#geisha!Sans

[parniathedevil]

•GEISHA!SANS•

Age: ±125 (she looks like 25)

Gender: female

Pronouns: she/her they/them

Orientation: Poly/Lesbian/Bisexual

Color magic: Peach Pink

MBTI: ISTP–INTJ

-Likes:

-girls and boys (more girls)

-children

-japan food

-painting with ink colors

-Dislikes:

-mirrors

-rules

-dark magic

-forces marriage

Extra info:

-She was very lonely as a child and that's why she started painting

-she does not like child abuse because she killed children before her eyes

-she is afraid to look in the mirrors because it shows her monstrous appearance

-When she grew up, she stopped painting because she became more depressed and devoted her life to learning black magic

-She is single now and has no one, and he also had a daughter who ran away from her (her daughter named Molly??)

-you can call her Lady

-but now she has a non-canon (canon?) wife (by @yanair25)

[crehador]

guess who meowed in this week's warumono-san

[k4ziskk]

-- INTRODUCTION --

HAROO ^^!!

i am ishi! (Geimei is Sukima - Under Futaba Okiya in Mukojima [東京] Roblox.)

🎎----~~~^°^~~~----🎎

- Geisha at https://discord.gg/PyWYhDpN7D

- Timezone : UTC+8

- my 妹たち🙇���‍♀️ :

Shikomi Tom_Itsuyu (child who can train well :3)

Shikomi Abbie (least active child but it's ok)

Shikomi Faith (child that is very attacked so we protect child ‼️)

Junior Hangyoku Kimochi (MY FAVOURITE CHILDDD)

👘----~~~^°^~~~----👘

I am the first geisha at Futaba Okiya - please welcome me to tumblr! <3

[miyajimacho-imvu]

Last weekend we held our annual Hanamikai: cherry blossom viewing and dance performance event. Maiko Terutsuyo performed the dance ''Hanagasa'', and maiko Mitsuyo performed ''Kurokami'', wearing her special sakkou iromontsuki kimono.

[bobowizard]

[robynsassenmyview]

Hold onto the hope for that one beautiful day

"Hold onto the hope for that one beautiful day", a review of the MetOpera live's production of 'Madama Butterfly' which is screening in South Africa this week.

GO and live your life, my child, but do not forget this face, says Cio-Cio San (Asmik Grigorian) to her child in the 2024 MetOpera’s production of Madama Butterfly . Photograph by Jonathan Tichler/Metropolitan Opera. That feeling when you get into a warm bath after a difficult day, and you know everything will be alright is the kind of sensation you get in the remote audience of Puccini’s…

[akiymgc]

[kakushino]

Hiiiii Desikinnnsss~~ Could I pretty please have number 10, hurt/comfort with Gyutaro? SFW preferably with a fem reader?

𝕷𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖒𝖊 ����𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖘𝖆𝖞 𝖎𝖙 𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖎𝖓

𝟷𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱

AN: Gendered terms aren't really used but I guess it's implied considering reader is ex-geisha-to-be. I hope this motivates you to work on Fixation~

kenban = office of a red light district (they set prices for services etc) | ageya = meetings between clients and geisha with entertainment | okiya = geisha house | hanamachi = geisha district (~red light district in this) | okaa-san = woman in charge of an okiya (literally mother) | oiran = high ranking geisha (sex is included in the list of services)

The red light district was alive and thriving; music, songs, and the courtesans inviting men into their establishments created a masterful symphony no artist could capture - save you, Gyuutaro would say. 

Since meeting him properly, you’d risen from the ranks of prostitutes-to-be into the House’s artist, creating artworks to be sold at ageya organised by the kenban. This, of course, led to jealousy from the side of the other women of your okiya and overall hanamachi.

However, the freedom to pursue your passion and spend time with Gyuutaro made you happy, too happy to notice the discontent.

You carried your purchases in a straw basket on your back as you walked through the street, nodding to regulars and waving at a friendly okaa-san from another House. The entrance to your okiya was crowded, likely because Warabihime deigned to show her charm in the main hall, letting customers take a peek at her beauty. The tetchy oiran shot you a look as you tip-toed by, as if telling you something, but you couldn’t decipher the message.

Your room was located in the very back, and the second you entered it was the moment you understood.

Your most beautiful kimono, the one your lover had gifted you, laid in tatters on the floor. 

Your heart broke at seeing the destruction of your precious property, second only to the hair ornament you received from Warabihime’s collection. 

Who could have done that? Who would dare?

Your basket fell to the side, art supplies spilling out, forgotten. 

“What is this?” a raspy voice rang through the hallway before you could truly process what you were seeing. You hadn’t moved from the door of your room. Your muscles tensed. If he saw what happened-

But you couldn’t exactly hide it from him, especially since he walked up to you - and he towered over everyone, it wasn’t hard to see over your shoulder.

“Someone-” your voice broke, overwhelmed with feelings, “destroyed the kimono you gave me,” you finished in a wispy whisper. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you shut your mouth, well aware if you gave names, they would not be alive to see the sunrise again.

Silence reigned for a few seconds. “You know who did it.” Of course he could tell. 

You walked up to the carnage, kneeling by the heap of silk, mourning it, and mourning the lives as good as lost. “...no.” 

“Look me in the eye and say it again,” Gyuutaro demanded roughly. Despite his tone, he was nothing but gentle turning your head to look up at him as he stood over you. He looked angry, you hadn’t ever seen him as angry as he was now. 

“Please…” you nearly wept, softening the demon in front of you. 

Gyuutaro quickly lowered himself to your level, pulling you into his arms. Now was not the time for murder, he reminded himself. Your warm body was shivering in his embrace, a transgression even greater than the ruined kimono in his eyes. 

He’d get to the bottom of this, and then it was over for those bitches. He was willing to bet Daki would help, if only because the fabric was too pretty to be ruined over jealousy.

They would pay.

[sugar-plum-writer]

The Serene Peony Of Winter

Paring: Sukuna!King of Curses x Fem!Geisha Reader

Tags: Slight! mention of violence; Fem!reader; Sukuna!imagines; will be 18+ as more chapters come; slow!burn, [I want to have a good build up!], an ancient Japan romance through time with darling reader~

[If you all like it, please heart and reblog the post! to know you want to read more~ and follow for chapter updates! or leave a comment to tag you when I put out new chapters~ I will do my best to roll out UPDATES ASAP!]

New Chapter update!

@naoyagasm @janeaugustine

@teonawrites @periwinkless-universe

CHAPTER- 3

1000 days, 1000 nights- but only 3 days of peace on a chilling winter night. Frozen houses, and frozen trees all soaked up the chilling breath of winter, letting it drown them in a sheet of white― pure and pristine, so pure and pristine that even the dead get company.

You had been able to bathe with hot water continually for 3 days, which is quite a luxury in the freezing winter. Rather than eating once in 3 days, you were able to eat every 2 days― gazing at the hot meal on your table as steam rose from a gift of satisfaction, into the surroundings.

"Ahahah! Y/n! You crazy girl!", Oka-San's laughter resounded in your room, as she sat wearing her new kimono, puffing her pipe

"To think you got him interested, did not die, is a miracle~ how many women can boast about it!", fanning her ōgi in front of her, sipping tea

"Do you know how much he gave?", A cheeky grin played in the reflection of her eyes― leaning in and took out a fat couple stack of Mon in front of you, "More is there but I have hidden it~ the sound of money is music to my ears!", she laughed tossing the coins in the air

"Muah! You are such a darling~"

"This meal, the hot water, this is the power of money Y/n this winter- won't be so cold", she hummed putting the stack of Mon back into her sleeves

"If we have leftover money, I will commission a new Hikizuri for you to wear this summer", finishing what she had to say she walked out after being called by one of the Maiko, silence filled the room

"But why?", gazing at your hands― and gently touching the small mark on your cheek which somehow was gone

"It's too noisy", picking up your chopsticks, and clasping your hands you prayed― grateful for the food and the hot bath due to your new patron, The King Of Curses, your new Danna. Sure a Geisha could have only one Danna at a time, but rules never applied to him anyways.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Holding your Wagasa to shield you from the cold, you walk with one of your patrons a sorcerer, wearing a light blue Hikizuri, and light-colored flower headpieces adorn your hair. With a light laugh, you walked down the courtyard.

"Oh my! it sounds delightful", batting your eyes as you smiled, "It is, if possible I would like- you to accompany me to my estate tonight", he gazed at your face

"I have people coming from the east prefecture, your dances are top-notch"

Politely without any reaction, "I must refuse, Danna-sama, forgive me― for my body is weak hence I need rest", bowed your head slightly and looked at him

"I see, maybe some other day then", he nodded, "But― be careful, word has been around", leaning in he whispered, "A strong curse has been around this area― some suspect him, to be the King of Curses", in a serious tone― eyebrows frowned

"If you get any information, regarding this, do tell me", he took out a pouch of Mon from his sleeve, which he kept in your hand

"Farewell, then Y/n, I will bring you your favorite Monaka, I know you have a sweet tooth. For now, I hope you like this gift", handing you a bira-bira featuring bells, long chains of additional silk flowers known as shidare, and a crest of the sorcerer stamped on the flattened end.

You smiled, "Then I will await your return Danna-sama, just like the cherry blossoms, waiting for spring"

"Can you wear it for me? After all I don't know if I will be dead or alive", he laughed

You looked at him, elegantly removing some hair accessories, pinning the bira-bira in your hair, and smiled. His breath hitched, and his body froze

"Beautiful, how can you be so beautiful... thank you Y/n", he smiled and bowed his head as he walked away waving

"I hope to see you alive…", you whispered, only the wind hearing your words, as it blew past

"He will die"

You froze, feeling a chilling presence behind you, you hesitantly turned around, feeling your throat dry up, and raised your head

"Quite a Lovey-dovey moment you had, how boring- don't think about him after all-", He laughed

"Sorcerers die, left and right, for a weakling like him to even reach so far- heh", the red eyes contrast with the white snow, that smirk plastered on his face, you knew it far too well

"Sukuna-sama", you bowed your head, and before you knew it, the bira-bira was removed from your hair, between his fingers- he gazed at it

"Do not wear it, especially, in front of me, toss it away, gold looks better on you anyways, accompany me Y/n", tossing the bira-bira back to you, he leaned in

"Your Oka-San sure is quite a woman, quite a gamble she has made", he chuckled, "Isn't she far too greedy?"

"She is, I won't lie, but this greediness has brought her so far", you gave a light chuckle as you looked at him

"Then if I am greedy for you- Will I be able to go as far as I want Y/n?"

Footnote: Check out masterlist for all chapters!

[maigeiko]

Late news from Yamanaka Onsen: on 4. October 2024, two new Geigi debuted. The first new additions since Kiyono (きよ乃) in 2015. Their names are Suzune (すず音) on the left, and Fumika (文華) on the right. Fumika is 29 years old and from Osaka. She previously worked as Furisode-san in Tokyo for around two years and debuted as Geigi after four months of training. Suzune is 20 years old and from Kaga (Yamanaka Onsen is part of this city). She has joined the Yamanaka Geigi right after completing high school and has been in training for the previous two years. Congratulations to both! Photo by Geisha Japan Other infos by Chunichi

[love1kimono]

Geisha and Actress Kawada Yoshiko

After becoming a geisha, Kawada-san joined the theater group of geisha Sada Yacco. She later became an actress in silent and sound films. Read more here:en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yoshiko_Kawada

This image is from a postcard printed on Kodak Azo paper, dating between 1910 to 1930.

[k4ziskk]

I retired from Mukojima Roblox and now uh I own a new server :)

It's called Higashi Chaya-Gai located in Kanazawa, Ishikawa, Japan. It's a new Roblox game which is still in development. Whoever wants to join. Please call me Hanae.

Link ; https://discord.gg/GxwCUcAYBG

[vacantgodling]

a guide to: hyacinthus shrapnel

thank you to anyone who's expressed interest in my favorite asshole man--at some point i'll do this for more ocs, but i am not immune to favoritism. gently tagging those who i think would wanna see this:

@henrike-does-writing-sometimes @outpost51 @void-botanist @jezifster @mjjune @sergeantnarwhalwrites @ink-flavored @astral-runic @calicohyde @kk7-rbs @foxys-fantasy-tales @inadequatecowboy @sarahlizziewrites @multi-lefaiye

transposed under the cut!

SLIDE 1: A GUIDE TO HYACINTHUS SHRAPNEL -- the meanest, prettiest, and most emotionally constipated man ever. by @vacantgodling, yours truly

SLIDE 2: BASIC INFORMATION pt. 1

FULL NAME: HYACINTHUS SHRAPNEL (nicknames: HYA (by amon), CINTHY (by aloe, lovingly, and tagetes, degradingly), CINTH (by narci))

AGE: 31

BIRTHDAY: he hates talking about his birthday, so you won’t get the exact date. just know that it falls during the galerian form of “christmas” which is the two weeks of may 12th — may 24th. its somewhere in there :)

GENDER: TROIBEMME (HE/HIM PRONOUNS ONLY)

the galerian equivalent to our nonbinary; an entirely separate gender denomination that blurs the line between masculine and feminine; encompassing everything inbetween, nothing at all, or outside of a binary frame altogether. its considered a ‘third gender’ by the galerian people, and has been observed in galerian history for centuries. old galerian even features multiple pronoun sets, but they have been lost in the modern age. nowadays, those who present as troibemme usually use “they” “he” or “she” but this does not negate their troibemme status. gender =/= pronouns etc.

SOCIAL STATUS: WIFE OF THE KEEPER OF CHATEAU AUX AISLES D’OR

husband and wife refer to the specific social hierarchy in galere. “wife” and “husband” respectively refer to the role of being a breadwinner and connection maker (husband) versus the manager of the house and finances (wife). wives do occasionally lead the way in organizing at home balls. child rearing (in upper society) is usually left to maids and nanny’s—not a responsibility of either parent. traditionalists believe wives should take on this task as children are part of the “home”, but in actual valerian society children are usually pawned off. all of the gunn clan, sans aloe (as he is part of the clergy) are wives.

SLIDE 3: THE GUNN FAMILY TREE

a family tree that showcases the main gunn family tree. lonicera gunn and clematis gunn are crossed out because they are deceased. they were wed first and had 3 children, tagetes gunn de beneaux (40, they/them), iberis winch (36, he/him) and narcissus spokes (33, she/her). while it is not indicated by the chart, clematis had a relationship with moxie shrapnel in lonicera's twilight years, giving birth to hyacinthus shrapnel (31, he/him) and his name is in bold lettering. then, clematis finally married belladonna anvil (who hyphenated her name to anvil-gunn) and had 2 children, lavendula caldern (28, she/her) and aloe anvil-gunn (24, he/him).

SLIDE 4: BASIC INFORMATION PT. 2

SOCIAL STATUS: aside from a wife, hya is also a BASTARD. this is not a well kept secret.

bastards, as per the definition, are illegitimate heirs. hyacinthus is the 4th child of the dodgy businessman, CLEMATIS GUNN, who had an affair with a prostitute, MOXIE SHRAPNEL (where hya gets his surname), during his first wife’s decline in health. 

bastards have no claim to family fortunes, so when clematis passed, hya would’ve been shit out of luck if he wasn’t essentially adopted by tagetes. hya has also never met his mother to his own knowledge as she fled the situation when clematis started getting more abusive.

in order to marry the keeper, tagetes had birth certificates forged. whether or not the keeper knows of this deceit is questionable; but the large dowry tagetes paid to facilitate the marriage has seemed to placate them enough not to question it.

MISC LIKES: coffee (misted ivory geisha is his favorite in universe blend—its imported from the northeast country i have yet to name), fashion (dresses, shoulder pads, and embroidery are his favorite things), gold & white (for jewelry, dress, and aesthetically), MONEY (he’s extremely materialistic), reading & literature (he’s very critical however—in a modern au he would probably be a pretty well renowned critic).

in general however, hya is easily annoyed.

SLIDE 5: what annoys hya, you may ask? FUCKING EVERYTHING. thank you for being polite because he's not :D

SLIDE 6: GENERAL APPEARANCE

HEIGHT: 5’11” (~180cm)

EYE COLOR: dark brown

HAIR COLOR: black, with hime bangs (square bangs in the front with short, square cut side bangs that frame the face and chin), and long hair that reaches to his mid back.

BUILD: broad, girthy👀, and imposing. when he finds time to work out is a mystery to most, but his physique shows he clearly does.

there are 2 photos of hyacinthus to display his looks; a broad shouldered, dark brown skinned man with fox-shaped and narrow eyes, multiple piercings (nose, ears, and lip), and two beauty marks under his left eye. he is wearing an intricate white and gold outfit in the picture on the right. in the one on the left he is wearing an intricate white and gold choker. there are 2 thought bubbles over each. one says "RBF STRONG AF". the other says "even though hya is so well manicured he hates showers bc #childhoodtrauma. he does take baths though!"

SLIDE 7: everything on hya glitters like gold -> here’s a map of hya’s piercings and notable features

the picture shows various arrows pointing to hyacinthus (who has his mouth open to reveal that his canine teeth on his upper row of teeth have been replaced by sharp, solid gold). they point to his beauty marks, canines, and various piercings.

SLIDE 8: IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIPS

as an aside, hya didn’t have friends growing up because he literally wasn’t allowed to leave the estate his father trapped him in until he was 19… and that was bc his dad died and tagetes ‘adopted’ him.

TAGETES ⟶ despite the fact that tagetes basically raised hya, the two of them hardly see eye to eye. tagetes views, treats, and exploits hya (as they do everyone) as a means to their end goals—though what those goals are is anyone’s guess. hya doesn’t trust tagetes as far as he could throw them. yet, at the same time, they have a strange sense of obligation and “care” (if it can be called that) towards one another. tagetes was definitely the main influence into why hya is Like That.

ALOE ⟶ since aloe turned 10 and learned that he had an older brother whom he hadn’t met yet, he began to try and write letters getting to know hya. despite being generally brash, crass, and a pain in the ass, hya really cherishes aloe’s letters and companionship, and they actually meet for the first time in person during the events of paramour. 

AMON ⟶ y’all knew it was coming. i feel like i don’t even have to explain this one they are obsessed with each other in the most toxic of ways lmao. amon infuriates hya down to a molecular level, yet he is also the only man—only person—hya has ever been attracted to. (and he will not EVER admit that)

SLIDE 9: HIS OPINIONS ON...

… Narcissus ⟶ she annoys him and he can’t understand why she’s so obsessed with trying to ‘fit in’ with other people. also he wished she wouldn’t try to talk his ear off every time she saw him.

… Iberis ⟶ he literally doesn’t have one. the two of them avoid each other like the plague.

… Lavendula ⟶ avoids her like the plague if he can help it, but she actually looks up to him in a way, especially based on the things aloe has told her about him. they aren’t close and don’t really speak until her book but that’s a whole other thing.

… Clematis ⟶ #daddyissues. hates the man’s guts and is glad he’s dead.

… Lonicera ⟶ she died before he was born, but even if she lived, he would’ve never met her regardless. no opinion.

… Moxie ⟶ he’s never met his mother to his knowledge, so he has no opinion of her. she loves him very much and there’s more to that story that we won’t hear about until empire (tagetes’s book)

… Belladonna ⟶ the loathing is mutual

… Erecia ⟶ he doesn’t gain an opinion of her until lavendula’s book, and even then it’s mostly just “that’s amon’s friend” territory

… Viola, Barbatus, & Rumex ⟶ he’s not good with kids so he tries not to interact if he can avoid it

… Helianthus ⟶ finds him EXTREMELY obnoxious

… Terian ⟶ no opinion, they’ve never met.

… Miss Shanin ⟶ she’s always in his way and he’s generally annoyed by and suspicious of her

… Vira, Tamhas, Asahel ⟶ no opinion at all. they’re just servants.

… The Keeper & The Bishop ⟶ finds them genuinely disturbing. distrusts them HEAVILY.

SLIDE 10: ASSOCIATIONS

alcoholic drink: white russian

food: steak bechamel

colors: white & gold

flower: yellow hyacinths

animal: leopard

zodiac: taurus

tarot: six of swords

song: lyin’ to myself — todrick hall

[lalunanymph]

Riding on the nanami brainrot!!!! dawn as a bewitched!au enthusiast, it had me thinking about retired army general!nanami and a geisha!reader 🫶 what if after leaving the gojo clan, he settled down and became reader’s patron and they lived happily ever after 🥰

- 🍎

i couldnt get this idea out of my mind and had to write something for it grrr thank you sm apple nonnie ily and your beautiful brain

tw for love making and suggestive themes

The ex-general of the great Gojo clan should be a man who was intimidated by many.

For truly, his countenance, stoic mien, and even the shock of fair hair on his head (so unnaturally light and a contrast to every common passerby on the street) would’ve marked him as a man who would not be into foolhardy pursuits.

But, in your months of living under his roof, you had come to find that General Nanami Kento was indeed an incredibly kind man.

“What are you doing?” 

Kento had awoken from his slumber, padding into the kitchen to find you standing by the stove, hair still in a disarray. A light scruff shadowed his chin, and his face was pinched with fatigue.

In answer, you tightened your silk sash, a teasing grin pulling on your face. “About to surprise you, of course.” 

The general is not a man to be trifled with. Hence, when he tilted his head to the side, unsure of what your coy entendre was supposed to mean, you were slightly terrified of his rejection.

What would he say to your next plan? Would he ridicule you and find it foolish? 

“Surprise?” His rough, low voice involuntarily sent shivers down your spine. “What kind of surprise?” 

The general does not like to be blindsided. Your answer was meek, almost like a girl who was about to be berated by her superior.

“I wanted to… I wanted to dance for you, Kento-san.” 

Now, his attention was piqued. Nanami’s back went ramrod straight, those dark eyes widening infinitesimally. “Dance for me? Why ever for?” 

He did not sound disappointed or peeved. Instead, you detected a note of curiosity in his genuine question—the first stirrings of a man who had never been indulged in such finery.

You had to hide a smirk behind your fall of hair. Only General Nanami—a man who brought an infamous geisha under his wing—would be taken aback by her natural want to charm and appease him. 

Your smile was partly patient, partly abashed. “Because,” you started, and walked over to him slowly. Nanami did not cringe back or let himself be bowed over by your sudden proximity; keeping his reactions fastened to his chest. “I want to do it.” 

His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. You could see the ripping flow of emotions erupting across his handsome features; a thread of desire overshadowed by his strict samurai stolidity.

“You do not have to do this.” His voice was soft, cottoned with gentleness. Giving you a route of escape should your mortification catch up with common sense. 

You shook your head. “Please, Nanami-san. Let me do this for you. I wanted to show you some lessons I remembered.” 

It had been a considerable amount of time since you last put on a Natsu wa Hotaru for men. Your nerves were getting the best of you, but you strapped on your armour of gratitude towards this man who had housed, fed and clothed you with little to no expectation of any returning sentiments. Why General Nanami had chosen you—perhaps you may never know. But, you had learned to never question providence whenever it fell into your lap like a sleepy, curling kitten. 

Kento was in no obligation to give into your whims, but he eased himself into a cross-legged position onto the tatami floors, the split in front of his striped blue yukata showing off a web of whitened scars. 

You didn’t have any music to accompany you, but Mama-san always did say you had a beautiful humming voice. 

Graciously picking up the uchiwa fan—one of the only items you had taken from your old life in the okiya into your new one as part of his household—you held it above your head, warming up with a low hum. 

Your arm arched overhead, easing in front of your body with a slowed, graceful swoop. You recounted the steps perforated deep into your subconscious from Mama-san’s rigid lessons—spinning on your heel, lifting your head and eyes to the sun to give thanks for the summer. All the while, your voice never broke or petered off, rich and warm like the rays streaming through the paper thin shoji windows. 

Nanami did not move nor you suspected, breathed. He was hewed of stone, fists clenched atop of his lap. The only sign of movement were his eyes, steadily following every motion of your body. Men would often compliment how you moved like water—Mizu no Megami—they called you. 

The water goddess.

There was a fluidity to your motions which would put rainfall to shame, and Nanami was starting to believe why his comrades used to say geishas were the spirits of grace put right onto this earth. 

From the arch of your back, to the curve of your arms in midair, spinning the fan in your lithe fingers like you were one with its fluttering disposition, made him firmly believe you were an otherworldly being. 

And your voice… it never faltered. A sweet, rich octave which brought goosebumps to his skin.

All too soon, your performance ended. You were bright-eyed and warm in your cheeks, waiting for him to thaw, frozen in your ending position of knees bent, arms curved close to your waist. 

Instead of applauding, like rowdy men were wont to do, Nanami slowly got to his feet. 

He approached you, careful not to scare you with too quick of a movement, and soft as down, his large, scarred palms cupped your face. 

You were petrified, not with fear, but with baited desire. He stroked your cheeks, rough pads of his thumbs soothing on your far softer skin, and there was a look you knew all too well on his dear face. They reminded you of watching your onee-sans stagger back into the okiya, drunk and whispering that they would kill you if you told Mama-san of their evening whereabouts. Not much of where they had been, but who they were with.

Older men. Soldiers. Politicians.

Everyone of them wore a secret, satisfied smile like they were sated from a huge meal after starving for decades. Now, years later when you were free from the constrictions of tight obis and etiquette, you could see desire plainly in the open air—finally free to indulge in it.

His lips touched yours in the softest of caresses, and you didn’t fight him off when he swept you into the seam of his embrace. Your body fell against his—like two pieces of Go flushed together, slotting perfectly in each other’s spaces, finding a clear path towards a release of intensity which brimmed and brimmed; eventually bubbling over.

Nanami removed your obi, pulling down your simple, sakura-patterned sobe panels, revealing the tender rise of your shoulders to his touch. He kissed a pathway down your neck, marking his territory right on your collarbones; bold enough to touch his tongue to your pulse point.

Your soft gasp thrilled through the morning air, drops of unfettered desire clinging between both of your bodies like a film of sweat. 

“Tell me to stop,” Kento’s gruff voice breached through the fog in your mind, drawing you down into deeper depths of rapture. “Tell me to stop whenever you want me to.” 

“I do not,” you replied back, heavy in breath and intention when you softly rested your palms on his scarred chest. Without a lingering second for him to chart your intentions and misconstrue them, you unwound his own yukata sash, feeling more of his rough, pale skin under your wandering touch. “I want you, Kento. I want you, it burns.” 

That was enough for Nanami to discard years of training to tame his emotions. The beast within was roaring to claim you, his blood singing like it would whenever he was about to rush into a battlefield. But, this time, it wasn’t severed limbs or broken bones awaiting him, but the terrains of your body drawing him to unleash his brute desire. 

Nanami was brash when he lifted you up, your feet dangling in midair, only to be swept into the crevice of his arms. He brought you to the bedroom with barely any effort exerted, not a droplet of sweat rolling down his sharp cheekbones and sunken temples. 

Gently this time, he laid you on the futon, covering your entire body with his bigger build. You had never noticed how starkly a man towered over you, until you were in this position to look up at him. Wonder stained your sighs, those wide eyes gleaming with a girl-like innocence charming as it tugged on his soul. 

Kento felt a warmth unlike any other he had ever encountered in his arduous life; like a thousand bees were swarming in his chest, warming up the cavities of his austere ribcage housing his equally stony heart. 

His large hands swept down your shoulders, parting your kimono further apart, until the panels were splayed around your naked body. Those dark eyes appraised the crease in between your thighs, memorising them like it was his next terrain to conquer. 

Nanami was never a man who gave into the screamings of flesh, but in this instance, he felt like his veins were sparked with gunpowder—igniting from the base of his spine to the tips of his toes. 

“You are beautiful.”

That lavish praise tumbled freely from his parted mouth, burying itself underneath your blooming affections. 

However, his next words sent you reeling, like a bare branch tumbling in a storm, when he uttered: 

“I want to ruin you.”

His lips descended back onto yours, kissing with an ardour that would’ve frightened a more modest woman. Modesty—thankfully—was not part of your script, and you returned his kiss with an equal zeal that many men would find loose and unbecoming. 

From the ends of your hair to the crest of your toes, your body pulsed with an unbridled heat for him. You were soaked in between your thighs. 

Such simple kisses were making you unravel, unlike a tapestry whose loose thread had the power to undo the striking masterpiece. You were crumbling for Kento, relenting to his relentless passion. 

The taste of sleep and his skin was strong with every curl of his tongue on yours. Something hard and foreign was poking your thigh, and Kento’s strong hips undulated, his mind losing control of his body.

“Fuck,” he swore lowly, eyeing the lines between both of your bodies with a gleam in those dark, unfathomable eyes. 

You cupped his face to yours, admiring every instance of those beautiful features with their scars and faint wrinkles. A part of you wondered—as he shoved his yukata off to one side of the room—if your children would have his blonde hair. 

Nanami’s cock was imposing and resting on your thigh. His kisses were unhurried now, and they were traversing lower and lower down your body. He nipped your collarbones. Kissed your jaw and scraped his teeth on your pulse point. That same mouth roamed in between your breasts, finding the peaks of your stiff nipples and sucking on them tenderly, mouthing on them like he was attempting to extract some deeper essence from your willing body. 

Your breathing hitched when he dared to roam lower—right towards the apex of your body where your lust was undeniable. 

Kento gently parted your thighs, resting deeper in between the promised crease. His mouth touched your pelvis first, sending what felt like hot flashes up your spine. And the moment you felt his mouth on your tender parts, you were sure you moaned loud enough to wake up the old teamaker next door. 

“Kento,” you gasped, disregarding all of your etiquette training to succumb to the lust like you were no better than the harlots walking down cobblestone pavements at night. “Oh! Oh…” 

His tongue was working you into a frenzy, and those thick fingers ran through the seam of your sticky heat, parting your folds to get to the heart of your desire. One thick, calloused finger rubbed firm circles on your sensitive nub, eliciting a tremble in your thighs you had only experienced when standing for too long on a hot day. 

“Kento,” you gasped out, almost purring his name like a wanton whore. “Oh—I-I’m—” you broke off, unable to speak past the pleasure knotting underneath your sternum, making you stutter and choke. Your eyes watered, tears dripping down your cheeks; smeared by loving kisses from the man above you who watched your fall with pure rapture. 

How your brows knitted together, how your mouth fell open, a scream rebounding across the room…

“Shit,” Kento cursed, unable to help himself from driving his hips deeper and deeper into your body. “Shit, shit, shit—I’m—”

His stuttered moan was heralded by a well of warmth filling you up. The ecstasy of belonging to Kento; of feeling him melt into your walls, was the sweetest sin unlike any other. You lived for his flushed cheeks, his feral snarl, his handsome face contorting like it was in pain…

He slumped atop of you, pushing you further into the futon until your chest was smothered from the full weight of him. But, deprivation of air was not your main concern, not when Kento was kissing down your forehead, cheeks and jaw like you were a precious jewel he had just found out was real. 

Your giggle was a sweet sublime balm for his soul, and he smiled like the first warm rays of a summer morning. 

A tenderness unlike any other rooted itself in your soul, and for the first time, you figured out why men would go to war for love; why women sacrificed parts of their souls and bodies for a mere sliver of hope that their love would bloom eternally. 

Your eyes were open, and your heart welcomed every drop of his presence. 

Kento brushed the back of his knuckles down your cheek, expression softening when you began to grin.

“I did not hurt you?” 

Soft as down, you pressed his knuckles to your lips, kissing them softly. “No.”

The stoic samurai tried his best to hide how pathetically his heart raced at your tiny gesture, but his growing smile told the full truth, slowly coming to light like the indentations of a secret message upon paper being shaded in with charcoal. 

“We should be getting up for breakfast.” Ever the worrier, Kento was concerned about your lack of nutrition; if you were already starving and he had overtaxed you. 

But, your returning grin was part deific and part exasperation for the older man before you; filled with a gentleness your scarred and scared heart had never felt in her lifetime.

“We should,” you hummed in agreement. Neither of you made a move to leave each other’s embrace, and the morning sun continued speckling dancing shadows of waving sakura branches against the shoji windows.

©️ LALUNANYMPH

[gothamphantomgoat]

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

LET'S GO, WE'RE FINALLY AT MY FAVORITE!!! Not my favorite artwork though, yeesh.

This is Aizawa's fourth major undercover identity, Zukyō. She's more often referred to as Mama-san (a woman in a position of authority, especially one in charge of a geisha house or bar).

She works at Club Symbol, a small club in the red-light district. The place is frequented by villains and people who run in those circles, so Aizawa's job is to pick up on conversations had with the girls. Aizawa was sent there instead of a female Pro Hero because of worries for a woman's safety in such a situation. (Irony ensues, as Aizawa becomes a female pro hero who is a woman. But that's a story for another day.)

This look is achieved via shapewear, a corset, some silicone assistance, a look into drag, and a hint of anime magic. Most people don't notice his more masculine features because of the dark lighting and his undercover makeup, and anyone who notices, as well as the hostesses, think the Mama-san is trans. The hostesses act accordingly and protect her femininity with their lives. The character traits of Zukyō/Mama-san are based on Midnight, strict teachers, a few businesswomen Aizawa has met, and Aizawa himself.

Zukyō's 'quirk' is called Glare. The idea is that any stare from her is intimidating to anyone (perhaps enough to even make their quirk stop working out of fear). It's used as a cover for Erasure, but most often it's just Aizawa's normal scary faces.

And she is. The love of my life. I have drawn her the most, I have written the most ficlets about her, I have thought about her the most. I will be posting the hostesses separately, because this is a ZUKYO POST about ZUKYO goddamnit!

Also she's Hizashi's fake wife, but that's a long story. Everyone say, "Thank you, Nezu!"