#the will of the wisps {Akio}

[drgnbld]

Of course, Nanao is still in bed. Gods, she's so tired.

But she thought it'd be good to do so now, early, to show Alexi the baby. Lance would be there, obviously, but so would her own pokemon. She only shifted a bit in bed so that the Dragonite could see the small bundle in her arms, her voice ever soft.

"See? His name is Akio.."

@flamasagrada

@flamasagrada.

alexi remembers the birth of her masters first baby.

it was a pivotal moment in his life and the aura of excitement had surrounded his body and soul so intensely that the shines still show to this day. while she doesn't exactly have her maternal instincts fully yet ( unlike zide, who was very disappointed she had to wait to meet the clan's newest member ) she appreciates the wave of protectiveness which rolls off her master and combines with her own need to protect everything sacred to him.

she saw nanao in the same light. and though it wasn't her ID on her pokéball, or her life which she's known since the start, she was just as much of a keeper as her own master was. she was her trainer and friend, too.

so as lance steps off to the side and allows the dragon timid steps towards her other trainer, she stops to take in the scents and auras around the room. mingled with love, affection, a combined aura of both masters accumulating around the small bundle within nanao's arms, alexi's instincts settled in almost immediately. a new family member. one who, no matter what, would be protected by the three of them. one that alexi has both known over the last nine months through their aura alone and has only just met for the first time.

respectfully she bows her head towards the small human; her wisps flutter gently and she takes great care not to bump with excitement, her wings in as she tries to make herself seem... smaller. she did this with sylvie, too.

her snout touches the baby's bundled up chest first as she stands there - like a third blanket, weighted, and not moving a muscle except for her eyes which meet nanao's tired ones. she snorts, happily, and somewhere behind her lance moves to softly pet her back in appreciation. she'll always be the protector of everything he holds close and this was no exception.

[palbabor-writes]

OK so please consider typical Shig/reader where theres unspoken mutual attraction and they're not quite together but it's Post-kamino Shig, like IMMEDIATE post-kamino where he's still processing and incredibly vulnerable from just losing his sensei. I've had this in my head for a while but IDK how it would go and I think you'd do it justice (just ignore this if u don't wanna i just needed to put it out there 😌)

ugh, i loved this idea. where do you find them lydia? they just live in your mind rent free and i want to go to there. gosh, thank you for the ask.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT, NSFW/18+ only, mild angst, pivotal life moments, TW: drinking/drug use, masturbation, blow jobs, face fucking, spanking/mild pain play, vaginal fingering, cunniliginus, overstimulation, switching, dirty talk, loss of virginity (if you squint), dominance, vaginal sex     

Word Count: 11,800

Notes: oh man. so, if the word count didn’t give it away, this is plot, with a hefty dose of porn. in my mind, this is all part of the grieving process for shigaraki and he’s having a rough time coming to terms with what he’s needing to do. yeah, AFO supported him and enabled him to build a following, but he also hid all of the major pieces from him (i.e. the doctor & gigantomachia) so i can see him mourning for AFO as a teacher & as a psudo loved one, after all, at the end of that chapter he’s clutching those hands to him like he’ll fall apart without them. 

Edited by the lovely Lydia: @kugutsuu. she is the best and if you’re not reading her works, all I have to say is: YOU SHOULD BE. 

Mise en Place

/mē-ˌzäⁿ-ˈpläs/ noun or verb  a French culinary phrase which means "putting in place" or "everything in its place.”

This has got to be the strangest, hole in the wall, bar you’ve ever worked at. 

The patrons are touchy and most seem downright dangerous. The whole lot of them are more like mid level criminals than the usual haggard, overworked, regular, citizens you find in local watering holes.  Meanwhile, the gentleman who runs the day to day operations shares more similarities with a will o’ the wisp than a man, and the bar itself is smack dab in one of the seediest parts of town. 

The liquor selection, however, is top of the line. Some of the labels you haven’t seen outside of posh hotels or high class country clubs, and many of the older bottles are rarities. Honestly, there are so many of the high brow bottles that you’re not sure who to ask about the rail selection. There’s no real order to the place and it’s the most free reign you’ve ever been given with your mixology experiments. There’s not even a listing of drinks to go off of. But, if the disgruntled evening crowd is happy, then so is the upper management. All they ask is that you lock up before you leave.

No, nothing about this place makes sense. But, it does pay well and, right now, that’s the only thing you need to worry about.

There’s one other barkeep, a stogy man named Akio. He usually works the day shift, but late yesterday afternoon, he’d given you a call and asked if the two of you could swap for the duration of next week. At first, you’d balked, worried you’d need to schmooze with an unfamiliar bunch of regulars, who’d then decline to tip simply because you were new. But, Akio had sweetened the pot with the promise of $20,000 yen, so, you’d agreed. 

“It’s fairly quiet in the afternoon,�� Akio reassured you. “It’s really just putting away shipment and serving the odd customer who happens to pass by. The only thing...well, I’m sure you’ve met him. You’ve been working there for over a month, no way you could miss him.” 

“Who?” you ask, twirling your spoon in your mid-morning coffee, curious, but not wanting to seem overly eager in your questioning. You like your night shift and you’re not wanting this to become a regular swap. You detest having to lug heavy boxes to and fro, pulling liquor and checking lot numbers, ick. Plus, if it really is that slow in the afternoons, it would only be a matter of time before Kurogiri would come after you with a duster and ask you to clean the upper shelves. Yeah, no, thanks. This would be a one week deal, ONLY.

“His name is Shigaraki. He’s, er, different. I suppose you’ll meet him soon, if you haven’t already.”

“Shigaraki? No, that name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he--”

“I have to go, my son is here. Thanks again for the swap and talk soon, (Y/N).”

The line clicks and you let your phone fall from your ear, clattering the metal and plastic along your kitchen table. Shigaraki, you think, taking a scalding sip of your coffee, no, that’s not a name you’ve heard before. Wonder what it is about him that has Akio so on edge. It’s not like him to give you, er, whatever that strange heads-up had been. Either way, it would take more than a vague descriptor like different, to spook you off. 

******

Akio was right, on all counts, about the haze of monotony that permeated the afternoon shift at the bar. 

Well, right on everything except a sighting of that elusive Shigaraki guy. No, the whole afternoon it’s just been you, Kurogiri, and one, rather sloshed old man, who you’ve long since cut off, and propped at the far end of the bartop. It’s been a dull, slow, day. Thank God you’d taken that extra cash from Akio, or this might not even turn out to be worth your while. 

You’re slipping another bottle of whiskey on the lower shelf when you hear a barstool scrape back. You turn at the sound, your head already lifted and a small, friendly, smile lingering on your lips. There’s a lanky guy, dressed all in black with a mop of wavy white hair, working himself onto the small seat. His head is lowered and he hasn’t bothered to look up at you, not yet, anyway. He looks, not really young, but you can’t tell and you’re not about to let some underaged kid worm his way in here. You’ve had enough of those punks sneaking in in the evening, thank you. 

“Gimme a shot of scotch,” the man says, his voice low, with a quiet rasp racing along the tone. It’s a strange timbre and it makes you pause, your eyes scanning those pearlescent strands of hair that are hiding his face from view.

“Hmph,” you snort, arching a brow at his attempts at concealment. He must be underage, who comes up to a barkeep with a ducked head and demands a scotch? 

“Let me give you a piece of advice, don’t come into a bar and immediately refuse to make eye contact with the bartender. We’re like animals at the zoo, we startle easily and don’t like surprises. And, with your face tucked like that, I can’t gauge your age. So, before I get you that unnamed and unbranded scotch, I’m gonna to need to see some ID.”

The man lifts his head at your preamble and you feel your breath catch at the raw annoyance that’s etched across his scarred and cracked face. His eyes are a rich red, closer to ruby and they latch onto yours, insistent and sharp. It’s a deeply intense stare and you can’t seem to pull yourself away, your brow furrowing at his sudden shift in demeanor. 

“I don’t have an ID,” he snaps, his lips lifting into a snarl, showing you the vivid whiteness of his teeth. 

You lick your lips and his gaze follows the motion, eyes lowering, freeing you from that uneasy imprisonment he’d abruptly ensnared you in.

Your heart is beating rapidly against your throat and you shake your head, refocusing your bewildering reaction to this guy's presence. “I-I haven’t heard that one before,” you say, taking a few steadying breaths and tossing a dirty glass in the dishwasher, looking for any task that will let you step away from this strange interaction. 

“You must be new,” he says, leaning back and hunching those dark shoulders. You watch him out of the corner of your eye and shut the dishwasher door, hitting the button to run a cycle. 

“Nope,” you correct him, pulling out two fresh glasses and lining them up on the bartop, reaching for the rail scotch. “I’ve worked here for over a month.”

“Never seen you before.”

“That makes two of us,” you reply, flipping the bottle up and filling both glasses with four counts of the dark liquor. You press one to him and lift the other for yourself. The man narrows his eyes at you and looks pointedly at the glass in your hands. 

“You supposed to drink on the clock?”

You laugh and he shifts back at the sound, his head bowing forward, another scowl lifting his lips. Realizing you must have made him uncomfortable, you step toward him and clumsily clink your glass against his, tilting your head at the surrealness of this whole conversation. “They don’t really care what I do. Come on, stranger who has no ID, bottoms up.”

He looks from you to the shot a few times before finally relenting and taking the vessel in a strange four fingered grip, his middle finger arched carefully away. Once you’re sure he’s actually going to toast with you, you sling your shot back, enjoying the sharp burn of the rich liquor. 

You’re about to ask your new drinking companion another question when you hear his chair scrape back. By the time you’re stepping toward him, he’s already pacing down a back hallway, blending into the darkness and disappearing from your sight.

“Um! You can’t...I don’t think you can go back there. And you gotta pay, dude! Hey--”

“He doesn’t need to pay.” 

You always hear Kurogiri before you see him and today is no exception. He’s standing at the entrance to the back of the bartop and he’s watching the path the strange young man took, his shifting face turned from you. You cock your head at his assertion and swiftly place your empty glass into the soapy water of the filled sink. He likely saw you take the shot, but you’re not about to leave evidence behind. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, watching as the wisp like man turns and steps toward you, his amber slits watchful. It’s like he’s sizing you up and you shift on your feet, uncomfortable at the frank, open, assessment.  

“He’s Tomura Shigaraki, and he owns this bar.”

******     

You’re off for the next two days and the wait, the silence, is abjectly harrowing. You can’t sit down, can’t relax, can’t focus. The one time you decide to get overly familiar, of fucking course, it would be with the owner. But no one has called, and no one has sent you any messages. The empty static of your job's reticence doesn’t alleviate your nerves. 

Who knows, they might want to act out the sick power play of having you show up for your shift, only be fired as soon as you darken the doorway.

The next afternoon, you take a familiar route to the bar, your feet tapping hollowly along the steps and alleyways that wind to the rusty entrance. You come in the front, blinking against the darkness, and lock the door behind you. Everything is quiet. But, in forty minutes, the open sign will switch on and you need to get your bar set up, plus slap on a little bit of makeup. You’re so lost in thought that you’re almost to the long bartop when you spot him.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki. He’s sitting at the same bar stool and his head turns as you approach, those unearthly red eyes lingering over you. It’s a different look, very, very removed from that harsh glare he’d given you the other day. He looks less hostile and more, well, curious. 

You give him a cursory nod and pad behind the high counter, taking the final glasses out of the dishwasher and removing the stoppers from all the open liquor bottles. He’s still watching you and you can feel his gaze as it bores into your back, your side, your front. You attempt to ignore him, but the constant threat of those insistent red eyes is beginning to frustrate you. Finally, once you’ve replaced the cash drawer, you lift your gaze to his. 

“What is it?” Your voice sounds waspish, but you don’t care.

“Nothing,” he replies, leaning forward and propping his chin on his palm, not breaking that unsettling leer. 

“So stop staring at me,” you bristle, unsure why your heart is starting to beat a rapid tattoo against your ribs. You don’t know this guy. Sure, he’s mysterious and almost handsome, in a dark horse kinda way, but there’s no reason for him to give you this odd staredown. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant this attention, well, besides drinking on the job, but he could just fire you for that, if it was so troublesome. Either way, he should either speak up, or knock it off. 

He smirks at your impudence and murmurs a raspy, “No,” back, his head tilting, waiting for your next move. 

“You’re a real charmer, you know that?” You scoff, crossing your arms and jutting your chin defiantly. 

“Whatever you say,” he breathes, that smile of his deepening, making his vermillion eyes shine. And, just like that, the two of you wander into a stilted game of give and take. 

For the first few days, he makes sure he’s there before you arrive for the last of your afternoon shifts, his dark back already perched over the bartop as you shut the door behind you. Then, when you transition back to the evening shifts, he’s there too, sitting at that familiar perch, his eyes always, always watching, observing. You continue to ignore him and he seems to relish your agitated silence, flashing you dark smirks and quiet laughs.

Finally, two weeks into this stagnated stalemate, you make a point to strike up a real conversation with him. He’s obviously taken aback by your first few questions, his eyes wide and jaw tense, but he plays along. 

Over time, the two of you carefully erect a haphazard friendship. And that chair of his? That center barstool? He used to not mind if another person was sitting in it when he arrived late, but recently that’s all changed. Now he guards it ferociously. Snapping and glaring at anyone who is stupid enough to drift into it. 

Along with the lingering looks and burgeoning, almost flirty, dialogue you’ve pushed him into, he’s also gotten very demanding of your attention. If you spend too much time talking with another customer, or with Kurogiri, he pouts and darkens until you return, his tense form losing that sharpness.  It's almost like he’s got a crush on you, but he’s not sure what to do with the newfound sensation, lost and confounded by your teases and grins. 

Most people, you notice, give him a wide berth, but not you. No, you like his keen wit and heated musings. He’s fascinating and you want to see more. And in his flustered confusion, he lets you lean in, blinking and wide eyed at your open, flagrant interest in him.

******   

As the weeks drift into summer, things start to change at the bar. 

There’s some atypical deposit of power that’s been bestowed upon the place. People you’ve never seen before, begin to frequent the premises, sharing videos and whispered conversations about that man, Chizome Akaguro, better known to the general public as the Hero Killer. 

Tomura flits between several, dark moods, clutching his newly injured shoulder and murmuring complaints about hero society, All Might and the Hero Killer. Apparently, there had been an altercation between the two of them and Tomura didn’t hide his ire, his agitation from you. No, he would vent to you, his voice gravel and ash as he snarled his rage.  

Then, as if things couldn’t get any stranger, one evening a young girl begins to hang around, pestering you for a soda and prattling on and on about blood. Another new guy slips in a few hours later, his skin marred by thick, ragged burns and staples. He’s quiet, rudely demanding a shot and nursing it in a corner, his bright blue eyes flashing as he stares vacantly out at the crowd by the well. 

A quiet man, called Spinner, asks you for a water, and you acquiesce, watching as his green hands wrap around the glass, downing the liquid in a quick gulp. Later, there’s a robust, loud, clearly confused guy, wearing a skin tight black bodysuit loitering by your bartop. He keeps entreating you for a drink, then tells you to buzz off seconds later. Exasperated, you plunk a whole bottle down beside his glass and continue on with your work, ignoring his chatter. 

Finally, a man in a white mask and a top hat rounds out the strange posse and the group gathers together, hovering around Tomura, asking questions and listening to his rasping answers. 

Thankfully, the rag-tag group leaves soon after closing, all of them shouldering their way back out into the night. You shake your head as the door closes behind them, gathering the collection of dirty glasses they left in their wake. Only Tomura remains, sipping meditatively on his drink, his red eyes foggy and unfocused. You know from experience that it’s not a good time to ask him questions, so you continue with your closing duties, keeping your eyes down.

Something is going on, that much is clear. But, unless you could worm the information out of Tomura, you’d likely never fully know all of the details. Part of you warns that it’s likely dangerous. Many of the people who haunt the bar are low level villains or brokers, not a winning combination if you’re wanting to stay out of the fray, and on the right side of the law. 

You finish wiping everything down and return to Tomura, asking him softly if you can wash his empty glass. His eyes lift to yours and the expression that greets you almost makes you want to reach out and cup his cheek. He looks tired, worn thin and so, so needy. You’ve never seen him like this. It almost feels like he’s showing you something he’s never revealed to anyone else, a vulnerability that only you can see. He’s giving you access to a quiet secret that can hang between the two of you, safe in the knowledge that he can trust you with it. That urge to stroke a finger down his roughed brow rises again, but you shove the impulse away, rattled by your sudden, visceral, reaction to him. 

To distract yourself, you snatch up his glass, and turn from the intensity of his stare, a slow prickle of gooseflesh trembling along your skin. As you run hot water and soap over the vessel, you feel your heart begin to pound and you chance another peek at Tomura’s quiet form. As usual, he’s watching you, but he looks unfocused again, that broken vulnerability tucked away. You want to ask him if he’s ok, but before you can croak the words out, he pushes his stool back and paces down the dark hallway, leaving you alone and bewildered. 

******

A few days later, you ask Kurogiri if you can sneak away for a minute, you need a break. The bar has been packed since nine and you could use a quick breather. It’s the first night Tomura hasn’t stopped by and his absence has bothered you. You missed his grumpy quips and his persistent glances. All this time, you’d thought it was just him that was catching any kind of feelings, but it looks like he’s somehow managed to nag his way into your psyche, too. 

You take the back stairs quietly and let yourself out onto the alleyway balcony, climbing the rickety fire escape to the rooftop. You’d found the access to the roof your second week and it’s still your favorite place in the whole bar. On a clear night, you can see all the way to downtown Tokyo. It’s always quiet this high up, tranquil and serene. You brace yourself against the concrete wall and watch the lights of the city glimmer, like distant jewels, in the darkness.

You pull a small joint from your pant pocket and flick your lighter on, setting the edge of the rolling paper alight and taking a slow drag. The inhale fills your lungs with a light pressure and you savor the feeling before blowing a thin line of smoke into the night. You get a few more hits in before you hear the fire escape stairs rattle, signaling that someone is coming your way. You debate dampening your roach, but you don’t want to waste it, so you tuck the smoldering paper in your other hand, maneuvering it out of sight. 

The white shine of his hair always gives him away. 

Tomura hops over the ledge and his eyes are already lifting, searching for yours as he stands. You arch an eyebrow at his tense stance and you can’t help your giddy smile. “Everything ok?” 

“Kurogiri said you were taking a break,” he replies, dipping his long fingers into his pockets and sauntering over to the patch of concrete you’re braced against. 

“Yeah,” you confirm, waiting until he’s closer to lift the joint back to your lips, taking a steadying pull and scooting over, so he can fit beside you on the wall. “It’s busy, and I’ve been slinging drinks all night. Just wanted to decompress for a bit.”

Tomura doesn’t reply, but he does slot himself close, the warmth of his broad shoulder radiating against yours. The two of you drift into a companionable silence, and the only sounds that greet you is the quiet hush of traffic below and your inhales and exhales of smoke. 

“You got another meeting?” you ask, crossing your arms and pressing minutely closer, enjoying the distant shiver Tomura gifts you. 

“No,” he murmurs, his voice low. You think that might be the end of the conversation but he continues a few seconds later, his head tilting toward yours, those red eyes scanning your upturned face. “They’re on a mission. I’m not able to participate. It will need to be like a SIM game. They are the pieces that I’ll move over the board, they’ll act to my battle plan.”

You turn to him, your eyes wide. “So, they’re just...pawns? Little NPC’s that don’t matter?”

Tomura laughs and his teeth gleam in the moonlight and distant shine of the neon lights. “Of course not. Do I look that heartless? No, they’re valuable players and if this goes right, we’ll be able to take on the next level with a decided edge.” 

You let that last comment hover, pausing to take another huff, your eyes lowered, brooding over his words. “So, you’re their vanguard leader?”

“Sure,” Tomura nods, “We can’t keep grinding each mission, hoping to pick up any XP these heroes happen to drop. We need to make waves of our own.”

“Oh? Like the Hero Killer?”

“No,” Tomura snarls, his arm tensing beside yours, a hand rising to scritch at his scarred neck agitatedly. “Nothing like him. We’re looking past him. He was too short sighted, so busy following his own code of justice that he didn’t notice he was breeding more heroes, not putting them down.”

“Hmm,” you sigh, thumping your head lightly against the concrete behind you. “That is true. But, you can’t deny he’s brought up some serious divisions. It’s funny, really. It makes me think of this little hero toy I had when I was younger. 

It was of an older hero, he prolly died long ago, but I loved that toy when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, it stopped mattering and one day, without me even realizing it, it lost its importance entirely. I wonder if hero society will ever shift to that. With the fractures that have been seen at UA and all over Japan, it could be a matter of time before real change starts to happen. Anyway, I wasn’t meaning to grill you on your, uh, projects. I was--”

“What toy?” 

His question nonpluses you and you cock your head, blinking up at his peripheral stare. “Um, I think it was of that fast hero, O’clock. It was my older brothers originally, but he passed it down to me. No idea where it is now. It likely got lost in a move or accidentally left behind.”

Tomura lifts his eyes from yours, his jaw clenching and a slow gulp echoing down his lean throat. You watch the bob of his Adam’s apple, fascinated by the movement. That urge to touch him is back and you have to clench your fingers into your palms to quiet it. 

You’re so distracted by your primal reaction to him, that you miss his question and he has to repeat it, his eyes slipping back to yours, the red dark. 

“What?” you ask, blinking against the acuteness of his gaze. 

“Can I take a hit of that?”

“Of what...oh.” You lift the half smoked joint and chuckle at yourself, pressing the smoldering paper toward him. “Sure. You had one before?”

“Does it matter?” He scoffs, carefully taking the white roach from you and raising it to his chapped lips.

“Go slow,” you warn as he begins to inhale, his eyes drifting to a half mast, concentrating.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he grumbles, pulling a tentative, but heavy, drag into his lungs.

“Fine,” you scoff playfully, “do what you want. But don’t blame me when you’re coughing up a lung.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t heed your advice and, seconds later, he’s clutching at his throat, dropping the joint onto the broken gravel and concrete as he heaves. Instinctively, you thump him on his back and run your palm soothingly over his lean shoulder blades, surprised by the corded muscle that greets you. For a relatively thin guy, he’s certainly packing some strength under that unassuming form of his. 

Tomura startles at your touch and he yanks himself away from you, his head ducked, eyes fastening onto yours, the irises accusatory and bright, burning with some underlying emotion that you’re too nervous to name right now. 

“Uh,” you begin, aghast that you’ve upset him, “m-my bad…”

But, he’s already leaving, his head firmly turned from you, clambering over the edge and back onto the fire escape, leaving you alone in the darkness. 

******                

After that night, you can’t slip him out of your mind. Even when you sleep, you can see those red eyes of his, gleaming and hungry. One evening, you’d even woken with your fingers firmly pressed to your throbbing clit, stumbling and gasping, shaking free of a dream of him. He’d felt so real, so in focus and you can’t catch your breath, fingers still rubbing a tight circle over your quivering bundle of nerves. You pant as you break yourself, sukling in the whites and reds that haze over your vision. Yeah, that crush of his definitely isn’t a one sided thing.

The next shift you work, he’s waiting for you, perched in his familiar seat, his shoulders curved and tight. You give him a glance, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. His hands are lowered, fiddling with something under the bartop. You begin to open your bar, trying to quiet your wandering thoughts, not wanting to perturb him again. You’re uncorking a red wine when he presses something across the mahogany wood of the bar, toward you.

It’s small, with dark colors and a tiny, familiar, upper half mask. You let the bottle of wine thud against the counter, abandoning the half opened bottle to move closer. It’s...it’s your-- No. It can’t be yours, but it is the same toy, the one you’d mentioned on the roof the other night. How did he?

You gulp and look up at him, your heart pulsing wildly against your ribs. For the first time, he looks away from you first, his white hair pillowing across his brow. His lips start to rise in an all too habitual scowl and his raspy voice lifts to your ears. “If you don’t want it,” he grouses, one hand pulling away from the offered toy, clearly flustered by your wondering gaze. Without thinking, you slip your fingertips over the top of his hand, prolonging the touch, sulking in the warmth of him. 

His fingers curl, some unconscious tremor racing along his digits. He almost yanks himself away, but then he stops, sighing as his eyes lift to yours. For a long moment, the two of you watch the other. You can hear his breathing speed up and you can almost smell the shift in the air. All it would take is one, tiny push to break that delicious tension. 

Tomura’s nostrils flare as you start to lean closer, your body curving toward his, fingers still pressing into his skin. Your tongue dips out, wetting your lower lip and pulling it into your mouth, sucking on the plush flesh. His eyelids have lowered and he’s mirroring your motions, his elbows assisting his lift, his face upturning, seeking, reaching.

With a bang, the front door is flung open and it breaks the spell that’s fallen over the two of you. Tomura leans away first, his eyes narrowed in agitation, sliding from your open face to the darkness of the entryway. You exhale a shaking breath and follow Tomura’s gaze. It’s that masked man, the one with the top hat and he’s already striding confidently forward, peppering Tomura with a series of questions. 

Snagging up his gift to you, you walk back to your bottle of wine. 

******    

You don’t have a chance to see Tomura again until he tells you, one evening, that the bar is going to be closed for the next few days. Then, over his shoulder, you spot the blonde boy, strapped and bound into a stiff chair and you blanch, stunned, too overwrought to give him more than a one word acknowledgement before stumbling back outside. In all of your talks, he’d never mentioned anything like this. That boy looked like a kid, barely past middle school, his eyes wild and defiant, but also so, so frightened. 

No, you think, pacing your apartment, it’s impossible to come to terms with this. You can’t stay there, can’t work there. It’s too dangerous, too close to a real criminal den for comfort. You have to look out for yourself, no matter your feelings for the man who’s wandering down some long, lost pathway, toward a future you can’t even comprehend, let alone see.

So, you hand in your written resignation. 

Kurogiri is behind the bar when you bring it in, and you’re hoping that the early morning conversation will spare you from having to see him. The wispy, purple hand of Kurogiri is just about to take your letter when Tomura barges down the hallway. His eyes immediately land on you and he steps forward, a dark look passing over his palled features. 

“Why?” he growls, fingers snatching the paper from Kurogiri and crumbling the parchment to bits, his quirk rendering your typed words to nothingness. 

“I don’t want to be a part of any kidnapping. It…” you pause, looking toward Kurogiri and, to your surprise, he nods to Tomura and moves away, leaving the two of you alone in the vacant bar. Tomura is still glaring at you, but he’s waiting for you to finish your thought, his jaw grinding quietly. 

“This doesn’t feel like you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Tomura scoffs, his chin jutting at the assertion. 

“This doesn’t change society. This is just some petty attempt to get back at the UA staff. It’s like...It’s like you’re asking for trouble to seek you out. You’re smarter than this. Besides, what are you going to do with him?” you smart, crossing your arms and balling your fingers into your fists. 

“What do you know about anything? That kid’s been oppressed by hero society, literally muzzled and bound--”

“As if you’re doing any better! He’s still muzzled and bound, Tomura! He’s just in a different location. This is insanity. Who put you up to doing--”

“That doesn’t matter. This conversation has nothing to do with that. You can’t leave,” Tomura snaps, his head lowering, soft white hair falling over his face. “Give it a few more days.”

“What? I can’t stay if the bar is raided and it’s prolly gonna be if you keep that kid. Besides, that’s not--”

“Just...just give me a few more days. I don’t want to beg you, I shouldn’t fucking need to beg you. It’s not an impossible request (Y/N). Just--”

“Fine,” you sigh, uncrossing your arms and watching him. He looks on edge, haggard and angry. Those emotions aren’t projected at you, you know that. Nevertheless, it doesn’t lessen the danger he’s asking you to stand with him in. But, you can give him a few days and you tell him so, trying to ignore the pattering of your heart when he looks at you and smiles.

******

Then, Kamino happens. 

You weren’t there, thank God. But he was, and now, no matter what he’d asked of you, no matter what he’d hoped for, everything shifts apart. Days linger into weeks and you’re trying your best to reason that he’d made it out in one piece. Surely, you would have heard something. The capture of the leader of the League of Villains would have been a morsel that the media would have wanted to crow about, especially after the loss of All Might. 

Late one evening, your phone rings. 

It’s an unknown, blacked out number, but something tells you to answer, so you pick it up. You almost gasp when you hear that familiar rasp and you listen to what he tells you. You can’t get over how brittle and cracked his voice sounds but you write down the address he gives you. He cloaks his true motivations with a lie. Apparently, he has your last paycheck. Like that even matters to you. Honestly, you’re just glad he’s safe and whole. But, he’s gone to all this effort to build a bridge back to him, so of course you’re going to go.

You check and double check the directions, carefully maneuvering and weaving through bus stops and back streets. Somehow, you make it and find yourself pressing open a dilapidated door and stepping into a small room. Only darkness greets you, even though the bright midday sun is shining outside. The place he’s brought you to is on a dock, on the outskirts of town, close to the salty edge of a bay. You can hear the mournful cries of a seagull as you close the door behind you, sealing yourself inside and blinking into the gloom.

It takes you a minute to catch sight of him.

He’s lingering along the edges but you can make out the glow of his eyes, red and fierce. He looks different. It’s only been a few weeks, but it looks like the weight of years has crushed him under its unfeeling grind in that short amount of time. No, Kamino has changed him, rendering him unhinged and dangerous, drifting along the peripheral of your vision. Still, you haven’t come here to witness him falling to bits at your feet. No, you’d come here with another, darker motive. 

Now, to work.

“What happened?” you ask, keeping your back firmly against the door. Watching him move closer, those red shoes of his glinting over the dark wooden floors.

“Sensei is...gone,” he replies, his voice hollow and faint. He’s mentioned his Sensei before and you’d heard the man’s strange voice echoing from that back television, like some distant, terrifying specter. But, you knew he was important to Tomura, more like a father than a teacher. However, you’d seen the news. You knew he was beaten to a pulp and captured, locked away and out of Tomura’s reach. Now, he can’t ask his Sensei for advice or support, not anymore. Even knowing what little you’ve gleaned about the strange man, Tomura must be devastated by his loss.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, genuine in your sympathy.

Tomura nods and fishes for something in the pocket of his trench coat, lifting a thin slip of paper out and showing it to you. “Here,” he sighs, still not meeting your eyes directly. 

“Oh,” you say, moving away from the door and taking a few steps toward him. “You really did ask me here for the check, huh?”

“What else did you want?” he grumbles, his voice regaining a small slice of that familiar rasping. The question lingers and you feel your pulse speed up, your palms itching at your sides. “Or, did you want to scold me again?” Tomura continues disgruntled, and you can see a grimace pass over his face.

“You deserved it,” you confirm, taking another step, only wavering when you’re a few feet from him. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn't kidnapped that UA student. Now, the kid, and your Sensei are gone and you’re stuck here. Wherever here is”

“Look at you, quite the oracle aren’t you? So, you did come here to berate me.” Tomura snaps, dropping your pay stub to the dusty floor. 

“No,” you shake your head, not wanting this to spiral out of your control, not wanting him to simply shut you out, alone on that pier, left with all of your what ifs. “No, I didn’t come here to do that. I-I...it’s just that...well...that wasn’t you. That whole plan...it still doesn’t make sense”

“How the fuck would you know what is, or isn’t, me? You said that that morning, too. I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now,” Tomura bristles, closing the distance and bowing up to you. You can feel the sheer heat of him radiating against your shirt and you shiver at the sensation. If you lift your hand you could touch him, you think distantly. He’s so close...He’s so... 

You gulp, trying to quell your rising emotions. “I guess, I don’t know then.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine,” you say, biting your lip.

“Fine,” he repeats, no doubt thinking that will be the end of it, but you’re not finished.

“You’re better than this you know,” you tell him, eyes searching for his, not relenting your glare until he finally meets you halfway, his red eyes flashing.

“Better than what? Better than you? A half baked woman, slumming her way from mid range bar, to mid range bar. Hoping you’ll catch the eye of the right person, someone who can pluck you from all the muck and grime that you lift that pretty little nose of yours at.”

“What?” you breathe, a snarl of your own etching across your face.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know what you were doing. Fucking leading me on like that--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You thought I’d be your ticket out, or you could wager me later for a better piece, something stronger, someone that could do something for you.” Tomura is seething, his chest bumping against yours, the red of his eyes burning as he glowers at you. 

“Tomura- I don’t know what you’re talk--”

“Stop saying that. You stupid, or something? And stop saying my name like that. Like it fucking matters. You could have had anything, you know? But...but you took it all for granted. You had the world...and then it...it’s...it’s just gone.”

He’s not talking about you anymore. Even though he’s growling and spitting rage at you, he’s not talking about you. “Shigaraki,” you begin, trying to see some way to reason with him. To bring him back to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” he groans, his head dipping, almost resting against your shoulder. “I haven’t earned...that’s not me.” 

“Alright. What am I supposed to call you?” you whisper, overwhelmed and trying to resist that urge to pull him into your arms. You’ve never seen him like this, and you don’t know, you don’t…

“There you go again, acting like you care.” Tomura scoffs, rolling his eyes. 

“I do care, you ass,” you bite, turning your head toward him and letting your voice fall beside his ear. He snarls at the assertion and presses impossibly closer, trying his best to put on a show of wavering strength, knowing you might still be bullied into backing down, into denying him. But it’s not working, no you’ve come this far and you don’t want to leave him, not like this. 

“I care,” you repeat, still murmuring next to his cheek, so near you can hear, and feel, his ragged breaths, hot against your skin.

“About what?” he grunts, moving his head from you, determined to not let you win.

“About, well, you.”

“Liar,” he spits, but his voice wavers, showing you a tiny, tiny sliver of hope.

“Am not,” you counter and watch as he leans back, those vermillion eyes searching for yours. One of his hands lifts and he ghosts the digits over the top of your shoulder, watching as you shift toward the distant touch, pulled to him, like a magnet.

“Such a liar,” he posits, fingers hovering beside your neck, twitching with want. 

“No, I’m not,” you gasp, your voice so faint, you’re worried he might not hear it. But he does and he dips his head toward you, inches from your face, lips already parted and waiting. 

“Prove it,” he challenges, his voice deepening, losing that sharpened edge at long last.

So, you shove him. 

You’re not sure why that’s your first, instinctive reaction, but it’s too late to question your motives and it sparks a crazed response from the man in front of you, snapping him out of his head and refocusing him. 

He fumbles backwards, caught off guard, his red shoes catching as he lumbers, trying to not fall. His eyes flash at you and he instantly rights himself, moving back to you. Through it all, you can hear yourself saying something. It sounds like it might have been another taunt, but you can’t focus, not when he’s pressing himself against you, his fingers finally, finally touching you. 

Tomura can’t seem to settle now that he’s gotten ahold of you, his fingers tracing over your neck, your shoulders, your face, your sides. He’s panting and gasping, his fevered exhales fanning over your prickling skin.

“Get off me,” you moan, batting at his wandering hands.

“No,” he sighs, cupping your jaw and dragging you to his shaking lips. His kiss is clumsy, almost childlike. He lifts and leans, pressing halting smacks against you, grunting when you twist from him, fighting his hold.

“You don’t deserve it,” you tell him, wanting to lance that boil that’s festering in his mind, knowing he needs the pain before he can handle the sweetness of the pleasure. The last thing he needs is love. No, not right now. Hopefully, there will be time for that later. But for now, he needs something raw and shattered, something that will let him see that it’s not impossible to pick up the pieces, that he can be whole again, he just needs to try.

He drags his rough lips over yours and you lower your fingers into his snowy hair, pulling him closer, demanding that he give you more. He gasps at the sudden shift and you slip your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his and yanking stammering moans from him. Your lips are slick now and you use the extra lubrication to slip down his neck, leaving him trembling above you. 

You dip into each and every scar, laving over all those old hurts until he’s snarling. You leave a bruising bite against his pulse and he snatches your face between his palms, dragging you back to his lips. 

“Stop squirming,” he complains, his forehead bumping against yours, trying to keep up with your rapid fire laps and sucks. 

“No,” you laugh, fingers lacing into the lapels of his trench coat and using the leverage to drag your breasts over his hardened pectorals. He grunts at the sensation, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pinning you to him. When he finally manages to work his way free of your frantic presses, he lowers his lips to your neck, mimicking the same path you’d taken with him, his teeth nipping and pulling until your humming, giving him a thin cry of encouragement that spurs him on. 

Tomura drags a canine over your pulse and you shiver, folding into his crumpled embrace. He’s almost having to hold you upright and he growls when you slip from his arms, annoyed you’re making this so fucking difficult. 

“I said, keep still,” he reminds you, heaving you back up, lean forearms bracing you to him. You smile and lace your arms around his neck, wanting his lips again. He allows the pull, loving the contrast of your plush skin against his. He’s a fast learner and this time, it’s his tongue taps and maneuvers for entrance, swallowing down your needy pants. His nose presses into your cheek and you cup at his jaw, stroking the warm skin until he slows his frantic pace, meeting you halfway, and lingering in your wet softness.

Then, just as he’s getting comfortable, you dig your teeth into his lower lip, pulling until you bleed out a little taste of copper. He snarls and shoves you away, lifting the side of his hand to his injured mouth. 

“What was that for?” He snaps, tapping his fingers against the wound, watching as they come back red. “The fuck is wrong with…” His ire stutters to a halt when he catches sight of you. 

You’ve already slipped your shirt over your head and now your fingers are twisting until you unclasp your bra, sliding the lace down your arms. The cool air makes your nipples tighten but you don’t attempt to cover yourself from him. Instead, you arch an eyebrow at his abashed expression and begin to unbutton your pants, your fingers teasingly lingering over the button and zipper, before lowering the denim down the curve of your hips. 

You don’t even hear him approach. No, you’re too distracted by your little show to notice him until you feel those warm fingers tracing over the newly bared swells of your skin. You lift your head and your eyes catch his, smiling at the hazy hunger that’s blazing out at you. His touch is tentative and you roll your eyes openly at him, lifting your own hands over his, pressing him until he’s digging those four digits into your sumptuous flesh. 

His thumb rubs over your pebbled nipple and you reward him with a low moan, your eyes slipping behind your heavy eyelids. He cups at your other breast and lifts the weight of you into his palm, openly marveling at the feel of you. Still, it’s not enough and if you’re going to get your point across, you need him to give you more than these lazy strokes. 

“Take off your jacket,” you tell him, stepping away from him, quaking minutely in the loss of his warmth. 

“What?” he asks, clearly too overwrought to hear you. So, you help him along. Your fingers snatch the shoulders of his trench and you yank it off him, tossing the fabric down to the gritty floors. Then, you shove at him again. He isn’t as taken aback this time and he rallies immediately, snatching at you and dragging you against him, making you gasp at the harsh sensation of his dark clothes against your bare front. 

“What do you want?” you ask him, licking your tongue along the underside of his jaw, listening to his shuddering breaths. “What do you want to do to me, Tomura? Come on, I know you’ve got some idea. Fucking show me. Don’t let me boss you around, unless that’s what you’re wanting today to be about. I can take those reigns from you. I’m better at this after all. Less...flustered,” you pause, sucking and nipping at his neck, enjoying the indecisive flex of his fingers on your upper arms.

He allows you one more bite and then he’s tossing you down, not caring where you land. Thankfully, you sprawl over his discarded jacket, the fabric sparing you from the neglected wooden floor. You’re trying to regain your bearings when you hear his belt clatter to the floor. You look up at him, watching as he flings that dark shirt away, showing you the lean muscles that you’ve wondered about for so long. God, for someone so lanky, he looks fucking good. 

Tomura smirks at your expression and swiftly yanks his pants and boxers away too, revealing something even more mouthwatering. Fuck, fuck, you think, an involuntary gasp leaving your lips. His cock is thick, pulsing and absolutely dripping with his precum. The tip is a lovely pink, curving toward that chiseled stomach of his and damn, you want to suck on it until he’s putty in your hands. 

As if he can read your mind, Tomura steps closer, giving himself a few tugs as he peers down on you, imperious and almost perfectly in control. “You want it?” He asks, trying to hide that sudden shift in his voice, wanting to show you that he understands what you’re expecting from him. You nod and bite your lip, looking up at him from feathery eyelashes. 

“Come here,” he requests, slowing those pulls and letting his precum slip from his fist to the floor, tempting you with those tiny droplets of arousal. Obediently, you rise to your knees, fingers tracing up his thighs, smiling at the light buckling he gives you, his calves twitching and shaking. 

You tease your way to the apex of his hips and pause, lingering along that dip of his stomach. “Can I taste you?” you question coquettishly and you adore the moan that falls from his lips. 

Taking that as a yes, you slowly lower your mouth to him, ghosting the tip of him over you. Rubbing him back and forth, painting that thick precum over your lips until they’re glistening. Tiring of this little game, his fingers dip into your hair and he grips you, hard. With one pull, he’s burying that velvet heat of his length past the ring of your lips and into the sweet cavern of your mouth. His cock swells and throbs as you lap ravenous at the hefty weight of him.

He’s salty and earthy and you let your tongue swirl over his slit, lapping into that leaking gap until he’s murmuring nonsense over you. He’s almost too big for you to take, so one of your hands lifts and wraps around his base, easing your sucks and ensuring that none of him is left out of this gift of mind numbing ecstasy you’re bestowing upon him. 

There are several veins, racing along the side of his cock and you tickle along each of them, pressing until you can feel the beat of his heart, frantic and fluttering. Soon, he begins to silently ask you for more, rutting his hips against your face, scraping himself along the back of your throat. When you heave around him he lets out a loud, elongated moan and digs in again, lingering until you’re nearly choking. 

You chance a peek up at him and are surprised to see him gazing right back, those red eyes of his clouded and muddled. His hand keeps an insistent pressure against the back of your head, demanding that you keep going. So, you pick up the pace, lapping and sucking, hollowing your cheeks until a thin line of your drool begins to trickle along your chin, dripping onto your knees.

“Can...can I…” he begins, fingers starting to tremble, his knees buckling. No, that’s not what you want from him. You shake free of his hand, letting him slip from your mouth, and he stammers and sputters at the loss, his eyes narrowed and dark, glaring at you with a raw frustration. 

“No,” you tell him, keeping one hand on him, stroking him, maintaining that steady pressure until he’s grunting, his hips instinctively canting into the tantalizing motion. “No, you don’t ask me for anything. Yeah, I can finish you off, if you need me to take control, but it’s not going to be on your terms. If you’re wanting something Tomura, you better fucking take it. Stop asking me for permission. I’m not-- mmph--”

He rips your hand off of his dick and his fingers curl beside your ears, forcing your mouth back, and impaling you on his length, immediately gagging you on his heady thrusts. You inhale sharply, your breath catching, failing as he keeps railing into you. More saliva slides out of your lips and you falter, a weak whimper echoing around him. 

“Mmm,” he growls, holding your face as he presses against the back of your throat loving the clenching and mewls you give him. “That feels fucking good, (Y/N). Taking all of my cock, ah- fucking choking on it. You’re so fucking greedy. Don’t worry, I’ll give you more. Let’s see, what would make this even better, oh, I know. Saw it in a porn once. Put your hands behind your back and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

Immediately, you clasp your fingers together, letting them rest against your lower back. The suspension knocks you off kilter, but Tomura braces your head with his other hand, pinning you between his palms. His dick is still lancing in and out of your mouth, scraping against your tonsils, making you swallow and open, trying to push yourself past that oppressive gagging sensation.

“Ahhh, such a good girl, now spread your legs and lift up, just a little bit, yes- right there. Better keep those hands still,” he taunts, pulling his cock out until it hangs against your lower lip, glimmering with the sheen of your ministrations. Then, he dives back in, thrusting and grinding until his balls are papping against your soaking chin. Your legs tremble as you hold yourself up and you can feel your own arousal, slipping down your inner thighs, splattering onto that dark trench coat of his. 

You’re heaving under him, grunting and slobbering trying to not fucking choke on the girth that’s being pistoned into you. He’s gasping praise at you, his white head thrown back, and his lower abdomen is rippling, letting you know he’s so, so close to spilling down your abused throat. He bows over you as he cums, spewing thick ropes of his release into you. You gulp at him, determined to let every last drop slither down your waiting throat, longing to savor everything that he’s giving you. 

True to your promise, you keep your hands clasped and you nearly topple over when he tugs free of your lips. Tomura takes pity on your wilted form and lowers himself to his knees, wrapping one hand around you and tapping twice on your shaking digits, letting you know you can relax your grip. You fall forward, and he waits above you, watching you with a mounting fascination. Once you catch your breath, you look up at him, not caring that you’re still covered in a mix of tears, spit and his cum. He smirks at your dishevelment, pleased by your open display of your wanton lust for him. 

“See? It’s not hard to take what you want, to do what you want,” you pant, still trying to gulp down a few more rough intakes of air.

Tomura sucks his teeth at your bravado, but you notice he’s having a little bit of trouble steading his own breathing and his hands are twitching as they reach for you. You hum when he cups at your dips and curves, lingering over spots that make you moan for him. As he plucks at one of your puckered nipples his eyes lift to yours and he leans close, pressing a wet line of kisses against your collarbone.

“Lay back,” he rumbles, still sucking at the hollow of your throat. You do as he says, propping yourself on your elbows, curious and waiting. He’s slowed down now that he’s slaked that first brush of pent up aggression, but he’s still got a little more to burn. You can see it, lingering behind his vermillion eyes, gleaming under the carnal intrigue. 

His fingers, so dangerous and deadly, race down your sides, falling to the juncture of your legs and dipping into the slick that he finds. He parts your folds, bracing himself over you, his lips sucking bruises into your skin. The gossamer threads of your leaking cunt run down his fingers and onto his open palm and he groans into your neck, nuzzling his nose to your skin and inhaling, deeply. 

“Does that feel good?” He asks, his voice scraping, like sandpaper, hoarse and undone along your heated cheek. Ok, you think, arching as he dips one digit into you, you can let him have that one question, especially when your mind is fogging over like this, unable to think of anything but that ache that’s pounding through your core. You roll your hips again, urging that finger to slip further and he hisses as you pull him in, your walls trembling at the intrusion. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lifting himself to look down at you, his eyes wide with an awed marvel. “You’re so…”

“Mmm, so what?” you ask, wanting him to keep talking to you, loving rasp of his tone as it tells you such sinful things.

“So soft and warm and...God...so wet,” he replies, adding another finger, watching as you whine for him, your lower lips parting and welcoming him. He pumps the digits, in and out, at a steady rate, waiting for each quiver and ripple, trying to feel his way along, wanting to please you. 

“Can--” he stops himself, flushing as your eyes open and snap to his, a rough displeasure written over your face. He tears his gaze from yours and scowls, letting his fingers press a rougher rhythm into you, sucking his teeth at his unspoken inexperience. 

“This feels good,” you reassure him, not wanting to completely leave him adrift, knowing that he does need a little piece of guidance, for this part, at least. “Why don’t you get a closer look?” 

Tomura looks back to you and nods before sliding down your body, lowering himself until he’s face to face with his prize. His mouth drops and he licks at his chapped lips, painting a few, warm, exhales against your sensitive folds. You squirm at the sensation and he grins, leaning closer, his free hand spreading you for his inspection. 

“Is this…” his voice trails off and you can feel him wandering his way to just the right spot. When he lifts the fleshy hood of your clit and thumbs the distended pearl you gasp and shiver, your head falling back against his jacket, thumping against the floor. 

He laughs and you can feel him getting ready to swipe at you again, his thumb already slippery and near, the heat of it radiating against that sensitive bundle. “You like that,” he crows, repeating the motion until you’re writhing. “But—” he ponders, moving so his lips are pressed against you, resting on those sopping folds, waiting for you to look up at him. Once your head lifts and your eyes meet his, he lowers his mouth, sliding his tongue over you. 

“Oh,” you whisper, your hands automatically lifting and curling into his hair, threading the white tendrils along your palms. His tongue is rough and bumpy as it glides along, pausing to lap at some of your arousal. He smacks his lips at the taste, savoring the flavor before voraciously pressing back into you for more. When he pauses his explorations to give your clit a soft suck, you can’t help but flail, your back bowing and thighs tightening around his head. 

Tomura grunts at the rough treatment, prying your legs apart but not letting up on that suction, pleased he’s found something that makes you tremble to pieces in his hands. He’s always liked working you up, so it makes sense that, in this instance, he’s no different. 

His long digits are scraping into you, dragging along your quivering walls and spreading your cunt apart, leaking your arousal all over his jacket and onto his chin. He’s not satisfied yet, you’re not satisfied yet, so he keeps going, listening and watching, catching on to what makes you cry out his name, learning and adapting at an alarming speed. 

“T-Tomura,” you keen, your hips lifting, grinding yourself against his face, begging him to not stop. You feel a smirk lift his lips and his tongue begins to circle and lick over your clit, maintaining a steady pressure. Meanwhile, his fingers have latched onto something delicate and spongy within your pussy, repeating an arched gesture, curling and uncurling as they stroke your budding flames higher. 

“So good…” you murmur, hardly able to form the words as you feel that all encompassing tingle race along your bloodstream. “You’re doing so f-fucking good.” 

In response, he begins to suckle on your clit, lightly tracing a canine over the pulsing bundle and that’s all that it takes. Your head dips back, pressing into the floor so hard that your neck arches with your back and your legs wrap around him, holding him to you as you quiver and shake under him. You can feel your heartbeat as you return to yourself, thumping a rapid beat over your breastbone and radiating out to your fingers and toes. 

Tomura, for his part, hadn’t stopped lapping at you, his tongue replacing his fingers as he pushes the wet appendage into you, soaking up each wave of your release. Even when you’d dropped your death grip, your legs and arms flopping away from him, boneless and shaking, he’d kept on. After a few minutes of this, his lips suddenly feel a little too ragged, the chapped skin scratching against your sensitive, overstimulated, flushed lower lips. You do your best to wriggle away, but he stills your movements, not quite finished. 

“Ah- that...it’s starting to hurt,” you grouse, pushing a hand against his bowed head. That declaration seems to get through and, finally placated, he gives you one last lick and lifts his head, his eyes glinting down on you, dark and mischievous. 

“I want to fuck you,” he tells you, wiping a hand across his mouth, dragging the last of your essence away. You tilt your head and grin up at him. “So fuck me,” you reply, spreading your legs again, making room for his trim hips.

“Not like this,” he qualifies, his eyes hooded as he runs a hand along your leg, enjoying your skin, warm and pliant under his palm.

“Then how?” you ask, a little bewildered by this shift in attitude. Tomura leans up, resting on his haunches, leering at your nakedness, another smirk lifting his lips, arching that scar.

“Stand up,” he instructs. 

You pull your legs away and slowly rise to your feet, waiting for him to do the same. Once the two of you are eye level again, he tugs you to him, his lips pulling and nipping at yours. You can’t help but melt into his persistent touch and when he feels you slacken against him, he starts to push you backwards. He walks you slowly, carefully, but once your back touches the cold wall, his caresses become rougher, more insistent. 

He’s lifting your chin and his teeth are doing more biting than nipping, pulling at your lips until you’re gasping and swollen. He begins to lift away and you protest the movement, but his hand presses into your chest, shoving you back to the wall. You freeze at the forceful treatment, your eyes opening and fastening onto his. Waiting for his next move.

Tomura’s regained that wild look, his eyes hardening, sharpening like ruby slips of flint as they linger over you. “Turn around and brace your hands against the wall,” he commands and, for an instant, you debate pushing back, challenging his order, but that’s not what you’re here for. No, you’d come here with one thought in mind. 

To see if you could show him what choices, what strong inner drive, wholly independent of his Sensei, he did have. 

You’d watched that kidnapping debacle and all you could think about was how much better, how much stronger he’d be if he could just get out from under the thumb of that man, that voice on the tv. Even with this informal exercise of your own, Tomura had taken to your carnal lessons like a fish to water. He had always been a natural born leader, someone who cultivated and demanded change, he just needs a chance to try. A chance to prove that he didn’t need to ask permission, to ask questions. No, he only needed to act and he could make his aspirations a reality. 

So, you turn, splaying your fingers against the wall and waiting for his next move, tilting your head, wanting to see him. He runs a calloused hand over the plush swell of your ass, kneading the skin and stepping closer. Once his hips are flush with your posterior, he ruts his newly re-hardened cock against you, his ever copious precum aiding his motion, letting him glide between your cheeks, easing into that cleft. You groan and press back, wordlessly asking for him to keep going. 

Suddenly, his palm smacks against your ass, stinging the flesh and sending a sharp crack around the barren room. “I said, push out more. How am I supposed to fuck you when you’re plastered to the wall like that?” Tomura questions, his voice deep and guttural. You brace your hands against the peeling wallpaper and jut your ass out, presenting yourself to him, quietly hoping he’ll reward you with another spank. Pleased, Tomura does just that, his other hand lifting and smarting against your other, neglected cheek, imprinting his mark on you, even if it’s only for a brief moment, and his fingers linger on the warmth he’s raised from your skin. 

“Good girl,” he groans, taking his cock in his hand and searching for that weeping entrance to your waiting pussy. You aid him as best as you can, arching your hips until he finally, finally slips into you. Tomura lets out a deep sigh as your cunt devours his cock, slicking him into the heat of your rippling channel. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pressing until his hips are flush with your ass, grinding his bony hipbone into your supple softness.

He gives you a brief second to adjust before he bows his head over your shoulder, panting and grunting. “Hold on,” he gasps, slowly pulling his hips back and then ramming his straining cock back into you. You mewl at the sudden ferocity of his thrusts, your head dipping against the steady weight of the wall. 

He offers you no reprieve as he pounds into you, his teeth latching onto your skin, sucking and drooling, losing himself in you. His balls tap against your swelled ass and you moan when he traces one hand around you, his fingers seeking your clit and pinching at the nub. 

Your teeth begin to chatter, but he doesn’t let up, maintaining that mind numbing pace, pressing and grinding until you can’t fucking think straight. He’s completely untethered and he slakes out all of those pent up questions, feelings, hurts and wants against you. After a time, he begins to murmur things to you, finally sucking up his loose tongue and resting his chin on the mess he’s left on your skin.

He’s worried he can’t do it. 

He’s never been alone, not like this. 

Sure, he has the others, he has Kurogiri, but it’s not the fucking same. 

He needs to see this through. 

He wants to, he has to.

Where do you go, when there’s no one else to turn to?

It’s like a confessional, this rutting he’s doing and it’s bleeding all of those thoughts away, letting them pool against the front of his mind and then, pop, they shift away. 

Oh this helps, he thinks, loving how you’re fucking taking him, how much you fucking need him. He can’t let you go. He can’t, he won’t. You’re all he has left. After all this, he can’t lose anything else. No, you were right, he’s gotta start taking things, snatching up pieces until he becomes this unstoppable force, greater than his Sensei, greater than All Might, greater than all of them. Yes, yes, yes, when he has you like this, everything else feels so fucking simple. 

He’s slowing, his hips beginning to stutter and press erratically against you. There’s no need to worry about you cumming for him, not when you’ve already broken around him so many times in the last few minutes. No, the second he started panting all of those thoughts against you, you were lost, your cunt gripping him so tightly you were worried it might never let go. 

Finally, with one last thrust, Tomura grinds his hips against you, his cock swelling and pulsing as he spills himself into you. The sensation of his cum splashing against your walls hurtles you over that edge one last time and you almost collapse, your legs shaking so badly you can't support your own weight. The only thing that prevents you from falling is Tomura. His arms snake around your waist and he holds you to him, his forehead resting heavily against your shoulder, sticking to your skin. 

After a long beat, Tomura pulls himself out of you, grunting at the loss of your warmth and sinks to the floor, dragging you with him. Naked and gasping, the two of you cling to the other, waiting for the world to stop spinning as you come back to yourselves. Tomura recovers first, tugging you to his chest and wrapping himself around you, his chin perched on the familiar slope of your shoulder.

“You didn’t...you didn’t need to do this, but...” Tomura halts, his voice soft as his lips press rough kisses to your skin, silently saying what he really means, what you mean to him.

“That’s not true,” you counter, turning your head toward him. “You deserve to make a choice for yourself. You’re your own boss now. Now all you have to do is act like it. Don’t make those mistakes again. You call the shots, not your Sensei, not anyone else in the League, just you. You’ll have other choices soon, so don’t doubt yourself, it’s not like you.”

He huffs out a laugh and buries his nose in your neck, inhaling your scent as he licks at a rising bruise. “I don’t think you’ll like my next choice,” he rumbles, one hand drifting over your side and cupping the soft mound of your breast.

“That depends on what it is,” you smile, your eyes closing at the tempting touch.

“Mmm, do me a favor,” he begins, nipping at your earlobe. “Get on your knees and open your mouth. You looked so fucking pretty when you were sucking on my cock, I wanna see it, one more time.”

“What?” you question, absolutely incredulous, “again?”

“Do as I say (Y/N),” he replies, rubbing his rising length along your ass.

“God,” you gasp, bucking at the sensation, “what have I done? At this rate, I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“You’ll like it,” Tomura promises, his voice dark, “I’ll make sure that you do.”

Notes: never have i ever liked that kidnapping bullshit. i guess it lets AFO face off with All Might, but for Tomura’s development? it makes no sense and he’s never done anything like that again, in canon. so, uh, yeah. booo kidnapping scheme. 

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love

[jothebakuho]

Hiii!! so first off,, how are you? hope ur doin good :)) do you have any little headcanons for yozora and baku that u just have in ur head? like how in the fic baku brushes her hair and has all these charts for her eating/sleeping schedule and stuff,, anything fluffy or whatever (not fluffy is cool too lol) it's cool if u don't of course! mainly just wanted to say hi cause i think ur cool and i just love ur fic so much

Omg hi! I'm doing not so Hot because studies + life is killing my back. But p good overall! How are you? :D hope everything is fine and dandy~

And, so many headcanons I have for these two gosh.

Where to start? Lemme just go with what you mentioned! (hint: they're ALL fluffy)

~ Bakugou has a Thing for the brat's hair and cheeks. I literally mention this somewhere but I do not know, I do not know where (it's 53k and ongoing ffs).

He likes ruffling her bangs and brushing through the softness and it reminds him of the first day, how mangled it was and the contrast is just Peace to him. it's so bright orange and sunny now! So ~ healthy

He uses his fingers like a comb or just tousles her bangs to be Annoying. Unfortunately, Yozora doesn't care much about appearances, but then Bakugou does so he straightens it out himself.

She Knows Bakugou's touch v well by now. Her hair smells like a mix of caramel and blueberry shampoo bc of How Much he plays with her hair.

Her cheeks- he tried avoiding. He always wanted to Poke and Squish and if you go to the first chapter, you'll see how weirded out he was. That was me showing you guys, he thinks the brat is Cute, and it. freaks. him. out.

He takes a deep breath and surveys the girl again. A few wisps of orange hair fall over her eyelids and Bakugou is suddenly struck by an odd urge to poke Yozora's exposed cheek.

He shakes it off with a bewildered stare and crosses his arms.

- Chapter 1

Now, that he's admitted it, he can't really stop. And p soon, we will see just how soft he is for her cute face ;-;

So, subtle reasoning for the cheeks love is: Yozora is a bit bony because of her life and current disorders, right? And kids are usually soft looking but Yozora is not. So, her cheeks are like the only parts that are somewhat plump- in Bakugou words that would be 'The only fat she's got in her.'

Once he gets into cheek kisses, it's over for us.

With his index, he pokes her bony cheek.

But it's softer than he'd expected.

- Chapter 3

~The charts, he updates before sleeping every night and during meals. He plans out her weekly meals in advance. He kind of has to, bc of how overloaded he is, he needs to seriously schedule his life. That's the only way he has been stringing on being a Pseudo mama bear and hero-in-training. He categorizes by food groups, and decides what vitamins/supplements he's gonna put in that way. For e. g., he plans to feed her X and Y, so she's gonna need Vitamin D more, let's say. So, he'll slip that into her drinks. He was originally aided by Dr. Akio but now he has a good handle on it. He is actually the one who understands it best at this point. The sleep ones are basically how long and how deep she sleeps each day, and if she's doing it longer/at night. You'll see in the next chapter how well Bakugou Knows. Those charts are viewable by Aizawa and Dr. Akio so, they stay updated about Yozora's progress as well.

And it's all super meticulous. Think pie charts, histograms, graphs and colour coding. The class was shook because it looks like he freaking data mined on Yozora.

Bonus hc:

~Bakugou is big on being Gentle with any injuries Yozora gets (for e.g. hair getting stuck on a knot) because he wants to show her it ain't normal to hold it in, but Yozora doesn't understand. She doesn't because pain like that is stuff she has learned to internalise a long time ago. So, it's confusing to her. And she doesn't get why her heart is always warm when he does that. :((((

And eeeee, thanks for loving it! Every time someone says that my heart goes POOF :v

OYEE! Man, I also think you are so Cool <3 You can say hi or come chat any time :D And, I think it's amaze that you do drawings, too :o

[ofendlessstardust]

Weaknesses and Insecurity: Fa.ndom OCS

Seren still believes he is a monster. He also failed to honor his mother’s final request to save his sister, killing his father in the end only to protect himself.

He also feels he is a burden and an inconvenience to his new family

.

Vera has been told pretty much from day one that she shouldn’t be the heir to the throne because of her common bloodline, and though she pretends it doesn’t bother her, it does

She has also felt jealous over Seren’s bloodline claim to the throne, and then instantly felt awful, because it comes through his father

Also, she failed to protect her brother from the nightmare monster that attacked him in his father’s form

.

Jun has a massive fear of abandonment tied up in some issues with his self worth. Reminder: Jun was old enough to remember his birth parents when they abandoned him because neither of them wanted him.

He also holds some guilt over the feelings he’s harboring for his best friend’s brother, and is terrified Shae will hate him when he finds out

Also, the pressure of living up to his dads’ legacies

.

Akio has massive insecurities that come from his mother constant verbal abuse of him for years. He struggles to believe he is good enough for anything

.

Jordis is actually physically very weak. She’s all bark and no bite, and she hates it.

She also has been unable to find Shula, and is terrified that she may have lost the one person in the universe who gives a shit about her

She hides behind her inventions and sass and snark to hide the fact that she has a hard time relating to people

.

Although she covers it up well, Shula is also afraid that Jordis is dead, or that she will never find her. Jordis is all she has in this universe [for now]

Shula doesn’t get attached to people easily, and while she is very friendly, she doesn’t let people into her heart so easily. But once you are in there, you are there for life, and she is terrified of losing anyone important to her.

.

Bryn is scared of losing her parents. She loves them both dearly, but hasn’t been spending a lot of time with them, and she worries that they will die before she gets the chance. Her father in particular.

She is also afraid of being seen as a freak by her friends, or that they will stop trying to keep up with her seemingly random leaps in logic and topic of conversation, and just leave her, or mock her behind her back. She had “friends” when she was younger who only pretended to like her until they got tired of it and told her there was no way anyone would ever like someone like her. 

.

Rieke is infertile, and compensated for that by creating the Greeed, and will take in pretty much anyone as her child. She also originally comes from an era where a woman’s main purpose was to bear children

She was in love with the King, who manipulated and used her, until he turned on her children, and she was unable to protect them from him

.

Sunan never knew his birth parents, and doesn’t know what happened to them. He spent his first few years in an orphanage and while he’s very friendly, he’s also eccentric and strange in a bit of an unnerving way, to the point that he scared off any potential adopters. He at one point overheard the people in charge saying that he would probably never get adopted because of that.

Although Ankh and Eiji did adopt him, and he has a loving family, he still worries that in the end, no one else will want to be around him, or that Eiji and Ankh will change their minds.

.

Avis is a Greeed created by Rieke to be Eiji and Ankh’s daughter, and Sunan’s sister. Although Rieke turned her “human” like she did Ankh and his siblings before her, she still can manipulate fire and carries over some bird-like behaviors

She’s weird and technically a monster, and while she acts confident and comfortable with it, she isn’t completely

. 

Jade keeps everyone subtly at an arms length, talking a lot about many things, and seeming friendly and open, but deflecting questions about herself. She doesn’t want to let people get attached to her, and she’s sort of used to being on her own anyways, or that’s what she tells herself.

She also carries some regret for leaving her father alone all these years, and for what she is still hiding from him.

.

Altair is worried that he might not be able to protect Hana and her friends, and worries that he may have made the wrong decision to pretend to be a Shadow, especially if Hana finds out.

Or Kris. He’s taken a liking to him, and doesn’t want him to know something like that about him, even if it isn’t true

.

Mari is afraid of losing Angela. She loves the Ghos.tbus.ter dearly, and only wishes for her safety and happiness.

She is also afraid of having the same fate befall her as did her past life, becoming brainwashed and turning against those she loves and hurting innocent people

.

Remy is worried about living up to his mother’s legacy, and not being able to support and protect his cousin Seren. He views himself as pretty useless.

He also believes that he is difficult to love, based on his relationship with Dorian

.

As a rare and new crossbreed of a Zyuman and a human, Yuuna feels she doesn’t really belong to either species, and often feels like she is alone in the world, even with her father.

She also is scared that people will think she’s a freak, which is why she usually hides her tail, and wears a hat in case her ears pop out

.

Pagi is scared of failing Kris the same way Altair is scared of failing Hana

He also worries that maybe he’s not the Imaginary Friend Kris deserves, given that he keeps breaking things, and is mostly just clumsy and awkward, and all he’s good at is studying.

He’s also scared of something happening to Altair

.

Hyeon sometimes worries that he’s trying to do too much, with his internship with Kougami and his pre-med studies. But he feels like if he gives up or “lessens” one of them, he will be letting his dads down

[pokemon-nickname-centre]

Nickname Ideas For: Litwick, Lampent and Chandelure

My personal choices are; Wickney, Willow, Seraphina, Jack, and Lumiere

What are yours?

Name Ideas Count: 106 (5 categories)

Category: Candles, Lamps and Light Fixtures

Chandler (”candle seller”)

Zirconia (type of lamp)

Bouillotte (type of lamp)

Pendant (type of light fixture)

Betty (the Betty Lamp, a type of lamp)

Davy (the Davy lamp, a type of lamp)

Torch

Candle (”to shine”)

Filament (part of a light bulb)

Candela ("candle")

Candelaria ("candlemas")

Candelario ("candlemas")

Wick (a part of a candle)

Wickley (elongated from “wick”)

Wickney (elongated from “wick”)

Joseph (Joseph Morgan, a historical figure who revolutionised candle-making in the 1800s)

Morgan (see Joseph)

Nightlight

Tallow (a type of candle)

Wick

Wicks

Wickerella

Wicksworth

Wickston

Candlewick

Wiccan

Fredwick

Kendall (pun on “candle”)

Luminaire (an electrical light unit)

Category: Fire or Light

Twilight

Flare

Ember

Emberly

Lumiere (”light”)

Lucy (”light”)

Lucius (”light”)

Lucian (”light”)

Lucifer (”bringing light”)

Lucianus (”light”)

Luciana (”light”)

Fintan (”white fire”)

Fionntan (”white fire” - pronounced Fintan)

Bernie

Bernadette

Bernard

Cinderella (”little ashes”)

Cindy / Cyndi (short for Cinderella or Cynthia)

Cynthia (from Cindy)

Lux (”light”)

Ignis (either from Ignis Fatuus - aka Will o the Wisp - or "to kindle, burn, to ignite, fiery, bearing fire")

Aidan / Aiden (”little fire”)

Natela (”light, bright”)

Neve (”bright”)

Hestia (”hearth, fireside”)

Vesta (”hearth, fireside”)

Ash

Ashley

Ashton

Nausicaa (”burner of ships”)

Brinley (”burned clearing”)

Flicker (flickering candle light)

Brandle (”fire”)

Brant (”fire”)

Brantley (modern from Brant)

Helen / Helene (”torch”)

Helena (”torch”)

Seraphina / Serafina (”fiery ones”)

Sirius (”burning”)

Suzan (”burning”)

Illuminata ("illuminated, filled with light")

Akemi ("bright")

Akihito ("bright")

Akiko ("bright")

Akio ("bright")

Akira ("bright")

Category: Fictional Associations

Lampy (The Brave Little Toaster)

Lumiere (Beauty and the Beast)

Willo (Willo the Wisp)

Category: Will o’ the Wisp

Willow

Willow-Wisp

Willo

William

Will

Wilbur

Wilburt

Wilberta

Wilhelm

Wilhelmina

Wiloughby 

Wilough

Wisp

Wisper

Wispia

Ignis (either from Ignis Fatuus - aka Will o’ the Wisp - or "to kindle, burn, to ignite, fiery, bearing fire") 

Jack (Jack o’ Lantern aka Will o’ the Wisp)

Hinkypunk (aka Will o’ the Wisp)

Spooklight (The Spooklight aka Will o’ the Wisp)

Puck (mythological mischievous goblin or fairy-like figure who leads travellers away from the path - associated with Will o’ the Wisps)

Lurea (lure, pun on Laura or Lara)

Category: Ghostly

Hallow (from Halloween or All Hallow’s Eve)

Hex

Hexella

Dusk

Twilight

Spook

Shadow

[bluespiderlilies]

Reincarnation | Hashibira Inosuke

chapter: one / “boar boy.”

chapter: two / “check.”

chapter: three / “in the shadows.”

chapter: four / “endure.”

chapter: five / “in the clouds.”

chapter: six / “senses.”

❝a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.❞ ── chinese proverb

You hummed in satisfaction, cupping porcelain cup filled with the warm green tea in your hands as you watch the sun slowly reveal itself to the world; spreading her golden rays of light. Everything around her was bathed in crimson and the color of a blush, the clouds above decorated with a hint of sky blue and wisps of silver.

You sipped on your tea, the bittersweet taste dancing on your tongue before you swallowed, warming you up from the inside to protect you from the chilly morning breeze—which was especially strong today.

“Thanks for the tea, Grandmother Shiori.” You told her, placing your hand over hers, as she was sitting beside you while sipping on her own tea.

She smiled gently at you, eyes twinkling. “You know you don’t need to thank me, (Name). I think of you as one my own.”

“I know. But it’s a habit, after everything you’ve done for me and for the sake of my grandmother, Yumi.” You smiled back, placing your empty cup of tea back into the tray.

You brushed off your new haori—it was plain black with silver trimmings along the hem of your sleeves, along with a full moon with two crescent moons parallel to each other on the back, colored silver as well—and your Demon Slayer Corps uniform from any dust, adjusting the sheath of your katana the rested on the side of your hip.

Shiori watched you as you strapped your quiver onto your back, slinging the bow across your body as she fed some nuts to your crow, Kemuri.

“Alright, I should get going now,” You sighed, patting yourself to make sure you had all of your things on you. “Come on, Kemuri. Lead the way.”

Kemuri cawed in response, fluttering her wings before she hovered above you, flying east of the village.

“Good luck. Make it back safely.” Shiori said, voice laced with a hint of worry as she waved her hand at you.

You turned your head as you walked, a small smile forming on your lips as you waved back. You turned your head back to your crow, entering the forest as she guided you to the village that needed help.

∞

It was around noon.

You have been walking for quite a while now, only stopping twice to eat or to use the restroom. Kemuri, a couple times, said that you were almost there—

You got a feeling that she was just lying to encourage you.

“Kemuri,” You called out to her, taking out a strawberry from one of your pouches that held food, “eat this.”

You threw it towards her, which she caught with ease. She happily ate away, her flying now slowed down a bit.

However, what caught your attention was the faint sound of chatter in the distance—and lots of it. That, to you, meant that you had finally arrived at the village.

You sprinted towards the noise, the sight of houses, shops, and crowds of people meeting your vision. You smiled to yourself, increasing your speed.

“I’m finally here. What a walk.” You mumbled to yourself, entering the village. Your eyes scanned the place, taking each and every detail of the village—in case you needed it in the future.

What caught your eye, though, was the all-too-familiar sight of a boar head, shirtless man, and hakama with animal hide on it. He was seated at a restaurant, his boar head beside him, scarfing down his food.

You smiled, remembering the times you ate with him during the Final Selection—no matter who he was with or where he was, he would eat his food like that. It was probably in his nature.

You shook your head, making your way to the restaurant before you sat on a seat next to him. He didn’t notice you, however, as he was too busy with his tempura, takoyaki, and yakitori.

“Hello, Inosuke. Long time no see.” You greeted him after you made an order, placing your head on the palm of your hand.

“Hah?” He paused his eating, turning his head to look at you. He squinted, tilting his head before you spotted a hint of recognition in his emerald eyes. “Ration woman.”

A drop a sweat trickled down the side of your forehead, pursing your lips in an exasperated expression. “Ration woman? You remember me for that?”

“So what?” He growled, shoving some takoyaki in his mouth.

You winced at his messy eating, glancing over at Kemuri, who was currently perched on the sign of the restaurant.

She, like the crow she was, gave you a blank look.

“Nothing. It just means you have a shitty memory.” You shrugged, taking a takoyaki ball, which only fueled his anger.

He was about to yell at you when you shoved the takoyaki ball into his mouth, seemingly making him shut up and get distracted, once again, by food.

You had done that multiple times already—whenever you said something that set him off, you'd shove food in his mouth or distract him

So far, it always worked.

A small smirk made its way to your lips as you thanked the old man with the bow of your head as he set a bowl fresh, steaming ramen in front of you and some chopsticks beside it.

“So,” You started once again, as you waited for your ramen to cool down a bit. “Are you here on a mission?”

Inosuke’s emerald eyes shifted over to yours, eyes narrowed. “Hah? How the hell did you know? I don’t need any help.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you don’t decide. ‘Cause I’m here for the mission too. It’s the disappearing village.” You told him, voice dropping to a whisper that only Inosuke could hear.

“I don’t care. I’m going to beat you!” He declared proudly, chest puffing up with pride as he swallowed some of his tempura.

“Mhm, you do that.” You hummed, mixing your ramen with your chopsticks before you raised it up to your mouth and ate it.

As you and Inosuke ate in silence, you heard someone take a seat beside you. Curious, you shifted your head towards his direction slightly, enough to observe his features.

He was quite tall, even while sitting down, by a head. He wore a navy blue kosode under his navy blue haori, decorated with a white dragon pattern to contrast the color.

Your eyes trailed up to his face; admittedly, he was quite handsome. He had a cute, round face—messy, reddish-chestnut brown hair framing his face. He had large, almond shaped lime green eyes with a small beauty mark underneath his left eye.

He seemed about your age, if not older by one or two years at least.

He caught your eye, making you divert your attention quickly to your ramen, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You felt your cheeks heat up, feeling his piercing gaze as you raised the chopsticks to your mouth, slowly chewing your ramen.

“Hello, miss.” He greeted with a sly grin, voice deep and silvery.

You swallowed, licking your lips nervously before you answered. “Um, hello.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you on the way back to my home. You and your friend there are Demon Slayers, no?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, curiosity shining in his lime green eyes.

You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. It’s clear from the uniform and weapons. Why do you ask?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “No reason. It’s people like you that make our world a better place.”

You nodded slowly. Just what was he getting at, exactly?

“Yes. Thank you for the compliment, um…?”

“Shoji Akio. Please, call me Akio.” The said man, Akio, told you, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Thank you, Akio. I’m (L/N) (Name). The one beside me is Hashibira Inosuke.” You introduced, bowing your head slightly out of politeness. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine. After all, you’re very pretty and it’s hard not to notice. S’why I came here.” He grinned, winking at you.

Your eyebrow twitched.

Man, you really hated guys like that. Frankly, this was the first time that it happened to you, but after witnessing it way too many times…

Men could be real shallow assholes.

You barely acknowledged what he said, instead slurping your ramen as a response to his irritating words.

He smirked. Were you getting shy?

“Would you…like to go on a date with me, maybe? You know, get to know each other.”

You slurped. After a moment of chewing your food and swallowing it, you looked at him.

Without any hesitation, you answered, “No.”

Akio blinked, almost falling out of his seat out of surprise. What? No girl has ever declined him—that wasn’t fair!

“Huh? Why not?” He asked, trying to keep his composure.

“I just don’t want to.”

“But, don’t you want information about the village?” Akio asked, pointing his chopsticks at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Yes, I do.”

“Then I can tell you during our date.” He told you, shrugging non-nonchalantly as he began mixing his bowl’s contents with his chopsticks.

You snorted. Who did he think he was?

“You are so disgusting and conceited that it’s very sad and concerning. You think you have the right to blackmail or bribe me on going on a date with you, in exchange for information?” You let out a chuckle. “I can simply ask anyone. It’s not just you in this damn village, bastard. Grow up.”

You slammed some of your money onto the counter, sliding off the chair easily. “Come on, Inosuke. Let’s go.”

“Hah?! I’m not finished yet—”

“I’ll treat you to a large meal after our mission. On me.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle at the thought, a smug grin making its way on his lips as he put on his boar head. He proceeded to roughly grab your hand, leading you in a direction you weren’t so sure of. You were just glad that you got away from Akio.

The said male watched you and Inosuke, wide lime green eyes following your figure. He was just so, so...surprised and baffled by your words.

The restaurant owner shook his head and looked at Akio with pity in his aged brown eyes. “The young woman is right. She doesn’t owe you anything. Besides, the villagers would be willing to give her any information about the demons in our village.”

Akio sighed, his gaze shifting to the bowl of udon in front of him, head low.

He really felt shameful for what he did. For the first time ever.

You certainly taught him a lesson he didn’t know he needed.

∞

It was the evening, now.

The sun was in the west, slowly beginning to make its descent below the sky, decorating the horizon with rich colors and shades of red and orange. The clouds blushed a warm hue of a deep pink and orange, as if they were shy from the warm rays of the sun.

You bowed your head respectfully at the older woman, thanking her for the extra bits of information about what happens to the village. Narrowing your eyes at Inosuke to do the same, he merely ignored you as he crossed his arms, watching the older woman like a hawk.

Why was he so wary of her? She was a kind old lady, who even offered you two dinner for the hard work the two of you were doing.

“Come, Inosuke. We have to get to the place where they supposedly come out.” You prodded, gesturing with your head to a small field located at the end of the village.

“Stop telling me what to do! You’re not my boss!” Inosuke growled, clenching his fists.

He still followed you, though.

You rolled your eyes, deciding to give in to his charade to pump him up a bit.

“Yes, you’re right. I’m not the boss; you are.”

Steam came out of the nose of his boar mask as he puffed his chest with pride, cackling loudly.

“Yeah, I am! I’m your boss!” The volume of his cackles increased as he said so.

You silently chuckled out of amusement. He got all giddy and happy when praised, huh? It was almost cute.

Almost.

You sat down onto the grass, watching Inosuke absent-mindedly as he charged at trees head first, yelling his signature ‘pig assault.’

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in thought, mulling over the events so far today. You remembered that Grandma Shiori wanted to talk to you about your sword—and you weren’t so sure why. She has seen it before, right? You saw the way her eyes lit up in recognition…or did you read her wrong? Well, sometimes you did over analyze. Overthink. It was a bad habit.

What sort of pissed you off today, though, was the nerve of that boy—Shoji Akio, was it? Yeah, you didn’t like him.

Boys like him think they are all high and mighty just because they are good looking. Boys like him think they are a lady’s man, just because he could woo a couple girls. Because they thought he was handsome.  Boys like him were nothing but trashy womanizers. 

Looks didn’t matter, however. Inside, he was a large piece of shit.

You sighed.

Anyway, onto the information you had collected with Inosuke.

One: apparently, as soon as the sun would set, the entire perimeter of the village would shake before it descended into some sort of dark, misty place.

Two: When that would happen, multiple demons would come out, dragging unlucky victims out of their homes to eat them. So far, there has been seventeen victims. Seven women. Seven men. Three children.

Three: it started around two weeks ago. Nobody knew how the demons got to their village; since it was up high in a mountain, and there were some wisteria flowers on the path to the village. You deduced that the demons probably saw some alternative way to get to the village.

Four: finally, it was impossible to escape the village. As soon as you stepped in, you couldn’t get out; the moment your foot steps out of what they called the ‘village zone,’ you’d get sliced in half. You figured it was some sort of demon blood art.

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, taking in a deep breath before exhaling. You needed to clear your mind, or else you wouldn’t be able to fully focus on your task right now.

The sun had finally set.

The moon, now crescent shaped, revealed herself to the quiet world. She shone brightly amidst the blanket of darkness, her friends, the glimmering stars, decorating the night sky—as if they were specks of snow that clung onto one’s clothes.

The village was quiet, and there wasn’t a single person in sight. They were probably hiding, now, with firearms, swords, and other weapons prepared in case the demons were to invade their homes.

Inosuke had stopped ‘practicing,’ his pig assault a while ago, now waiting beside you for the demons to come out.

As if on cue, you could feel the ground beneath you tremble. You quickly got up and brushed off any grass and dirt from your hakama, hands tightly grasping the hilt of your katana that sat comfortably on your hip.

You could feel the village descend, watching as the trees seemed to stretch into the skies above, grass appearing as if they were as long as the susuki grass. Once it stopped, everything, indeed, was shrouded in some sort of…dark, murky mist. However, you could still see the faint illumination of the moon above.

“Hah, I can feel them.” Inosuke muttered.

You nodded in response, backing up. Your back touched his, stance ready just in case any demon was going to attack you from any direction.

All of a sudden, you and Inosuke could hear loud, chilling cackles of multiple demons. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, heart beat beginning to increase.

You drew out your katana, the loud shing! of metal echoing throughout the empty village. You grasped it tightly, brows furrowed in concentration as you saw figures beginning to emerge from the shadows.

“Hello, dinner!”

[heartsofthewisps]

Characters:

Carson Von Somethin

Yes, that IS his last name. Residing in the busy city of Auriga, Carson is a music connoisseur while his views and takes on the world are rather cynical, ever since the tragic death of his parents whom he lost in a brutal car accident when he was only four years old. The leader of the wisps, unfortunately for him. The main man!!

Margie Spellwinder

Margie is from a long, esteemed line of proud witches. She is to inherit the great Spellwinder name!..... That is, if she can even be a proper witch to begin with. Although very gifted with magic, she doesn’t know exactly how to wield it. Margie hails from southern Astraeya, her abode not far from the Witch’s Hamlet. She often fizzles simple ember spells or ends up blowing up her household with potion brews. Either way, she’s determined, and isn’t about to give up! But she could take a break from the constant malfunctions. Constantly anxious, and has a deeper past than first anticipated.

Hitoshi Spirit

Ironic as it is, Hitoshi Spirit is a samurai who has traded in his soul for incredible strength and stamina during a tolling war that took place in Hiragashi, a coastal town in Eastern Astraeya. Now he remains a husk of a man. Still, he is able to feel and experience emotions despite having traded away his spirit. But he is often cold and heartless, not feeling pity for cowards who beg for pity. And somehow, he ended up in a group with a pessimistic music maker, a failing witch, and a bossy, immature guardian spirit. Enjoys the simple things in life, like fishing and painting.

Willow Wispy

Willow is a guardian spirit that, as her name suggests, can control fire and ashes. However being such a small, insignificant spirit, she believes she’s a long-forgotten goddess who has magnificent power (which is proved time and time again to be false by her team). She showed up beside Carson one day, promising to protect him through his compelling journey. Though he pushed her away a lot, being the independent person he is. Has a lot more to her than meets the eye.

Akio Hinode

Appearing to be an ordinary man at first, it is later revealed that he is actually the last remaining kitsune to live. He hails from the small Kitsune Village hidden deep within the Woods of the Lynx. Due to his species being doomed, he has grown bitter and cold from the world, especially towards humans since they are the very things that killed his people. To make their lives as miserable as possible, he pulls pranks and tricks, lies and steals, anything to inconvenience them as much as possible. Be wary - his bright and cheery persona is only a mask for a darker and cold man.

Ichika Gakusha

An avid historian that hyper-studies any subject that catches her eye, to ignore the depression of her family neglecting her for her entire life. Her current obsession is the kitsune people and their past culture, trying to recover and learn about them ever since they went extinct. Little does she know that there IS one living kitsune, who happens to be afraid of her possibly exposing his existence to hunters. Incredibly intelligent, but oblivious to what’s in front of her.

Julian Lores Draconia

Kindhearted prince and sole heir to the throne of Draconia, the kingdom ruled by dragonblood. Despite loving his father for treating him kind all his life, he knows that he’s been slipping away bit by bit, and that one day, he will become a threat to the people of Astraeya. With this knowledge, he defects from the kingdom for a time and joins the main group to restore peace to the world. Due to the draconic blood flowing through his veins, he slowly transforms into a dragon, and cannot revert back to his human self unless using a scale tonic or a magic spell. Has a bit of a crush on Margie.

Faenar Mysticus

For thousands of years, elves, fairies, and fae alike have been known to reject any species that were not their own, having strict rules on what can and cannot be done, and overall are unfriendly, unkind beings. Not Faenar. Absolutely not Faenar. He is the nicest, kindest, most gentle elf in the entire world, and comes from the Treetop Sanctuary, a large settlement of elves in the Woods of the Lynx. Taking Margie in when she was small and frail, he deemed himself her older brother and pretty much everyone else as his little siblings. His mother, an elvish council member, desperately wants him to stop dragging her through this trouble, but has honestly given up at this point.

Dreezna Elfenstof

Dreezna is one of the fairies that reside in the mystical Verdwaald forest, home to the fairies of Astraeya. The queen of fairies, Titania, knew what must be done, and had sent Dreezna away to find the Wisps (the main group), knowing she is among the souls. Despite her pessimistic personality at first glance, she is a person of pure heart, as a healer in Astraeya cannot be one unless their heart is kind and pure. Pines over Viviane hard.

Viviane Samaka

A mermaid from the underwater kingdom of Lu’Lu’, who advocates for the truce between land dwellers and sea creatures, she has a bright outlook for the future, and is unknowingly one of the Wisps. Like other mermaids, she has the sacred ability to entrance a person with her singing voice, though she must be careful not to hypnotize one of her one friends. Pines over Dreezna hard.

Mo

Mo (short for Mother Life) is the long-since-forgotten goddess of Astraeya, the creator of the entire world. Don’t be fooled by her young, childlike appearance - she is wise when it counts. Though she provided everything for the people, they still disliked her, angry that she didn’t accommodate their every need (though they weren’t exactly aware their caring goddess is a literal child). She one day mysteriously disappeared after the Gigas Disaster, which crumbled Astraeya’s old society. Whether she’s dead or ran off, nobody in the world knows.

Nightmare

A literal blob of evil black goo, Nightmare is the cause of the Gigas Disaster and the main antagonist of the story. He was born of the hatred and malice of the eight lesser elemental gods’s war. Though I may draw him with a form, the truth is he has no real form, and can only can have one by inhabiting a vessel, a person chosen among his followers. Hasn’t been seen physically for thousands of years, as he disappeared when Mo did, but threatens to return to end Astraeya once and for all.

Slug Prophet

Yes. You heard that right. Slug. Prophet. Born around the the same time Mo created Astraeya, they are a sea slug gained sentience, and gifted with the power of foresight. Mo often came to them in the past for advice and help, but has long since lost relevance and now hangs out in a damp, musty cove by the ocean, eating plankton-algae soup and doing....whatever they do in their free time. Primordial being, on the same level as Mo herself.

Sakura

A totally uninteresting and non-relevant elf lady from the forest, a total nerd and dweeb. She uses magic I guess, but honestly what’s the point, because she is just there. Mostly for background. Created To The Wisps as a fun little comic project on the side but it accidentally became real and she’s powerless to stop it. If you see her, ignore her, she will eventually go away.

[scatteredstardust-blog1]

[[Okay, quick establishment of heights for these muses:

Vera is the shortest at 5′1″, the same height as Ahim, and will fight you if you bring it up.

Qiu is 5′2″ of peace and serenity [at least as far as her height goes].

Jordis is 5′3 and 1/2″ and the half inch is important damn it.

Akio is 5′5″ and made of love and acceptance.

Xia is 5′6″, and knows how to get away with your murder.

Jun is [almost] a perfectly average 5′8″[5′7 and 1/2″], thank you very much.

Seren is 5′8 and 1/2″ and the half inch is important because he can rub it in Jun’s face.

Sarakiel is 5′9″ and does not care. He’s incapable of caring. And he never did, about this. Not even when Tokatti grew taller than him. Shhh.]]

[lilla-nextgen]

Changes

Just a general update on some changes I’ve made to my next gen AU. All of these changes are reflected on their page, but !

The shouchako kids last names are now Uraraka instead of Todoroki

Akio Todoroki -> Kakuya Uraraka

Miho Todoroki -> Youka Uraraka

Mizu Nejire -> Aonami Nejire

Ryo Kaminari -> Kirai Bakugou

Youka’s quirk has been changed from “Dancing Flame” to “Will-O-Wisp”

Youka and Hokuru (shigadabi) are no longer the same age. Hokuru is roughly 3 years older now. They’re still besties tho

Saiya (dabihaul) has been officially added to the AU. She’s also about 3 years older than Hiroko Uraraka.

I’ve added some first name kanji to their about page !

[hamausagi]

─ # ocs masterlist

ⓘ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍

≡ BITO ─ "mono no aware" | [info] [playlist]

≡ SATORU ─ "the thaw of winter" | [info] [playlist]

≡ ASASE EIJI ─ "a flower blooms beneath crackling lightning" | [info]

ⓘ 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓

≡ NOHEALANI "PUA" KAMEĀLOHA ─ "pele's wrath" | [info]

≡ POEIVA "MONARCH" MORNINGSTAR ─ "chrysalis” | [info]

≡ SAKURAI "RYUUJIN" SHIZUKA ─ "tsunami" | [info]

≡ WATANABE “NOL” MARI ─ "kurayami" [info]

ⓘ 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐒

≡ KAI ─ [info]

ⓘ 𝐄𝐓𝐂

≡ KILORN TAKAGI ─ [info]

≡ CANDY SAMOS ─ "the demon of san jose" | [info]

ⓘ 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐒

part one

part two

ⓘ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒

─ 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙣

≡ CLEARDAWN ─ ARATAKI SATORU x ASATO AKIO ≡ BITAO ─ BITO x HU TAO | [playlist] ≡ NOCTIS AETERNITAS ─ ASASE EIJI x KATSUMI FUJIMOTO ≡ ITTOAUGUST ─ SHUNKASHUTO AUGUST x ARATAKI ITTO

─ 𝙫𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩 ≡ ANGEL'S TRUMPET ─ NOHEALANI x GABRIEL LAURENT ≡ BATSTORM ─ WATANABE MARI x JETT ≡ TOUR DE PAPILLON ─ POEIVA MORNINGSTAR x CHAMBER ≡ UNDERWATERNANO ─ SHIZUKA x KILLJOY x KAYA AGUTA

─ 𝙥𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙨

≡ CHAINED REACTION ─ KAI x HA MINH

─ 𝙚𝙩𝙘 / 𝙣𝙤𝙣-𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣

≡ FIREFLY ─ POEIVA MORNINGSTAR x REESE CALORE ≡ WILL 'O WISP ─ KILORN TAKAGI X REESE CALORE ≡ CANDIED ROSES ─ CANDY SAMOS x ESPEN SKONOS

[potatoegirlart]

Little Devils

 Title: Little Devils

Summary: In which Inuchiyo finds out that his kids are probably much more troublesome than he thought before…

A/n: This was an older prompt I had written. I had paused in writing it, but since I seem to be writing alot of prompts lately, I just decided to edit, and write out a quick ending ^^;

“Holy Hells!” Was the first thing that altered Lady Madea that something wasn’t quiet alright, which made her worry considering that Inuchiyo had gone to check on their children.

Inuchiyo's wife, a woman named Izumi, was resting on her bedding in the guest room. They had gone out for only a few hours, doing a bit of shopping. They left their children in the care of a couple of wet-nurses while they were gone. When they came home, Izumi complained of dizziness, claiming the heat had been too much. Out of worry, Inuchiyo suggested she go rest while he go check on the children.

"The kids..." She realized, eyes open as her body went into panic mode.

There was no reason that she could think of for Inuchiyo to be yelling like that if he simply went to check on their children. Pausing for only a moment, she was quickly up, and down the hall to investigate what the hell was going on.

….

….

….

Lady Madea didn’t expect to see what she saw the moment she opened the door to the nursery, where their kids where supposed to be sleeping.

“Umm… Inuchiyo…” She wasn’t sure what to say, so the words dropped in her mouth.

There was pillows, blankets, and all sorts of clothes haphazardly thrown around, almost completely covering the floor. However, they formed a little point towards the top, almost looking like a little fort. The kids were nowhere in sight. She wasn’t sure whether to stand in fear or hurriedly look through the mess in case her kids had done this, and were hiding.

“Izumi, what the holy hells happened in here?!" He turned on her, as if expecting her to have any answers, which she didn’t have any at all. She was just as lost as he was.”And what are you doing out of bed anyways? I thought you were resting." He questioned, looking at her with a slight scowl, but she could see thee worry in his eyes.

"I heard you yelling. I knew if I didn't come check it out for myself, you would never tell me." She answered, crossing her arms for a moment.

"Our children are hidden somewhere in this mess. " Inuchiyo said simply, turning around with narrowed eyes as he scanned the room, looking for any sort of movement in the seemingly sea of clothes. Izumi took that opportunity to look around her husband’s broad shoulders the best she could, still worried about their children." They have to be." He said simply, leaning forward.

That’s when she saw something even more surprising. A movement just under the one fabric that was dyed a deep red. Almost a caterpillar type of movement before just stopping, and out popped a little wisp of black hair. Izumi stifled a laugh, a relief quickly washing over her body.

Inuchiyo glanced at his wife for a moment before he spotted the sprout of hair for himself. He smirked in victory, glancing at his wife for just a brief second. Izumi put a single finger to her lips, instructing her husband to be silent, before making another motion telling him to turn around since she spotted another movement in the sheets.

“I think our kids found a new way to entertain themselves.” She whispered, and then hung on to the fabric of his shirt as he looked around, eyebrows drawn together as he looked around.

It was when another movement was made, and another wisp of hair, only this one was a brownish-black color, did he sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Dammit.” He whispered, but there was a relief in his tone.

“Now, they’re just kids.” She said simply, squeezing his arm slightly, letting him know how relieved she was feeling at the moment. She wasn't quiet ready to give her children a lecture when she was just happy nobody had come to kidnap them.

“They’re gonna suffocate.” He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, and then sighed as he looked forward.“Aito, Akita, Aimi, Akio, minus well come out. We know you’re in there!” Inuchiyo called out, taking a step forward, and then stopped as he seemed to think better on it. He sighed, and then looked out at the mess again.

“You guys are busted. Minus well come out now.” Izumi said gently, waiting to see who would speak or show themselves first.

“Told you we’d get caught.” Came the voice of Akita as she popped up, scowling."It was Aito’s idea!” She quickly said, looking around for her two younger siblings.

“You created the mess!” Aito popped up, holding on to the arm of his two year old brother.

"Yeah!" Akio replied, looking at his brother, who held him more firmly, if somewhat awkwardly.

“With your help!” She called, turning to look at him with a scowl that matched her brother’s own unhappy face.

Aimi popped up, a guilty expression on her face before giving her parents her best, beaming smile, hoping to lessen the trouble with cuteness. It didn't work.

“It doesn’t matter. Clearly you all are in this together.” Izumi said, stepping forward, and helping her children out of the mess they had created the best that she could. She knelt carefully, picking up a handful of clothes.

“And you two are gonna clean all this up by yourselves.” Inuchiyo added on, taking the few clothes Izumi had in her arms into one arm, and helping her up with the other hand.

“What?!” They shouted in unison, their eyes equally as wide, before looking at each other, and turning on each other.

Or at least the older three were.

The youngest, Akio, was left confused, and clumsily walked to his father, looking at him with pleading, dark brown eyes. Inuchiyo gave in, sighing as he shook his head. He bent down, picking up his youngest son.

“Akita started the mess!” Akito said, turning to look at his parents, stepping onto the clothes.

“It was your idea!” Akita yelled, turnign to look at him with her hands balled at her hips, glaring at her brother, who turned to look at her with another glare.

“Aimi wanted the fort!" He yelled one last time, looking at Aimi, whose mouth became agap before glaring.

She was staying out of it until that moment when Akito brought her into it.

"You wanted to play war, so we built you a fort!" She said simply, crossing her arms in defense.

"And then you suggested we hide when father came home!" Akita yelled out, crossing her arms over her chest. All three were glaring at each other at this point.

"I don't care what happened or why. Just get this mess cleaned up." Inuchiyo said simply, looking at the three oldest with a stern expression.

"We're coming back in an hour. Better have most of this cleaned up." Izumi said, looking at them with a equally stern look.

"Why doesn't Akio help?" Aimi asked, huffing.

"He's only two. I'm sure he didn't create any of this mess." Izumi replied, ruffling Akio's black hair. The three began to grumble, but began to pick up the mess.

"Good. That's what we like to see." Inuchiyo teased slightly." Remember, one hour, and most of this better be picked up." He added on, quickly becoming serious again.

"Yes, Father." They grumbled together.

Inuchiyo nodded, closing the door the best he could before walking down the hall with his son in arm, and wife beside him.

....

...

...

"Remind me why we thought it was such a good idea to have this many kids?" Inuchiyo said with a sigh.

They had just sat their children to bed, since they fell asleep half way through cleaning, before making their way to their shared room. where they were currently laying on their sides, facing one another.

"Because they're adorable." Izumi chirped, smiling at her husband before rolling over on his back.

"Yeah, but then they get older, and our kids seem to like giving us hell." He sighed, turning to lay on his back.

Izumi moved herself up, placing her hands on in his hair, and gently winding her fingers through them. Inuchiyo sighed in relaxation, maneuvering his body so that he was now laying his head on her lap as she continued.

"But remember how soft they are when they're first born. How they smell after their first bath. Or they way they sound when they first laugh, or how they look when they first smile. The way they just look at everything with such excitement." She was beginning to become nostalgic.

 Being a mother felt like the most natural thing to her. All things considered, she enjoyed being a mother, and considered it her most fulfilling thing she had accomplished in her life so far.

"Or the way they pop their eyes open for the first time, and look at you like they got a bad deal." He joked, opening his eyes with a little grin on his face. Izumi smiled, nodding.

"Even with all the bad stuff, it's a pretty neat deal, don't you think?" She questioned, looking back at him. He smiled a bit wider, and nodded, sighing as he closed his eyes. Izumi paused before smiling once more." Let's have another." She whispered into his ears, making him pop his eyes open in surprise as he looked at his wife. He then just smiled, sitting up as he kissed her. She returned the kiss.

"Alright, but this time, let's not teach this one to talk." He joked, making her laugh.

"Alright." She replied jokingly, kissing him back....

[ofendlessstardust]

Modern Mythology: Updates and background

During the final fight of the war against the reborn primordials, most of the Sky Kingdom and Fire Realm were destroyed, along with many of the gods and beings that lived there. One of the most devastating losses came with the death of the recently freed younger god of creation, Asha, who fell at Keren’s hand. Lost in their grief, Asier, the god of creation, brought the entire universe to an end. After grieving on their own for a time, Asier eventually decided to try again, recreating the universe, before falling into a deep sleep. New gods came into existence, and believed Asier to be the god of sleep. They never corrected them, taking on the name Sanja, and a new appearance. They occasionally woke up, noticing the returning of souls from the previous universe, and while some took on new forms and faces, they hoped that their son would return. But as the years went by, and they had more children with some of the new gods, they grew tired, and began sleeping more often. Only their assistants know the truth of their power, and when they disappeared, turned to their children, who only believe themselves dream gods. They also are keeping watch for the return of Asha, keeping vigil for their missing creator.

Some other characters are:

Sunan is a witch loosely associated with Jun’s “coven”, and a somewhat powerful practitioner of light magic. He also knows the stars by heart, and will perform readings for people of what the stars say the future has in store for them. He’s cheerful and bright and friendly, and his sister jokes he also has the magical ability to make anyone go soft around him. Unknown to both of them, Sunan is the reincarnation of Galen, the god of the stars, who was killed by his parent Keren.

Avis is Sunan’s sister, and a pretty powerful witch in her own right. She has a natural affinity for magic that comes with her powers being tied to the moon. As the moon hold providence over much of witchcraft, she is talented with most spells, although her strength does wax and wane with the moon. She is fiercely protective of her brother, perhaps a side effect of her past life leaking through to this one. After all, Gwendolyn, the goddess of the moon, had to watch her brother die twice before. Avis and Sunan aren’t technically related. They are both orphans who found each other, and eventually found Jun, who took them in. 

Remy is a nymph, cousin to Seren and Evren. He’s out looking for them, since his mother was able to get back in contact with her sister after her being missing for years. He’s well loved by his people, and has powerful magic, to the point that his mother is a little wary. And, to be fair, when Remy accesses too much of his power, his personality seems to shift, from a somewhat quirky but generally mature and caring person, to someone a bit more childish... and unbalanced. Also, the power puts immense strain on his body, so his mother has generally warned him off of using too much of it. What neither of them know is that Remy is the long awaited reincarnation of Asha, the second god of creation.

Akio is a powerful nymph, and close friends with Remy. He’s traveling with him to find his cousins. Unlike Remy, his powers are both a little more specialized and don’t affect his personality as much. His powers are water based, due to his tie to his previous life, Shui, the primordial god of water or Rio, the god of the ocean. However, using his full power can put strain on his body, as the powers of a primordial are a little beyond his current body’s limit.

[ofendlessstardust]

For everyone’s reference, Khoeli, and some facts:

Khoeli is nonbinary, and goes by they/them

They are chaotic neutral, and are only really helping the Ikimongers because they don’t want the universe to be consumed by the void because they live there

that’s it

they do actually like Akio though

they just have a weird way of showing it

they think he’d make an excellent fae if given the chance

[ofendlessstardust]

Fandom Muses: Houses

Seren is a Hufflepuff. 

Vera is a Gryffindor

Jun is a Ravenclaw, to the surprise of probably no one.

Akio is a Hufflepuff

Jordis is a Ravenclaw

Shula is a Gryffindor

Bryn is a Ravenclaw

Rieke is a Slytherin

Sunan is a Hufflepuff

Avis is a Slytherin

Jade is a Ravenclaw

Altair is a Hufflepuff.

Mari is a Gryffindor.

Remy is a Hufflepuff

Yuuna is a Hufflepuff.

[ofendlessstardust]

Quick note on Akio: Akio doesn’t use the word hate lightly. He likes to give people the chance to prove that they can be the best version of themselves, ever if they’ve made some mistakes. He is one of the most forgiving and kind people, maybe to a fault.

But he will not forgive someone who hurts the people he cares about, especially those he considers family. So yeah, one of the few people he hates is Zhen.

[ofendlessstardust]

[[Akio tag dump]]