#female-presenting

[rjalker]

From Reddit, on a thread discussing how harmful terms like "feminine-presenting" are when assigned to other people without permission

[ID: A screenshot of a Reddit post by Meowmixplz9000, posted, and edited, 1 year before the screenshot was taken, reading: "I think it is a reductive way of looking at people. It is very binarist I think, and based in a sort of bioessentialist view, that womanhood / femininity is seen and expressed in certain ways approved by cisheteronormativity. I dont think it meets the criteria for decolonial anticapitalist transfeminism. And it attempts to shove in people who dont belong in that box, and exclude people who do want to be in there. I shouldnt have to prove that I am not my agab, just as people shouldnt have to prove that they are women, transfem and/or non binary. Our self-determination of our selves is valid." End ID.]

[asmimir]

small comic I made mid storm last night

[xo100]

Unwrapped feelings - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: At their birthday celebration, you feel upset when none of the gifts are for you. Lando reassures her of his love, making her feel cherished despite the oversight.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1494

୨ৎ

Lando Norris was the sun in her life, a constant, warm presence that filled her days with joy. She loved him deeply, and after three years of dating, her heart still fluttered when he looked at her the way he did. They were each other's best friends, sharing everything from their quiet nights at home to the busy life he led as a Formula 1 driver. Lando loved her, too. There was no question about that. He made sure to remind her with every touch, every soft kiss, and every whispered word when they were alone. But no matter how much love existed between them, there was a silent, looming cloud that she tried so hard not to notice. His friends.

They never liked her, and she couldn’t quite understand why. She wasn’t arrogant or boastful. In fact, she was quite the opposite—introverted, sweet, and often quiet, especially around large groups. She wasn't overly outgoing or dramatic, and she certainly wasn’t trying to steal Lando away from his friends. But still, whenever they were together with his friends or the rest of the team, she could feel their subtle distance. The sideways glances when she spoke, the quick change of conversation when she joined a group—it all added up.

It wasn’t as though she had never tried to bridge the gap, either. Early in their relationship, she had gone out of her way to be friendly, to make conversation, and to show interest in their lives. But the more she tried, the more it felt like she was only getting further away from them. Over time, she stopped trying so hard, and she retreated back into the quiet comfort of just being by Lando’s side. After all, he was the one she loved. As long as they were okay, nothing else should matter, right?

But it did. Even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud, it hurt that the people closest to Lando—the ones he spent so much of his life with—didn’t seem to care for her. And that quiet hurt always seemed to linger at the back of her mind.

This weekend, however, was supposed to be special. A day for both of them, a moment to celebrate not only Lando’s birthday but hers as well. The idea to celebrate their birthdays together was something Lando had insisted on. They were only a few days apart, and since Lando had such a busy schedule, he suggested one big party where they could celebrate together. He even offered to host it at the McLaren Technology Centre, a place he called home and wanted to share with her.

“Everyone will be there,” he had said, his excitement bubbling over. “My friends, the team, some of the drivers. It'll be great!”

She had nodded with a smile, her heart hopeful that maybe this would be a chance to connect with everyone on a different level, in a more relaxed and festive atmosphere. Her own friends, though invited, couldn’t make the trip to England, and while she understood, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit lonely knowing she wouldn’t have her usual support system there. Still, this was about Lando too, and she wanted to focus on making sure he had the best time.

The night of the party had been a whirlwind. Lando was glowing, his energy infectious as he mingled with everyone, laughing and sharing stories. She stayed by his side for most of the night, smiling softly at his friends and the team members who came over to greet him, though she noticed the conversations were always directed toward him and never her. It stung, but she pushed the feelings aside. Tonight was supposed to be fun.

After hours of laughter, music, and food, the party wound down, and as the guests began to leave, Lando took her hand, guiding her toward a large table piled high with presents.

“Look at all this,” he grinned, his eyes twinkling as he took in the sight. “I think we’re going to need all day tomorrow to open them.”

She chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. There were a lot of gifts, far more than she had expected. She didn’t think either of them would need much, but it was still heartwarming to see how much effort people had put into celebrating them.

Or so she thought.

The next day, after a lazy morning spent in bed, they finally sat down to open the gifts. Lando was practically buzzing with excitement, while she was content to sit beside him, happy to enjoy the moment with him.

The first few presents were exactly what she had expected—personalized items for Lando. Some McLaren-themed memorabilia, a few playful gag gifts from his friends, and even a sleek, custom helmet from one of the drivers. She watched with a soft smile as he unwrapped each one, his grin widening with every thoughtful present.

But as more and more gifts were opened, a realization slowly started to creep in. Every single present was for Lando.

She tried not to let it bother her at first. After all, Lando was the one who had more friends here, the one with the larger circle. It made sense that most of the gifts would be for him. But as the pile grew smaller and not a single gift was addressed to her, the hurt became harder to ignore.

There wasn’t a single present for her.

Not one.

By the time they reached the last box, she felt her heart sink. She had tried to stay positive, tried to convince herself that maybe someone had forgotten to label a gift, or maybe they’d gotten mixed up in the rush of the party. But no. Every gift had been intentionally for Lando, and her name hadn’t even been a second thought.

“Wow,” Lando breathed as he looked at the collection of gifts surrounding them. “That was… that was a lot.”

She nodded quietly, trying to keep her smile in place. Her hands fiddled with the ribbon from one of the opened boxes, trying to distract herself from the growing ache in her chest.

“Hey,” Lando said softly, noticing her quietness. “You okay?”

She glanced up at him, his blue eyes filled with concern. She could see how much he cared, how much he genuinely wanted to make sure she was happy. It wasn’t his fault that his friends had overlooked her. It wasn’t his fault that she felt so out of place among them.

“Yeah,” she whispered, forcing a smile. “I’m fine. I’m just… happy for you. You got so many cool things.”

He frowned, clearly not convinced by her answer. “But you didn’t get anything.”

Her stomach twisted, and she hated that she was the one bringing down the mood. “It’s okay, Lando. Really. Today was for both of us, but I know how important you are to them. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine, and he could tell. His brows furrowed as he scooted closer to her, taking her hand in his.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, lifting her chin so she would look at him. “It’s not fine if you’re upset. You’re important too. To me.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She didn’t want to cry, not over something as silly as gifts. But the hurt wasn’t just about the presents. It was about everything—the way his friends never really accepted her, the way she always felt like an outsider in his world.

“I just…” She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I just feel like they don’t see me. Like I don’t belong here. I know I’m not outgoing or loud or… like them. But I try, and it never seems like it’s enough.”

Lando’s expression softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against her hair. “I didn’t realize how much this was affecting you. But I promise, you do belong. You belong with me.”

His words were warm and comforting, but they didn’t erase the ache entirely. Still, being in his arms made her feel a little better. She rested her head against his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re the most important person to me,” he continued, his voice gentle but firm. “And if my friends can’t see how amazing you are, then that’s their loss. I love you, and that’s what matters.”

She smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for him. Lando always knew how to make her feel better, even when the world around them felt like it was crumbling.

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. The gifts, the party, the friends—they all faded into the background as Lando held her close, reminding her that she was loved. And in that moment, that was enough.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it. If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know!

[omens-for-ophelia]

A Third Alternate Rendezvous (1/3)

Aziraphale and Crowley don't always meet up for strictly business... sometimes, a pair of immortal celestial beings just need a night to blow off some steam...

(transmasc crowley using he/him, fem presenting aziraphale using she/they for now)

part of the birthday gift for my lovely @ineffabildaddy 🩷 part 2 will be posted here, but part 3 will likely be nsfw 🤭 you have been warned!

& massive respect for comic artists this is incredibly difficult to put together 🙏

[come-away-with-me87]

Threefold Temptation

Warnings: NSFW - Smut - 18+ - MDNI

******

This one here is for @vannylen2144, who requested this prompt.  I've never written smut for a threesome before; I hope I did it justice for you, my friend :)

******

Pairings: Shouta Aizawa (Eraserhead) x Fem!Reader x Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic)

******

You just got out of a six-year relationship with your boyfriend; he cheated on you with a close girlfriend of yours.  Your "friend" felt so badly about what happened, she admitted everything to you.  You were hurt, of course, but you somewhat felt a sense of relief. Your relationship with your boyfriend had gone sour, and subconsciously, you had been looking for an out.  Cheating was an absolute no-no in any type of relationship, so you dumped him, and cut off contact with your friend.  For the first time in six years, you were single, and you were determined to have fun with it.  Which brought you the unforeseen situation you were in tonight with your friends, Shouta Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada.  

You worked at U.A. High School as a teacher, and over time became close with the two of them.  One Friday, not too long after your breakup, Hizashi asked if you wanted to grab a drink with him and Shouta after work.  You readily agreed, thinking you would have a good time with friends, and that maybe you'd meet a handsome guy you could have some fun with.  Hizashi grinned at you, "cool, Y/N!  You deserve a night out after what you've been through lately."  You always thought Hizashi was sweet; he came across as a big goofball, but you knew he had a sweet side.  You became friends with him first.  Shouta was a tougher egg to crack, but eventually, you wiggled your way into his life, and he had accepted you as a friend.  

The work day came to an end on Friday, and you agreed to meet up with Hizashi and Shouta at the bar around 7:00pm.  You went home after work, and got a shower.  After your shower, you blow dried your hair into curly waves, and put on some makeup.  Since you were hoping for a nice makeout session tonight, you wore a short black clingy dress that showcased your curves nicely, and you opted for thigh-high stockings with a lace trim, and a pair of black heels.  You did a once-over in your full-length mirror, and thought you looked good. You grabbed your shimmery shawl, your purse and keys, and headed out the door to your car.

You arrived at the bar shortly after 7:00pm.  You knew it would be crowded based on the amount of cars in the parking lot, but it was even more packed inside than you anticipated.  You walked around the bar, and eventually spotted your dark and light haired friends sitting in a booth, to which Hizashi noticed you and waved you over.  You arrived at your booth and sat down, and took both of them in.  They were both out of their hero attire; Shouta was wearing his hair back in a ponytail, had a black v-neck long sleeve shirt on, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  And Hizashi was also wearing his hair down in a low ponytail, and had a plain white tee-shirt on.  They looked good.  As if he was reading your mind, Shouta looked you up and down, saying, "you look gorgeous tonight, Y/N."

You sat down in the booth in between Shouta and Hizashi, and the three of you ordered beers along with three shots.  "Cheers to Y/N!" Hizashi exclaimed, "who is now free from that asshole!"  "CHEERS!" you excitedly exclaimed, and the three of you clinked your shot glasses together.  The conversation flowed organically between the three of you, and you were having a lot of fun.  You had totally forgotten about your idea of making out with a random man, you were having so much fun.  As the night went on, you felt both Shouta and Hizashi getting closer to you, eventually to the point where your thighs were touching each of theirs under the booth.  You felt your face get hot; you blamed it on the alcohol.  However, deep down, you felt good being close to Shouta and Hizashi.  You suddenly had an idea.

"Hey you guys, I have beer at my place. Instead of paying for the overpriced drinks here, why don't we go have a nightcap at my place?"  They both agreed.  The three of you threw down money on the table towards the tab and left the bar to go to your place.  Once you arrived at your place, you grabbed three beers from the fridge and brought them out to the living room.  Once again, you found yourself sandwiched between Shouta and Hizashi on your couch, and they were close.  The conversation continued to flow between the three of you, when suddenly, you saw that it was close to midnight.  "Wow, time really flew tonight. I'm really glad you guys brought me out, I needed that."  Shouta and Hizashi both looked at you and smiled, then looked at each other.  In a bold move, Hizashi said, "the night doesn't have to end here, Y/N.  You mentioned at the bar that you wanted to have some fun tonight; we can make that happen for you."

Suddenly, Hizashi leaned over towards you and started kissing and sucking on your neck.  You never viewed Shouta or Hizashi in a sexual way, so you were surprised at how good his touch felt on you.  As Hizashi kissed and sucked on your neck, Shouta put his hand on your thigh below your dress, and started rubbing it back and forth.  You felt just as good from Shouta's touch as you did with Hizashi.  Suddenly, you found yourself leaning into Hizashi's kissing, and you put your hand over Shouta's hand on your thigh. You turned your head towards Hizashi, and began to kiss him passionately.  While you were kissing him, Shouta pulled your hair to the side, and began sucking on the back of your neck.

You thought this would be awkward or uncomfortable, but it felt incredible.  As you continued to kiss Hizashi, you found both of your hands trailing up both of their thighs onto the crotch of their pants; they were both already rock hard, which turned you on; having this effect on two men.  You pulled away from your kiss with Hizashi, not wanting Shouta to feel left out.  You turned towards Shouta, and began to kiss him.  Shouta cupped your cheek with his hand, while Hizashi took this opportunity to take his clothes off.  You momentarily pulled away from your kiss with Shouta, and took Hizashi in.  Despite being thin, he was very toned, and you were aroused at what you saw.  

While you were pulled away from the kiss, Hizashi took this opportunity to pull your dress up over your head, leaving you in your lacy black bra and panty set, and thigh-high stockings.  "You're so sexy, Y/N," Shouta said while rubbing his hand back and forth across your tits over your bra.  "Take off your clothes, too, Shouta," you mewled while Hizashi stood there stroking his hard cock.  You felt your mouth salivating at the sight of him fisting himself, and suddenly, you found yourself on your knees on the floor right in front of Hizashi.  You grabbed the base of his cock, and began swirling your tongue around the tip, eventually taking him to the back of your throat, to which he groaned your name.

While you bobbed up and down on Hizashi's cock, Shouta got up and started spanking your ass.  "That's a good girl, Y/N, take his cock down your throat."  After a few moments, you pulled away from Hizashi's cock, sat back down on the couch, and patted on the couch on either side of you, motioning for them to sit back down.  At this point, you got a good look at Shouta.  He was very muscular, which you never noticed under his hero outfit.  They sat back down on either side of you, and you took each of their cocks into your hands and started stroking them.  Shouta took this opportunity to unhook your bra, and both men started kissing and suckling on your tits.  You threw your head back in pleasure and started moaning at the sensation.  While they continued to play with your tits, Hizashi took his hand and reached down between your thighs and began to rub back and forth over your clothed clit.

"You're already so wet for us, baby," Hizashi exclaimed while you continued to stroke his cock.  "Let us make you feel good now."  Hizashi got up, pulled you up by your hands, and pulled your panties down your legs, leaving you in just your stockings.  "Keep those on, they're so sexy on you," he grunted.  He gently pushed you back down on the couch, put his head in between your legs, and started kissing on your inner thighs until he reached your cunt, which was throbbing.  He began to lick and suck on your clit, to which you moaned loudly.  While Hizashi went down on you, Shouta turned your head towards his and began kissing you, his tongue intertwining with yours.  You ran your hand up and down his muscular chest while you kissed.  You felt the familiar build up of an orgasm coming on, and finally, that coil burst inside of you.  

"Good girl..." Hizashi murmured against your cunt.  He got back onto the couch and sat on the other side of you, his cock glistening with precum.  You began to stroke each of their cocks again, while Shouta leaned back down to your tits and took turns suckling on each of your nipples.  Meanwhile, Hizashi resumed kissing and sucking on your neck.  "I think...ah," you squealed as Shouta gently bit down on your nipple, "I think we should take this to the bedroom."  You got up from the couch, grabbed both of them by their hands and led them into the bedroom.  You faced Shouta first, leaned towards him and started kissing him feverishly, while Hizashi came right up behind you and grabbed you by the fat of your hips, rubbing his cock up and down your ass.

Shouta pulled away from the kiss, and instructed you to lay down on the bed on your back.  You did just as he said, and in a flash, he was hovering over top of you, cock aligning with your wet entrance.  Hizashi came over to the bed and got on his knees on the side of your head.  "Turn your face towards me, Y/N. I want you to suck on my cock while Shouta fucks you senseless."  You did just as he said, as well, and Shouta asked if you were ready.  You couldn't believe you were in this situation with these two very attractive men, but somehow, it felt right.  "I'm ready."  Shouta pushed his cock inside of you, his muscular arms on either side of you, and started slowly fucking you.  As you adjusted to his size, he began to thrust in and out at a quicker pace.

You turned your head and looked up towards Hizashi, who was fisting his cock while watching Shouta fuck you.  You had him inch closer, and you grabbed his cock and took it all the way down your throat until you gagged.  Hizashi groaned at the sound of you gagging.  "That's right, choke on my cock, baby."  Both men found a steady rhythm with you; Shouta was fucking your pussy while Hizashi fucked your mouth.  While you had his cock in your mouth, Hizashi leaned over to play with your clit while Shouta thrust in and out of you.  You felt another orgasm coming on, and once again you felt that coil inside of you burst, and you came all over Shouta's cock and Hizashi's fingers. "That's a good girl," Shouta grunted; his thrusts were becoming more erratic.  You could tell he was reaching his limit soon.

Suddenly, Shouta pulled out of you, and positioned himself over your chest; he was going to come on your tits, which you found to be incredibly hot.  He started jerking himself off until he eventually did just that.  He leaned his one hand on the pillow your head was on, and groaned while he came all over your tits.  Meanwhile, you could also tell Hizashi wasn't far behind Shouta.  He clutched your head and grasped your hair with both of his hands, and continued to fuck your mouth until he finally came down your throat.  He pulled out of your mouth, and began panting heavily.  "Stick your tongue out, Y/N.  I want to see that you swallowed every last drop."  You did just as he asked, and he smiled down at you and, while still panting, leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss.  Shouta took this opportunity to get up from the bed, and went into your bathroom.  In a sweet gesture, he came back out with a warm washcloth and cleaned you up.

Both men ended up collapsing on either side of you.  Shouta fell asleep first, turning towards you and draping his arm over your belly.  You kissed him on the forehead while he slept.  Hizashi turned towards you next, smiling while he gently cupped your face and kissed you on the lips.  "That was incredible, Y/N. You're incredible," he said as he also fell into his own slumber.  You felt your own eyelids getting heavy, and before you fell asleep, you laid there and smiled, thinking you were the luckiest girl in the world right now.

******

The end.

[torawro]

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 ♡♡.

[rjalker]

People who assign others as being "female-presenting" or "feminine-presenting" or "male-presenting" or "masculine-presenting" are very, very blatantly just prioritizing their own comfort over anyone's actual identity.

They think you look like a man, so they're going to say you're presenting yourself as male or masculine.

They think you look like a woman, so they're going to say you're presenting yourself as female or feminine.

They do not want to confront the fact that their bias of assuming genders is harmful, so instead of taking the time to unpack their own thoughts and feelings, they turn their discomfort outward and start claiming that you are the reason you're being misgendered, because you're not putting in enough effort to make their bias flip to the other side of the binary coin.

"If you don't want to be called a man, try harder to look like a woman". "If you don't want to be called a woman, try harder to look like a man", is the logic going on here.

They don't want to accept the fact that men can "look like women" and women can "look like men", and they definitely do not fucking want to acknowledge that people who are neither, or both, exist.

In their minds it must be one or the other -- man or woman, male or female, masculine or feminine. And if they think you look like one of those things, well, that's your fault now, and not something they need to unpack.

Because accepting that the strict gender binary of "male OR female, with no crossover or anything in between or anything outside of those two options" is fake is too much effort and would upset them.

They don't want to think about the fact that you can't tell someone's gender by looking at them. They don't want to think about the fact that every other person in the world has a mind of their own and thought and feelings internal to themselves. They just want to see everyone else as a mindless automaton who only exists when they're looking, and has no identity or autonomy to itself.

They don't want to break down the gender binary, because the gender binary is the only thing they care to understand.

They don't care that they're misgendering people, as long as they can pretend that they're being progressive by using The Right Language™ (that trans people have been criticizing for years), and actually, if they misgender someone by assuming someone's gender, that's not their fault! It's the fault of the victim, for not putting in enough effort to check the boxes that would make their bias flip in the other direction.

And if there is no acceptable "other direction" for you, because you're neither a man nor a woman, or you're always both, or more?

Well, to these people, you simply do not exist, and that's the way they like it. Because you complicate things and upset their worldview, and maintaining their internal status quo worshiping the gender binary is the only thing that matters to them.

As long as they think they can get away with it, they will happily misgender anyone they want, and by using "x-presenting" terminology, they are actively laying the blame for their own actions at the feet of their victim, and patting themselves on the back for being So Progressive™

[solelifauna]

Yandere EraserMic x Reader (Commission for @ayn-yurbestie)

Thank You so much @ayn-yurbestie for supporting my page! I hope you enjoy the fic!!

You had always prided yourself on your instincts. As a former pro hero, instincts were what kept you alive during missions, during late-night patrols in the dark streets, and in confrontations with villains. It was the same instinct that had once guided you to victory, the same instinct that told you when to strike and when to retreat. It was also that very instinct that was now screaming in your head—telling you that something was horribly, terribly wrong.

You were no longer a hero; that life had been ripped from you the day All for One had taken your quirk. All for One was gone now, defeated by All Might, but the damage he had done to you was irreversible. Powerless, you were forced into early retirement.

Sure your power wasn’t flashy or explosive like some of the top pro heroes, but it was something. You had telekinesis, the ability to move objects with your mind. It wasn’t the strongest quirk out there, and you knew that. You couldn’t lift entire buildings or hurl debris the way some of your peers could with their brute strength. But your quirk had its uses, its purpose. In the field, you were invaluable in the smaller, more delicate moments, where precision and care were needed more than raw power.

You were never the front-line fighter, but you had saved people—so many people—because of that careful control you honed over the years. Whether it was pulling civilians out from under rubble with a gentle thought or stopping a speeding car just before it could crash, your telekinesis gave you purpose. It was how you helped, how you made a difference. And in a world where quirks often defined your worth, it was enough. Even though you sometimes envied the heroes with flashier abilities, you were content. You were proud of what you could do.

But when All for One took your quirk, it felt like a piece of your soul was ripped away.

The day you found out your powers were gone for good was like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. It was surreal at first. You remembered trying to move a small object, something as simple as a cup, just to see if the connection was still there. But it wasn’t. You tried again, harder, focusing with every ounce of strength you had, but nothing happened. The cup sat on the table, unmoving. And that’s when it hit you—the horrifying realization that you would never feel that connection again. The subtle hum of your quirk, the pulse of energy that had always been there, was gone. Just–gone.

Losing your quirk felt like losing your identity. Without it, who were you? The world didn’t need a quirkless hero. You no longer had the power to save people, to help. The purpose you had lived for, the very thing that gave your life meaning, was stripped away from you in an instant. It wasn’t just the loss of your powers—it was the loss of yourself. You weren’t important anymore. You were just another powerless person in a world filled with those who could still make a difference.

The depression that followed was like a suffocating blanket, and for a long time, you weren’t sure how to keep going. You’d always known there was more to life than your quirk, but it had been your purpose. Without it, the world became dull, every day a reminder of what you could no longer do. You stopped seeing friends, stopped going out, even stopped answering your phone most days.

And that’s when Hizashi and Aizawa stepped in.

They were your lifeline. They stayed by your side when the world felt like it was crumbling. Hizashi, with his boundless optimism, never let you sink too deep into despair. He would show up at your door with takeout or coffee and insist on dragging you out of the apartment, forcing you to see the sunlight, to breathe fresh air. Aizawa, on the other hand, was quieter in his support. He never pushed, never prodded, but he was always there. Sitting with you in silence when words wouldn’t come, offering a comforting presence that made you feel less alone.

You had leaned on them more than you realized at the time. They were the ones who kept you grounded, who helped you feel like maybe, just maybe, you still had some value. They didn’t treat you like a failure, didn’t see you as “just quirkless.” They treated you like you. And for a while, it helped. It gave you the strength to start rebuilding your life, even if it was a life without hero work.

You had always been grateful to them for that—for helping you when you felt like you were drowning. 

You never imagined that same support would turn into something more sinister.

After that, life had become quieter, less exciting, but you'd managed. You tried your best to adapt, to live a "normal" life—though nothing about being quirkless in a society full of heroes was truly normal. But lately... something had changed.

It started small—little things you tried to dismiss. Hizashi insisting on accompanying you everywhere, even to mundane tasks like grocery shopping; Aizawa constantly checking in on you, dropping by unannounced, or sending texts at odd hours to make sure you were "safe." At first, you thought it was just their way of looking out for you. After all, you were quirkless now, they were probably worried that you were more vulnerable. So, you just called it off as the two being worry-warts.

But as time passed, slowly, their behavior became more suffocating. Hizashi would show up at your apartment early in the morning, coffee in hand, saying he wanted to "spend time" with you, his energy far too high for the early hours; Aizawa would come in the evening, staying late into the night, lounging on your couch like he lived there. They would ask questions—innocuous at first, but they slowly grew more invasive. 

“Where were you going?” 

“Who were you with?” 

“What time would you be back?”

Something about the way they looked at you had shifted too. Hizashi’s usual bright smile now seemed strained, the glint in his eyes unsettling. Aizawa’s gaze, once indifferent, had become sharp, always watching, always observing. You started feeling like prey under their gaze, and the worst part was, they acted like nothing had changed, like this was perfectly normal behavior.

You tried to distance yourself. You told them you needed time alone, space to process your new life. You even started lying about your whereabouts, saying you were out of town, too busy to meet. But it didn’t work. They were always there, lurking, like shadows you couldn’t escape.

It all came to a head one cold autumn evening.

You had decided to confront them. Maybe if you explained your concerns, they would back off. Maybe it was all in your head, and you were just being paranoid. After all, they were your friends. Right?

You invited them over to your apartment, hoping to clear the air. The moment they arrived, you felt the tension crackling in the air. Hizashi’s usual cheerfulness was there, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Aizawa was as stoic as ever, but his gaze was piercing, as though he could see right through you.

“So, what’s up, baby?” Hizashi asked, plopping down on your couch with a wide grin, using that affectionate nickname that you once found endearing but now grated on your nerves.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “We need to talk.”

Aizawa leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his dark eyes fixed on you. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure of how to put your feelings into words without sounding accusatory. But you couldn’t back down now. “I just–I feel like things have been different between us. I need space. I need to figure things out on my own, without you both hovering over me all the time.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Hizashi’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“Hovering?” he repeated, his voice deceptively light.

Aizawa remained silent, his expression unreadable, but the air around him seemed to grow heavier.

“Yes,” you said, trying to stay firm. “I appreciate that you care about me, but I’m not a child. I’m not helpless. I need to be able to live my life without feeling like I’m constantly being watched.”

Hizashi’s grin twisted into something darker, something almost predatory. “We’re just looking out for you, songbird. You know the world’s dangerous, especially for someone without a quirk.”

“And who knows what kind of people are out there,” Aizawa added, his voice low, almost a growl. “We’re the only ones who can keep you safe.”

You took a step back, your instincts flaring to life. Danger. The way they were looking at you now—possessive, controlling—set off alarms in your mind. This wasn’t the reaction of concerned friends. This was something else entirely.

“I don’t need your protection,” you said, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts to stay calm. “I can take care of myself.”

Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. “No, you can’t.”

Before you could react, Hizashi was on his feet, moving faster than you anticipated. He grabbed your wrist, his grip tight and unyielding. “We’re not letting you go, baby! Not now. Not ever.”

Panic surged through you, adrenaline flooding your system.

“Hizashi, let go,” you said, your voice tight with alarm. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin with surprising strength. Your heart began to race as you looked over at Aizawa, who was standing silently near the door, watching the scene unfold with that same calm, emotionless expression.

Panic surged through you, adrenaline flooding your system. You yanked your arm back, managing to break free from Hizashi’s grasp immediately backing up towards the door, heart pounding in your chest. This isn’t happening. 

“Relax, baby,” Hizashi murmured, his voice unnervingly soft, “we’re not going to hurt you. We just–we need you to come with us.”

His words sent a bolt of fear through you. This wasn’t a misunderstanding. This was planned.

Your pulse spiked, adrenaline surging through your veins as the realization fully sank in. You jerked your arms free from Hizashi’s grasp, stepping back with wide eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?” you spat, your voice rising. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

Aizawa pushed off the wall, his expression cold, calculating. “That’s not going to happen, (Y/n). You’re coming with us, one way or another.”

Panic flooded your body, and you took another step back, your mind racing. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. They were your friends. You tried to reach for something, anything, to defend yourself, but before you could act, Hizashi lunged, grabbing you again—harder this time.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, twisting violently in his grip, but he was stronger than you. He always had been. Quirkless or not, you still knew how to fight. You swung an elbow back, connecting with Hizashi’s side, and he grunted in pain. The moment his grip loosened, you bolted. Instinct took over again, and you lunged toward the nearest object—a lamp on the side table. You swung it at Aizawa, who ducked just in time, but the distraction gave you enough time to bolt toward the door.

But Aizawa was faster.

Before you could even reach the handle, something whipped around your ankles, pulling you off balance. His capture weapon. You crashed to the ground with a sharp cry, your knees slamming into the floor. Pain shot up your legs, but you didn’t stop. You twisted onto your back, kicking wildly as Aizawa’s scarf tightened around you, but he didn’t flinch. His eyes were hard now, his calm demeanor replaced with a cold determination.

“Stubborn as always,” Aizawa muttered, pulling you back toward him with a slow, deliberate motion.

You struggled, kicking and clawing, trying to break free, but his scarf tightened around you, binding your arms to your sides. Hizashi was suddenly there, grabbing your legs and pinning them down.

“Fuck you!” you shouted, clawing at the scarf, trying desperately to loosen its grip. “Let me go!”

Aizawa’s eyes flickered with something you couldn’t place—regret, maybe? It didn’t matter. His capture weapon tightened, and you could feel it constricting around your wrists, pinning your arms to your sides. “You’ll hurt yourself if you keep fighting.”

The anger bubbling inside you reached a boiling point. You thrashed in his hold, kicking and writhing as the fear and betrayal turned into a raw, primal rage.

Hizashi’s grin was gone, replaced with a look of dark satisfaction. “Come on now, baby. No need to fight us. You’re ours.”

“Please,” you gasped, your voice breaking. “Don’t do this.”

Aizawa crouched down beside you, his hand gently brushing your hair out of your face. “We’re doing this because we love you, (Y/n). You’ll understand soon enough.”

Before you could protest further, you felt a sharp prick in your arm. A needle. And just like that the world around you started to blur, your limbs growing heavy as whatever drug concoction coursed through your veins.

“No...” you whispered, your vision darkening. “No...”

The last thing you saw was Aizawa’s cold, calculating gaze and Hizashi’s too-bright smile before the world went black.

When your consciousness fully returned, you tried to focus, but the haze from the drugs still clung to you like fog. Your limbs felt sluggish, and your thoughts were scattered. As the seconds ticked by, awareness seeped back in, and with it, came the terror. You tugged at the restraints binding your wrists, but they didn’t give. The soft material was deceptively gentle, but they held you firmly in place. A glance around the room made the walls seem closer, the dim lighting barely enough to see. Panic set in as you realized the full extent of your situation. You were trapped. Kidnapped by the very people you had once trusted.

The memories rushed back—the confrontation with Hizashi and Aizawa, the struggle, the needle. They had taken you. Your stomach churned as the reality of it hit you with full force. These were the people you had once called your friends, comrades. You had trusted them, fought alongside them. Now they had taken everything from you, just like All for One had taken your powers.

That thought, the loss of your quirk, stabbed at you with an old ache. Your powers were gone, leaving you defenseless. You were no longer a hero; you were no one. Just a quirkless, vulnerable shell of who you used to be. Even worse, you had no family to notice your absence. You had distanced yourself from most of your friends after your forced retirement, trying to rebuild your life in isolation.

You were completely alone.

Nobody would come looking for you.

And who would even suspect them? Two beloved pro heroes, trusted by the public, adored by their students, respected by their peers. No one would ever believe that Present Mic and Eraserhead had kidnapped someone. That thought alone sending a chill down your spine.

Your breathing grew uneven as the weight of your situation pressed down on you. How had it come to this? You had always known something was off with their behavior, but you hadn’t imagined this. This betrayal felt like a physical blow, a deep wound that no amount of healing could fix.

And then it boiled over. The anger surged through you like a wildfire, burning away the fog in your mind. You yanked at the restraints, your muscles straining as you twisted in bed, trying to free yourself, but it was futile.

“Why?!” you screamed, your voice hoarse, desperation lacing every word. “Why are you doing this?! What is wrong with you?”

The door to the room creaked open, and they stepped inside as if on cue, as though they had been waiting just beyond the door. Aizawa was as calm and collected as always, his dark eyes expressionless, while Hizashi wore a soft, almost sympathetic smile that made you want to scream even more.

“You’re awake,” Aizawa observed quietly, his voice low and measured. “Good.”

You ignored him, focusing instead on the knot of betrayal and confusion that twisted in your chest. 

“Why are you doing this?” you repeated, your voice breaking now. “I trusted you! You were my friends!”

Hizashi stepped closer, hands raised in what he must have thought was a calming gesture. “We’re your friends, baby. We love you.”

“This isn't love!” you shouted, fury and fear colliding in your chest. “You kidnapped me! You drugged me! This is—this is insane!”

Your heart raced, the walls of the room closing in on you as the magnitude of what was happening sank deeper into your bones. Every breath felt tighter, like there wasn’t enough air, like the room was shrinking. You tugged at the restraints again, your body fighting against the impossible, but all it did was make your head spin.

Panic clawed at you, rising quickly, uncontrollably. It was a feeling you hadn’t had in a long time, not since–

Not since them.

The memories you had tried so hard to bury came rushing back. The League of Villains. All for One. The dark, cold rooms where you had been held captive for weeks, powerless and helpless. The suffocating sensation of being watched, manipulated, tortured, and toyed with. The feeling of having no escape.

It was happening all over again.

Your breath hitched in your throat as the panic attack overwhelmed you, your chest tightening until you couldn’t breathe. You could hear Hizashi’s voice, soothing, but distant, as though he was speaking from the other side of a wall.

“Hey, hey, easy now, baby. Breathe for me, okay? It’s going to be alright.”

His voice blurred with the rush of your pulse in your ears. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. All you could feel was the crushing weight of being trapped, of losing everything again. Your hands shook uncontrollably as you tried to pull in a breath that wouldn’t come. The room tilted, spinning, suffocating.

Aizawa moved closer, his presence steady, grounding. He reached out, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice calm, firm. “Breathe. You’re safe.”

Safe. The word felt like a mockery. Nothing about this was safe. You had been here before, in a different room, with different captors. But the feeling was the same—powerless. Trapped. Alone.

Tears streamed down your face, your body trembling with the force of the panic attack. You couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the overwhelming tide of terror that drowned you. Your chest heaved, gasping for air that wouldn’t fill your lungs.

“Shh,” Hizashi whispered softly, kneeling beside you. “It’s okay, baby. We’re here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

Aizawa’s hand stayed on your cheek, grounding you, his gaze steady, but there was something in his eyes—a softness, a gentleness that contradicted everything they had done to you. It confused you. You had been prepared for cruelty, for punishment, for violence. But this?

“You’re not in danger,” Aizawa murmured, his voice still that same low, hypnotic tone. “No one’s going to hurt you. Breathe with me.”

You tried, gasping, struggling to follow his lead. Inhale. Exhale. Slowly–slowly, the world stopped spinning. The tightness in your chest eased just a fraction, but the tears kept coming, falling in silent streams down your face.

You were too exhausted to fight anymore, the adrenaline pumping in your body was beginning to crash, and your body too wracked with panic and fear to keep resisting. For a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, you let yourself believe them. You let yourself believe that you were safe, that they would protect you, that this was some twisted version of love.

Hizashi’s hand gently wiped the tears from your cheeks, his touch soft, tender. “That’s it. We’ve got you.”

You nodded weakly, your mind foggy, the weight of exhaustion settling deep into your bones. For a moment, you forgot that you were their prisoner, forgot that they had drugged you and taken you against your will. You forgot the gravity of your situation and simply let yourself be comforted.

But it didn’t last.

Reality crashed down on you again like a tidal wave, and the illusion shattered. You weren’t safe. You weren’t loved. You were trapped. You were their prisoner, bound to this bed, helpless, powerless.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice raw, broken. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Aizawa’s expression didn’t change. He regarded you with that same calm, detached gaze, as though the answer was simple. “Because we care about you.”

Hizashi nodded, his usual cheer replaced by a more serious tone. “The world’s dangerous, baby. You’re not a hero anymore. You’re vulnerable. We just want to protect you.”

“You’re lying,” you spat, your voice rising again with fresh anger. “You’re not doing this for me. You’re doing this for yourselves!”

Aizawa’s grip on your face tightened, just slightly. “It’s not that we don’t trust you,” he said, his voice low and measured. “It’s the world we don’t trust. You’re not safe out there. Not without your quirk. And we can’t risk losing you.”

Hizashi leaned in closer, his hand brushing your hair away from your face. “You don’t know how many people would love to hurt you, baby. We do. We see it every day. We’re just keeping you safe.”

The absurdity of their reasoning made your head spin. They spoke as if they were doing you a favor, as if they had taken you to protect you from some nebulous, unseen danger. But the real danger was right in front of you. It was them.

“I don’t need your protection,” you said, your voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “I don’t need you. I was fine on my own. You’re the ones hurting me.”

They exchanged a look, one that made your stomach drop. There was something unspoken between them, something dark and possessive that you couldn’t quite place.

“You’ll see, (Y/n),” Aizawa said, his voice calm, but there was an edge to it now. “In time, you’ll understand.”

Hizashi nodded, his smile returning, but it was softer now, more intimate. “We love you, baby. And we’re never going to let you go.”

You felt the bile rise in your throat. They weren’t going to let you go. You were their prisoner now, and nothing you said or did would change that.

—

Days bled into weeks, and the routine you found yourself in was both mind-numbing and soul-crushing. Every morning, you woke up to the soft clink of the shackles around your wrists and ankles, limiting your movements. The room they kept you in had become your prison, a far cry from the freedom you once enjoyed as a hero. The windows were bolted shut, their frames reinforced with unbreakable metal. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how desperately you searched for something—anything—you could use to break the glass, nothing worked. You were trapped, left to your own devices in this small, confining space while they continued their lives outside.

The chains only allowed you to move a few feet from the bed—enough to pace the room, to stretch your legs, but never enough to reach the door. Your muscles ached from the confinement, and your mind began to fray from the constant isolation. The soft clinking of the chains became a haunting lullaby, a cruel reminder of your captivity.

They were still pro heroes, after all. They had to leave for work, had to uphold their public images, and pretend to be the righteous, selfless men everyone believed them to be. During those long stretches of time when Aizawa and Hizashi were away, you were left alone in the suffocating silence, your thoughts spiraling as the reality of your situation weighed down on you like a crushing force.

You had no quirk. No allies. No one to help you.

Meanwhile, outside the walls of your prison, people were beginning to notice your absence. It had been too long since you last made contact with any of your old colleagues, and even though you had distanced yourself after your forced retirement, a few people still cared enough to be concerned. All Might had always kept an eye on you, even after you left the hero business. And Midoriya, who had once looked up to you as a mentor, had begun to voice his worries.

“Has anyone seen her recently?” Midoriya asked one day, his eyes full of concern as he spoke to All Might. “She hasn’t responded to any of my messages in weeks.”

All Might frowned, his brows furrowing in thought. “No… now that you mention it, I haven’t heard from her either. It’s not like her to disappear like this.”

They weren’t the only ones who noticed. Rumors had begun to spread among your former colleagues, whispers that something was wrong. Even the students at U.A. began to ask questions. It was only a matter of time before someone started digging deeper.

Aizawa and Hizashi, of course, played their roles perfectly. They acted concerned, pretending to be as worried as everyone else. When people asked if they had seen you, they would exchange concerned glances, shake their heads, and say things like, “She’s been through a lot. Maybe she just needed some space.”

But behind the facade, they were always watching, always planning. The more worried your former colleagues became, the tighter your captors’ grip grew. They couldn’t risk anyone finding out what they had done.

Your days were a cycle of monotony, designed to break you down piece by piece. Every morning, Aizawa would come into your room and release the chains just long enough for you to stretch and shower. He never left your side during those moments, his eyes always on you, making sure you didn’t try anything. Hizashi would prepare breakfast, cheerful as always, as if this were all perfectly normal.

Afterward, they’d leave for work, securing you in the room with a soft kiss to your forehead as if they were tucking in a beloved pet before heading out for the day. You hated how a part of you craved those small gestures, the human connection that you were so starved for. It was shameful, disgusting, but in your darkest moments of isolation, you clung to it.

When they returned, it was time for what they mockingly called “dates.” They acted like nothing had changed, like this was just the old days when the three of you would hang out, laugh, and enjoy each other’s company. But now, the dynamic had shifted, warped beyond recognition. You weren’t a friend or an equal anymore. You were their captive.

They would sit you down on the couch, unlock the chains, and put on a movie, as if you were simply unwinding after a long day. But the suffocating reality was always there, lurking just beneath the surface. You couldn’t enjoy the moments like you used to. Every second felt like a mockery of your previous life, like they were taunting you with what you had lost.

Believe it or not, here had been a time, not so long ago, when your relationship with Hizashi and Aizawa was far different from this twisted, suffocating nightmare. Back when you were still a hero, before your quirk was stolen and your life unraveled, they had been a source of comfort and light during some of your darkest days. It was hard not to feel drawn to them. They were both so different, yet their presence in your life had filled a void you hadn’t even realized existed.

Hizashi, with his infectious energy and boundless enthusiasm, always had a way of making you smile, even when everything around you seemed bleak. His bright eyes and easy laughter made you feel like maybe—just maybe—there was still something good left in the world. Aizawa, on the other hand, was quieter, steadier. His calm, rational demeanor always grounded you when the chaos of hero life threatened to overwhelm you. And though his face rarely showed emotion, there was a kindness in his gaze, a subtle protectiveness that made you feel safe.

It wasn’t long before those feelings of safety and comfort started to morph into something deeper, something you hadn’t anticipated. You found yourself looking forward to the moments when you could be around them, even if it was just sharing a cup of coffee or talking about missions. There was a time when you imagined what it would be like to be something more with them—what it would be like to let yourself fall in love with them.

But you never said anything. How could you? At the time, there was an all-out war brewing with the League of Villains and All for One. Every moment was tense, every mission a risk. There simply wasn’t room for anything as fragile as romantic feelings, not when the world could come crashing down around you at any moment.

Besides, you had always thought that Aizawa and Hizashi were more interested in each other. You saw the way they interacted—the unspoken understanding, the way they moved like two parts of the same whole. They had a bond that went far beyond what you shared with either of them, and you didn’t want to complicate things. So you buried your feelings, locking them away in the deepest corners of your heart. The feelings lingered, simmering beneath the surface, but you convinced yourself that it was enough just to be their friend. It had to be enough.

Over time, you learned to live with those unspoken emotions, content with the friendship you had built with them. You never expected things to turn out like this. You never imagined that the same men who once brought warmth and light into your life would twist that affection into something possessive, something terrifying. The betrayal stung even more because of those old, lingering feelings, and now you were trapped in this nightmare, bound by the very people you once thought you could trust.

And as you lay there, shackled and helpless, a small part of you couldn't help but wonder how everything had gone so horribly, horribly wrong.

It was almost laughable—almost—when you thought about it. If they had just asked you out, if Hizashi or Aizawa had come to you one day and expressed their feelings like normal people, you probably would’ve said yes. You’d spent enough time with them, trusted them enough that, had things been different, a romantic relationship could’ve blossomed naturally. You even caught yourself daydreaming about it once or twice—a casual date, coffee in the city, a lazy afternoon curled up on the couch together after a long mission.

But that was the thing about your life: nothing good ever happened the way it was supposed to.

Instead of a sweet, tentative romance, they had chosen to twist their affection into something dark, something that suffocated rather than nurtured. They didn’t ask for your consent, your interest, or your desire, they didn’t give you the choice. They had taken that from you, just like All for One had taken your powers. That was what stung the most—the loss of your autonomy, the fact that they didn’t believe you could love them without being forced into it.

It was ironic, really. The same men who had once brought comfort to your life had stripped away the last semblance of control you had left. And now, bound by chains—literally and figuratively—you couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the thought.

A normal life? A healthy relationship? Maybe in another world, in another life. But not this one.

In this one, you were always destined to have everything go wrong, to have the things you cared about twisted into something ugly. Whether it was your powers, your career, or even your heart, you were cursed to lose it all in the most painful way possible. And now, here you were, shackled in a room by the very people who could have been your salvation if only they had given you a choice.

Now, you just had to bare this taunt–taunt of domesticity and of what could have been.

Sometimes, Hizashi would cook dinner, setting up a romantic atmosphere in the dining room, as though you were on a real date. Aizawa would pour wine, speaking softly about his day, his eyes never leaving yours. They acted as though this was love, as though this was how things were meant to be.

And slowly, painfully, you began to understand. You began to realize that the only way to survive, to have any hope of escape, was to play along.

So you did.

You forced yourself to smile during their twisted “dates.” You laughed at Hizashi’s jokes, even when your stomach churned with revulsion. You leaned into Aizawa’s touch, allowing him to pet your hair, to hold you like you were his most prized possession. It was excruciating, but it worked.

Over time, they started to trust you more. The chains became looser, the supervision less strict. They allowed you more freedom within the house, slowly granting you access to areas beyond the small prison of your room.

And one day, they made their first mistake.

The window was cracked just slightly, a minuscule error in Aizawa’s otherwise meticulous preparation. It was late, and the two of them had returned home exhausted from their day as heroes. Hizashi had fallen asleep on the couch, and Aizawa, for once, had let his guard down, leaving you alone for just a little too long.

It was all you needed.

With trembling hands, you wedged a piece of furniture under the window and managed to pry it open just enough to slip your body through. The adrenaline pumping through your veins pushed you forward, giving you strength you hadn’t felt in months.

The night air hit your skin like a shock to the system, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you were free.

You ran.

Your bare feet pounded against the pavement as you sprinted down the dark, empty streets, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You didn’t know where you were going—just away. Away from the nightmare that had consumed your life, away from the men who had taken everything from you.

But you didn’t make it far.

A dark figure appeared in your path, blocking your escape. Aizawa. His capture weapon lashed out with deadly precision, wrapping around one of your ankles and yanking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard,stars blurring your vision.

Before you could even attempt to get up, Aizawa was on you, his hand pressing down on the back of your neck, pinning you to the cold ground.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured, his voice frighteningly calm.

You struggled, thrashing beneath him, but he didn’t budge. His grip was ironclad, his body heavy against yours. “Let me go!” you screamed, tears streaming down your face. “Let me go!”

“You know we can’t do that,” he said, tightening his hold. “We gave you freedom, and you tried to run. You betrayed our trust, (Y/n).”

Before you could respond, you heard footsteps approaching, and then Hizashi was there, his face pale with shock and fury. His usual cheerfulness was gone, replaced by an expression of raw, hurt and anger.

“Why, baby?” Hizashi asked, his voice trembling with emotion. “We trusted you. We thought you were starting to understand.”

Your chest heaved with sobs as you lay pinned to the ground, Aizawa’s hand still pressing down on you. “I… I’m sorry,” you choked out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I just–I can’t do this. I can’t stay.”

Aizawa’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let you up. “You don’t have a choice anymore.”

Hizashi crouched beside you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We gave you everything. We’ve taken care of you, kept you safe. And this is how you repay us?”

You closed your eyes, fresh tears slipping down your cheeks. “I never wanted this. I just wanted my life back.”

Aizawa’s grip tightened again, and his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Your old life is over. You belong to us now. There is no going back.”

They dragged you back to the house, back to the prison they had made for you. The fleeting taste of freedom you had experienced was gone, and in its place was the cold, hard reality that they weren’t going to let you go. Not now. Not ever.

As they secured the chains around your wrists once more, you felt the weight of their anger and disappointment settle over you like a shroud. This time, there would be no more illusions of trust, no more moments of freedom. They had made that mistake once, and they wouldn’t make it again.

Hizashi helped you to your feet, but the restraints remained in place, a constant reminder of their control over you. The night air felt colder now, your escape attempt now a fading dream as you were led back toward the house, their grip on you firmer than ever before.

After the night of your failed escape, everything changed. When they brought you back to the house, it was as if the last thread of trust they had given you had snapped. Whatever illusion of freedom they had let you believe in was gone, and in its place was a harsher, more suffocating control.

The chains no longer came off. Not even for the brief moments when you had been allowed to stretch or walk around the room. Now, they kept you bound at all times, the cuffs around your wrists and ankles rubbing raw against your skin. The shackles were short, giving you just enough movement to sit or lie down, but not much more. The freedom to roam the house, to take cautious steps beyond your bedroom, was gone; in its place was a constant reminder of your failure: the cold, unforgiving weight of the chains that kept you in place.

Aizawa and Hizashi no longer trusted you with the smallest liberties. No more solo showers, no more time alone without supervision; every aspect of your life was now micromanaged, controlled by them. When Aizawa brought you food, he would sit nearby, silently watching you eat, making sure you didn’t attempt anything. Hizashi had stopped his usual playful banter, and now his cheerful facade was replaced with something darker—a quiet disappointment that lingered in the air, heavy and oppressive.

As a punishment, they kept you isolated for longer stretches of time. They would leave for work early in the morning, locking the door behind them with the chains still in place, and the hours stretched into agonizingly slow days. You had once been left alone for shorter periods, with moments of relative freedom, but now they kept you confined to this room for nearly the entire day, the windows remaining bolted shut, and the darkness outside became a reflection of the suffocating isolation that filled every corner of your mind.

At first, you tried to resist, clinging to your anger and resentment. You reminded yourself of what they had done, what they had taken from you. They had betrayed your trust, warped their love into something controlling and manipulative. But as the days passed, the isolation began to wear you down. There was no escape, no reprieve from the constant silence, the never-ending loneliness.

Without them, there was nothing. No sound, no presence, no life. You spent hours staring at the walls, your mind circling endlessly around the same dark thoughts. You tried to distract yourself, tried to hold onto whatever fragments of sanity you had left, but it was impossible. The isolation gnawed at you, piece by piece, until all that was left was a hollow ache that you couldn’t ignore.

And then, something worse started to happen.

You began to miss them.

It wasn’t like before, when their presence had been a reminder of your prison. Now, after days spent in silence, you found yourself waiting for the sound of the door unlocking, for the moment when one of them would return. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t deny the twisted relief that washed over you when Aizawa stepped through the door after his patrol, or when Hizashi’s bright voice called out a greeting from the hallway.

It wasn’t that you forgot what they had done. You didn’t. You could never forget. But the need for human interaction, for any kind of connection, had become overwhelming. Your mind, starved of contact, began to cling to the smallest scraps of attention they gave you. You were so, so utterly alone, that even their possessive touches and controlling words felt like something you could hold onto. Anything was better than the crushing loneliness of your room.

You tried to fight it. You tried to remind yourself that they weren’t your saviors—they were the ones who had taken everything from you. But it became harder and harder to maintain that anger when you were trapped in that room for days on end with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company.

But the loneliness warped your emotions, twisting them into something unrecognizable. You found yourself anticipating their return, eager for those moments when they would sit with you, talk to you, touch you. Even if their affection was twisted and wrong, it was still something. And in your isolation, even that “something” became precious.

You hated how your body responded when Aizawa gently stroked your hair, the way your heart skipped when Hizashi smiled at you, even if his smiles no longer carried the same warmth they once did. It was disgusting, shameful, but you couldn’t help it. You were human, and humans weren’t meant to be alone. Not like this.

It became your routine: waiting. Waiting for the sound of footsteps outside the door, waiting for the moment when they would come back and break the silence that was slowly driving you mad. You didn’t want to feel this way—you wanted to resist, to fight back—but how could you fight against something as basic as the need for human connection?

When they finally came back from work, you found yourself relaxing in a way that scared you. The familiar weight of their presence in the room brought a twisted comfort, even if it was accompanied by chains and control. They would sit with you, sometimes in silence, sometimes talking as if nothing had changed. Hizashi would brush his fingers through your hair, and Aizawa would sit beside you, his quiet presence grounding you in ways you hated to admit.

There were no more "dates," not after your escape attempt. Instead, they kept you tethered to your room, the shackles around your ankles and wrists reminding you of your place. But they still tried to give you affection, as if they believed they could make you love them again.

And in your darkest moments, you wondered if they already had.

You hated how you looked forward to the simple touch of Hizashi's hand on your shoulder, or the rare moments when Aizawa would sit close enough for you to feel his warmth. It was twisted, and you knew it. They had stolen your freedom, taken your life, and yet, your body craved the attention. It was sickening.

You had nothing else. No friends, no family, no life outside these four walls. Aizawa and Hizashi had become your entire world, and no matter how much you wanted to resist, you couldn’t deny that part of you—some deep, desperate part of you—needed them now.

It was a slow, agonizing process, but as the days turned into weeks, you began to accept your new reality. The loneliness was unbearable, and the only relief came from them. You found yourself smiling at Hizashi’s jokes, leaning into Aizawa’s quiet presence, not because you forgave them, but because it was the only way to survive.

You told yourself it was a strategy, a way to make them trust you again. You needed to play along, to make them believe you were starting to accept this life, so they would loosen the chains, and give you more freedom again (yeah, like they'd fall for that trick again). And maybe, one day, you would find another opportunity to escape.

But deep down, you weren’t sure if that was the truth anymore.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments when you were alone, you wondered if you were starting to lose yourself. If the isolation and control had finally broken something inside of you. You despised the chains, but the thought of being left completely alone again terrified you.

So you played along. You smiled when they came home, you laughed at Hizashi’s jokes, and you leaned into Aizawa’s comforting presence. 

You were losing yourself, piece by piece, but you couldn’t stop. It was the only way to survive.

And the worst part? A small, shameful part of you almost didn’t mind anymore.

[oleanderflower]

Jason x Reader

Jason decides to tease his newly wedded wife one evening.

Husband and Wife

Jason leaned casually against the kitchen counter of your shared apartment, mischief dancing in his sharp grin as he watched you move around the kitchen. “So, husband,” he began, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable, “what’s on the menu tonight? Or are we relying on your incredible talent for ordering takeout again?”

You raised an eyebrow, shooting him a playful glare as you stirred the pot on the stove. “Careful, my wife,” you quipped back, emphasizing the last word, “or I might start expecting you to do your “job” an actually cook.”

Jason let out a laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained. “Touche,” he admitted, stepping closer to wrap his arms around your waist from behind. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his voice softer now. “Still feels weird, y’know? Husband. Wife. Us. I’m havin trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You turned slightly to look at him, your smile matching the tenderness in his eyes. “Weird good?”

“Weird perfect,” he murmured, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before you could protest.

“You’re the perfect wife y’know, Im just jokin you don’t have to cook.”

“Baby I know we where playing but I’m the hus-“

“Suchhhh a good wife I have.”

“…OK hubby whatever you want”

“See! Perfect wife! I love you.”

“…love you too freak.”

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Ratchet looks so snug in Ops trailer, very cute heheh

[omens-for-ophelia]

caviar and cigarettes well versed in etiquette extraordinarily nice

- queen, killer queen

NSFT nude version on ao3 HERE!

continuing the pin-up series with my demon!aziraphale, once more a self-indulgent study... she just wants you to live deliciously, folks!

drawing fem!aziraphale's body continues to be entirely healing and self-indulgent and glorious to me 🩷

tagging my loves @ineffabildaddy, @foolishlovers and @portraitofalonelydyke as usual for any fem az content 🤭

[bernard-the-rabbit]

ineffable wives

[juimondraws]

A commission of Evike (the commissionees tav) finally being devoured by Astarion during the graveyard scene! I am so chuffed to have been commissioned to create this, I would love to draw more tav romances! See full be-nipped version over here!

[thegoldenavenger]

some fanart for @chezpillow's thirsty

liu qingge weaponising baby mingyan in order to keep shen qingqiu from moving is just. good. ahahah

[thatoneconfusedartist]

sorry guys he's just too faggot :/

[adabird]

-MHA TEACHER’S + HERO’S

-PREFERENCESES + HEADCANNONS

Within the following story, there may be PROGRESSIVE or NSFW moments. Please be aware, you are responsible for your own internet consumption.

MDI

I was thinking about doing like LOV members preferences and headcannons!

ALSO thinking about writing singular headcannons for mha teachers? LET ME KNOW!

SHOTA AIZAWA - ERASERHEAD

-THICK THIGHS-

Shota is really into thick thighs.. He especially gets feral after a long day at work, when he’s come home to see you in panties and his t-shirt.. because you ‘missed him too much’ while he was away.. He’s always taking the seat next to you, needing and squishing your thighs while he talks. He also enjoys it whenever you sit infront of him, facing him while you drag your stocking clad feet up his legs.. Drives him ABSOLUTELY insane whenever he’s driving and you take one of his hands, into one of yours placing it on your thighs while caressing one of his fingers. And don’t even get started when you start to feel a little insecure. PAL. HE LOVESSSS your thighs so NO, he’s not going to leave you and he doesn’t want you to change. AT ALL!! you’re his baby ❤️

HAZASHI YAMANDA - PRESENTMIC

-BUBBLE BUTT-

Hazashi is freakyyyyy. Like, he’ll invite you to his studio while he’s recording, just to have you sit on his lap. shh you can’t make any noise though! He loves to look at your butt, admiring you, telling you that ‘it was looking at him first’ that’s why he was practically eye-fucking you.. (WOW MB) Anywho! He also loves pinching your butt whenever you two are in elevators, walking up stairs, standing next to each other, literally anytime.. He’s always on you or touching you, even in non-sexual ways. He’s just that kind of person, and that’s how he shows his love for you ❤️

TOSHINORI YAGI - ALLMIGHT

-TINY BOOBS-

Toshinori really has a size kink. LIKE. No matter how gigantic your jugs are, or how tall you are, you’ll look small standing next to him. And he also really has a thing for hands 😻.. LIKE! He’s always guiding you through walkways or hallways with a hand on your shoulders.. If you ever have makeout sessions he’s sure to lift you up, having you stratal his hips while he pushes you up to the nearest wall. AND BRO. I really feel like he has a secret wife/husband. AKA YOU. You would walk into U.A., going to his office to find him becuase ‘he forgot his lunch this morning’. It was really just a plan to have all his kids meet you. He’s also the one to get really horny really easily!! Especially if you run your hands through his hair..❤️

NEMURI KAYAMA - MIDNIGHT

-LIPS-

GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. She’s always got some part of her, touching you. She’s the type of person to just sit there and admire the way you talk, watching as your lips change shape to form whatever story you’re telling at the moment. She loves watching the blush crawl up your neck after she crashed your face into hers, pushing you to make out with her. She also gets jealous really easily, which causes her to constantly grab at your hips and neck.

RUMI USAGIYAMA - MIRKO

-ARMS-

OKAY! Rumi is definitely the dominant one in the relationship.. She has a thing for arms, but her own..? Like she loves wrapping you into hugs, tugging you into her like a pillow. She’s also really into your confidence.. The number one thing she enjoys to do with her arms would probably be pushing you up a wall while making out. It gets you both really turned on and gets the situation all steamy.. Before the two of you started your relationship, and were ‘just friends’ she was really into cornering you in the bathroom stalls, before making her way to kiss up your neck. (IN A CONSENSUAL WAY!!!) ❤️

TAMAKI KEIGO - HAWKS

-HIPS-

Keigo is really like a bird, so when his ruts come up, he has to consider your body, in terms of, ‘are you able to hold his baby’s’ ‘are your hip’s wide enough’ ‘are your hips narrow enough’ ‘do you want little birdies’? all really good questions. But he really loves to hold and to kiss your hips. Whether they’re wide, narrow, or if they carry love handles or not.. He doesn’t care! He loves YOU and your body, no matter what! He’s definitely always searching for your validation, and he’s always grooming himself to your standerds.. He makes sure you take care of yourself too , and are always feeling comfortable in your own skin..❤️

TAISHRIO TOYOMITSU - FATGUM

-TUMMY-

GAWD!!! My man, my man.. OKAY! Taishiro is really all about body positivity, and imidetly attracted to someone with a funny personality. Personally, I believe he tends to find chubby, and thicker people more attractive! But, he does go for personality!!! So dont be discouraged! He really likes laying on your tummy, and squeezing it.. He makes sure you love your body too! and makes sure you feel confident in your own skin! He eats a lot, and so will you.. But he also makes sure that you feel safe whenever you go out. He’s definitely the type of walk on the outside of the sidewalk, and the type to take the seat faced by the door in case of any attacks! ❤️

I hope you enjoyed! And PLEASE!!! Message me any ideas for any MHA characters you would like to see!! I don’t judge!

Later tonight I will be releasing a Monoma x Reader reaction! So stay tuned!

- ONIE OUT!