well proved to be more difficult, although it was not as prioritized as other duties you had to upkeep. 

Simon, in his stress and preoccupation, had not noticed the added weight on your shoulders. The castle, usually filled with warmth, now echoed with the sounds of strategizing military personnel and the tension that gripped every corner.

One day, as you were immersed in the endless paperwork, a knock on the chamber door interrupted your thoughts. Simon, looking more fatigued than ever, stood at the threshold.

“I need these reports on the southern borders done by tomorrow morning. Make sure they’re accurate,” he said, his voice clipped and devoid of the usual tenderness. It echoed the commanding voice he reserved for his soldiers.

You take a breath. “I’m not sure I can have those ready for you by tomorrow Simon. Can’t you ask someone else to do them for me? I’m sure Price can—”

“Price is extremely busy devising strategies. He doesn’t have time for paperwork.” 

Simon's curt response echoed through the room, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. The weight of the responsibilities, the unrelenting pressure, and now Simon's growing impatience were pushing you to the brink.

“Simon, I'm doing my best,” you pleaded, looking up from the parchment strewn across the table. “I'm still learning, and there's just so much to handle.”

Simon's eyes flashed with frustration. “We don't have the luxury of time for you to ‘learn.’ We need results, and we need them now.”

The exhaustion etched on his face mirrored your own weariness. The kingdom's issues had taken its toll on both of you, driving a wedge between you.

“I’m just asking for your patience,” you implored, hoping for a flicker of understanding in his eyes.

His gaze remained unyielding. “I ask you to take care of things in my absence, to support me. And it seems even that is too much.”

“I'm sorry, but I'm trying my best,” you scoff.

Simon scoffs back, his expression a stern resolve. 

“I don't have time for apologies. I need solutions. Figure it out,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving the room without a backward glance.

Left alone, burdened by the weight of your responsibilities, an angry tear escapes the corner of your eye. The castle walls seem to close in on you, and with a swift motion, you brush the tear away, forcing your attention back to the task at hand.

. . .

It was an innocent mistake, a forgotten task that finally ignited Simon's brewing anger like a firecracker on the brink of explosion. 

As you stood before him, explaining the oversight, his eyes darkened with frustration.

“Are you even paying attention?" Simon's voice rose with frustration.

The storm within him erupted, and hurtful words spilled from his lips like daggers. "How could you be so careless?" he bellowed. "This is important, and you can't even handle the simplest tasks!"

"I'm sorry, Simon. I’ve been busy, but I'll fix it," you pleaded, trying to diffuse the growing storm.

"Fix it?" Simon scoffed, his anger unabated. "You're always making mistakes, aren't you? I don't know why I expected anything different from you. You’re just a fuckin’ spoiled little princess, just complaining about all the work she has to do. You’ve never seen a day of real work in your whole life, and the moment you have to do anything remotely helpful, you become useless.” 

You’re stunned into silence. It feels like your heart has fallen out of your chest, your throat constricting with anxiety. This isn’t the Simon you knew. 

"You can't possibly understand the pressure I'm under!” Simon's voice carried a harsh edge as he spoke, the strain evident in every word.

"I tried my best, Simon. I'm not used to this," you replied, hurt laced through your voice. The word useless echoes through your mind. How could he? 

"Your best isn't good enough. We can't afford mistakes," he snapped.

“We’re supposed to be a team," you responded gently, trying to bridge the growing chasm between you.

But Simon's patience had worn thin. “You can't even manage the affairs within the castle! How am I supposed to rely on you when you can't even handle the simplest tasks?”

"I'm sorry, Simon. I never wanted to let you down," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the tension.

"Let me down?" Simon laughed bitterly. "You were never lifting me up in the first place. Just a burden I have to carry alongside everythin’ else I have to worry about."

His words pierced through you like a million iron swords. The once warm and loving connection between you and Simon now felt frayed, hanging by the thinnest of threads. Your attempts to support him had become ammunition for his anger.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not cut out for this,” you admitted shortly, your shoulders slumping under the weight of defeat.

Simon's expression twisted with a mixture of frustration and exasperation. “That's the first sensible thing you've said.”

His cruel words struck a nerve, tearing down the foundations of trust and understanding that had defined your relationship. His words hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste. Hurt and frustration welled up within you, but you swallowed them and bottled them up, unwilling to add to Simon's burden.

The pain in your eyes did not escape Simon, but his frustration blinded him to the depth of his own words. In that moment, the man you loved seemed like a stranger, his anger, frustrations, and impatience casting a shadow over you.

With a heavy heart, you walk away, desperately holding back tears. It took everything within you to not let out an audible sob, clasping your hand over your mouth. You push open the door hastily, stumbling out into the hallway. You wipe your now falling tears off your cheeks with the back of your hand as you make your way to your old bedroom. 

The echoes of Simon's bitter words lingered in the corridor as you escaped into the dimly lit hallway. Desperation clawed at your chest, and with each step, the weight of his accusations pressed harder. Holding back sobs, you fumbled your way to the shared bedroom, seeking solace in the sanctuary you once knew.

Once inside, the room felt emptier than before, its warmth replaced by an icy chill. Closing the door behind you, you allowed a few silent tears to fall, the pain of Simon's harsh words cutting deep. As you glanced around the room, the memories of happier times haunted the corners. A sense of isolation settled in, and you felt like a stranger in the very place that used to bring comfort. Swallowing hard, you allow yourself to let it all out, crying into the empty bedroom. The resilient facade you had built over the weeks seemed to crumble in the face of his words.

The weight of the crown, both figuratively and literally, felt heavier than ever. With a shudder, you begin to remove the regalia that symbolized your responsibility as queen, a responsibility that had become increasingly difficult.

The empty now seemed like a cold, unwelcoming space. You curled up, hugging a pillow close to your chest, seeking any source of comfort. The room held a somber silence, a silence you haven’t heard since you were last in this room, before you had fallen in love with Simon. 

As sleep finally overcame you, the hope for a better tomorrow mingled with the ache of your strained relationship. 

. . .

Sleep had been elusive, and the echoes of Simon's bitter words reverberated in your mind. With a sigh, you rose from the solitude of your old bedroom, still haunted by the sense of isolation that clung to you.

He hadn’t even come looking for you. 

You had called a maid to help you get dressed in your room, but made her swear to not say anything about you being back in this room to the rest of the staff. You purposefully waited until after your usual breakfast time with Simon to get something to eat, strolling into the kitchen to request a small breakfast. 

After breakfast, you read through your schedule for the day. Today you were supposed to have defense lessons with Simon. Not going to happen. Taking a pen, you scratch it off your to-do list. 

With a sigh, you run through the rest of your plan for the day, mostly consisting of busy work and advising. 

The day unfolded in a haze of responsibilities, each task demanding your focus. Advising on matters of governance and managing the affairs of the kingdom became a refuge, a temporary escape from the emotional turmoil that threatened to swallow you whole.

Dinner that night came and went, and again you had refused to sit at the table with him. Instead, you chose to wait until after he was gone to eat. Sitting at the expansive table, you picked around at your food, taking small bites before you became nauseous with unease. 

This was the longest you’ve gone without Simon the whole time you’ve proclaimed your love for him, and it’s only been a day. After finishing your solitary meal, you made your way to your old bedroom yet again. The night pressed on, silent and unwavering, wrapping the castle in a cocoon of quiet melancholy. And so, you retired to your old bedroom, bracing yourself for another night of sleepless contemplation in the face of a relationship that seemed to be slipping through your fingers.

. . . 

Another agonizingly painful day had gone by of you avoiding Simon. The same evening, he had come to knock on your door.

He called your name from behind the door. His voice sounded gentle, yet strained. 

You stayed silent, unmoving from your curled up position on the bed. 

He persisted, knocking louder this time. 

“Go away,” you yell, fighting back more tears as your heartstrings were being tugged with every time he called your name. 

“‘M not going away until you come out,” his muffled voice filtered through from under the door.

“Yeah, well, I may as well rot away in here. Leave me alone, Ghost.” 

That shut him up immediately. You could hear his footsteps fade away in the distance. 

You sob into your pillow, burying your face in the fabric to muffle your cries. 

. . .

The next morning was rough. You were groggy, two nights of restless sleep taking a toll on you. Right before you entered the kitchen for breakfast you were stopped by Ghost. He had jumped in front of you out of nowhere, blocking you from entering the kitchen. 

“Dove, please—” he began. 

“Don’t call me that, get away from me–”

You try to sidestep him, looking at the ground as you attempt to move past him. 

“Just listen to me–” he grabs your shoulders firmly, forcing you to stay in place.

“Let go of me–” you shrug his hands off, yanking his wrists off your shoulders with a vice grip. He lets you shake him off you, but still moves to block you from entering the kitchen.

You sigh angrily, finally looking up at him with a death glare. 

“Oh, you finally need me for something, right? Is this what this is all about?” 

Simon's eyes held a mixture of concern and frustration. “I need to talk to you. Please, just listen to me.”

The coldness in your expression didn't waver. “Talk? Is this about another mistake I made, or perhaps you've found another fault in your ‘spoiled princess’?”

Simon winced at the reference to his hurtful words. “No, it's not about that. It's about us. I... I overreacted, and I said things I shouldn't have. I need you to understand the pressure I'm under.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “Pressure? Yes, I understand. I've been picking up work and dealing with responsibilities I’m not prepared for. I understand pressure very well.”

Simon's jaw tightened, regret flashing in his eyes. "I know I've been distant, and I've let this problem consume me for the past few weeks. But, dove, we can work through this. I need you.”

Your anger flared. “Now you need me? When everything is falling apart? What about when I needed you? You were too busy berating me.” 

The word berating came out stressed, and a flare of emotions bubbled in your chest. You fought against tears threatening to spring from your eyes. 

Simon's expression softened, nothing but remorse in his eyes. "I fucked up. I should’ve never said those things to you. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Please, let me make it right.”

You shake your head, taking a step back. 

“You can't just apologize and expect everything to go back to normal. Words have consequences.” A fat tear rolls down your cheek. “I’m not one of your soldiers you can order around.” 

The moment Simon sees the tear, knowing that he’s the cause of it, he comes crashing down. 

He drops to his knees in front of you, his eyes pleading with a desperate intensity. “I never meant to hurt you. I can't bear to see you cry, especially because of me. Please, give me a chance to make things right.”

You sniffle, wiping the tear away quickly. The raw vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart, but you held onto the shards of your wounded pride. 

He reaches for you, holding your hips tightly in his grasp as he looks up at you from the floor. His hands on your hips sought reassurance, his eyes pleading for a chance at redemption. You fold your arms over your chest, hugging yourself tightly. 

“Please, love, please, I will do anything, I’ll prove to you every single day for the rest of my life that I can treat you the way you deserve. I don’t want to turn into my father.” 

His thumbs press into the flesh of your hips, his usual stoic demeanor crumbles, and in this moment of vulnerability, he’s laying bare his regrets. 

His father. His terrible, disgusting, abusive father. 

"You’re not turning into your father, Simon," you whispered, your voice carrying reassurance. "But you also can't treat me like that ever again. We're a team. But it's also not just about the words. It's about trust and understanding.”

He nods, swallowing thickly. 

"Please, dove," he implored, his voice choking with emotion. “I never meant to hurt you like this. I'm begging you, give me a chance to make things right. I can't stand to see you in pain.”

“I miss you,” he whispers, and you spot a few tears in the corners of his eyes. You’ve never seen him cry before. “I miss you, and I don’t deserve you. Not after what I did to you.” 

Your heart wavered, torn between the hurt he caused and the raw vulnerability he now displayed. The sight of Simon, a powerful and composed ruler, reduced to tears, spoke volumes about the depth of his regret.

As you looked down at him, a swirl of conflicting emotions clouded you. Part of you wanted to pull him into an embrace, to reassure him that things could get better. Yet, the wounds were still fresh, and trust can’t be easily mended. You swipe his tears away with the pad of your thumb. 

“Simon,” you began, your voice gentle but firm, "this isn't something that can be fixed overnight. It's going to take time."

He nodded vigorously, his tear-streaked face desperate for any glimmer of hope. "I'll do anything, dove. Anything to make it right.”

The sincerity in his voice resonated, and for a moment, you softened. “Simon, I need you to understand that we're in this together. We need to communicate and support each other.”

Simon nodded, a genuine determination in his eyes. "I promise you, I'll be there for you. No more takin’ out my frustrations on you, it will never happen again, so long as I live.” 

You sighed, the weight of the situation still heavy on your shoulders. “Actions speak louder than words.”

He nodded again, his gaze unwavering. "I'll prove it to you, every day."

Releasing your hips, Simon stood up, his eyes never leaving yours. The air between you held a mix of tension and tentative hope. 

“I love you, dove. I love you.”

He wipes his face clear of the tears, and you stand there, twisting your hands together. His hands brush over your upper arms, causing you to shiver slightly, but this time you don’t back away. You let him ever so slowly pull you in for a hug, and you reluctantly grasp on to his tunic. His arms pull you in tighter now, and he strokes your hair in reassurance. 

You breathe out the quietest, “I love you.”

. . .

A few weeks passed, and the castle, once shrouded in tension, began to regain its warmth. The scars of those horrendous three days were healing, and your relationship with Simon has strengthened more than ever. The air was lighter and you felt like a significant change had occurred between you and Simon. 

Simon had indeed lived up to his promise. He consistently showed effort in rebuilding trust. Small, thoughtful gestures became the norm—unexpected flowers, shared quiet moments, and the tenderness in his voice returned. The voice he has reserved only for you. You had moved back into his room after a while, sharing a bed again has never felt so good for you. Honestly, you were relieved. You didn’t have any doubt that Simon wouldn’t live up to his promises. 

The castle had transformed back into a sanctuary. The sounds of strategizing military personnel were replaced with the hum of everyday life. The warmth returned, and the tension that once gripped every corner dissipated like a distant memory.

The conflict in the south had been resolved after Kastron’s forces were successfully able to defend the border. Their motives were still unclear, but Simon had put it behind him. 

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you found yourself in the garden. The air was crisp, and the fragrance of blooming flowers filled the space. Simon joined you, and together you strolled through the gardens, hand in hand.

“I missed this,” you smile, leaning into Simon’s side. 

Simon tightened his grip around you, his eyes softening as he looked at the vibrant hues of the sunset. "I missed this too."

The weight that once burdened your relationship had lifted, replaced by a renewed sense of connection and trust. The garden echoed with the shared laughter and whispered promises of your love, and it always will. 

Simon glanced down at you, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. “Do you remember the first time we walked through these gardens together?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You giggled, the memory surfacing in your mind. "How could I forget? You were trying to plant the most random assortment of seeds during the off-season.”

Simon laughed, a genuine sound that warmed your heart. “I was nervous. I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“And look at us now,” you said, gazing up at him. “Perfectly imperfect.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. “I love you, darlin.’”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter. “I promise to always be with you.”

The sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow over the castle and the garden. As you continued your leisurely stroll, the castle loomed in the distance, its turrets illuminated by the fading sunlight. 

The stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, and Simon pulled you closer. “Let's stay out a bit longer, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, nuzzling against him. 

You take a beat.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. 

He strokes your waist, squeezing your flesh in his grip.

“I love you.”

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

[rebeliz7]

MONSTER

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Underworld!Reader

Word Count: 5375

…

“You’re a monster!”

The words seem to echo in your head, as your wife clearly debates whether or not she should take them back. Not that you think she would, not after what happened--not after what she saw you doing. 

All the anger you were feeling just seconds ago evaporates, leaving only hurt in its wake. You can’t believe she’d scream that at you, not even while the two of you were fighting. 

The fight is over now, not that you can even remember what you were fighting about in the first place. At this point you two could have been yelling spiteful things at each other because of the phone charger, because that’s who you’ve become. 

It doesn’t take much to ignite a fight nowadays, anyways. 

You’re a monster. 

The venom in her voice, the way she spit the words at you--the moment is replaying in a loop in your head now. 

Finally, you manage to look away from her eyes and leave the room. 

She doesn’t stop you. 

…

“You good?” Bucky asks you when you join the team in the conference room, which is where your feet took you automatically. He seems to be the only one who notices, or cares. 

The world seems to tilt on you, as you remember that it’s the middle of the day, and you went to your floor earlier to get your wife--because there’s a mission and she wasn’t here for the debriefing. 

She was on the phone when you entered your shared bedroom, but she ended the call as soon as you closed the door behind you. You asked her who she was talking to, and she exploded. 

You’re a monster. 

You can’t believe she’d say that. Not after everything she knows. 

“I’m fine.” You reply, as you take a seat. 

He takes your response the same way all of them do, not completely uninterested but keeping a safe distance from you. 

They’ve never seen you as more than an ally, and Natasha’s wife. They’ve never really accepted you, and although you all live under the same roof, they’ve never concerned themselves with making you feel at home. 

You don’t belong here, you never really have. 

You’d keep your distance too, you think. They know who you are after all--what you are, you don’t blame them. 

Natasha enters the conference room, and her mood seems to invade every single corner of it. There’s no mistaking her attitude, and the anger that threatens to eat her away every time she’s forced to be in the same room as you. 

It wasn’t always like this--she loved you, you’re sure she did. But things have changed, and everything she once loved about you, now seems to have pushed her away. 

“Any takers?” Tony asks, and you finally look up. The map behind him shows a Hydra base with almost every single corner secured. 

It’s a dangerous mission, no one is eager to go because as important as it is to retrieve a nuclear weapon Hydra is threatening to use against the people in London if they don’t get what they want, everyone in this team has something to live for, even you. 

But your life, your existence is slightly different than theirs is. Maybe your time is up. 

Your father warned you though, he warned you that if you left home then he wouldn’t be able to protect you from these situations. Mortality is--not something you understand completely. You didn’t care at the time, you were in love and to be with Natasha you needed to be on earth and not--you needed to be on this mortal realm because she’s human. 

The room grows quieter the longer the seconds drag on, and with a sinking feeling in your gut, you decide to take this one. You don’t know what will happen, but if you leave now you think it’ll give the people who loved you and still do a little bit of peace. 

“I’ll do it.” You speak, and your wife’s eyes are suddenly on you. 

“What?” She asks, growls, but you don’t look at her. This is not the right place, and maybe these people are nothing more than a working team to you, but you’re far from letting them see what a wreckage your marriage has turned into. 

You left everything to be here, everything. 

“Me too,” Bucky says, but you don’t look at him either. 

“No, you’re not.” Steve tells him.

“It’s too dangerous.” Wanda’s hand is on Bucky’s arm, her concern clear. “We should plan better. Go all in, or none at all.”

The last time Wanda fought Hydra, they hit her with a powerful weapon meant to disable her powers. She was unconscious for two days, and now she’s not eager to ever face Hydra again.  

“Let’s think about this for a second.” Sam joins in the conversation, and in the blink of an eye you have a room full of people hellbent on keeping Bucky out of this mission. 

The more they raise their voice, you wonder, where was this concern when you initially offered yourself for this mission?

You’re not close to any of them, you’ve never been good at making friends, but it still hurts. 

It hurts, because they know about your father’s warning. They know you can die here too.

Natasha tries to touch your hand, and her words replay in your mind again. You move your hand away and stand up, only to walk towards Stark in the front of the room. 

“When do I have to leave?” You ask him, and he’s uncomfortable as he hands you a tablet, holding all the details of the mission. 

“In an hour.” He clears his throat, looks into your eyes and looks away just as fast. 

“Okay.” 

Natasha’s eyes are glued on you as you leave the room, but she doesn’t try to stop you. No one else seems to notice your departure. 

…

This time you go straight to daycare. Your daughter runs to your open arms the moment she spots you, and everything else loses importance, even if for a couple of minutes. 

“It’s so cold, mommy.” Elizabeth squeezes you in her arms, and you rub her back soothingly. It’s snowing outside, but the temperature is comfortable in the room, which makes you smile because Beth has always been a bit too dramatic for her own good. 

“I know, princess.” You put her down, and let her guide you towards her desk in the middle of the room. 

“Look at my unicorn, mommy.” She shows you a drawing, and the next couple of minutes you spend them with her. 

At one point you watch Tony walking in as well, and picking up Morgan before leaving with her. 

You’re a monster.

The words continue to replay in your head, making you feel hurt all over again. You’ve always thought that Natasha was the only person who didn’t see you like that. 

You were wrong though. The only person who doesn’t see you like that is this little girl, your kid.

When you leave daycare, you’re not exactly feeling better but at least you do it with the knowledge that someone cares about you, Elizabeth cares and even if you don’t come back you’ll still have a way to take care of her. 

…

“Barnes is going with you.” Natasha tells you the moment you step inside your bedroom, where she’s been waiting, apparently. 

You stop moving just inside the room, looking at her and her tensed posture. It wasn’t always like this, she loved you. 

She used to love you.

“The things I did before--” you start and she growls in annoyance. 

“Not this again.” She interrupts you. 

“I thought you knew me. I thought you knew I’m not an actual monster. I left everything for us.”

“Yeah, well.” She swallows, and her eyes find yours with only a little bit of insecurity in them. “Maybe I don’t really know you. Maybe we really did rush into this. And maybe you can't fight whatever it is that lives within you.”

Those words steal your breath away completely. This, she says, referring to your marriage, your family and the little girl you two adopted two years ago. 

She says it as if she doesn’t remember all you gave up to be with her. Not that you blame her, she never asked you to give up anything, you made that decision on your own. 

The pain in your gut seems to spread to every inch of your body, and you wonder if she knows what she’s doing to you, or if she even cares anymore.

You father warned you, of course. He told you all about humans, but you fell for Natasha and he saw it too. There was no stopping you. 

“You don’t love me anymore.” You speak, and she doesn’t look away when she answers. 

“Love is for children.” She spits out, and you try to swallow down your heartbreak. 

“Okay.” You nod, and she sighs. 

“Okay? Do you get what I’m trying to say?” She asks, and although you’re one step away from breaking down, you still meet her anger with your own. 

“You’re ending our marriage. I’m not an idiot.”

“You don’t care to know why?” She asks. 

“You already told me.” You answer as you pick up your bag from the closet. “I’m a monster, right?”

…

Everything goes sideways as soon as you and Barnes touch ground. You’re both hit with darts, and neither one of you has the time to even speak through your coms before you fall unconscious. They were waiting for you.

You wake up on the ground of a flying cargo jet. Your mouth is covered with duct tape, and there are ropes tied tightly around your wrists and ankles. You try to locate Barnes without alerting the couple of masked guards sitting a few feet away from you, but as far as you can tell he’s not here. 

You have two options, you can get out of these ropes and kill everyone on this jet but there’s no guarantee that the pilot will take you to your real destination. Or, you can pretend to be unconscious and let them believe they’ve captured you. 

“How are we gonna do this?” You hear one of the men ask.

“We’re not doing it. They’ll make the Winter Soldier do it. Hydra’s name won’t even come up.”

“It’ll be the end of the Avengers.”

They continue to talk, but you barely listen anymore. They’re gonna program Barnes to do their dirty work, which means that your mission just got more complicated than it initially was. 

You’ll have to stop a nuclear attack, and rescue Barnes on the way too. 

…

You don’t know where you land, but it’s hours after you heard the guards talk. The jet lands on an underground facility, and you’re carried inside a large cell made of glass walls. 

With no way to communicate with base, you sit up as the ropes around your wrist and ankles burn in flames at your will. 

You’re about to open up a portal on the thick glass wall to your right, when the air stills and time itself comes to a stop.

You feel the atmosphere thickening before a portal opens up on the floor a few feet away from you, and your father emerges from it. 

He’s wearing a black suit, three piece, and a large coat hanging from his shoulders. He has a cigar between his teeth, and fire burning in his eyes. 

“My kid.” He grins, while you sit back down on the iron bench the guards left you. 

“Father.” You incline your head in respect, and he sighs before shaking his foot to get rid of a few little lingering flames.  

“This is the end of your journey,” he says without sugarcoating anything, while walking closer and sitting next to you. “As a mortal, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree with unmasked sadness. “How will it happen?”

You refuse to look at him just yet, but he still offers you a cigar and you take it. 

It was your thing back at home, he’d come to see you and offer you a cigar and you’d talk for hours. You’d join him at court, and he’d offer you a cigar while you two listened to his advisors talk for hours. You’d look for him down at the pits, and he’d always offer you a cigar while you waited for the boatkeeper to count his coins. 

It’s sort of poetic that he’s come all the way up with one, to warn you one more time.

“They’re gonna torture you for a couple of hours, and you’ll let it happen because the longer they interrogate you the longer your ‘friends’ have to get here.”

“Will they get here in time?” You ask him, as he lights up your cigar and he watches until you take a long drag. 

“Yes.”

You’ve never died before, your siblings have and even your father experienced it once . You’re scared, and he sees it. 

“They won’t save you, it’ll be too late for that but they’ll save the other one, and they’ll stop the nuclear attack too.”

A part of you wants to ask him to intervene, but you know you can’t. He’ll punish you for asking, and he won’t lift a finger to intervene. He respects the law, he abides by it and anyone who’s ever dared to cross him is still paying for it and will continue to pay for it until the end of times. 

“What if I attack first?” You ask, and he takes a deep breath. The room is filled with smoke, the taste of the cigar has lost its appeal on your tongue but you still take another drag. 

Among his many qualities, your father can see what will happen according to a multitude of choices a person can make in a split second, so you know he’ll tell you the truth. 

“Chaos will erupt. They shoot the other guy in the face first, and then they release the nuclear weapon. London is wiped off, the Avengers find you to be the only survivor on this base but it wouldn’t matter either way.”

“They’ll blame me.” You conclude, and he nudges your shoulder with his affectionately. 

“They’ll blame you.”

Time goes by with the two of you smoking your cigars, and no talk. 

You were almost on your way to attack this base, his showing up at that exact second was not a coincidence. He’s come to ask you to make the right choice. 

It’s not common for him to have a say in these types of things, so you know it means more than he’s letting on. He has a chance to make something right, you both do.

“You will still be able to see your daughter,” he tells you. “I’ll make sure of it.”

When he meets your stare the fire in his eyes is burning brightly, a beautiful contrast to his skin. The dimples on his cheeks are prominent as he grins at you, and you know the same dimples appear on your face as you smile back. 

Your mother always said that the reason why he loved you the most out of all their children, is because you’re his spitting image. You always argued that the truth couldn’t be further from her statement, since out of all your siblings you’re the only one sane enough. 

But you know it’s the truth, he’s always loved the way you smile and those dimples reminded him that you’re his daughter. The first time he saw your eyes burning like his do, he laughed so loud that even the souls in the Styx River peaked out to marvel at the sound of it. 

He was an angel once, after all, and the sound of his laughter remains to be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. 

When you finish your cigar he promptly stands up, and you do too. 

“Your mother misses you,” he says just as a portal opens up on the floor and you catch sight of the raging flames that surround it. 

The thought of your mother makes you smile, you miss her too. 

“Well, you can tell her I’ll be home for dinner.” You smile, although a treacherous tear rolls down your cheek. Your father is quick to wipe it off for you, the back of his fingers graze your cheek as he smiles too. 

“She knows.” He sighs, and the flame in his eyes dissipates and leaves in its wake the saddest look that you’ve ever seen on your father’s face.

“I’m sorry you had to learn about humans this way.” He says, and the sorrow of his soul spreads all over you and even home, it seems. The flames of his open portal evaporate, and smoke rises up from it. 

“I imagine there’s no other way to learn this lesson.” You swallow with difficulty and he kisses your temple, his hands cupping your face. 

“I’ll see you home, kid.” He smiles. “That dog of yours has been missing you.”

You chuckle, as you picture the faces of your three headed dog howling into the dark skies, begging for your return. He always tended to be a bit dramatic. 

“Thank you, dad.” You tell him as he begins his descent, and he smiles one last time before he’s gone. 

…

They do come for you, they take you to an interrogation room where they begin by hitting you. They move you into a different glass room, and you can see them trying to reprogram Barnes in the next room too. 

It’s not an easy task, since he had all his triggers removed when he was in Wakanda. They try and they try, and they attempt to punch the answer to his resistance out of you but you give them none. 

Barnes looks at you, but he’s too weak and he still has his metal arm. That’s how you realize how the team will find you, the arm has a tracer. Stark installed it a couple of weeks ago, Barnes wasn’t happy about it but it’s paying off either way. 

Hours go by, and by then they’ve pulled out seven of your finger nails with tweezers. The pain is the worst, the pain still shocks you, and makes you feel smaller than you really are. 

You don’t feel any pain at home, pain is not something made for your kind. Pain is human, and you remind yourself that you chose this and endure it. 

Weakness doesn’t embrace you, it’s not natural for you to feel tired, let alone weak in the face of trouble. Which is the reason why your capturers continue to beat you, and cut you and even shoot you. 

By the time you hear a commotion, your head feels funny and your vision is blurry. They hit you in the head a lot, and the gunshots on your abdomen are already taking your life away. This body is human after all. 

You see the Captain going for Barnes, and Barnes collapsing in his arms. The glass around you shatters and Wanda’s powers swirl all around you, before Natasha falls on her knees next to you. 

She’s talking, her lips are moving and tears begin to roll down her face the moment she blinks. 

She yells something over her shoulder, more people gather around you and Natasha is touching you, but you can’t feel it. 

I still love you, you want to tell her. 

I will always love you. 

She’s crying as she holds you, her sobs make her body shake as she speaks, but you can’t feel her touch and you can’t listen to a word she’s saying. 

You’re a monster. 

The memory flashes through your mind, hurting you even worse than all the wounds that are killing this human part of you do. 

She saw you capturing two rogue demons yesterday. They were hard to find, and ever harder to apprehend. They laughed at you, and you had to remind them who you are. 

You’ve never shown Natasha that side of you, not willingly anyway. She knows who you are, she knows the things that you do or used to do, because of being who you are. 

She also knows that you left everything for her, everything. You left your home, and stopped answering your father’s call for her. 

Your father warned you, of course. He said that loving someone like you wouldn’t be easy, and he was right. She was always going to see who you really are in your eyes, there’s no escaping it, there never really was. 

Now she cries, brokenly and desperately as you die. 

…

Your mother welcomes you back with nothing but joy. She’s prepared a feast for your arrival, and your siblings are eager to hear about the way you were tortured. 

Nothing compares to the things you see down here, of course, but it’s still entertaining for all of you. 

You go back to being who you were before you met Natasha, and you visit your daughter regularly although not wearing the same face twice. She’s growing into a beautiful young woman, brave and clever like her mother. 

Natasha doesn’t forget you, and she mourns your death for years. She regrets calling you a monster, not that it makes a difference after you’re gone. 

She tries to move on a couple of times, but nothing lasts. 

As for you, you never really move on from them, not even after their mortal time is up and they’re forever gone. 

… 

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff

[andy-15-07]

Midnight Revelations

masterlist ! pairing Drew Starkey x reader

summary: Drew and Y/n are sleeping together for the first time

Outer Banks Masterlist

In the dimly lit bedroom, shadows danced across the walls as the moon peeked through the curtains. Drew lay beside you, his breaths steady and deep. The air was thick with anticipation, the electricity between you palpable. It was a moment you had both been yearning for, a culmination of unspoken desires and lingering glances.

You shifted closer, the warmth of his body drawing you in like a magnet. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you snug against his chest. His heartbeat echoed in your ears, matching the rhythm of your own racing pulse.

"Are you sure about this?" Drew's voice was a whisper, laced with uncertainty.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

A flicker of emotion crossed Drew's face before he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, a gentle exploration of newfound territory. But as the seconds stretched into minutes, the kiss deepened, igniting a fire that burned between you.

Clothes became a hindrance, discarded in a haphazard pile on the floor as skin met skin. There were no words, only the symphony of sighs and whispers that filled the room. Every touch, every caress was a revelation, each sensation more intoxicating than the last.

Drew's hands roamed freely, mapping the curves of your body as if committing them to memory. His touch was both reverent and possessive, a silent declaration of his desire for you. And as you surrendered to him completely, you felt a sense of liberation wash over you, freeing you from the constraints of doubt and fear.

In the darkness, you found solace in each other, two souls intertwined in a dance as old as time itself. And as the night stretched on, time seemed to stand still, suspended in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

"I love you," Drew whispered against your skin, his words a promise etched into the very fabric of your being.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion that surged within you. "I love you too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

In that moment, as the world outside faded into insignificance, you knew that you had found something truly special. It wasn't just about physical intimacy, but a connection that transcended the boundaries of the physical realm. It was a bond forged in the fires of passion and tempered by the trials of life.

As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, you lay tangled together in a cocoon of warmth and love. And as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that this was only the beginning of a journey that would last a lifetime.

In the quiet stillness of the morning, you found peace in each other's arms, knowing that no matter what the future held, you would face it together, hand in hand, heart to heart.

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey x actress!reader #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe fanfic #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fic

[diorsbrando]

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 ♡♡.

#໒꒱ newborn stand ─ sosa’s filez #i love having a bleach brain rot <3 #out of all my published works this might be my magnum opus SO FAR #so far….. #because i’m gonna write more and my writing will improve 🙂 but for now i present you this #you can prob tell how much i like aizen lolol #bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach fandom #bleach tybw #bleach cfyow #cfyow fic #bleach x reader #sosuke aizen #aizen sousuke #bleach aizen #captain aizen #aizen x reader #aizen x you #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen centric fic #aizen x black reader #bleach x black reader #bleach x female reader

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer

Chapter 1

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.

Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜

“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”

Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.

His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…

And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond? 

Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…

He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself. 

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face. 

Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing. 

He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?

Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.

“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement. 

All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it. 

Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”

The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”

It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him. 

Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being. 

“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question. 

“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow. 

“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”

“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood? 

“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”

The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”

“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”

“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”

Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain. 

“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya. 

“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”

Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least  20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess. 

“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.

“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.

Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”

“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions. 

He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that. 

“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”

The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”

“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”

Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair. 

Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud. 

‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper. 

Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory. 

All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”

The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”

“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”

“And when it does run out?”

“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.” 

“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”

The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”

“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.

“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”

It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”

“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…

“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively. 

Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery. 

“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”

A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time. 

But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory. 

He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully. 

The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”

The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice. 

“How do I get out of here?” 

The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.  

“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”

“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation. 

The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

“And how do I do that?” 

It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”

The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”

The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice. 

The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.” 

Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm. 

The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm. 

Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura. 

“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish. 

Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.

“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”

The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes. 

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

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[gglitch1dd]

Blood of my House Pt1

Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader

Context: Eijiro's plan to claim back his family's throne is put on hold when you appear, as the rightful heir. You get on his nerves but you both need to work together in order to get the usurper off your throne. Lets just hope you both don't fall into the stereotype of your house.

Game of thrones inspired- The Kirishimas are basically the Targeryens. Credit given to George R Martin and the mastermind that he is.

Warning: this story deals with topics of cousin incest and referenced incest ( I don't condone this IRL), violence, taboo lust, blood, fire, time period specific misogyny and dragons. So be prepared. No smut... yet.

“If we advance our forces forward and take them from atop the valley, we can exterminate at least two thousand of their forces.” Bakugou Katsuki spoke as he moved the figures of black painted dragons that represented the Kirishima army. The blond man stood up straight as he motioned to the large map that was on the table that was in the shape of the continent that was the realm. He looked up from the table at the men that were around the table. “That way we can kill all those fuckers before the moon reaches it’s peak.”

Lord Taishiro Toyomitsu looked to the head of the table. His golden eyes on the man who was the centre of their cause. “Your grace.”

Kirishima Eijiro looked up from where he sat at the head of the table. His ruby eyes looking at the man who had unwaveringly and unquestionably joined his cause before looking around the table. Suffocating ruby eyes that gleamed with a fire so hot behind them. He looked back down at the table. He nodded his head. “Let it be done.” He stated as he stood up from his chair. Immediately everyone stood up, allowing him to leave the room with Katsuki following after him.

Eijiro exited out of the room, moving down the hallway, servants and lords bowing their heads to him as he moved towards his personal chambers. The stone walls of the castle were made out of dark black stone that was said to be burnt from an old dragon that melded the rocks together. Eijiro entered his room, placing down the heavy Valyrian steel sword against a table as he fell back down on a cushioned chair. He let out a sigh as he draped a hand over his eyes. Today was a long day of meetings and strategy.

Katsuki chuckled as he stood at the door. “Should I send dinner to your room?” He asked.

“Please.” Eijiro groaned. “And send for a Meyster.” He stated as he rubbed the side of his head. His eyebrows furrowed as he sat up. “I have a headache.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows twitched but he let out a grunt and closed the door.

Now alone, Eijiro put his head back with a sigh, glad to finally be alone. He didn’t think that leading a war against the Todoroki’s would be so difficult but he couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. He opened his eyes again as he looked back at the view from the mountain top. The Sunvaile manor was built into the mountains with its village surrounding it. Eijiro never thought he’d ever be here in his ancestral home, at least not leading it as Prince and rightful heir to the throne.

Eijiro barely remember his parents, he only knew of the tragedy that befell on their house. It was a great gathering here to celebrate the birth of King Kirishima Ryosuke the second’s second born, a son, after having had his eldest daughter a few years before. It was a tradition that the Kirishima family had whenever a baby was to be born. Having the babe born in their ancestral home where dragons were said to have first been discovered in this world, was said to be good luck. The parties were extravagant and with such a big house with so many members, Eijiro could only remember faces of people that looked so similar to one another.

However Todoroki Enji, Lord of Turnes, had plotted in secret and assassinated nearly every member of the Kirishima family to ensure that there was not a single person to claim the throne. Fortunately, Eijiro’s mother and father, Lord and Lady of Summersvale, managed to hide him away with a loyal sword that would send him far away so that when the time came he would ascend the throne. The last thing Eijiro remembered of his mother, her hair being the deep red of her house Toyomitsu and not the inherit trait of Kirishima black, and the whispered spell she had cast over his hair.

One of the most noticeable features of Kirishima lineage was the inky black hair and ruby eyes, a pair of traits that never separated from one another. Many of his elder siblings, his father, aunts and uncles had the same trait. A dominant gene that never left. However, the next time Eijiro looked at his reflection in cold water while on the run away from Summersvale, his hair was a crimson red, similar to that of his mother.

Unfortunately the loyal sword that had managed to get him out of Summersvale had fallen at the ends of smugglers and Eijiro found himself sold into slavery at the age of five. He was fortunately bought by the Bakugous, the family that led the BakuLands. He was young and was quickly taught the ropes, making sure to do what he was told as a little errand boy in exchange for food and a place to sleep. However, Eijiro always had an interest in the sword, and that’s how he met his best friend and brother at arms, Bakugou Katsuki.

Katsuki was an annoying little shit, but he was loyal and a good friend. He easily befriended Eijiro mostly because Eijiro was the only boy willing to befriend him other than the son of Katsuki’s former wetnurse, Midoriya Izuku, the bastard. Lady Mitsuki rather disliked Eijiro, not liking the fact that her son had made friends with a servant but it was the most she was ever going to get out of him. Eijiro trained beside Katsuki in secret and served him.

That was until Katsuki’s parents had taken Katsuki and consequently Eijiro as Katsuki’s personal servant, to Summersvale. It happened purely by chance that their hunting party had stumbled upon the caves that the dragons nested in. With a flash of fire, Eijiro trying to save Katsuki’s life, Eijiro was left unburnt and unscathed, however, like a phoenix’s burnt wings, his red a flame hair turned black like ashes. And ever since then, the whispers moved around the realm saying how one Kirishima had survived that night.

Prince Kirishima Eijiro.

Or at least, that’s how Eijiro remembered it.

Eijiro wondered what life would had been like did his parents survive, if that fateful night had not happened. He wondered if right now he’d be surrounded by his sisters, if he would be sitting down having dinner in a hall that was filled with laughter and bright smiles. If he would learn under his father to become the next Lord of Summersvale or whether his eldest sister would have taken the title (unlikely but a thought regardless). He wondered if he’d still be the same man as he was now.

He was taken out of his thoughts at the sound of racing footsteps out in the halls. Eijiro’s eyes flicked to the door before it opened. Katsuki stood there with heavy breaths as he kept the door opened standing in the doorway. “Eijiro, you must come and see this.”

Eijiro’s eyebrows furrowed as he stood up from his chair, grabbing his sword as he did so and heading with haste out of his chambers. Katsuki escorted him out of the room and down the hall. “What is the matter? Is it the Todorokis?”

Katsuki shook his head as he headed towards a window that faced the front of the castle. “No. They bare a different banner.”

“Whose?”

Katsuki motioned for Eijiro to look outside. The setting sun had bathed the tops of the mountains in orange but otherwise darkness was quickly overtaking the land. But that did not stop Eijiro from seeing the banners that were being carried by a hoard of men, soldiers that were heading towards them, close enough to be concerning. At the sight of the black banners that bore the red sigil of a dragon curled up with flames surrounding it like the sun, Eijiro stiffened.

Katsuki sighed as he nodded. “They bare your banners.” He stated.

It didn’t take long before both men made it outside, Eijiro grabbing his clock and throwing it over his shoulders, a black furred mantel resting on his shoulders. It was once his fathers and he had always been shy of wearing it, but he prayed that it would give him strength right now. Both Katsuki and him headed down the outside stairs into the courtyard as the gates were opened to allow the visitors through.

Entering on horseback on a white stallion was a man neither Eijiro nor Katsuki thought they would see again. Katsuki’s eyes widened. “Deku?!” He let out surprised. “You bastard! You’re still alive?”

Sitting atop the stallion was a green haired man with freckles that littered his skin, his green eyes looked down at the blond with an amused glint but a deep dangerous poison brewing underneath. He scoffed as he got off of his horse. “I see you haven’t changed, Kacchan.” He stated as he landed on the ground with a thud as he walked over to the two men. Izuku’s eyes went to Eijiro, his eyes assessing him. It had been years since he last saw the other man. He bowed his head. “Your grace.”

“Izuku, it’s been a while.” He let out offering his hand.

At the sign of friendship Izuku took it with a smile of his own. “It has. Last time I saw you, your grace, your hair was red, not black.”

Eijiro chuckled. “A lot has happened.”

“Indeed.”

“Deku,” Katsuki folded his arms over his chest with a frown. “How are you alive and why on earth are you and your forty thousand men baring up Kirishima banners? Have you finally come to help our cause?”

Izuku hesitated before an amused chuckle came from his lips. “I am here to fight a Kirishima cause yes, just not yours.” He revealed before motioning up to the sky. “Hers.”

Eijiro looked up to the sky, clouds seemingly undisturbed however as he kept looking he noticed something strange moving closer, rippling through the clouds. An odd sound went through the air, a loud roar that sounded different from his own dragon. His eyes widened as a large dark dragon came flying in the air over the caslte. The force of the wind, nearly knocking many back but Eijiro stood his ground.

He noticed a person was riding a top of the dragon as it circled around, gradually getting lower to the ground. Finally, the large dragon settled on one of the thick walls of the castle, made to be that thick due to the dragon claws and weight. The large beast let out a loud roar, snaking its head up to the sky almost in victory at being back home. It ruffled its wings before lowering its head to pear down at the men that were staring up at it in fear.

Eijiro’s men had sort of gotten used to his own dragon, Riot, but that was mostly because she was the only one left. Or so they thought.

Sitting perched on the dragons body was a woman, who’s eyes bore into Eijiro’s like a mirror. Something twisted inside of him, wondering who on earth you were. The dragon lowered his head with a scuttle as you unseated yourself, using his wing to slide down and land on your feet. You were dressed in black, in a jacket and suit that suit you well as you walked forward to stand before Eijiro and Katsuki.

Izuku stiffened and bowed his head. “You stand in the presence of Y/N of House Kirishima, first of her name, eldest daughter of King Ryosuke Kirishima, second of his name, rightful heir to the throne, the princess of skies and speaker for the broken, the unscorched lady of the night.” Izuku introduced as you stood looking at Eijiro unwaveringly.

Eijiro blinked at the introduction. He turned to look at Katsuki. Katsuki looked at him then quickly got the jist. “This is Eijiro.” He stated plainly. Eijiro punched his side. “OF House Kirishima.” He continued with a glare at his best friend. He cleared his throat and motioned back to Eijiro. “He’s Lord of Summersvale.”

You raised a slight eyebrow at the short introduction but it was more in amusement than anything. You chuckled as you looked over at the man in front of you. He was undoubtedly a Kirishima male. The long thick black hair that cascaded down his back like a mane and the burning intense ruby eyes that he had were enough to tell you. “Cousin.” You greeted with a smile.

Eijiro’s eyebrow twitched as he recognised you. Despite having spent years apart, the sight of one of his kin was enough to assure him of your identity. Blood could recognise blood. “Cousin.” He acknowledged. At his acknowledgement, Katsuki looked at him shocked, but Eijiro couldn’t didn’t take his eyes off of you.

“It has been far too long.” You started, your eyes moving over his figure once more. Despite seeing him and seeing what was once your little cousin Eijiro, his size surprised you. He had grown to fill the large disposition that was infamous of the men in your family. Large broad shoulders and a tall thick muscled demeanour. He was taller than any man you had ever seen and carried himself with such prowess. “Last time I saw you, you were but a boy still young enough to be attached to your mother’s tits.” You let out snidely, earning a humeroued smirk from Izuku and stifled chuckles from his men.

Eijiro’s eyebrows twitched. “Last time I saw you, you were but a girl who didn’t have any.” He shot back earning some laughs from his own men behind him.

You stood your ground, your smile not faltering as you looked at him. “We have grown.”

“Yes...” His eyes moved down your figure, your stomach tightening in knots as you watched him. His eyes flicked back up to his face. “Yes, we have.” He joined his hands in front of himself as he glared down at you. “What are you doing here Y/N?” He asked with a furrowed gaze.

You let out a breath. “How about we discuss this inside? It is getting late and cold and I’d rather give my men some rest.” You stated.

Eijiro was silent for a moment but nodded his head. Katsuki gave him a pointed look that Eijiro ignored. “Katsuki arrange for her rooms to be ready. We are heading inside.” He ordered as he turned around and headed inside.

You followed after him, motioning for Izuku to tell your men to set up camp for the time being in case you would have to leave the following day. You and the rest of your advisors headed into the castle. You looked up at the formidable entrance, stone dragons perched near the entrance, the size of young dragons barely able to be ridden yet. You turned to look at your own dragon. He was getting herded away by dragon chamberlains, them speaking to the large beast in High Valeryian. You trusted that he would behave himself and so walked in after Eijiro.

Eijiro did not speak as you followed after him. But you didn’t want him to speak as you looked around the castle halls. It had been so long since you had been back home here, back to your ancestral home. A part of you felt as though you could feel your family’s embrace even though shrouded in the darkness of their demise. You saw a family portrait hanging formidably.

Your uncle Takeo and his wife Yua with four little girls surrounding them and a little baby boy in Yua’s arms. You knew it was Eijiro and a part of you wanted to scoff at the little thing. He seemed like such a brat.

You continued to follow him into a room you were never allowed in as a child. A room where all the men of your family sat, often talking plans when it came to governing the seven kingdoms or when it came to the family. Your eyes looked at the table, the map of all the kingdoms set before you. Your fingers slid on the obsidian marble that was the table in front of you. Your eyes moved to the head of the table where your father used to sit.

Eijiro watched you, how you silently reminisced as you slowly walked through the room. It was quiet as you did so, everyone spectating you. Your eyes moved up to him, noticing how he had moved to sit at the Head of the table. You gave him a tense smile as you sat the opposite end. Izuku took his place beside you and Katsuki stood beside Eijiro.

Eijiro’s hands were joined together in front of him as he watched you with a analytical gleam. “I assume that this visit isn’t a familial one amongst kin.” He started, now that everyone whose ears needed to be in the room, were there.

You hummed as you leaned against the chair you sat in. “Indeed.” You nodded your head agreeing with him. “I heard about your cause all the way in Chalrogo. After some thoughts and talks amongst me and my councilmen, it was decided that the best course of action was to find you and join our causes so that I shall take my rightful place on the throne.”

“Your rightful place on the throne?” Eijiro asked with a scoff as he looked at you up and down. A humoured chuckle left his throat as he did so.

Your eyebrows twitched in annoyance as you sat up. “Do you find something humorous?”

Eijiro nodded his head with a smile. “The fact that you think you belong on the throne, is humorous.”

“And why is that?”

“Why?” Eijiro asked with a scoff. He motioned to you before leaning to the side with his hand supporting him. “No woman has ever sat upon the throne.”

You knew he would say that, every man has said that. “I am the eldest born and only child left of King Ryosuke.” You reminded him. “I have a greater right to sit on that throne more than you.”

“Ah, but you forget, cousin.” Eijiro let out with a tsk as he shook his head. “I am the oldest male of the Kirishima House left, which automatically makes me Head of the family and King by default.”

“Your father, swore an oath to his older brother, my father, that he would be loyal and dedicated to our reign.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you kept your eyes on Eijiro. “Your father owes me that vow and you, as his son, are the only one left to uphold that.”

Eijiro frowned at your excuses. He found them pathetic and rather humerous. He couldn’t ignore the matter at hand that was your new found existence in his life, but this all seemed a bit much for him. Katsuki stepped forward. “Excuse me, Y/N-”

“Princess Y/N.” Izuku corrected with a glare.

Katsuki rolled his eyes at Izuku’s interruption. “Yes, yes, your grace,” He said dripping in sarcasm. “But last time I checked, your brother was born and named heir on the night of the Burnout flame.”

You rolled your own eyes. “Oh please. My younger brother had barely lived longer than an hour before his life came to an end due to the usurper that is Todoroki Enji.”

“At least there is one thing we agree on.” Eijiro pointed out. “You want to join our forces.”

You let out a breath, trying to regain control of yourself and a sound mind. You nodded your head. “The blood of our house is stronger together, is it not?” You asked. “I have 45 000 men and fifty ships ready and waiting at my disposal, as well as enough gold to burn.”

Sero Hanta’s eyebrows twitched as he tilted his head. “How much gold?” He asked.

You glanced to Izuku. He nodded as he turned to the door and opened it, allowing two of your armed men to carry in a chest filled with gold. The chest was brought down on the floor with a heavy thud, coins already spilling out of it. Eijiro and his men had wide eyes at the sight of it.

“I have fifty of those.” You revealed bluntly.

Eijiro was silent as he looked from the chest over to you. He wondered what on earth you had been through and what you had done in order to have such power at your back and call.

“Your grace,” Both him and you had turned your heads to look Toyomitsu Taishiro. He looked to Eijiro with an earnest look. “Joining your forces under one banner would give us the advantage. A hundred thousand men strong would be enough to defeat the Todorokis with the right plan.” He acknowledged. Eijiro’s eyebrows furrowed but he listened. He owed this man, his uncle, his life and a lot more. He trusted him. Taishiro turned to look at you. “Besides, your house must be united now more than ever. And forgive me for saying, my princess,” You smiled. “But you look just like your mother. Even now.”

You smiled gently at the complement. You nodded your head in gratitude. “Thank you, Lord Toyomitsu. My house will always be grateful for the loyalty and fealty to us.”

“Yes, my nephew has told me.” He acknowledged as he motioned to Eijiro.

Eijiro frowned as he looked over at you. Here you were, sitting in front of him almost as if you dropped out of the sky. Eijiro was not sure what to do. He let out a grunt. “I think it is obvious that together we are stronger than divided.” You nodded at the obvious. “Then I agree. We will work together to unseat King Enji from the throne.”

“Then who will sit on the throne?” One of your advisors, Lord Aizawa Shota asked as he leaned back in his chair tiredly.

You turned to look at Eijiro and he stared at you right back. You forced a smile to your face. “I think we can determine that like adults, can’t we, Eijiro?” You asked with a smile that Eijiro wanted to pull off of your face.

He nodded curtly. “Of course. But please, we shall show you to your rooms and we can eat dinner together, as one.” You nodded your head as you stood up from opposite him. All of your men stood up and followed you out of the room, followed by a servant that was summoned by Katsuki. Once you finally left Eijiro let out a groan as he leaned back and dragged a hand down his face.

“So…” Kaminari Denki started lowly as he tapped his fingers on the table. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that she looks like every man’s best dream?” He asked openly.

Eijiro glanced at the blond man with a glare which quickly shut Denki up. He wasn’t wrong, you had grown a lot since he had last saw you. You were a woman now. In every shape of the word and it haunted him. Suffocatingly so. You were smart, he could tell by the arsenal you had behind you but you were also beautiful and deeply aware of it too. He could tell by the way every single man in the room was unable to look away from you.

“This could be a trick.” He let out lowly as he thought about every possible scenario.

“If so, she’s a very needed trick.” Sato acknowledged, his arms folded over his chest. “She comes with men, ships and a hefty sum to her name.”

Commander Hounddog nodded his head with a low grunt. “She’s perfect to your cause, your grace.”

“But then comes the real question…” Taishiro started as he adjusted his seating, minding his large belly as he did so. His golden eyes moved to Eijiro and the younger man knew that he was going to say something that would make the entire room uncomfortable. “Are you going to wed her?”

Eijiro let out a loud laugh at the thought. “Wed her?!” He asked motioning to the door. “She’s my cousin!”

“Yes but… It’s kind of what your family does.” Sero let out with an awkward smile. “You’re a Kirishima, she’s a Kirishima, you both have blood that stems from a time of old magic and dragons.”

“It would solidify your claim to the throne.” Tetsutetsu recognized earning hums from around the room.

Eijiro scoffed as he stood up from his chair. “Oh please! That’s appalling. I don’t have to marry her in order to stake my claim. My mother was not a Kirishima and I have the same claim as she does!”

“But that is because your grandfather, King Shinyo first of his name, wanted to cement the ties between our two families.” Taishiro reminded his nephew with a pointed look. “But your grandparents were both from House Kirishima, her parents were both Kirishimas.”

Katsuki nodded with a hum. “Siblings in fact.”

Eijiro glared up at the blond. “You are not helping!” He told his best friend. “If marrying a woman is so important, fine I will do so, but it damn well will not be her! My blood is thick enough to not need her for anything other than her assistance to the throne. By the end of the season cycle, I will be seated as the next king of the realm, whether she likes it or not.”

-Glitch1d

#kirishima x reader #mha x y/n #mha #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro #eijiro kirishima #bnha #bnha eijiro kirishima #mha eijirou #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #eijiro x reader #mha fantasy #mha fantasy au #dragon kirishima eijiro #dragon rider kirishima eijirou #dragon kirishima #dragon kirishima x reader #tw inc*st

[lancermylove]

Pickup Lines (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: DB, Royals, Simeon, Solomon, Thirteen with gn!Reader

Warning: Corny? Lol. Minors don't look under the cut.

Prompt: Which pickup lines would he use for you?

———————————————

Lucifer

"Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?"

“If you were words on a page, you’d be fine print."

"Are you a dictionary? Because you add meaning to my life."

Mammon

"Hey, are you a bank loan? Because you've got my interest, and I can't help but want to invest in you."

"If beauty were money, you'd be the richest person alive."

"If looks could buy, you'd bankrupt me in an instant."

Levi

"Are you a rare drop? Because ever since I met you, I feel like I've found the ultimate loot."

"Are you a cheat code? Because meeting you feels like I've unlocked a special power-up."

"If love were a game, you'd be my final boss."

Satan

"If you were a cat, you'd be a purr-fect 10."

"Do you believe in love at first chapter? Because ever since I met you, I can't stop thinking about the next page of our story."

"If you were a cat, you'd definitely have nine lives because one lifetime wouldn't be enough to spend with someone as special as you."

Asmo

"Are you made of diamonds? Because you shine brighter than any gem."

"Are you a mirror? Because when I look at you, I see the reflection of my dreams."

"If beauty were a crime, you'd be serving a life sentence."

Beelzebub

"If you were a fruit, you'd be a fineapple."

"If you were a cookie, you'd be a fortune cookie, because meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Are you a campfire? Because you're hot, and I want s'more."

Belphegor

"Are you a dream? Because every time I'm with you, I never want to wake up."

"Are you a cozy blanket? Because being with you feels like a warm hug."

"If sleep were a journey, you'd be the sweetest dream I've ever had."

Diavolo

"Are you a rose? Because just like its petals, your beauty is timeless and enchanting."

"If you were a kingdom, I'd gladly pledge my allegiance to you."

"Are you a royal decree? Because you've commanded my attention since the moment I laid eyes on you."

Simeon

"If you were a star in the sky, you'd be the most radiant one, outshining all the others."

"Do you have a map? Because I seem to have lost my way, and you're the only one guiding me towards the light."

"Are you a sunrise? Because every time I see you, you bring a new dawn to my day."

Barbatos

“I couldn't help noticing how captivating your smile is. It brightens up the entire room."

"Are you a puzzle? Because I'm intrigued by the challenge of figuring you out."

"If you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber."

Solomon

"Do you believe in magic? Because ever since you walked into my life, it feels like you've cast a spell on me."

"Are you eternity? Because with you, every moment feels like it lasts forever."

"Are you a scientist? Because you've just discovered the formula to my heart."

Thirteen

"Are you a lost soul? Because you've wandered into the realm of my heart."

"If you were a dessert, you'd be the cherry on top of my day."

"Are you a cupcake? Because you're cute, sweet, and I can't get enough of you."

N.SFW/heavily suggestive under cut!

Lucifer

"Are you a teapot? Because I'd love to steep with you and pour out all my secrets."

Mammon

"Are you a stock market? Because every time I think of you, my investments just keep rising."

Levi

"Are you a controller? Because I'd love to be in your hands."

Satan

"Are you a book? Because I can't seem to put you down, and I keep wanting to explore every page of you."

Asmo

"Are you a work of art? Because I can't help but admire every curve and contour of your beauty, and I'd love to explore you like a masterpiece."

Beelzebub

"Are you a marshmallow? Because I want to roast you over my fire."

Belphegor

"Are you a bed? Because I'd love to climb on top of you."

Diavolo

Dinner first, or can we go straight for dessert?

Simeon

Do you want to commit a sin for your next confessional?

Barbatos

"Are you a baker? Because you've got some buns that I'd love to knead."

Solomon

I’m not feeling myself today. Can I feel you instead?

Thirteen

"Are you a rainstorm? Because you make me wet.”

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

#obey me #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me thirteen

[kingkatsuki]

More Dragon King Bakugou, I’m sorry.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted reader to be a villager who’s just watched everything she loves burn to dust, or a Naiad seeking revenge on the men who sully her waters.

The path of destruction that Dragon King Bakugou leaves in his wake is infamous amongst the realms. A ruthless King apathetic to the plight of other Kingdoms, or the creatures that reside within them. The molten inferno that rages within his Dragons and turns villages to dust is known to the nation, and feared by those who reside within it. Because those who battle with the ruthless King rarely make it out alive.

Blood cascades down his body in crimson tides, enough red to fool you into thinking it’s his own. The sickening scent of metal blends with the scorch of burning flesh and death. It permeates the land, drowning it in the pungent aroma of destruction. It has you slipping deeper down beneath the flowing river, pushing your nose beneath the water to avoid breathing in the rancid air.

The blond man, the so called King, begins to disrobe. Letting the soaked layers of fur and leather drop to the floor as he bares himself to the world, unbothered that anyone could see him now— not that there are many people left to witness the sight. His army leave no prisoners, everyone fed to the blazing fire and brimstone.

You can’t stop the throb that settles between your thighs as he bares his all, muscular chest littered with scars and hair as he scratches a bloodied hand against a pectoral. Your eyes follow the map of his sternum towards the prominent V that leads lower, meeting his heavy cock that hangs down from the sheer weight as it pulses. Clearly excited by the bloodshed as he steps a foot into the cool depths, illuminated by the embers that continue to burn behind him. Sullying the once pure with the blood of others, tainting the liquid with the same putrid scent of death.

The soft groan that rumbles in his chest vibrates through the calm water, causing you to shudder as you wade back. Eyes still focused intently on his form as he cleans the blood of others from his scarred skin, soothing the fierce inferno that boils inside his heart— if he even has one. You shouldn’t be so intrigued by a man so dangerous, or so allured. The heat boils inside you, and you’re certain it’s not from the blaze that still lashes at the decimated village.

A sudden splash has vermilion eyes focused and intent, nose furrowed as he stands in the shallow river. Arms poised and ready to battle, even when he’s completely exposed. And the fear that you’d tried so hard to keep at bay now permeates your very being, as you try to decide whether to wade deeper or stand your ground.

You raise to match his stance, the river wades around your thighs as you reveal yourself to the ruthless King. He lowers his arms and relaxes his stance, as though he’s already decided that you’re not a threat to him. But he should be more cautious, especially when you have nothing to lose.

#I’m not good at writing these sorts of things sorry #it just come into my head and I was like LEMME WRITE THIS DOWN #dragon king bakugou #soft bakugou

[thefantasyden]

Feels Like Heaven

Pairing: Felix + Neutral Reader

Genre: SMUT

Warnings: Guardian Angel! Felix, Oral sex (M receiving), Corruption, Religious themes if you wanna squint

Word Count: 1243

Summary: Angel boy Felix has been learning about some very interesting topics, and there’s not a single person he’d want to try them with if not you.

"Pleeeease!" Felix begs for the hundredth time, his wide eyes staring up at you, pleading at you like a spoilt child.

"Where did you even learn about things like that?" Your question makes the angel huff and he drops himself on the couch beside you, still clinging to your arm as he attempts desperately to change your mind. You’re trying to find an answer for his sudden curiosity and you are shocked when he finally gives you one.

"I have to observe you, and you know, I see the stuff you watch and do by yourself and you always look like you're having so much fun!"

You can't stop yourself from smacking his arm when he tells you, embarrassment flooding you as you scowl at the clueless man. You’re willing your body to turn to dust or maybe melt into the plush cushion of the couch so that it might swallow you whole.

"You WATCH me?!"

Felix looks confused, his brows furrowing as a small pout formed on his lips. He was sure this should have been obvious to you!

"I'm your Guardian Angel, of course I watch you. That's my entire job description."

You grunt and lean back further into the couch, his grip having gotten stronger, his body now turned to face you so that he could command your full attention.

"Pleeeeease. If you don't WANT to, that's different, but I've heard it feels good and we never get to experience any of your human pleasures up there."

The disappointed look on his ethereal face is what makes you reconsider, his eyes twinkling with happiness when you sit up and place your hand on his knee gently. You shouldn’t even be thinking about this. He was quite literally an Angel, and you’d be directly corrupting one of the purest creatures to exist.

"You know you aren't supposed to do this, right? You'd be sinning."

That fact hadn't quite occurred to him and you can see him question himself for only a moment before his look of concern is quickly replaced with the same curious sparkle that he'd had previously, his face lighting up as he speaks to you.

"surely something that feels as good as you make it look couldn’t be that big of a sin, right?"

With his eager consent, you slowly move your hand from where it was resting on his knee, dragging it across his thigh ever so gently before you allow it to settle on the slight bulge in his white pants, adding just enough pressure to send a shock through him as you palm his length until you can feel him hard in your hand. Maybe you shouldn’t be shocked by how responsive he is considering he has never stepped in to the realm of sexual interaction before, but you find it so hard to believe someone could be this easily affected by such simple touches.

Felix had definitely never been touched like this, never even exploring on his own as he had simply never felt the desire to before he had seen the look on your face when you were getting off own your own. He had never spared a thought to what it might feel like until he felt something stir in his stomach every time you got a little too close to him.

"Oh, wow! His cheeks flush red and he presses his hand over yours, unsure if he wants you to stop or to do more. He hadn’t expected to feel so overwhelmed.

"That feels really good…”

The light of his halo adds an unbearable innocence to his face and you find yourself caught staring, mapping every inch as you take in the purity that you're about to single handedly destroy. You would feel guilty if it wasn’t for the way he was pant, eyes staring into your own begging you for more of what he’s sure only you can provide him with.

"If you want to do this, I need you to spread your legs a bit."

Almost immediately, his thighs are spread apart, making plenty of room for you to situate yourself oh your knees in front of him. He’s already losing his mind, his hips bucking up into the air slightly when your fingers ghost over his thighs.

Soft locks of hair frame his pretty face as he watches you, his pants being tugged down his thighs until they're resting just above his knees. You can’t help but let out a surprised “oh” when you see that he has nothing underneath, his hard cock set free in all it’s glory. You’d be lying if you said you’d ever seen one that you’d consider pretty, yet here he is to prove all your previous ideas wrong.

Every tiny touch of your fingers against his sensitive skin makes him keen and the way he reacts when you lean in and nip at his flesh sends the same rush of excitement through you, your teeth dragging across his skin slow enough to drive him mad.

"Are you okay?"

He isn't thinking about anything except you, your hands and your soft skin and the way you look so sure and powerful and maybe he has wanted this for a while, his crush on you having built up since he first was assigned to watch over you. He vividly remembers the day he messed up and revealed himself to you and how easily you accepted him, always having been a believer in the paranormal and strange. Maybe, just maybe, he had wanted you.

"Yes, please!"

The desperate cracking in his voice is what spurs you on, sliding the tip of his cock into your mouth slowly as you stroke the rest, occasionally going just a little bit further so that you can hear the high-pitched whine he lets out. His usual heavy tone is replaced by something almost airy, his breathy moans meeting your ears like the sweetest melody as you take him deeper into your throat, swallowing around the tip as you feel him bucking up into your mouth.

You let him fuck your face and he has no rhythm, only chasing the searing burn of pleasure that is coursing through him with every drip of saliva down his cock and every filthy noise he hears as he presses in and out of your throat.

"I feel… weird…”

He struggles to get the words out, cut off by his own moans and whines. You weren’t shocked that he’d be ready to finish so quickly, reminding yourself that this was a completely new experience for him. You’re sure you’ll have other opportunities to see what he was capable of.

"It's okay, Lix. Give in to it."

That's exactly what he does, thrusting his hips up into your mouth until you can feel the warmth of his cum flooding your tongue, making you swallow around him to avoid choking. The sheer volume of it is enough to have some spilling from the corners of your mouth and you’re licking at your lips, noting for future reference that there is absolutely no taste to it. Maybe that was an angelic perk.

Once you're sure he's finished, you move away from him completely, fixing his pants before sitting yourself back beside him. You don’t protest when he slips your arm over him and cuddles against your side.

"Was that okay?"

He's still slightly dazed, but he nods, his voice sounding small when he responds.

"Felt like heaven."

#felix wmut #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids felix smut #skz felix smut

[piastree]

Take a Chance with Me | OP81

oscar piastri x reader (fc: huh yunjin)

— Part 4

Previous Part

Summary: When things aren't going well, Y/N takes a break for a while and redirects her focus to other things, spending more time with Oscar and her friends. Y/N's friends and Oscar consistently support her, ensuring Y/N is okay, even though she often insists she's fine. Disclamer: This is a story created for fun without any hate towards anyone. This work exists in a realm separate from the original canon. Characters may be divergent from their established personas. So, just enjoy the rollercoaster ride.

oscarpiastri added a story

landonorris are u proposing mate? oscarpiastri yeah mate, proposing to decide who pays the bill

yourbff

tagged yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, user and 29,112 others

yourbff Through thick and thin, we've been laughing side by side for ten fantastic years. Wishing you endless happiness❤️

view comments

user friendship goalsss

user they are so PRETTYYYY

user both of you are not only stunning but also funny😂

oscarpiastri reserving my spot for the next decade😁

yourbff you're claiming to be one of my best friend spot now? i'll ask y/n first for the approval

lilymhe

liked by oscarpiastri, alexalbon, carmenmmundt and 29,112 others

lilymhe nature therapy🍃💖

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user lily with y/n?????

user lol y/n just casually third-wheeling Lily and Alex😂

user mother, father and their daughter

user isn't y/n outfit too fancy for hiking??😂

lilymhe she thought we were just joking about going hiking😭

alexalbon y/n seemed a bit lost without oscar

oscarpiastri well, she loves being a dork

user MOTHER SLAYING AS USUAL😍

user Y/N is literally everywhere but not on her own Instagram :(

user yeah but we love seeing how people around her being so supportive

f1updates

liked by user, user, and 25,865 others

f1updates oscar was seen at a karting track with the young karteers yesterday

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user finally we got new pics of oscar!!

user it's cute seeing the interaction between the kids and oscar

user AH OSCAR I MISS U POOKIE

user this is so lovely<3

user no y/n?

user i guess y/n isn't kind of wags who sticks to her partner all the time🤷‍♀️

user agreed, i've seen her at races only a few times

user when she doesn't need him anymore, she throws him under the bus

user lol wdym she just know what she should prioritize. Even oscar himself said she has her own life

imessage

f1wags

liked by user, user, and 10,901 others

f1wags After a brief hiatus from social media, y/n makes a cameo on her friend's IG Live today! In today's live, she spilled the beans on some questions about her christmas holiday in Australia and the short getaway in Japan with Oscar. She couldn't help but gush about the incredible experience—her first time in Australia. Oscar played the perfect tour guide, showing her around his hometown and introducing her to his family. He also told us about their short getaway in Japan. Y/N explained that they haven't seen each other for more than two weeks as Oscar is already back to work—busy with meetings, simulator sessions, and prepping for the upcoming F1 season at the McLaren Technology Centre, and she have to return to her work and projects too.

And can we just say, we're glad the couple is still in good terms after the recent not-so-great rumors?

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user OMG, missed seeing you around, Y/N!

user she's talking about christmas in australia and their japan getaway? I need all the details!!

user she said they went to kyoto, disneyland, tried some street foods and traditional tea ceremony🥺

user i'm so happy y/n and oscar are still going strong and just ignore the haters and rumour

user their holiday stories are giving me major FOMO

user you radiate beauty and glow when you are unproblematic<3

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbff and 102,999 others

yourusername in 2023, my journey went from ginger to black, mirroring the different stages of my life. It's like a colorful map of my growth and transformation, representing the beautiful journey i've had. Grateful for the lessons, the love, and the incredible people i met along the way❤️

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yourbff always proud of you!!❤️

user you're the sweetest, y/n! please always be happy❤️

landonorris what's wrong with the last photo?

yourusername my reaction when u got pole in Brazil

landonorris really?

yourusername whatever makes u happy🤗

user wish you nothing but the best, y/n❤️

user caption on point💯

yourusername

tagged oscarpiastri

liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 29,954 others

yourusername same with me again next year?

view comments

user would be funny if oscar reacted with no

yourusername DON'T GIVE HIM IDEA

oscarpiastri i'll take that as reference thankyou😁

user adopt me

user the second pic is adorable😭

user this is the cutest photodump ever omfg

lilymhe ❤️❤️

yourusername love u mother, xo

oscarpiastri ready for another journey with me?

yourusername 💑💯

notes: honestly, i really want to put some conflict but i dunnoooo i can't bring myself to do it because i love them so much<///3 i dont want to mess with their lovey-dovey bickering dynamic:((( Maybe in the next part, I'll toss in some drama to keep things interesting hahaha lol. Thankyou for reading this chapter and hope u like it. Anyways, what do you think so far? Share your thoughts and let's have a chitchat with me<3

taglist: @fall-bambi @minkyungseokie @neoivy1

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri au #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri smau

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Public sexual acts, dubcon, cunnalingus.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels, sorry for the lack of updates, I had been caring for family and then got sick lol. But here is the next chapter! I'm hoping I can write some more, but please be patient with me right now, I'm quite tired! Anyway, thank you all for the love and support as always!! You are all so goddamn sweet. enjoy! <3

Chapter 80 : The Library

When you woke the next morning, Aemond’s arms were still wrapped tightly around you, your back to him and his front to you. You shifted, feeling the stickiness of his seed between your thighs. 

Aemond hummed, kissing your neck with an open mouth, a shudder rolling through your body.

Aemond continued to kiss your neck as you slowly woke up, wriggling in his hold. A soft huff was pressed into your neck as you arched backwards in his grip, feeling the pangs of desire move through you. 

“Wife.” Aemond purred in your ear.

Your core clenched, and you sighed shyly.

Rolling in his hold, you turned to kiss him lazily, brushing your hands through his loose silky strands as he grasped at your hips, using them to bring you against him.

He was hard. He was warm. He was wanting. 

Your hand moved between the two of you and Aemond hummed, pushing it away. You opened your eyes to look at him, his gaze already on you. Aemond pushed you backwards onto the bed and moved to hover over you, planting a soft kiss down your neck, over your exposed collarbones and the mounds of your breasts. 

Heat rolled inside of you as your hips bucked upwards towards him, but Aemond made no move to settle his hips between your legs, instead he continued to kiss a trail down your body, pulling the chemise over your breasts so that he could place wet kisses atop your stiffened peaks. 

You moaned as you watched him travel lower, lips pressing to your ribs, your stomach, and then finally, one to each side of your hip bones. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you looked down at him, his long hair flowing over his shoulders, a rogue strand or two delicately hanging in front of his face. 

His eye on you.

A small wave of anticipation moved through you as his mouth hovered in front of your heat. 

“Gevie.” Beautiful, He whispered, running a thumb through your folds.

Your back arched off the bed, thighs twitching as his thumb brushed over your bud. 

“Stay still.”

Aemond dipped his head, swiping his tongue through your slit, his eye closed as he moaned, lapping up his and yours combined spend. 

“Taste so good.” He murmured, tongue moving to dip into your entrance, “Better than any honeyed or spiced wine in all the realm.” 

You moaned loudly, feeling heat bloom in your stomach as your hips moved upwards, chasing his mouth. Aemond licked broad stripes through your folds, tongue flicking over your bud as his eye stayed shut in pleasure, groaning into your core. 

“Fuck.” You whined, your hand moving down your body to card through his hair, gripping it at the roots to pull him closer to you. To hold him against you. 

A large hand moved to splay across your hip bones, keeping you flat against the bed.

Aemond continued to lick and suckle at your core, the coil within you winding tighter, and tighter. Aemond was skilled, and whenever you moaned at a certain movement or action, he would repeat it. 

Mapping you out. 

Learning what you liked, what you disliked. 

Eager to please you.

Desperate to hear the little noises that escaped your parted and bite swollen lips.

And soon enough, two long fingers moved their way inside of you, skilled mouth unmoving from your pearl. The stretch was delicious, and you cursed into the chambers softly, head thrown back into the pillows as Aemond dragged them in and out. 

“Sylutegon sīr sȳz.” Taste so good, He groaned, sucking your bud into his mouth. 

Pleasure rocked through you, both hands gripping his hair as you tugged him against you, rocking your hips up into his face as you chased your high. 

“Close.” You whimpered, feeling the tip of his sharp nose press into your sensitive pearl. 

Aemond’s hand sped up, curling upwards inside of you as he broke away, dragging his eye to meet your gaze. He fucked his hand into you rapidly, the lewd sound of your wet heat filling the chambers. 

“Give it to me.” He purred, “Nyke gīmigon kostā sagon sȳz syt nyke.” I know you can be good for me.

You writhed beneath him, feeling his fingers brush over the pleasure spot inside of you. Aemond felt your core clench around his fingers and returned his mouth to where you needed him, licking and sucking with more vigour, desperate to push you over the edge. 

“Qogralbar,” Fuck, You whined, feeling Aemond's hand on your hip push down on your lower stomach, pleasure sparking a fire within, “Konīr, kostilus.” There, please.

Aemond groaned, eye shutting as his hand moved faster. 

“Ȳdra daor keligon.” Don’t stop.

Aemond sucked at your pearl, tongue bullying it in his mouth. Shooting white pleasure shot through you, sparking up your limbs as your release hit you hard. You twitched beneath him, moaning and whimpering as he kept fucking his fingers through your release, your head thrown back in the pillows as you squirmed. 

"Tolī olvie.” Too much, You whined, trying to move your hips away from Aemond who did not slow down. 

“Kesā tepagon nyke mēre tolī.” You will give me one more. 

And you did. 

After Aemond brought you to your second peak, he continued to lick at your entrance, drinking your essence and what remained of his out of you as you whined beneath him, eyes shut in ecstasy. 

For the next for days, Aemond could not keep his hands off of you. Each day the Prince spent his mornings eating with you, eating you, and occasionally coming down to the Gardens to see you, his hands always touching you in some way or another.

No matter what it was, his hands always found you. And then, so did the gifts. 

Flowers, books, jewellery.

Lemon tarts in the morning, lemon tarts in the evening, new gold or silver, fine jewels and stones. Star fruit that appeared beside your bed, or inside the bed with you in great piles astonished you to no avail.

Aemond had begun to court you. 

And it was suffocating. 

It was confusing, and enraging, and delightful all the same.

For every time your heart skipped at the gentle gesture, it would soon sink in disgust. A flower he would pick for you on your walk, delicately placing it in your hair. The new tomes that he would bring back to the chambers for you, acquired from some far off land, or a library that you did not have access to. The lemon tarts that he ordered to be freshly made and delivered to you in the Gardens when he was not there, or the star fruit in your chambers. 

It was too much.

Each jump, or skip, or tremble of your heart at the gestures, at the kindness, at the way he would bring you to your peak on his skilled fingers, or tongue, or stretched open on his cock, you would remember why you were there. You would remember what he had done. You would remember the reality of it all. And even with such prudent information, you still could not help but feel confused by it all. 

For you were thankful for his kindness, would blush at the gifts, and keen at his praise, but the fire inside you had not dwindled, and as soon as the joy came, it would be replaced by bitter and angry resentment. But you came to the realisation that it is better than fighting, and far better to have some points of joy be given to you, despite who from, and you continued to tell yourself that this was a way to turn him to your side and use him.

Almost a whole moon comes and goes, and your bond with Aemond is only strengthened.

By close proximity. By the walks you go on together. By the way that you are now able to talk without bickering, or snarling or snapping, if only not for a few times. It was almost as though you were children again.

And in that time, Aemond continued to whisper said prophesies to you, two of the same, one flame. 

And you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t believe it.

For you and Aemond were both similar in many ways. Used by the war. Worn down by succession. Both passed over for the throne. Both desperate to prove themselves. Both with unwavering loyalty to your families. Both riding the largest dragons known. 

Both scarred.

Both angry.

Both riddled with grief and rage. 

With the moon that almost passes, Aemond became more devoted to you. Asking after you, tending to your every needs, more jewellery and gowns than you surely needed. And with this, you pushed to see how far he is willing to go. 

It started off small, asking for more lemon tarts, star fruit, or other things you may have liked or wanted at inopportune times. Some new chemises, a specific wine from Dorne that only one family made far out from the city, and to your utter delight, Aemond delivered on your requests. 

And so you began asking for things that you knew were hard to get. 

A piece of Black Stone, you knew to be in Oldtown, with mysterious origins of where it came from, and what properties it had. You had read about it in one of the tomes Aemond had acquired for you, and when you had read that its solid form had an oily or greasy feel, you had asked Aemond if it was true.

Not more than few days later, a piece of Black Stone was sitting in the centre of your table. 

A Winter Rose, a rare and pale blue flower only known to grow in the Glass Gardens of Winterfell, their petals said to look like frost. And when you had mentioned to Aemond that you wished to see one some day, a few nights later, you woke to a single Winter Rose beside your bed in a glass vase. 

The petals did look like frost.

Aemond procured your demands each time without question. Though on one occasion, you asked after a necklace of Valyrian steel and emeralds that dripped from it.

You had pushed your luck.

And Aemond had turned to you with a frown, "Are you quite done testing me?”

That morning you had woken feeling sore, Aemond’s hunger preventing you from sleeping through the night as he had continued to plunge himself deep inside of you, chasing his high, seed spilling inside of you.

You decided after you ate that morning that you would go to the library to read, taking one of your new books with you, ‘The Loves of Queen Nymeria’. The library was quiet when you entered, all except the sounds of the crackling hearth that you sat curled in front of, book in lap. 

It was quiet for a time, and you were engrossed by the pages as you moved rapidly through the book, learning of a lover that she had taken in Dorne. A skilled warrior named Farraj, just as she was, and for a fleeting moment your mind travelled to Darras. His bright eyes, his tanned skin, his-

“I take that it is good.” Came the drawl of your uncle. 

Your eyes flicked up from the pages in your lap, landing on your husband who stood, towering over you with his hands behind his back, one foot jutted out at his side.

You cocked your head to the side as you looked at him, “You would be right.” 

“Hm. And what lover is she onto now?”

“Farraj, a warrior from Dorne. A man of great skill, and skin kissed from the sun.” You smiled up at him.

Aemond pursed his lips, “Sounds like you’re enjoying the description of Farras.”

“Farraj,” You corrected him, “And yes, he reminds me of a friend.”

Aemond's lips pressed into a thin line as he looked down his nose at you, “And do you know what happens to this mighty Farraj?” He took a step closer, and you shut the tome in your lap. 

“He is slain by her true lover. A Prince.” He lied.

You frowned, “No, he dies in battle, fighting for her.”

“Then he was lucky the Prince didn’t get to him first.”

You sighed loudly, “Aemo-“

“Do you think your friend could give you what I do?” He goaded, taking another step closer so that his knees brushed against yours, “Do you think he could please you the way I do?”

“Aemond, it's a book. A book you gave to me, mind you.” You snapped, looking up at him. 

Aemond bent forward and grabbed your chin, fingers pinching the flesh, “Gaomagon ao pendagon aōha raqiros qogralbar ao se ñuhoso gaoman?” Do you think your friend could fuck you the way I do?

His chest heaved as he looked at you, pupil expanding in the light of the fire, its warmth casting a shadow across his face, almost giving his sapphire eye the illusion of glowing. 

“Nyke gōntan daor jiōragon naejot sylugon, kepus.” I did not get to try, uncle.

You glared at Aemond as he straightened, letting go of your chin with a gentle shove, and before you knew it, Aemond was on his knees, pulling you towards the edge of the chaise by your ankles. A small squeak left your lips as he ripped your legs apart, frantically shoving your skirts up your hips.

“Aemond,” You hissed, slapping his hands as you tried to sit yourself back up, only to be dragged back down the seat, ass almost hanging over the edge, “Stop. Someone could see.”

“Let them see.” He growled, fingers digging meanly into the flesh of your thighs as he spread them open forcefully. 

Your heart raced in your chest, anxiety beginning to bloom. Your throat felt tight as he continued to be rough with you, his eye fixed on your core as it was finally exposed to the library. 

“Aem.” You whispered, feeling panic wind its way up your throat. 

It’s over. 

It's over. 

It’s Aemond.

“Sagon lyka.” Be quiet, Aemond snapped before diving his head between your parted legs, tongue darting out to lick at your sensitive core. 

A small cry left your lips as you gripped his shoulders, trying to push him away. It was too much. It was too soon. It was too sensitive. You were overwhelmed, and scared, and unsure. Anyone could walk in.

Aegon could walk in. 

Aegon. 

It was over. 

It’s Aemond. 

His tongue lapped at your core like a a man starved, dipping between your folds as he sought out your arousal, small sparks of pleasure beginning to ripple beneath your skin. Your hands moved to his forehead as you tried to push him back and away, only to have your hands slapped away gently. 

“Let me show you that there can be no one else but me. That no one else can give you what I do.” He purred, his eye finally meeting yours. His hair was messed at the front, lips wet from his ministrations, before he dived back in. 

You tried to steady your breathing, all too anxious in your surroundings, eyes darting around the room in case someone was to enter or see you in such a compromising position.

You were in the library for Gods sake, a public space of the Keep.

Did Aemond not understand the risk?

The Prince hummed into your heat as he continued to lick and suckle at your bud, rolling his tongue back and forth over it, then dipping down to your slit where he gathered your slick greedily with his mouth. 

A small whimper pealed from your lips as you tried to keep your sounds to a minimum, hand flying to your mouth to cover it. Aemond’s eye flicked to yours, grabbing your wrist and prying it away. 

“Want to hear you. Iksā va moriot sīr gevie.” You are always so beautiful. 

You gasped as you felt Aemond’s hand move up your calf before sliding between your thighs, long index fingers moving up and down your slit as he continued to mouth at your core hungrily. Slowly, he pushed his finger inside of you curling upwards, pleasure bursting within your gut. 

“Fuck.” You whispered, head thrown back momentarily before bringing your gaze back to the man between your thighs. He watched you hungrily as he began to drag his finger over the spot within you as his tongue worked in tandem. 

Aemond hummed, vibrations moving up your core and you felt yourself begin to lose yourself to pleasure as he added a second finger, the delicious stretch moving throughout you. It was a feeling of being full, yet not as full as you knew you could be. 

You brushed away the hair that had fallen over his face as he continued to pleasure you, soft moans and whines falling from your lips as your core clenched around his digits. He looked Godly. Cheeks blushed, eye half shut and pupil crazed as he began to speed up, feeling your release near. 

And in that moment as you looked at Aemond, sat on his knees on the stone floor of the library, face between your thighs and desperate to please you, you could not help but feel a spread of warmth through your chest and then straight down into your gut. 

“Sīr gevie.” So beautiful, You whispered, watching as his eye shut, fingers beginning to fuck into you faster, a small huff of air blown through his nose onto your pubic bone, almost like a sigh.

“Sīr gevie hae bisa.” So beautiful like this, You praised.

Aemond groaned against you, the wet sound of your core loud in the quiet library, but now you were lost to the pleasure he brought you, and you did not care to be found. In fact, in some ways you wished Otto Hightower or Ser Cole could walk in and see what their perfect Prince was doing to you. What his perfect tongue was doing to you. What his perfect, long, skilled hands were doing to you. 

You whined, “Jurnegon rȳ ao va aōha ybon, ipradagon ñuha orvorta.” Look at you on your knees, eating my cunt, You purred, feeling the hand on your thigh tighten into your soft flesh as he whined, fingers fucking into you deeper, "Fuck, sīr sȳz.” So good.

Aemond took his mouth from your centre but continued his hands movements, watching the way his fingers disappeared through your folds and inside of you. 

“Such a pretty cunt,” He cooed, your core clenching around his digits as you felt your peak begin to mount, “And all for me.”

“Just you,” You whimpered, closing your eyes as his lips made their descent back to your pearl, sucking on it, “Only yours.”

Aemond fucked his fingers into your faster, your breath stuttering in your chest as you rose to your peak. 

“Please, please.” You begged, twitching in his hold. 

With a flick of his tongue and the curl of his fingers Aemond brought your release crashing over you, a loud moan tumbling from your lips as he continued to fuck his fingers inside of you. 

“Good girl, so pretty. Look at you.” Aemond praised, watching as your core clenched around his fingers. 

Pleasure moved through your limbs as you laid limply back against the chaise, a light sheen of sweat settling upon your skin as you breathed heavily, Aemond’s hand stilling finally so that you could come down gently from your high.

You shut your eyes and hummed, letting the warm fuzzy feeling move through your body, vaguely aware of the gentle kiss Aemond pressed against your centre and each thigh before sitting up on his knees. 

Your eyes cracked open as you looked at him, mouth wet with your slick and cheeks pink. Aemond leant forward and pressed his lips to yours tenderly, tongue gently flicking against your bottom lip. Lips slotted against lips, and you let Aemond pull you closer, the taste of your arousal on your tongue as a hand gently brushed hair behind your ear. 

The wooden clicking of the library door caused your heart to jump in your chest, pulling away from Aemond as you looked over your shoulder. Aemond’s hands possessively went to your thighs, tugging you towards him, using his body to shield you from whoever was there, your skirts still around your waist.

At the door stood a blushing and flustered Ser Cole, eyes turned away from the both of you as his lips were pursed tightly together. You almost wanted to laugh, and your first thought was that it was a shame that he missed the show.

Silence filled the library, and you tried your best not to giggle.

“I think he has forgotten how to speak.” You whispered into Aemond’s ear, mirth in your voice as Ser Cole still had not spoken more than a moment later. 

“Speak, Ser Cole.” Aemond called across the library, still on his knees, not having moved from his compromising position. 

Ser Cole shifted on his feet, the sound of his armour clinking against itself, “The Small Council are to dine with the King this evening in the Great Hall.”

Your mouth felt dry.

“Lord Jason Lannister has arrived in King’s Landing and will be joining.” A beat, “The Princess is not required to dine with you all this evening.” 

Not required?

When have you ever not been required?

“Thank you, Ser Criston.” Aemond called across the room, turning his head back to you. 

Ser Cole gave a short bow and turned swiftly on his heel, obviously eager to leave the chambers, his eyes not once directed at the two of you. 

But his dismissal of you left a bad taste in your mouth, and as Ser Cole’s hand moved to the handle of the door, you called out to him. 

“Please inform the King that I shall be joining my husband to dine this evening.” You felt Aemond’s gaze on your face. 

Ser Cole did not turn to look at you, nor did he offer any inkling that he had heard you, instead moving out the door at rapid speed. 

“Y/n…” Aemond began, face soft as he looked at you.

“Hēnkirī hae mēre.” Together as one, You whispered.

This was a night to test your new bond with Aemond.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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