jestrix

twin i am NOT linking the other chapters, i am way too lazy for that

anyway enjoy

summary: you come across a very special character.

——

today is a weekend, meaning you now have free time to do almost whatever you want. translation; emi is taking care of you while tsukauchi is at work.

now, if you were a teenager like in your past life, this would’ve been amazing. you could take a walk, go shopping, or simply stay at home and rest. unfortunately, you’re a child in this world, limiting your choices greatly. but, since you are a child, you can get away with a lot more under the guise of being unsupervised. ‘sorry, auntie joke. you’ll have to take the fall for me.’ you thought to yourself.

paparazzi floods emi’s view, microphones shoved in her face, interviewers climbing over each other for a single question. although fans aren’t necessarily uncommon, she’s never had this big a crowd. the reason for this is relatively obvious, though.

“ms. joke! is it true you and policeman tsukauchi have a child under your care?!” a reporter inquires.

“are you certain you can handle the job of a guardian while also simultaneously fighting villains in your line of work??”

“it’s the child safe? is she being fed and taken care of?”

“will she follow in your footsteps as a hero? please, tell us—“

emi raises her hand to momentarily shush the crowd, a calm smile on her face. she props her hands on her hips, “guys, guys! you guys are underestimating the determination of a hero! i assure you, me and my friend tsukauchi will take proper care of this young girl, whether or not we can find her parents.”

she takes one of the.“we live in an era where it’s safe enough to open your door at night without worry. if we heroes can do that, we can do anything!”

then follows a moment of silence before a lots applause for her righteous speech, the uproar dying down by a large margin.

the same reporter walks up to emi, their voice slightly less intense. “if that is your word, we’ve no reason to worry, ms. joke. on the contrary, how is this child currently?”

the greenette merely chuckles. “why, she’s right here of course!”

her hand subconsciously moves to pat your head, expecting the familiar warmth of your hair.

her smile turns to some when her palm finds nothing beneath it.

——

you sigh, relieved knowing that you’ve finally escaped from that suffocating horde of people. well, the crowd must’ve been pretty large, because you’re surprised to find out that you have absolutely no idea where you are.

the streets are empty, perhaps a hobo or two, but it feels entirely lifeless. the sky you swore was blue and clear is now grey and cloudy.

your feet move before you tell them to.

there’s trash everywhere, you have to be careful not to step on feces. and, although you dislike cussing, this whole place smells like shit.

you find a less littered on part of the area, a quaint little home and loiter around a nearby alley. this home feels strangely familiar, but not the kind that brings warmth to your chest. rather, it’s dread you feel, and as if to increase that sense of dread, the air gets cooler despite winter having ended months ago. something’s wrong.

your nose twitches at a terrifying scent you know all too well.

the smell of blood. and a young girls voice.

as you look further into the alleyway, your eyes widen at the sight in front of you. it’s a scene from the canon—well, at least before it happened. there’s a dead bird, several dead birds laid on the floor, the bloody one resting in the girl’s hands. she looks exactly like in the anime as a child, pale skin, messy blonde hair, those amber eyes that would stare right into your soul. and that fanged grin one too many innocent people died to.

thus girl is none other than toga himiko, only as a child. before her horrible crimes, before her obsession, before she became evil. you’re staring at the younger version of a monster.

and yet, your eyes soften. because you know. you can save her.

toga’s eyes light up. “a girl! are you here to play with me?” she asks excitedly. the pure, childish innocence in her voice makes you forget the kind of person she’d become. so you bend down to her level, and gently take the bird out of her small hands. “of course.” you say softly.

“i’m… i’m himiko toga!” she stutters, grabbing at your shirt. you’re unbothered by the blood, solely fixed on the young girl in front of you, and guide her out of the alley. “let’s go back to your home, then. it’s not safe out here.”

the two of you walk hand in hand to the garden, conversing. “did you see how cute that sweet little bird was? its blood, gushing out like a waterfall…” she plucks the petals of a flower in her hand smiling as it slowly wilts and loses it’s color right before her eyes.

you gently grab her face.

“toga.”

“yes?”

“does blood make you feel happy?”

“mhm!”

“do you find it fun to get blood?”

“it’s fun,”

“why?”

she cannot find an answer for that. she only stares at you, wide- eyed. you feel guilty for digging up this sensitive part of her so early in her life, but it has to be done.

“it’s not okay to hurt others just to feel happy, toga.”

she twiddles her fingers. “why not?”

“those birds were a family, toga. they could have lived long lives.”

“did… i do something bad..?” she grips the stem of the flower tighter, its thorns puncturing her skin and drawing more blood.

“yes.. but it’s not your fault. you can’t help it, can you?”

“mhm…”

you smile solemnly, wiping her blood-stained fingers with your shirt. “toga. do you want to hurt other’s to make yourself happy?”

“no… mama says it’s selfish. i… i don’t wanna be selfish.”

“then make me a promise, toga.” you hold out your pinky. “if that feeling ever bubbles up in your stomach again, i want you to try your hardest to push it back down. and if you succumb to those urges, i’ll be there to deal with the consequences.”

toga’s eyes sparkle with hope. it’s a sign of change that makes you giddy inside. she hesitates, but eventually curls her own pinky against yours. “i promise,”

you stand up. “now, toga. please help me with the burial of the birds if you can. think of it as a way to make up for it. i’m sure they’ll forgive you in heaven.”

“a-alright, nee-chan!” the nickname slips out of her lips before she can stop it. toga doesn’t correct herself, and neither do you.

…

you wipe your forehead, as toga finishes the burial, placing the flower on top. it strangely looks more colorful after this. no, everything looks more colorful.

“…i’m sorry, birds. i-i got too selfish, and look what happened to you…” she apologizes while knelt over the grass. while there’s no actual evidence of guilt in her face, you can tell she’s trying. and that’s more than enough for you.

you place a small toy in her hands. it’s a small stuffed animal emi got you at an arcade, one you didn’t have much interest for. “take this. for being a good person and trying to make up for your mistakes. if i’m not here, they can keep you company if you feel that way again.”

she takes it, staring at it’s black, beaded eyes. the bloodlust in her heart does down, and she feels at ease. “i’ll keep it forever!” she exclaims, giving you a big hug.

you’re about to talk for longer until you hear the familiar voice of emi, calling out for you. right. she’s probably worried sick. better get there before tsukauchi unleashes gifs wrath on her.

“i’m here!” you say back, getting ready to leave.

“nee-chan, where are you going?” toga asks. you giggle and pat her head. “my guardians are looking for me, so this is goodbye for now, toga.”

“but i don’t want you to leave.”

“don’t dwell on it. you should focus more on your parents, they’re probably looking for you.”

“oh, yeah! g-goodbye, nee-chan!”

——

tsukauchi stares expectantly at both you and emi. “what. happened to her.”

“aha..! that’s nothing you need to worry about, ‘uchi!”

“there are headlines all over the media of you being a bad guardian.”

“it’s fine,” you reassure him. “it was the paparazzi’s fault. they pushed me out of her sight and thus, auntie joke couldn’t find me for a while.”

he sighs, pinching his nose. “you. you’re grounded, and you. i’m putting more cases on your shoulders.”

you shrug. “well, it was worth a shot.”

——

toga scribbles frantically on her diary, the lines forming a drawing of you. she’s so unbelievably happy right now. she has a big sister, who’ll protect her unlike her own parents.

“nee-chan…” she keeps mumbling, almost like a chant. “i want to see you again. even if i just saw you today, i want to see you again!” all of the pages now have your face on it, little mores about how pretty her big sister looked, some a little too observant.

toga now has two things she really likes:

blood, and you.

——

summary: yay, it’s your first day of daycare.

prologue

“…auntie joke?”

it’s officially been about four months since you’ve been fostered by mr. tsukauchi. he’s been a surprisingly good guardian so far—although he’s not at home most days, he still finds time to cook, clean, and spend quality time with you. additionally, tsukauchi prepares lumpia for you every weekend, since after all, it’s not the unhealthiest food.

though, if you had to snuff out the flaws in his parenting, there’d be quite a lot. perhaps more than you count on your fingers and toes. 

exhibit a: you’ve yet to be enrolled in a school program. it’s actually what you’ve wondering about this past week.

turns out, he was two steps ahead of you. in front of you is the recently-hired teacher of ketsubutsu high school, emi fukukado. apparently, she’d offered to help homeschool you.

“—yep, yep! it’s your auntie joke! c’mere, give me a big hug!” emi holds out her arms, ready to embrace you.

…which you politely decline.

after a rather dramatic breakdown, you take emi to sit down and prepare some tea for the both of you. 

“wow, you already know how to prepare tea? i know for sure tsukauchi didn’t teach you that.” you pause at that. right, you’re not supposed to act so intelligent.

“…soo, you’re a teacher at shiketsu now? ‘figured you’d join u.a. since everyone’s super energetic there” you change the subject, stirring sugar your cup.

emi smiles. “sure am! the students are wayy too stoic though. totally not my style! but, i figured it’d be easier than moving to musutafu just to teach.”

the two of you talk for a while. she’s surprised at how easy you are to talk to. “hmm… wait a minute, are you just talking to me because you don’t wanna study?!” emi grabs you by the ear (which didn’t hurt at much as you thought) and drags you to your designated ‘study area’, putting up this angry facade and teaching you the basics.

you try your best to act dumb and slowly answer each question even though you’ve learned this years ago. you drag your pencil across the answer line, writing a crooked ‘8’. she lights up.

“hey, that’s right! you’re pretty good at this!” you crack up a little at that. it’s amusing how the only times she makes you laugh are when she’s trying not to make you laugh.

besides that, you’re surprised at how good your aunt is as a first-time teacher. she explains the lessons calmly and clearly, without seeming over-the-top. it’s refreshing.

emi teaches you for a few more hours before tsukauchi comes back. he looks a bit roughed up, though he’s carrying a few bags of ingredients for lumpia.

“hey, you,” he greets, setting down the bags. “is auntie joke teaching you well?”

“well enough,” you shrug, causing her to get a bit offended. your eyes dart to the window, and you’re surprised to see that it’s still the afternoon, giving you plenty of time to relax and work some things out. like your name, but you don’t dwell on it.

emi clears her throat, trying to break the awful quietness. “so, um, tsukauchi-sama, did you pass by any daycares on your way here? although i’m already qualified, i think it’s about time this kid oughta get some friends, and uh—i’m not sure junior high schoolers have much in common with little children like her.”

he ponders over it for a hot second. “no notable ones, unfortunately. how about we search for one online and let her pick?”

for about another hour, the three of you are hunched over his computer, looking for places to pick from. emi points at one ‘kiyono daycare; learning place for all’. “hey, i know this one—a friend of a friend has a daughter who goes there!” and tsukauchi slowly turns his head to face her, a brow raised in suspicion.

“why would you know that?” another bout of silence, the both of them staring each other down, like they were conversing with just their eyes.

“uhh, yeah. this one looks nice,” you agreed, breaking them out of their staring contest. “maybe we could go tomorrow.”

—

tomorrow comes, and you’re dressed into something public appropriate for the first time. tsukauchi, being the precautious man he is, equips you with an emergency phone, a flashlight, extra money and food (and candies which emi slipped into your pocket), along with a sticker on your back with the police station’s number imprinted on it. it’s a little over-the-top, but you’d rather have him be protective than lazy.

emi is the one to drive you to the daycare in her painted minivan, an iced coffee in her hand as she beckons you inside.

“howdy, kid? is the big, bad, policeman tsukauchi being mean to you?”

“fukukado, don’t paint a negative image of me in her head.” he deadpans, escorting you into the passenger seat. emi promptly drives off the second the door is closed.

the way she drives makes you wonder where this woman got her license. you nearly slide out of your seat with her sharp turns, abrupt stops, and curb-hits. she nearly runs a red light, too. “whoopsie-daisy!” she’d muse, like she didn’t almost rear-end an innocent man’s car.

other than that, though, it’s a pretty good ride. emi talks to you about trivial matters like it’s nothing—and before you know it, you’re already at the daycare.

emi drops you off with a wave, wishing you a fun time, wheeling off with the song ‘milkshake’ playing. you’re surprised she knows about kelis, as this world is probably way far in the future. nonetheless, you’re happy that good music still finds its way here.

you’re greeted by the sweet-looking daycare staff, one of them bending down to get a better look at you. “well, hello there, sweet girl. you must be mr. tsukauchi’s kid. are you ready for a fun, new day?” the woman squeals. you agree with a double thumbs-up, and they take you inside the daycare.

inside is a spacious, colorful place with its own reading room, nap room, playtime room, and classroom respectively. all of the children are cooped up in the playtime room, and you ease up as how peaceful everything feels.

the staff urges you to play with them, so you get one of the big notepads and begin drawing with some of them with those cheap markers. it’s rather fun, since you haven’t really had much time for creative freedom, so you begin drawing to your heart’s content.

the other kids all ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at your work, praising how good it was and asking one of the workers to pin it up on the wall. it makes your chest swell a little with pride.

but before any of that, the ladies announce that playtime was over, and it was time for lessons again. the children whine for more time, but eventually line up on the giant rainbow rug in front of the whiteboard.

the lessons are pretty much exactly what emi taught you, but you let the other’s answer the questions, which, as promised by the staff; one correct answer equals to five more minutes of reading time, which was their favorite time of day. the children answer problem after problem, equaling to about twenty extra minutes. then, a multiplication problem, this time with some relatively big numbers for their age.

you’re about to raise your hand when another kid confidently raises his own faster. “two-hundred and thirty-four!” he exclaims. unfortunately, it’s dead wrong by a long shot, which the lady sadly points out. said boy had been consistently getting the problems wrong, earning your respect for how bravely he answered the questions.

you slowly raise your hand again muttering the correct answer this time. “nine-hundred and twenty-four.”

when the lady only smiles, all of the children yelp with joy as the staff allows them more reading time. they all sit on beanbags and lay on pillows reading books, whispering and giggling.

as you read your own little story, the same boy walks up to you with his hands on his hips. “i can’t believe you answered that question right! you’re so cool!” and he means it. you can tell from the way his eyes sparkle with admiration. “how old are you?”

you close your book to face him. “thanks. i think i’m four.”

“cool! i’m three! and my name is yoarashi inasa!”

oh. so you chose the same daycare as the airhead from shiketsu (literally and figuratively). that’s a nice coincidence. you think it’s funny how he’s still donning a buzz cut even as a child.

“uh… i don’t have a name yet.” you say after a few seconds, scratching your hair a bit.

“that’s totally fine! hey, since you’re older than me, i’m just gonna call you senpai! i think it’s what first-years call their second and third-years in later grades,”

“ok.”

“senpai, what book are you reading? i like this one, senpai!”

“actually, i was thinking i could go to the local library across the street. the books i saw in the window looked more interesting. you wanna come with?”

“ok, senpai!”

the two of you get permission from the staff to read different books in the library. inasa curiously walks behind you as you search for a good novel.

you caught his wide, innocent eyes the very second you entered the daycare, talking to the other kids so smoothly like the staff did, the one to quiet everyone down when it was time to read, the one who answered that, super-extra-hard question. inasa knew from the very beginning that you would be super cool. well—everyone he met was super cool, but you were super duper cool.

as he watches you read one of the more advanced books, he can’t help but think aloud “you’re so cool, senpai!” but he quickly shuts his mouth when he hears the many other library inhabitants hush him.

“you’re so cool, senpai…” he whispers this time, to which you reply with a quiet ‘thanks’.

after a few minutes, you’re interested enough in the book to rent it from the library with the extra money tsukauchi gave you, walking back to the daycare with inasa trailing closely behind you.

coincidentally, reading time is over and now comes the goodbyes.

you politely bow to the daycare staff, which they gush about, and spend a while waiting for emi to come back in her minivan. inasa walks up to you again, albeit a bit shyly this time.

“hey, senpai!… do you mind if i could walk you home? my house isn’t that far, so i’ve got plenty of time,”

“mm… thanks, but no thanks, inasa-kun. i have a ride already.”

as if on cue, your aunt comes drifting in to the parking lot, stopping right behind you. the window rolls down, and emi waves to you, so you get inside.

“nice day. goodbye, inasa!”

by the time he racks up the courage to say goodbye back, you’ve already left. it’s strange, because he usually never gets shy.

—

you sip your strawberry milkshake, still sitting in your aunt’s minivan. emi is still talking with the fast food worker, who’d asked for her autograph and it snowballed into a full-blown conversation. you feel bad for the person behind you two, they’re probably starving.

eventually, though, they finish exchanging words and she drives off messily into the street.

“so,” she nudged you while eating her burger. “how was your first day~? i saw that boy,”

“it was fine,” you mutter. “also, keep your eyes on the road, auntie joke.”

summary: oh no. you’ve been reincarnated into the world of my hero academia. soooo scary.

back in middle school, you were obsessed with a show called ‘my hero academia’. 

you bought all the merch, went to every convention, and most importantly watched the show and read the mange. admittedly though, your family wasn’t very well off, so your father had to pirate it.

but that was what—two years ago? you’re in junior high now, and while your love for the show didn’t wane for the most part, other works have piqued your interest more. your figurines lay bunched up in an old box in your closet, your corny hoodies and t-shirts folded neatly in your bottom drawer, posters rolled up in the garage, all left to collect dust and for your little cousins to play with.

the most embarrassing of your collection was a cringey little fanfic you wrote on wattpad after watching a few edits, which, surprisingly got pretty popular at the time. it’s left half-finished and the unreleased chapters are still in your drafts. you couldn’t bear to finish it.

safe to say, your ‘my hero’ phase was pretty standard for a first-time watcher, and you were proud to have found the courage within yourself to step out of your comfort zone and interact with the fandom, as toxic as it may be.

—

you smile at yourself from the memories, causing your classmate to playfully bump your shoulder, urging you to focus as you two walk along the empty, rural streets from your school to your house. it’s rather peaceful, now that you think about it.

your whole life is peaceful, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it.

the two of you stop by a familiar corner, the one leading to your house with a few right turns, and bid each other goodbye. the light turns red, and you instinctively begin walking towards the other side.

as usual, today feels like another boring but pleasant one. your chest still feels warm, your friends feel genuine, your parents wait for you with a warm meal, the sun sets and casts a stunning orange-pink hue on the horizon. you don’t just feel amazing, you feel at home.

but… the world really does hate the ordinary, doesn’t it?

your classmate screams your name, (R̵̠͉͇̲̗̞̬͒̊̆͌̇́̂̕͝Ẹ̸̻̟͓̳̲̥̞͕̀́̎̀̕D̷̤͈̪͕̬͌̾͗̃͗͂̏͗̉Ạ̵̡̢̞̑̄͆̊̐̍̑͘͝C̵̨̟̮͔̮̪̮̖̬̥̆̔̍͛̏̃̅T̴̛͇͍̊̉͐́̍͠Ḛ̸͔̥̯͕̌̃͒Ḋ̵̗͍͈̰), and you turn your head to face them. they’re reaching out to you, horror in their eyes. you hear the loud roar of a horn, and suddenly, everything goes black.

—

when you wake up, it seems to be only a few minutes later, your friend cradles your face with tears streaming down their face, begging for something. the high-pitched ringing in your ears is too loud, you can’t make out a thing.

your eyes divert to your body, and you realize—you’ve been hit by a vehicle. your right side is entirely crooked from taking the brunt of the truck, a particularly deep gash on your abdomen where the sharp number plate has burrowed itself into. blood pools around that spot, staining your uniform.

you can faintly hear muffled chatter from behind you, probably the police or paramedics. and yet, they only speak of the person who hit you, the driver. that alone is more than enough for anyone to know—

you’re going to die.

funnily enough, when you look ahead, the sky is still beautiful, like you’re not there, like is still peaceful. 

your phone buzzes with a notification from your other friend, the cracked screen lighting up in your hands, not knowing they were too cold to send back a reply. 

your parents are still probably waiting for you at home, thinking you’re simply late, unaware that they had prepared a third plate for someone who wouldn’t come back.

your cat nuzzles into your pillow, not even thinking of the possibility that it’s owner would no longer be there to sleep beside it.

you chuckle, though it’s more of a weak, tired wheeze, as your vision begins to blur—a sign of your inevitable demise.

…

‘I wonder, if there is a god out there, would they spare me a chance, and let me live just one more life?’

…

…

‘ahh… have i been reincarnated?’

your body feels warm, but not the same kind of warmth you felt in your old life. but it still, nonetheless felt good, and for now, that’s all you need.

regaining your senses, you realize you’re once again, a child (though technically, you were always a child).

the first thing you see are the fluorescent lights of a hospital room. had you just been birthed? no, that can’t be it, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to see this well.

when you look to your right, an IV drip is connected to your hand, along with a blood bag. the steady beep of a heart monitor is the first thing you hear, the next being two voices just a few feet away from you.

…

“—and how old is this child?”

“ehh, not sure. three, maybe four years old? looks about right.”

the first person sighs. “mrs. fukukado, we need real information about them, not just random guesses.”

you perk up at that name. ‘mrs. fukukado? as in… emi fukukado?’

the latter laughs. “hey, that was a solid guess! i’d say i’m right on the money. oh, and

“that’s ms. joke to you!”

you sit up abruptly, wondering if you had heard that right. the memory is fuzzy, but you nonetheless know that name. she’s a friend of aizawa. you turn your head to the source of the conversation, and lo and behold.

it’s that bright green hair and orange bandana, along with those weird jester shorts.

you’ve actually been reincarnated into a show you haven’t seen since middle school.

emi senses your awakening and moves to your side in a flash, but the doctor is quick to stop her. “while i’m sure you’re worried about the child, it’s best we give them time to adjust.” she pouts and his words, but follows along and instead leans against the wall.

the doctor kneels to your height, a kind smile on his face. “hello, little one. my name is doctor idayama. we’re just going to ask a few questions, if that’s okay with you? you can keep resting until you’re ready.”

you mutter something about the first option, and they begin gently prying at your identity. but any hope of gathering information of your background is quickly dismissed with every ‘i don’t know’ or ‘i’m not sure’ you give them. they assure you it’s not your fault, however—you’re a child, after all. then they ask the question that really matters.

“little one. what’s your name?”

you paused at that. what was your name? you’ve forgotten it in the midst of all of this. did your original parents even give you a name? is that why you’re here without a guardian?

now that you think about it, so much has happened. you remember your death so vividly, it’s hard to get it out of your head. you don’t realize you’re crying until you see your hospital gown getting wet from your tears.

“i-i… i don’t know…”

ah.

so this is what being a child feels like.

pure helplessness, absolute vulnerability towards your emotions. it feels so horrible, not being able to hold back your tears.

“..hey…”

“…look..funny faces…!..”

you look up and see emi, a strange expression on her face, trying to coerce you into smiling again, although you were never smiling in the first place.

and it works, kind of.

you’ve stopped crying, at least.

but now, there’s a look of utter disgust in your eyes, lips curling into a scowl.

emi only laughs in response.

—

a few hours later, you’re taken outside of the hospital, two different vehicles parked in the lot. on the right is ms. joke, who leans against her custom-painted minivan, urging you to her side with a grin.

on the left is a familiar man, dressed in standard police uniform.

“young lady, this is mr. tsukauchi, the man who helped ms. joke take you here. you didn’t see him because he was still in the middle of some important errands.” doctor idayama introduces. “after some extensive research, and because you still have no knowledge of your parents or lineage, the government is still taking time to get you into our systems, and all orphanages in the region are full. so, both of these fine folks have offered to be your legal guardian.”

tsukauchi kneels down in front of you. “hey, kid. you’re looking healthy. the doctor was nice?” he asks gently. you nod. he pats your head, calloused fingers rubbing your forehead.

“you’re very strong. i… know i don’t look the part, but i’m willing to take care of you.”

“oi, oi, oi!” emi stomps to you as well, squatting down to your height. “you’re stealing my spotlight, ‘uchi! i’mthe one who made her stop crying! hey, kid, come with me! i’ve got a whole bunch of toys and cool gadgets for you to play with! you’ll have a blast.” she gives you a big thumbs up.

doctor idayama places a hand on your shoulder. “well, kid,

“who do you wanna go with?”

…

you take a step back, considering your choices. your eyes dart between the two of them. strangely enough, you don’t feel any pressure, like whichever option you choose will end in something good regardless.

so, you go with what your heart compels you to choose.

“…ms. fukukado.” you mutter quietly. “i know you did a lot to make me feel better, and i’m sure you played a big role in ensuring i’d be safe. however, i’d like to stay with mister policeman for now. but you can visit us whenever you’d like, or at least whenever hero work isn’t hogging your schedule.”

emi, at your words, visibly deflates, sinking onto her knees—only to just as quickly get back up again. she laughs confidently, puffing her chest up like a robin.

“haha! i quite like your style, kid. you’ve got a good mindset. and don’t call me by my name—it just simply sounds much too weird! call me… auntie joke!”

‘heh…’

a small smile creeps in your face, still sticking even as you bid your auntie goodbye, the minivan revving away in an almost cartoonish manner.

tsukauchi gently ushers you into his own car, the drive to his temporary flat quiet but pleasant.

when you get to the apartment, you’re surprised to see a rather cute bed settled in the corner. he’d plannedthis, those ‘errands’ he ran were actually just him frantically preparing you a place to stay.

he laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “i’m gonna be honest, i was hoping you’d come along with me, otherwise this would all be for nothing,”

you hum in response tracing the wooden headboard carefully. the linen sheets are soft, the pillows are the right amount of puffy, and the bed is big enough to hold you for several years.

tsukauchi abruptly leaves and comes back with a few bags of takeout, setting it on the low table.

‘wow, it’s that late already?’ you look outside, and the sun has already set, night blanketing the sky in its darkness.

he unboxes the food carefully. there’s rice, vegetables, and such. but one dish in particular catches your eye. “what’s that?” you ask.

“this?” he bites into the crunchy spring roll. “it’s a filipino dish called lumpia. want some?” tsukauchi brings one of the rolls to your lips, and you automatically take a bite.

the sweet, savory flavors explode in your mouth—it’s delicious. so delicious you immediately take another bite after swallowing. and then another. tsukauchi is pleasantly surprised at your eagerness. “woah-slow down, you’re gonna choke. do you like it?”

you nod, picking up your chopsticks to take another one. and then another one. and then you’ve finished the whole box of lumpia, ready to eat the spicy ones too, which he quickly denies.

eventually, your fullness catches up to you, and you feel very sleepy. tsukauchi is happy to tuck you into to bed—not after brushing your teeth though.

he chuckles. “too much to eat? i probably should’ve stopped you at your fourth.”

you stare mindlessly into the ceiling. “worth it.”

— — —

(please tumblr have mercy on me this is my first fic)

TW: smut, stalking, unhealthy obsessions, kinda ooc, the writer has a bias for a certain flame-haired boy, font changes randomly

KYOJURO RENGOKU

SFW

I feel like as a Hashira whose beliefs center around protecting the weak, you are a prime example of why Kyojuro is doing what he’s doing. He doesn’t admit it to you, but you’re just too weak. Kyojuro is the type of man who’d constantly be hovering over you, to the point where you feel suffocated in it. There are some perks to it, though.

he spoils you, after all, his mother always taught him to be respectful towards women like you. If not for his obsessive form of affection, maybe she’d be proud of him. But Kyojuro is too far gone, he’s too busy focusing on you.

Kyojuro is not too too possessive, but it most definitely shows. He knows you love him, but he can’t help wanting to behead everyone; man or demon for even sparing a glance at you.

of course, the man is very old fashioned, and he sees marriage as the ultimate form of love, and he greedily fantasizes himself with you as his betrothed, with children all over your quaint home.

NSFW

Kyojuro, as many could imagine has a very big breeding kink. He adores filling you up with his thick, warm cum, thrusting into your tight little hole like a man starved, whispering soft praises into your ear. Speaking of getting you pregnant, Kyojuro would love to nurse on your milk-filled tits; he knows you’ll let him. Bonus points if you had a flat chest beforehand, he’s in love with your now slightly bigger boobs.

I also imagine him as someone who’s a big pussydrunk. Be it his cock or his tongue penetrating you, he’s addicted to the feeling of your delicious cunt. He’s lapping up at your juices, slick dripping from his chin. He’s obsessed.

but as much as he loves being your dominant, he loves when you take the lead, it makes him feel all fuzzy inside when you start feeling comfortable about revealing your other self. Leash him up? He’s panting and barking like a loyal mutt for his owner. Pull at his hair? He’s on his knees as you torture his balls. He especially likes when you degrade him, your cutting words sting just right on his skin.

AKAZA/HAKUJI SOYAMA

SFW

When Akaza first met you, he only became interested in you because you looked like Koyuki. But after months of stalking (or as he’d like to call it ‘observing’) you, he realizes you are your own person, and that’s what made him so enchanted by you. He sees your skin; soft and clear, a far cry from his callous and tattoo-littered body.

he doesn’t want you away from him. When you’re ill, Akaza is the one laying food trays on your bedside, it’s what the man in the relationship must do after all. He keeps little trinkets of you with him, just like how his Blood Demon Art was based off of his former wife; a hair pin, a photo of you, he’s even went as far as stitching a piece of your kimono to his haori just to remember your scent.

NSFW

Akaza has a fine sense of control over his sexual desires, but you, my dear can always break that control at any moment. He has a things for marking what’s his; he thinks you’re too perfect. Some creep is going to ruin you someday, but not before he ruins you himself. Sinking his teeth in your skin, moaning erotically at the taste of your blood as he’s fucking you from behind.

he says he despises weak people, but you are his sole exception to that. Akaza sometimes thinks of you like a child, a cute little bimbo who can’t think for herself; you need him, or at least that’s what his sick fantasies always tell him. He likes carrying you around, cooing when you come on his fingers from just a touch, wiping your tears as you get hopelessly overstimulated from his fat cock.