#takasugi x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

animeyanderelover · 3 days ago

Text

Anon: Hello again!💞 💗This is my second request for Nsfw headcanons for Tamaki (MHA), Ayato (Tokyo Ghoul), Isagi (Blue Lock), Hanamiya, Mibuchi, Himuro (KNB), Gintoki, Toshiro, Shoyo, Shinzuke (Gintama). Again just like the last one you can reject/delete this and you don't have to write for every single character if there is someone you aren't comfortable with/don't write or/and don't know how to write for them!! For this I would also like to be kept anonymous please and have a good day/night!!💕💖🌸

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, clinginess, isolation, abduction, death, Nsfw, female reader, non-con, dub-con, masochism, sadism, degradation, somnophilia, masturbation, panty stealing, rough sex, semi-public sex, blood kink, period sex, oral sex, dacryphilia, anal sex, choking, overstimulation, sexual harrassment, sex tapes, spit kink, drx humping, drugging, jealous sex, hair pulling, shower sex, bathtub sex, panty sniffing, blowjob, mirror sex, breeding kink, phone sex

I already did Nsfw Hc's for Tamaki in a previous post.

Tags: @flaming-vulpix @jamayah

Nsfw Hc's

Kirishima Ayato

🌌Few things are worse for Ayato than the emotional decay that he experiences the moment he falls in love with you. A human who he looks down on so much. Forceful with everything he does, it is his goal to have you fear him and obey him. He cannot be seen as weak by anyone, including you. Following the emotional decay is the physical deterioration of his self-control though, one that makes itself noticable in a visible bulge straining against his pants. It is the palpable fear that he inflicts you with that has his body reacting. The sound of your erratic heartbeat screaming within your chest, the heavy sound of terrified breaths rattling within your chest, the sight of glistening tears streaming down your chest and the scent of your blood pumping through your veins awaken primal parts within Ayato. Yet despite you being used to him being nothing but cruel and selfish, surprisingly enough Ayato initially shies away instead of forcing himself on you. He fears the intimacy, as ridiculous as this may sound. The very same man who has bitten, scarred and abducted you is terrified of the thought of being intimate. All because he fears that he might reveal feelings you aren't meant to know of.

🌌The humiliation truly never ceases with you around, doesn't it? It's not like he hasn't masturbated before but back then it was usually because he was high from blood lust and the ecstasy that followed a good kill. Now the reason for his raging boner is a meek human who he refuses to let him see in this pathetic state. All Ayato can do is jerk himself off, fist wrapped around his flushed cock and cursing through gritted teeth as slippery sounds fill the air. Sometimes though that isn't enough stimulation for him. Sometimes he requires more and so Ayato soon finds himself rummaging though your worn clothes and stealing your panties. Can he possibly sink any lower? Probably not but there is nothing he can do when his cock remains stiff and persistent. The smell clinging to your underwear drives him crazy and he despises that. Thinking about the way the fabric must be hugging your lips sends jolts of electricity down his member as his fist slides up and down more urgently his lubricated shaft. If you're having your period and the scent of hormones and blood clings to the thin fabric, Ayato is a goner. He hates how good it feels when his balls tighten and he soils his entire fist with his release.

🌌It all comes to a halt when you one day catch him masturbating, his cock wrapped around your underwear. Even Ayato is left speechless when you walk in on him shamelessly fucking your panties and for one moment he stutters for words. All until embarrassment and shame are replaced with anger. This is all your fault. You have reduced him to this pathetic state and now you don't even have the nerve to knock on the door before entering. You don't get to make fun of him for this. No, now you finally pay. Not only a minute later he has you kneeling in front of him. hands grabbing your hair and the back of your neck as his cock hammers at the back of your throat. There's spit sliding down your mouth and tears rolling down your cheeks as you nearly choke on his erection and unrelenting pace yet Ayato doesn't allow you any break. His Kagunan has been activated, irises striking red as he stares down at your pathetic form. He should have done this way sooner, he concludes eventually as he feels his balls tightening before he shoves his full length in your mouth and shoots ropes of cum down your throat. From now on he will use you just like he should have always done.

🌌Ayato has never been a gentle lover to begin with and that perfectly is mirrored in the way he fucks you. All Ayato does is take and take and take without giving back. He cares about his pleasure first and foremost whilst you will just have to get by somehow. Whenever he walks into the room with a visible dent in his pants, he expects you on your knees within seconds and he doesn't care whether you want to or not. It's all about power and control for Ayato and he now extends that to sexual activities too. He is the one you fear and the one who holds all the power and that manifests in the sick way he gets turned on when your cheeks are wet with salty tears and your eyes stare pitifully up at him all whilst you nearly gag whenever the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. He manhandles you during sex, the grip of his hands on your body unforgiving and aching still the next day. Blood is always shed during sex and injuries are like marks used to claim you. Your collarbone, shoulders and the insides of your thighs are covered in scars of his teeth as the taste of your blood is too good to miss out on. After all Ayato only ever indulges himself.

🌌One of the few times where you end up on the receiving end is when you are on your period in which case Ayato will end up eating you out. Even then it is more about his desires as he forces you to stand with your legs spread for hours and his tongue between your folds, hot breath hitting your moist pussy as blood and wet arousal drip down your thighs. It doesn't matter that you're feeling sore from overstimulation and that your knees feel like they're about to give in. You only get to close your legs once Ayato's appetite is stilled. If you thought that at the very least sex would only be restricted to the little apartment he keeps you locked away in, you are greatly mistaken. You realise that when Ayato fucks you on the roof of a building, half of your body dangling over the edge which has you clinging terrified to him as his cock plunges into your wet hole. Or when you're sprawled on the wet ground of a side street whilst he pounds into you from above. Or when you're pressed against the moist walls of the sewers, scratching his back desperately as he abuses your hole. You're terrified that another ghoul might find the two of you. Ayato wouldn't let that happen. But you don't need to know that.

🌌Whilst the aroma of fear and the sight of tears are big turn-ons for Ayato, he finds the sound of your cries and sobs to be rather annoying still. So if you cry too much during sex it happens quite a lot that he shoves his fingers in your mouth or wraps a hand warningly around your throat, squeezing with enough pressure to have you wheeze for oxygen. Just shut up. This is all your fault. There are those moments that start happening more frequently as time passes by. Moments where he looks at your face and suddenly pauses before he suddenly lifts you up and shoves your face down to the ground before he fucks you from behind. You never understand why he does this and why he refuses to face you as he pounds into you from behind, one of hands always pressing your head down so you cannot even turn around and look at him. The truth is that it becomes too much at times. His fear of intimacy cracking open a side of him that he thinks of as too weak to ever be seen eventually becomes the truth. He may try to be as harsh and cruel as he can but once the seeds are planted, its growth cannot be stopped. You must never know though, must never see the look on his face even as he insults you.

Hanamiya Makoto

❌Hanamiya is a living nightmare to walk into to begin with. After all he uses people for his personal benefit and enjoyment all the time. Being obsessed with you only amplifies all disturbing traits and the sexual tension follows soon after. Only that it is utterly one-sided as you are disgusted and horrified by him. What a shame that this only turns him on more. He doesn't care if you call him a creep and pervert. In fact the revulsion in your eyes often is enough to make him half-hard already and he doesn't even bother hiding that. No, he actually wants you to see it because the growing discomfort in your eyes turns him on only more. That eerie grin on his face the moment your eyes land on the straining bulge in his pants is the stuff of nightmares and you feel your stomach churning when he shifts his position to give you an even better view of it. You can pretend to be better than that all you want. Hanamiya will have you soon reduced to nothing but a drooling slut around his cock. Insult him all you want for now. Soon he will reduce you to something even more dumb and pitiful than you already are. He'll ruin and stain you so that no one else will want to have you and you'll have to crawl back to him.

❌The corruption kink runs high with Hanamiya. He is a freak and unashamed of admitting that and he wants you to kneel in front of him and beg for his cock. Nothing would turn him more on than to reduce you to a cock-hungry whore who just wants to be fucked out of her mind by him. The mere thought gets him hard. He has patience even if you may believe him to be only a perverted creep. That carelessness to be ashamed though is very dangerous for you as it means that Hanamiya has no personal boundaries. In fact after every time he acts like a creep around you and gets turned on by the look of disgust in your eyes, he immediately seeks out the next bathroom to masturbate. It doesn't matter that other people are around and could potentially hear him. It only matters to him that he pumps his hips into his fists whilst he replays in his mind the disgusted look on your face. You just wait. Soon he'll have you open that pretty mouth of yours for him. Worst of all is that he doesn't even hide that he masturbates whilst thinking of you. You made the mistake of asking him once and he answered with far too many details. Now he always tells you to heighten your discomfort.

❌Soon after the messages start. Somehow he gets his hands on your number and from that point on he texts you when he is jerking off to the thought of you, explaining in detail what is going through his head and what he is feeling. It doesn't stop at mere texts. Pictures of his hands wrapped around his thick and flushed cock smeared with pre-cum and eventually even audios follow where you can hear the sounds of him audibly panting and groaning out your name whilst the slick sound of his pelvis thrusting into his fist is the constant background noise. Obviously you block him only for Hanami to then confront you in public. He doesn't care that other people are around but he likes to play with your discomfort as he starts explaining to you what he was doing the other day. What starts as a whisper grows gradually louder until you are either left with the choice of others hearing about his sexual activities involving you or abruptly leaving only to risk him following you and cornering you when you are all alone. The way his hands slide all over your body makes you sick, especially since he isn't even ashamed to get frisky in public with you. Don't be so shy after all.

❌Once he manages to corner you with no people around, things get dangerous and sexual quickly. After all he has you pressed against the nextbest surface within seconds as a nightmarish grin stretches his lips apart. His body is smushed in yours as he excitedly retells you all of his fantasies involving you. Hands slide into your shirt and across your stomach and to your horror you can feel how he starts hardening down there, already starting to rut against your clothed sex like some dog in heat. Such makeout sessions are very common but worst of all is that once he gets some dirt on you, he basically forces you to let him do this. Unless you wish for him to release whatever secret he has on you. It's always hell to endure it as he ruts against your pussy or ass, that disturbing grin on his face always there even as he presses kisses all over your neck and moans purposefully loud into your ear how much he enjoys this and how he will soon have you reduced to something even more pathetic than him. He often cums in his pants whilst humping against you, a faint blush on his cheeks as his tongue darts out to lick over the frantic pulse of your neck.

❌Actual sex with him is dirty, mean and unfair just like he is. He'll have you choke around his cock and settle for a brutal pace on purpose until you tear up, the sight enough for him to blow up and pull out to splash his sticky semen all over your face and chin. He'll have you kneel in front of him with your hands wrapped around his erection, jerking him off whilst forcing you to compliment his cock, The more humiliated and embarrassed you are, the harder he gets and worst of all is that his erection may not go down for hours as he gets turned on too quickly. His one goal when he has you all for himself is to fuck you and make you cum until you are too stupid to think properly only for him to rail you into the sheets even more then. He takes aphrodisiacs to be able to go on for longer so he can enjoy the sight of you you reduced to a drooling and babbling mess and it is very likely that he spikes your food and drinks with them as well until you are soaking wet and he can call you a 'needy slut' when he pushes your underwear aside and plunges his fingers deep into your heat. You can barely hear the shutter of a camera going off. Oh, this will make some wonderful material to blackmail you with.

❌Want to know what's even more humiliating? He knows how to eat your pussy. That tongue that loves to lick all over you knows exactly what to do once it dips into your moist folds and that reluctance to give away how good it feels only motivates Hanamiya to grab your thighs and pull them apart even more for better access. God, he loves to get all dirty with you. He spits on your pussy before devouring your juices like he hasn't had a decent meal in days, sucks on your nipples and leaves them stained in his saliva and the moment he feels his balls tightening he pulls out to spurt his cum all over your chest and abdomen. It makes for wonderful pictures after all. The dirtier and more ruined you are, the better. He probably even has some sex tapes he records secretly and gets off to when he can't get his hands on you. He's obscenely loud and you don't know if he is doing this on purpose or not. His grunts and moans are straight out of a porn and because he loves getting freaky in public places, you're forced to cover his mouth with your hands or muffle the sounds with your lips. Until he thrusts right against the bundle of nerves within you at least and you have to bite down to silence your own moans.

Himuro Tatsuya

◾️What a strange twist his life has come to. After all normally it is Himuro whom other people yearn for. With his looks, intelligence and his skills it is no surprise that he has women of all ages swooning for him. Yet the one girl he is in love with is not quite as interested in him as others would be. Initially that is really no reason for Himuro to be worried. He may actually like the fact that he is able to court someone now and woo them over with his charms. What he did not see coming though and what turns out to give him quite a bit of problems is how easily aroused and turned on he suddenly finds himself when around you. That has never happened before and it completely throws him off the rails. After all he is hailed for his poker face and normally composed attitude yet the obsession has his hormones going crazy. Accidental touches and fleeting glances are enough to have his dick stir and the harder to get you are, the more aroused he seems to find himself. Obviously he wouldn't want to admit that ever to anyone but it seems like the less available you are, the more he yearns for you- and so does his cock. He feels like dying every time he has to hunch over and hide the dent in his pants.

◾A pretty boy by nature, Himuro only seems to become prettier the more pent-up he is. The thick tip of his cock is red and oozing with translucent pre-cum dripping down his shaft and there is the prettiest pink blush on his face, eyes misty as he looks at you. It comes as a surprise more to you than to him with just how putty he becomes if you willingly decide to indulge him. To him on the other hand the embarrassment is much more fleeting. It lasts only a few seconds before he throws all shame away as the euphoria that he has you finally like this to himself overweights all pride. He just wants you that much and crumbles the first time he finally has you all to himself and the more time it took to get here, the more he will just melt. Even the sounds that he lets out are beautiful. Soft pants that hit your skin, airy moans as the pleasure sparks up his spine and the low whimpers and groans of your name as he gets closer to his release. He may never be the loudest person in bed but he lets out plenty of noises which only you will ever get to hear. Usually it's a very intimate experience which is what Himuro strives for. He wants it to be about connection and less about being messy.

◾What if things do get messy though? Does that happen? Oh, it definitely does and those are moments that Himuro looks back on with a mixture of shame and guilty pleasure. It happens mostly when he is desperate because you're being distant and nothing seems to work to charm you. He hates it when things then escalate as much as you do because the memories it leaves behind and the conflicted feelings it creates are hard to get rid off. The only reason why you even allow his advances then is simply because he has you stuck with him and because he has something to blackmail you with. Otherwise you would never tolerate the way he is rutting against your clothed body and pressing messy kisses over your neck and shoulders. He cannot hold eye contact with you when such a thing happens or otherwise the guilt and shame would spike too sharply within his stomach. Still, worst of all is that he is hard to begin with and gets off by dry-humping against your body. His apologies mean little then as he groans that he wanted this be be a more intimate and special experience for the both of you, only to be cut off by a breathy moan when he soils his underwear with his release.

◾We have intimate sex. We have desperate sex. Now let's talk about jealous sex. The kind of sex that is done so that Himuro can remind you that you belong to him and that he is the only one who gets to plunge his cock into your weeping heat until both of you are boneless and blissful. Jealousy may be more of a rare thing for Himuro to experience as he is rather reassured by all the fan girls he has as well as his overall confidence yet there are just those people he feels inferior to. Mainly people like Kagami, Atsushi or any other member of the Generation of Miracles. After all those are the people he used to overthrow so desperately only to figure out that no amount of experience or training can beat the purely gifted. That sliver of inferiority tends to resurface when you spend too much time with those people and end up being a little bit too admiring. Credit where it is due though, Himuro hides that simmering frustration until the both of you get home and he slams you against the wall the moment you close the door. He hates how their names slipped from your lips. He'll have you chant his name by the end of the night, both of you sweaty and sticky messes. Totally worth it though.

◾Whether he ends up leaning more into the submissive or dominant spectrum depends really on his feelings and mood on that day. Himuro gets influenced by his surroundings as well as your own desires and needs which then lead to his decision. When things go well for the both of you he is normally more inclined to let you take the lead behind closed doors which may be something that outsiders do not expect as he usually likes to wear such a stoic poker face. Yet Himuro is surprisingly needy behind that facade he wears in public as you very quickly find out when you're placed on top of him, air escaping him in hot huffs and stretched moans as his hands squeeze your hips and assist you as you bounce up and down on his length, begging and whining under his breath for more. He spoils you when you are feeling lazy and simply lay down on the mattress, coaxing each orgasm out of you slowly whilst one of his hands holds your own and he holds eye contact with you, whispering promises of love and compliments. And then there are days where he is jealous and agitated, pounding mercilessly into your drooling channel and groaning under his breath how this belongs to him.

◾He has a thing for hair-pulling. All you wanted to do was to brush the hair out of his face to reveal his one eye usually covered by his bangs only for him to hit a bundle of nerves within you that had you see stars and had you yanking on his black locks instead. The throaty sound that left him almost immediately followed by his hips stuttering before you felt hot ropes of cum being dumped into you was not something either of you expected. Who would have thought that despite that stoic face Himuro has a tiny thing for being masochistic? He loves when you pull on his hair and he vows to never cut it short for that purpose. Hair-pulling even works to convince him to become more submissive again. It's as if doing it awakes some part of his brain that insists that he has to be the bottom. Even when he is jealous and angry and needs to be rougher in order to feel like you still know that ultimately you are his it works, although slower as Himuro needs at least one round to slowly calm down again. Also, he fucks you everywhere within the house. The kitchen, the bathroom, the living room and even the wardrobe where both of you were squished together in new positions due to the lack of space.

Mibuchi Reo

🌃For all that it's worth, Reo has always been quite gentle with you. Terrifying for sure but he has never truly lashed out or snapped at you. Even when terrifying he remains composed with soft eyes which in hindsight somehow makes him even scarier than if he were to vent out. At heart though even despite the obsession he thinks of himself as a romantic at heart which is why he keeps up at eerily gentle demeanor through the ups and downs of the relationship. Sex to him is for that reason less about chasing release and getting dirty and more about the intimate connection and vulnerability that comes with it. He's probably the kind of person who doesn't even refer to it as "sex" and calls it "love-making" instead because it has a more romantic ring to it. It's the one thing that he won't force to happen either. Whilst he may have taken some measures to ensure that the relationship even starts to begin with, this is the one thing that Reo refuses to push. He wants it to happen naturally as you assume that even his own delusions wouldn't be strong enough to justify such a drastic action. It would be hard to convince himself that you're enjoying yourself if you were to cry and yell at him to stop.

🌃At one point you suspect that he has secret super senses. It's the only explanation that you can come up with once you notice that he seems to know exactly when you are feeling aroused. Reo though has always prided himself in his ability to learn how to read you properly and so perhaps it is unsurprising that he learns the signs of your body when you're feeling hot and bothered. He never outright offers his services but you also learn to notice the one or other thing about his behavior- such as the way usually gentle eyes darken just a bit and his hands start drawing featherlight patterns over your arms and thighs. Once again though, he never you into anything sexual. Though with time you start to spot the subtle signs of growing frustration. It includes a twitch in his eyebrows or the way he shortly purses his lips into a thin line to prevent any smile that would be too obviously forced. You also learn to avoid walking into the bathroom when he excuses himself. Whilst you never walked in on him jerking off, the sounds you heard through the door the one time ou nearly did have given you a very good idea of what exactly he is doing behind closed doors. At least he takes care of himself.

🌃One thing that you should know once you finally do let him in is that Reo takes things almost painfully slow. He despises the mere thought of rushing things. No, he very much likes to savour the experience and each sensation because the intimacy of it all is to him part of the pleasure. After all he is not some mindless animal whose mind is clouded by lust and who doesn't know any better than rutting into you. Receptive to your pleasure and needs, Reo is large on giving rather than receiving. After all what lover wouldn't love to be able to know how to touch their lover and make them cum? The first few times with you he spends largely experimenting with his fingers and his tongue to figure out how to make your body quiver and and how to coax an orgasm out of you. Every time your thighs quiver or he feels your walls tightening, he makes a mental note to remember. Through few trials and errors Reo quickly memorises just what to do in order to push your body over the edge and once he has learned the techniques, he is the king of oral sex. Still, he makes sure to draw your orgasms out as he needs to savour each moment. He's not going to fuck you dumb.

🌃Foreplay for that reason remains most likely his favorite part of sexual intimacy. Being able to see you being thrown into ecstasy due to his skills with his tongue and fingers is often already enough for him to get off. After all even whilst you feel the knot in your stomach tighten, you are not oblivious to the way he is grinding his hips against the mattress of the bed and often times his own release with yours. If you don't ask him specifically for it, sex may never even go as far as him entering you. It doesn't have to be for Reo. He's enjoying himself plenty by watching you. Once you beg for him to be inside of you though, he listens. Only after a few rounds of foreplay though. He maintains that slow pace though even once he's inside and makes sure that you are feeling okay and aren't hurting. Even if foreplay has prepared you and all the slick makes it less painful when he pushes himself slowly inside, he's still making a quiet fuss. Only once he is completely convinced that you are fine does he start moving, each thrust smooth and deep. Eye contact is necessary as he wants to see that pretty look on your face. He's always going to face you when he's inside you.

🌃Sex toys are despised in this household. If he were to ever find out that you are using something else to get off instead of asking him, he is going to take great offense. If you're using your own fingers though, it's something completely different. Even then he seems fidgety though, especially if you're struggling to tip yourself over the edge. As always though, he doesn't interfere unless you request him to do so. It makes for interesting one-sided masturbation as he watches you whilst you try to get off by rubbing your fingers over your slick folds, circling that sensitive nub. Reo experiences quite a lot of different emotions when you allow him to watch. From stress to anxiety to anticipation once he notices that you are getting to the edge. He never looks away though as the movement of your hands seems to hypnotise him and when you manage to reach your own pleasure he visibly relaxes though the raging boner visible tells you that he would like a piece of the action himself. His eyes tell more than words ever could as he looks at you and once you give him permission he is on his knees in for you, eager to show you that he is still the one who can pleasure you best.

🌃He excels in aftercare just as much as he does in making you cum. Your well-being and comfort is always at the center of everything. He takes a few minutes to bask in the post-euphoria of sex before he is up again and does what he does best. Fussing over you and doting on you, asking if you need anything. One of his favorite things is drawing a bath for you and helping to clean you. Somewhere along the way this ends up though with both of you continuing in the bathtub if you are still in the mood. Something about hot water against your sensitive pussy gets to you and all you really need to do is ask before Reo is all over you again. Everything for you after all and he can clean you up right after again since both of you are already in the bathtub. The shower would be another possible option though Reo is slightly more careful there. Whether his worries are irrational or not is up for discussion as you could slip or get tired as you'd have to stand in the shower cabinet but he is going to comply if you ask him to. He is just going to hold you a bit tighter to make sure that nothing happens. As long as nothing would have to involve him hurting you, he is going to try out everything you want at least once.

Sakata Gintoki

🍨Otose is more than justified to refer to Gintoki as a sleezy man in many circumstances but never before has she earned herself the right to use this word for him than when it comes to his sex life. Let us be very real, Gintoki is desperate to get laid. If he wouldn't be so permanently broke all the time, he would have probably tried his luck with an Oiran but money is always the problem. As he also lives together with Shinpachi and Kagura, he cannot touch himself either. He isn't that low as he wouldn't want to traumatise the children and risk getting all of his ribs broken by an enraged Kagura. Then through some divine mistake- as Catherine likes to call it at least- he ends up scoring you. Broke, sleezy and lazy Gintoki now has a girlfriend and initially no one can explain how he has done it. Kagura calls it black magic, Catherine tells you to blink if you're being threatened. Obviously deep down all of them are happy for him but bullying seems to be the official love language for them. Gintoki too is still in a daze that you actually want this. Want him. However, years of a neglected sex drive now focus. Where before he was secretly lusting over many women, now he only has eyes for you.

🍨He doesn't even know how to even start this conversation. He most definitely is bricked up more than just once when he is around you and can only pray that no one around him notices. He isn't doing an exactly good job to hide it though when he awkwardly shuffles around, trying to hide the bulging dent in his pants. God, he wants to get laid so badly but he is terrified to mess it up. Words aren't exactly his strength and he cannot just approach you and be dirty-minded as he probably was a few times around other women. He cannot mess up and ruin this relationship. He cannot masturbate in his place either as there are too many people around and so he finds himself forced to masturbate in public toilets with only a lock separating him from others. It's definitely noticable when he excuses himself in restaurants and disappears in the toilet for quite a long time. Shinpachi sometimes comes in to check on him and then Gintoki is forced to lie through gritted teeth that he's having a bad case of diarrhoea. That too is humiliating but he would rather let people believe he is ruining the toilet than have them know that he is fisting his own cock because his friend just won't stay down.

🍨Maybe he is going to hell for his life of depravity. That's a thought that crosses his mind when his nose is buried in your underwear whilst he desperately pumps his fist over his leaking and red cock. He has this unfortunate habit of crashing your place at times, especially when he needs a break from his two children. Not always are you at home when this happens though which is a bit of a letdown but he will gladly wait for you then. And if he's already here he might as well make himself comfortable by relaxing on your couch, raiding the fridge and... taking a peek in your wardrobe. He swears that it is not his intention in the beginning to grab your underwear. It really is an accident at first as he rummages through your clothes because you have actually started to wash some of his clothes after some disastrous accident involving Kagura and vomit. At one point he just holds your underwear in his hand and freezes, the cogs in his head turning before he realises just what treasure he is holding right now. It becomes his little perverted secret, jerking off whilst inhaling the scent of your pussy still clinging to your used underwear. You don't know how much he wishes that he could borrow them.

🍨Through unspeakable stupidity eventually he approaches Tsukuyo to ask her for advice on how to ask you respectfully to undress so that he can finally has his meat beaten. Tsukuyo- willing to be helpful but very misguided as he grew up in a redlight district- advices him to pay you. Gintoki does exactly that the first time. He ends up sleeping on the streets on that night as you kick him out of the house and both kids do the same when they find out what he did. You find him still in front of your doorstep, curled into a tiny ball with a newspaper as a makeshift blanket. He looks so pathetic and pitiful. So you let him inside again. At least now he finally has come forward about his desires though so the both of you can start from there. He's already rockhard when both of you are just making out, rutting his erection against your body like a dog in heat. Also, he cannot stop himself from touching you. His hands are everywhere, roaming around and sneaking towards your bra. He wants to touch some boobs. You do like to tease him sometimes though by just abandoning him in the middle of it as a sort of revenge for when he did something. The poor man comes crawling to beg for forgiveness.

🍨For all of that horny and desperate behavior though, you didn't expect Gintoki to end up being a top. After all you are so used to this ridiculous facade he often showcases that it comes as unexpected the moment you are the one suddenly pressed down with him towering over you. He is never the hardcore dom of course as he maintains that partially lazy attitude. But the first time he finally has the chance to have sex with you, he is going to be very messy and desperate about it. Do you have any idea how long he has been dreaming about this whilst masturbating in some smelly public toilet? Gintoki fucks you like he's going to die tomorrow and overstimulates the both of you completely. And mind you, he as good stamina as he can blow his load and still have the energy for more. If this man is stressed or hasn't touched you for a longer while, he will always grab you and run away with you to find a place where he can fuck you in peace until the both of you are sweaty messes who are barely able to string a coherent sentence together. An alleyway will do if nothing else is available. Just as long as the children won't find the both of you.

🍨He loves lingerie. You wore it for him one time out of curiosity to see how he would react. Gintoki's reaction was that he fainted with a nosebleed before he rose up again with a grin that screamed unholy intentions. Incredibly touchy during sex, he cannot stop grabbing your ass and your breasts. It doesn't matter how big or small they are, he cannot stop staring and squeezing them. If he is in the mood, one of the telltale signs usually involves that he starts touching those parts of your body. His appetite for sex is quite high as you figure out, most likely because it has been far too long since he had the chance to touch someone and had someone to call his own. Especially shortly after both of you had your first time together does this dude fuck like you're about to disappear any moment. He has you riding him in cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, he folds you over the kitchen counter and he presses you against the shower cabinet and pounds into you from behind. He's insatiable and takes you everywhere he knows no one living with him will catch him. Quickies become essential for your sex life too, especially when he has little time on his hands and needs to blow up some stress.

Hijikata Toshiro

🚬Things should be taken slowly. A relationship needs time to work after all. Incredibly hypocritical considering that Hijikata uses his influence as the vice-captain of the Shinsengumi to ensure a steady control he has over your life but there is no use arguing with him. Sex is initially not even really that much on his mind. He's too stressed with the fact that he is in love in the first place as he too struggles with insecurities of his own and the feeling that he isn't good enough for you. Yet being part of the Shinsengumi means being surrounded by some rather noisy members who breathe down his neck the moment they know that he has a partner. The worst one of them all is obviously Sougo whose sole goal in life is to make Hijikata suffer. It's probably Sougo who ends up bringing this topic up too and whilst Toshiro initially wants him to shut up as he won't tolerate anyone talking about you in such a way, Sougo obviously presses on. It's after that day that the thought sticks with Toshiro more. Still, it isn't a priority as he wants you to be comfortable with him before he proceeds this relationship further. He likes to think of himself as a man of honor. Sougo is hellbend of proving him differently.

🚬Maybe Sougo used some black magic or maybe deep down Toshiro just didn't know how pathetic he really is. He only knows that after he accidentally walked in on you changing and seeing you in nothing but lingerie, things change. He's completely red in the face when he slams the door shut, nearly choking on his own breath as he yells an apology. His mind betrays him by replaying that image far too often and Okita not only notices this crack but deliberately targets it. Slowly Toshiro's self-control crumbles as he starts to flinch when he sees too much of your skin. He tries to take his mind off by smoking packages of cigarettes or training but his own body betrays him as his erection just won't disappear. He doesn't want to touch himself and some part of him still is stubborn enough to believe that he can smoke, train or sleep it off. the way his hips nearly stutter when you get too close to him and he breathes in too much of your scent begs to differ though. And so he eventually finds himself locked away in the bathroom, taking a shower whilst furiously pumping his cock in his fist and blowing his sticky release all over the shower cabinet. He'd rather die than have anyone find out though.

🚬A part of him truly believes that he is good in hiding what has been going on in his pants but you know. You definitely know but you don't talk about it. It's just amusing to watch Toshiro struggle so immensely as he is normally so uptight and strict about everything. It's funny to observe how he goes red in the face when you wear something that is tight and hugs your body. It's funny to catch him furiously smoking through cigarette after cigarette all to distract his thoughts from straying to unholy territory. It's funny to stand in front of the locked door and hear the muffled curses and swear words leaving his lips as he jerks off in the shower, the sound of running water not being able to hide the sounds he makes. In fact you tease him on purpose by getting too close, running your hands over his chest or even sitting on his lap and rubbing your backside against his twitching cock. You little minx are almost worse than Sougo is and eventually Toshiro just snaps. Your face is pressed into the pillows as you hear the sound of a belt being unbuckled and him hissing through gritted teeth that it's time you learn the consequences of riling him up like this.

🚬He ends up fucking you for hours that night, pounding into your warmth from behind like there won't be a tomorrow until his sweat drips down your back and he collapses on top of you- his dick still twitching inside of you. He needs painful minutes of collecting his blissed brain before he finally is able to act normal again. After that day though a part of his shame seems to have just evaporated. He's less embarrassed about making it very clear to you just what he wants from you. In fact it is made evidently clear whenever he unbuckles his pants and approaches you with that look in his eyes, quickly claiming your lips and pressing you against whatever surface is closest. Once upon a time he really thought he would be modest when it comes to his sex life. Screw that. He is not going to restrict himself to the bedroom. In fact he seems to be determined to take you in every single room of this house- from ramming himself into you on the kitchen island with your legs thrown over his shoulders to thrusting into you with your back pressed against the window which slowy gets misty as his cock fills your soaked channel. You can only hope the neighbours won't notice.

🚬Listen, being a vice-captain means that he is busy. It means that he has to deal with a lot of difficult people too and he doesn't mean the criminals. No, the worst offenders are his own people and sometimes he really wishes that he could just strangle Sougo and be done with it. At one point he takes part of that frustration out on you. Sometimes he barely has time to even get home and take a quick shower which is why quickies become a must. With the little time he has to enjoy at home that usually means that he drags you into the shower with him where you inevitably end up bend over so that he can hammer himself into your weeping warmth as quickly as possible all whilst complaining through gritted teeth to you about his day and Sougo who always gives him hell. Other times you are on your knees in front of him, sucking him off as he has to physically restrain himself from slamming his length even deeper down your throat. He doesn't want to hurt you if he can avoid it. The moment his mind goes blank and he shoots ropes of cum into you, part of his stress leaves his body though probably not for too long. He cannot even enjoy the aftermath though as time is ticking.

🚬There is one part that Toshiro is still ashamed of and that is the sounds he tends to make when his balls tighten and he feels his spine straightening with the tension of an incoming orgasm. That never happened when he was using his fist to jerk off but being sucked in by your warm walls is an entirely different experience. It's like each time he feels your body tightening around him, you suck out some of his intelligence. He starts of so composed and commanding during each session only to be reduced to a panting mess who can at best string out one coherent sentence as otherwise he can only curse and groan. The moment his mind clears of all thoughts and he feels that amazing sensation in his lower abdomen, his mouth just falls open and he lets out a sound he would never want anyone to hear. He just cannot contain that hoarse moan even if he were to try as his jaw just goes slack. Pulling his hair should be worth mentioning too because no matter how much Toshiro may refuse to admit it, he enjoys the sensation of stinging pain on his scalp when he is fucking you. He just doesn't want to admit that hint of masochism that he has, no matter how obvious it might be.

Takasugi Shinsuke

❤️‍🩹Shinsuke is a stranger at worst and an enigma at best. His heart and mind are at a constant conflict with each other. His plans do not include you. His goals have never focused on finding love. Your presence is one Shinsuke never even anticipated. He has wanted before but the want his heart has been vibrating with ever since you came along is one he is not familiar with. Despite the abduction and the isolation you receive the cold shoulder from him. In fact for a long time you are under the illusion that you are a hostage of some sort as it takes the likes of Bansai and Matako to explain to you that you are in fact not a hostage. At least not in the traditional sense. Shinsuke just avoids you because he doesn't know how to deal with the strange tenderness in his chest. It burns him from the inside out and intimacy on even an emotional stage takes him half of an eternity to embrace slowly. He orbits you silently and slowly gets pulled closer. Even then Shinsuke still remains closed-off at times. Physical intimacy gets quietly considered at times but he pushes thought and need away. He can barely handle opening up emotionally. He doesn't know how to handle exposing himself so utterly to someone.

❤️‍🩹Both of you have needs and as you are his desire and he slowly becomes your desire- whether due to Stockholm Syndrome or more genuine feelings- both of you experience bodily signs of that yearning. He experiences is in form of a hard bulge and you as a wetness between your legs. Yet neither of you admits it to the other nor does either of you even bring it up. Both of you just quietly take care of it by yourselves. You refuse to admit your desire because this is still the guy who kidnapped you and who additionally sometimes treats you like you're air and Shinsuke refuses to admit it because deep down he doesn't know how much more of his heart he can expose before it starts hurting him. Bansai tries to talk about it with him and he refuses to listen. Matako tries to talk about it with you and you refuse to listen. Henpeita is forbidden from getting involved. It all comes to the boiling point when he walks in on you masturbating. You wish to die when he sees you like this, with legs spread and your fingers rubbing over your clitoris. It is your heart that receives the worst blow when he leaves you alone though and doesn't talk about it despite now knowing.

❤️‍🩹So it is you who breaks apart at first as you one day furiously approach him in private. You're heartbroken and needy and worst of all apparently in love with him. Yet he has the nerves to ignore you despite apparently having only taken you because he cares too much. You hate it. You hate him. You hate everything. Yet even now he doesn't admit to anything and so you storm away. You do not escape. There's no use. But you lock yourself away, unable to see his face without the tears stinging your eyes. For days you don't see his face until he knocks on your door one late evening. You don't open the door but he enters anyways. You refuse to look at him but he sits down anyways. Close enough so you cannot ignore his presence but far away enough so you don't feel uncomfortable. The silence is thick with hesitation before it is Shinsuke who finally opens up. Who admits that he doesn't know how he is supposed to express his feelings and who apologises for making you feel unwanted. It is so sincere to the point that it threatens to burn you. Yet you still dare to turn around to face him and ask him if he even wants you. He tells you that he does. It's the point of no return.

❤️‍🩹It's haunting and it pains your heart in the most confusing ways with how intimate the first time is. It's so quiet except for the rustling of clothes and sheets and the sound of soft pants and quiet groans. It's an experience that imprints deep within both of your hearts. You remember that feeling of calloused and warm hands running across your body, slowly undressing you like a gift wrapped in layers of gold. You remember the feeling of soft lips pressing against bare skin, mapping over your body to memorise every swell and curve. You remember the feeling of his fingers plunging into your heat, scissoring you and slowly opening you up. There is still that uncomfortable flare of pain when he slowly sinks his entire length into you for the first time- your walls fluttering and stretching to adjust to that unfamiliar intrusion. Shinsuke waits, allows you time to get used to it and even holds your hand to quietly support you. Once the pain finally subsides you don't say anything. You only squeeze his hand and he understands. Each thrust is smooth and deep, the tempo slow as if he doesn't want to rush this. You're crying by the end of it. Not because of the pleasure but the haunting intimacy.

❤️‍🩹A tiny part of you wanted Shinsuke to be selfish and cruel. Because maybe then you would have been able to squash that growing longing within your chest for him. Instead he's gentle, loving and considerate and after that night that yearning within your chest intensifies and it makes you want to cry. You aren't the only one though as for Shinsuke it is the same. That night has changed things between the both of you and it has strengthened the relationship. He never pressures you nor does he rush such an experience with you. He wants to truly immerse himself in that moment with you- he needs to immerse himself in the pleasure with you. He despises the thought of a quickie as it wouldn't allow for the dragged out pleasure that both of you seek out so when he knows that he doesn't have the time but is still hard, he completely ignores his erection. It eventually does go down on its own as the thought of not being able to take his time seems to be a natural turn-off. When both of you indulge in each other though it is passionate and intense not because it gets kinky or both of you fuck like animals but because both you are emotionally raw in such moments.

❤️‍🩹Eventually he even removes the bandages covering his eye when both of you are alone. You have never asked him to do it as he does it on his own. It manages to convey just how much he exposes himself to you by letting you see and touch the part of his face that he usually hides without ever needing to say a word. Neither of you is overly kinky as Shinsuke would most likely feel insulted if you were to use toys to satisfy yourself and you would most likely feel the same if he were to use toys to pleasure himself. It's unlikely though that toys would ever be a substitute as it can't replace the sheer emotional weight that appears every time both of you unite. There are some tools used to highlight the experience though, additions that bring something new. Blindfolds and soft ropes are the first things that join those additions. You trust him completely, allowing him to cancel out one of your senses or your ability to move so that you can focus on each brush of his fingers over your skin. A mirror ends up as another addition to such moments, especially if you are someone who ends up feeling more insecure about your own body whilst Shinsuke is almost reverent with the way he treats you.

Yoshida Shoyo

💔Shoyo is a gentle lover with a terrible tendency to worry too much. Your well-being is at the center of everything and that leads to the sometimes annoying habit of him being too much of a mother hen for you. That is only a very small annoyance though largely overshadowed by his kind and thoughtful demeanour. Everything he does, he always makes sure that you are fine with it. He has spent centuries murdering as someone else and now that he has control over this body, he seeks out a better life in which he helps other people. For once he wishes to be someone who takes care of others and who people seek out for safety and support and that desire is strongest shown when with you. Physical pleasure has never been something that Shoyo has given much attention. Personally he could do without it if you wouldn't desire it either. A strong focus on what you personally want has made his own desires shift to match your own so whatever it is that you need, he needs too. That means that he lets you do it in the tempo that you desire as he simply tells you that he is ready when you are ready. He won't pressure you. He won't force you. It's all about your pleasure.

💔You soon find out just how true those words are. It is indeed about your pleasure as Shoyo is very big on giving it to you. The first time you approach him to admit somewhat shyly that you are ready consists largely of foreplay. He needs time to explore your body and figure out how to pleasure you after all. He wants to provide and make you feel good outside of the bedroom but also inside of it. That does tend to be painfully slow though as he constantly asks you if you are alright with him touching you or pushing his fingers inside your tight and warm entrance. Do understand though, it is your first time and he doesn't want to hurt you accidentally. As for whether or not Shoyo has experience, I actually believe he has more than he would like to admit. Back then it might have been another personality who had control of this body and who most likely raped women just like he killed people but those are memories that Shoyo still has. Perhaps that's why he is all the more careful and slow with you. The screams of women whose virginity were forcefully taken sometimes echo within his mind and so he dedicates all the love and gentleness those victims never received to you.

💔He has the tendency to be a very providing dom and that precisely because he tends to have the urge to cater to your needs. Now, he wouldn't protest if you were to ask if you could top him. If you stay silent though he always takes over that role as if it is second nature- which for him in some aspects it is. That becomes especially apparent during the first time in which he takes your virginity. It hurts at first as your body isn't used to being intruded like this. Shoyo though is making a quiet fuss the moment he sees the way your lips purse into a thin line and your eyes close briefly when that sharp pain reaches your brain. He has done nothing wrong. He has gently prepared you so that you are wet enough for the friction to hopefully not hurt too badly and has stretched you so that it hopefully won't hurt too badly when he pushes himself fully inside of you. Yet he is still making a fuss, whispering apologies and almost pulling out to spare you the pain before you stop him. You just need some time to get used to the stretch and the sensation of being filled up like this. That's when Shoyo stops apologising and does as you say. He gives you time, his fingers brushing gently over your face.

💔If he had to choose, he almost prefers foreplay over being inside of you. Whatever it is that you love the most though, he will gladly follow. As long as it doesn't involve any humiliation or degradation though from his side as he could never utter a single bad word about you. Not even in the context of a roleplay. No, he is going to shower you in compliments and praises and love as you deserve nothing less than that. His preference for pleasuring you without using his dick naturally results over time in being able to expertedly use his tongue and fingers on you. He knows how to quickly push you over the edge and have you clench around his fingers knuckles deep within your soaking heat but it is never his goal to have you cum quickly. For him it is more about the intimacy and the shared experience than mindless sex and so he likes to draw each orgasm of you out. Not to torture or tease you but to really let you feel everything and to share that moment with you. You always get just what you desire at the end. The pleasure and the love from Shoyo. There is never a demand for more or less from his side. For as long as you want him to go, he will continue.

💔There is still the appeal in being emotionally and physically united though which he also understands. And if it is your preference, over time he might start to share that preference too as he adjusts just that well to your desires. His leaner appearance and soft personality aside though, Shoyo has an insane amount of stamina. Whilst you may not be aware of it, he isn't exactly a human as much as he is a mutant and with being a mutant come changes within his body that may come as a surprise to you. Partially that becomes obvious when you are a sweaty and needy mess whilst he doesn't look like he is even sweating, able to dote on you just like he always does. Technically he could crack the floor or shatter bones if he were to not hold back. He could hurt you. But Shoyo never does. It would be the worst thing to happen if he were to hurt you and it would put him off for a long time. A testament to just how well he starts to match you though is that at one point he cums only the moment you do. He recognises the signs of your incoming release from the sounds you make to the way your walls tighten and squeeze every inch of his length and cums together with you.

💔There is just that problem that he never goes soft. Even when he reaches his release, his cock doesn't soften. It stays rigid and hard and as you tend to feel bad, you sometimes push yourself in hopes of satisfying his needs as he so often satisfies yours. Shoyo at one point just pulls out when he recognises that you are continuing because you feel like you owe him instead of truly enjoying yourself. He cannot explain to you that his physique is just different from yours but assures you that he can sleep it off- which he indeed can. Any more stimulation will only lead to his body wanting more but he won't do as his body wants. You are not just a vessel to be used for his own pleasure. There is some part of him though which probably has a soft breeding kink. He teaches an entire school of children already which is a wonderful experience and seeing you interacting with some of his students sometimes has him wishing that he could start his own family with you. It has to stay as a fantasy only though as there are too many things standing in the way. Not only because he isn't sure how much of his mutant genes a child would inherit but also because he doesn't know how long he will be in control of this body.

Isagi Yoichi

💙A common theme seems to be that people underestimate Yoichi far too often. His presence isn't quite as striking at first as those of most others, especially in Blue Lock. It is a mistake that you too commit when you get to know him. You underestimate him, unaware of just how deep down the rabbit hole of his obsession has already gone. Yoichi though knows how to use that to his own advantage as he uses your unsuspecting personality to get closer to you and to figure out how to adapt so that you will love him too. Perhaps that innocent and plainly normal appearance is to blame for that yet you not only do it once but twice by also severely underestimating just how freaky this boy can get. You are most likely unaware that he gets off by borrowing some of your clothes and using your scent embedded in the material to get off. You are also unaware of the fact that he listens to older voice mails of yours whilst teasing the thick head of his cum, leaking already with pre-cum. Even Yoichi sometimes has to stop and seriously consider just how pathetic he really is before he throws all shame out of the window and jerks off until he shoots ropes of sticky cum all over his hand.

💙As he doesn't know though how you would feel about all of this, he keeps it a secret for now. The truth is though that sometimes it is hard so he carefully starts to prod around. Not to pressure or to make you uncomfortable but just to slowly figure out how you feel about the thought of having sex and how far you are willing to go. He will have to tone his freak down if you aren't up for it. If it comes down to whether his desire or your comfort is more important, Yoichi is more likely to choose your comfort over his own wants. He'll just have to contain all fantasies to himself. The first time both of you have sex together, he is far too flustered anyways to express anything else. He's your first and you are his first and besides masturbating to the thought of you, it is painfully obvious that Yoichi has no other experience. He wants to be good and he wants to make you feel amazing though that can potentially lead to him being far too overzealous. Your first time together with him is very experimental as both of you are testing the others limit as well as your own out. He constantly asks you if he is hurting you, especially once he slides inside of you.

💙What you soon realise though is that Yoichi is a very quick learner. It takes him a few times but soon you realise that those blue eyes are always watching you. It feels sometimes almost uncomfortable when he is staring at you without even blinking, taking notice of every twitch of your thighs or expression you pull. You take notice of the way he seems to analyse what he has to do to make your body quiver and clench around him and soon he learns the patterns of it all. That's when sex turns from experimental and delightfully awkward to amazing. Just like he wants it to be for you. Now he knows just how deep he has to thrust his fingers inside of you and how to curl them to rub against that sensitive spot within you that has you let out that gasp. Now he knows how to tease your inner lips with his tongue that has you let out that whine of his name in frustration before finally giving you what you beg him for, his thumb always teasing your clitoris for additional stimulation. Now he knows what you want and how he can give it to you and he refuses fiercely any idea of a vibrator or other toys that go inside of you. He wants to please you all by himself. He needs to please you all by himself.

💙That eagerness to always please you eventually carves the way for the pathetic freak nature of his he was initially too ashamed to show you. It's like every time the both of you have sex, his walls get chipped until through the cracks that freaky nature oozes through. It becomes first apparent with the way he starts grinding his erection against your legs when he is on his knees in front of you, tongue lapping up your juices and air leaving him in erratic pants and huffs. Never before have you seen a man cumming in his pants before Yoichi yet that's exactly what he does- gripping the flesh of your thighs like a lifeline as he grinds against your leg even through his release. The mess is contained to his soiled underwear only though. It's then that you start suspecting that those puppy eyes of his might hide something entirely else and you decide to test that. The truth comes out after a particularly long session where he has cum multiple times already and half of his brain seems to have left him too. There is no mental strength by that point anymore for him to lie to you and so you use that chance to grab him by his hair and demand of him to tell you just what is going through his mind.

💙Yoichi has no filter in that moment, especially not as his eyes roll back in his head when you grab a fistful of his black hair and force him to look at you. So he confesses everything, babbling barely coherent sentences as he even admits to those times he jerked off to the scent of your clothes. Some far away part of his brain is still capable of comprehending what he just said but his mind is too foggy to catch up to it all just yet. Perhaps that isn't even needed. Not with the way you suddenly push him down into the mattress, looking quite intrigued. Isn't this endearing? He's such a needy boy, isn't he? Perhaps even a good boy. That's what tips him over the edge and he cums then and there, spurting his sticky release all over your abdomen. It takes him minutes before he can think again and only then does the realisation strike him of what he has just confessed. He wants to panic. He wants to apologise. Instead you tell him though that you find it kind of cute that he is so needy and such a freak for you. It's charming in a strange way how obsessed he is. Instead now his face is going red as he embraces your words and he feels himself getting hard again.

💙From that day on Yoichi is suddenly a lot less ashamed. Not now that he knows that it turns you on to see him like this. In fact sometimes you receive calls in the middle of work and excuse yourself to a private corner, already aware what will await you the moment you accept. Indeed, the moment you push the green button you are already greeted with the sound of strained panting and Yoichi whimpering your name. This is the same boy who admitted to jerking off to your voice mails though so it is no surprise that even through only a call you successfully manage for him to cum on the other side of the line when he's all pent up and needy but you are elsewhere. You enjoy that control you have over him though. Perhaps because over time you have noticed just how much control Yoichi has subtly established over the rest of your life so that this is the only form of payback that you have. Both of you are very keen on protection though despite the freakish nature of your sex life. Neither of you would want an accident to happen as you are still young. In a few years though it might dawn on Yoichi that he desperately wants a mini you running around the house.

49 notes · View notes

vivere-est-nocere · 1 month ago

Text

No Soft Sounds (11)

↳ Sakata Gintoki x Reader x Gintama Cast

Lesson 11: War is a game for men, not little girls who like to play dress up.

prev - directory - next

It’s before early morning when a strange feeling rouses Gintoki from his mind-numbingly boring watch over the camp.

It’s a wriggling worry, something not so foreign ever since the incident, and it’s enough for him to rouse Katsura and Takasugi from what one could barely call ‘sleep.’ They haven’t been able to see eye to eye as of late—Katsura and Takasugi going back and forth over how to treat a guilty party who refuses to fight for any semblance of innocence to their name, and Gintoki not willing to meet any eyes or questions at all. Still, they share a bond stronger than blood: that of being Shoyou-sensei’s, and by extension, Shoka Sonjuku’s students.

Together they leave the tents, following a singular set of footsteps in the dirt, in what surely must be nothing, just some silly little feeling that has Gintoki a bit too trigger-happy.

But then they see Baki.

And then he slits his stomach.

And then, he falls.

Katsura does not stop running, even when it’s obvious there’s nothing to be caught in time, does not stop screaming curses Gin has never heard him utter before, even during their grimmest of moments. Takasugi is the opposite, having long stopped his pursuit and now standing in place with a dark look of determination upon him, turning the moment he hears a splash in the water and never once looking back after.

And Gintoki? He does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He does not keep running, does not turn around and go back—just stays there, still and sentinel as screams and splashes and rain cloud his senses.

Baki is dead. He killed himself. And for what?

For nothing.

~~~

Word spreads. It spreads fast.

The Black Inu is dead. Committed something that could barely be called seppuku and threw himself off a cliff. ‘Good riddance,’ they say and leave it at that.

Sakamoto leaves a few nights after the news reaches him and he’s well enough to get out of bed. Claims it’s his lust for the stars and sailing that beckons for him to leave. Gintoki does not bring up his horrible seasickness in response. He also does not leave with him when asked either.

He just stays.

~~~

It’s all nothing—really.

Gintoki does not think about Baki after the fall. Does not spend his nights awake instead of dreaming as he should. Does not patrol the water banks when he inevitably can’t sleep, in search of something, anything.

Before each battle, his eyes do not sweep over the faces of his men and wonder where the anomaly, the absence, lies and festers like a cavitied tooth. He does not allow stray blows to tear at his skin where another once covered his six. He also does not sit there numbly on a cot, scaring away what few medics they have with muted growls about how he’s fine and doesn’t need treatment.

And when the war ends, when Shoyou-sensei is dead and buried, and when he is no longer White Yaksha, but instead, Yorozuya Gin-chan, he does not think of you. Not even once.

There’s a lot of things he does not do. He claims it all out of laziness, of lack of care, of ambivalence. But maybe it’s because doing requires change, change requires admittance, and admittance requires him to stop running.

And that?

That is something Sakata Gintoki simply can not do.

ii.

You wish you could say that your descent into the waters below was calming, soothing—a cool relief to contrast against the searing pain in your abdomen. But games of war aside, you’re not much of a liar, and so you must concede that this isn’t such the case due to a little known notion known as surface area tension.

Instead, what follows after your fall is a crashing, all-encompassing shock throughout your body as you make contact with the waves.

Pain rolls through in punctuated rhythms, a broken handful of bones here, a set of internal injuries from shifted organs there. From a medical standpoint, it’s a logistical nightmare. From a dishonored warrior’s point of view, it’s just another bump in the road of atonement. The one remaining saving grace is the vague notion that surely the pain will overwhelm you and send you off into blissful unconsciousness before you die. And so you sink, and hope, and wait.

… You should know better by now that hope is a stupid, stupid thing.

So, eventually, when the blissful black darkness takes over, your expectations of a final rest can not be further from incorrect.

~~~

There is pressure on your chest.

It’s not the usual suffocation you’re used to, the bindings that keep your chest compressed and in place being an uncomfortable but necessary, and eventually comforting, presence in your life. At least with those, you knew their purpose, knew that you yourself had placed them in service of your own self-preservation.

This current predicament though? You have no clue what to make of it.

After all, you should be dead, shouldn’t you? Last you remembered, you were slicing out your stomach and throwing yourself into the waters below.

And now?

It takes a decent amount of effort, but you manage to reactivate your senses slowly, one by one.

A metallic taste in your mouth, the smell of antiseptic in the air, high-pitched ringing in your ears, a dull aching pain throughout your body made worse by the pressure on your chest, and finally, a big wet nose pushed up right against your vision.

Blinking, you stare at the dog perched upon your ribcage, its narrow, goofy face lighting up in excitement at the prospect of finally being acknowledged by a conscious being. It licks your cheek, coating it in slobber, and you grimace.

Is this really what death looks like? A lanky dog that’s three-quarters of your size flattening you against the mat beneath you?

“Andii! Down! Bad, bad boy!” A scream breaks out from your right side and you grimace again. You sorely miss the inky black nothingness you had come to expect from death, exchanged here for an overwhelming assault on the senses.

The pressure bounds off of you, running towards the voice, but instead of a mouthful of fresh air, all that you receive is the breath stolen from your lungs as you’re used as some sort of cruel launch board for this so-called “Andii.”

“Oh gods, are you alright? Actually, no—don’t answer that. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself right now.” The voice, thankfully, is no longer screaming as it draws near. It’s light, and as you (painfully) angle your head towards it, you discover its source—a boy around your age, long dark brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail and bangs tied back as well. He catches the big dog that’s come bounding his way, and scratches it around the ears whilst giving it a stern look, then you an apologetic one.

“I’m so sorry Miss—Andii can never seem to remember that he isn’t a small puppy anymore.”

You’re about to open your mouth and reply, but quickly snap it shut again.

Miss…? Miss!?

You bolt upright, ignoring the nauseating pain and the terrified scream of the boy in response to your actions, hands flying to your chest. Your bindings—they’re gone.

“Miss! You really can’t push yourself like that!” His face has paled and he rushes towards your side, trying to gently guide you back down onto the cot. You don’t let him though, forcing your casted arms hard against his chest. He chokes out a breath as he’s pushed back and affixes you with a worried look.

Slowly though, it morphs into understanding.

He takes a few careful steps back to you, making sure to keep his hands up in surrender as he slowly closes the distance between the two of you, like he’s trying not to scare off some wild animal. For some reason, that only seems to make you more frenzied as you try to ward him off.

“I… I understand you must be frightened, Miss.” Frightened? Oh, he has no idea the half of it! “I don’t know what you’ve gone through to end up in such a state, but believe me, I’m—we’re here to help you.”

Finally, it seems the mysterious boy notices the look you’re giving him and he stops.

Good. You’ve still no idea what the hell’s going on, but you do know that had he taken even a single step closer, no matter his pretty words nor your extensive injuries, you would have given him matching scars with your bare hands.

“But… We can only do as much as you let us.” He stands there, still, allowing you to get a better look at him. Big, kind blue eyes meet yours, long lashes fluttering against his ivory skin. He’s built lean, white robes hugging his frame with a muted red flower-patterned haori hanging over.

While you will admit, even from the multiple paces he stands from you, you can tell he towers above you, you're fairly certain you could take him down easily in a fight. You see it in the way he holds himself—lightly, carefully, his breath seemingly always held for one reason or another. Fit as he may be, the boy’s no fighter. This thought is the only thing that manages to give you some sense of solace.

He notices your gaze and shyly tucks a stray bit of dark brown hair behind his right ear.

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners?” He bows his head. “My name is Yamane Hotaka. You can just call me Hotaka, though. And this—”

He ruffles the ears of the dog that had almost suffocated you moments prior. “—Is Andii.”

“Hotaka,” It takes all you have in you to keep your voice calm, steady. “What is all of…this?”

You motion to yourself and the room that holds the three of you. It’s sparse: woven tatami mat floors, shoji screen walls, and a singular futon that holds you. There are a few tables and a sink which house a variety of ointments and wrappings from what you can make out, but aside from the occasional hung scroll or potted plant to add some greenery, there’s not much else to the place.

The same can not be said for you, though, as nearly every inch of your body has been wrapped up in bandages and casts, a simple white cotton nemaki tied loosely around your waist. As previously assessed, not only are your old robes gone, but so are your bindings. It doesn’t take a genius to realize you’ve been treated, and judging by how Hotaka is addressing you, it’s also safe to say that your true identity as a woman is being put out on full display.

It’s a bit…mortifying to say the least.

Hotaka looks at you, brows furrowed and bottom lip worried between his teeth. “How much do you remember?”

Tricky question, isn’t it? Not like you can just tell the straight truth of the matter: you’re a disgraced cross-dressing Joui war veteran who’s supposed to be dead after committing some sort of sham seppuku.

…

That’s right. You slit open your stomach, pierced what you need to. At least, that’s what you had intended. And yet—

You can not die. Even if you want to. Even if it’s all that you wish for.

Something inside of you just won’t allow it. Maybe it’s cowardice, or a sick sense of self-preservation, or sheer dumb luck, but something has kept you from dying. Not to Mr. Oda, not to the ring, not to war, and certainly not to your own self.

“I remember…falling.” It’s not a lie, now is it? It just isn’t as much truth as you’re technically able to give. “I was bleeding. Badly.”

Your eyes slide over to the figure—Hotaka—and widen in surprise when you see how dark his stare is. You don’t know him, not in the least. But from what you’ve seen of him, he struck you as the gentle type, barely even being able to meet your gaze moments ago and fiddling with the sleeves of his haori. Now, however? If looks could kill, you’d be dead three times over.

“You’re right, you were.” He’s stopped playing with his sleeves, instead opting to move over to the sink next to him and stare daggers into it instead. The water runs over his hands, splashing into the basin below. “Takes some kind of monster to cut a girl like that.”

You blink.

“... Sorry, sorry.” He wrings his hands with a towel. “I shouldn’t be talking like that in front of you. It must have been terrifying and painful. No need to relive it.”

Hotaka turns back to you, hands cleaned of dog and sleeves tied up neatly. He gives you a hesitant look. You sigh and nod. Smiling, he makes his way towards you, gauze and mugwort salve in hand as he resumes speaking.

“We found you on the riverbank unconscious and bleeding. It looked bad—Pa wasn’t sure you were even going to make the trip back to the village, but Ma insisted and somehow we managed to get you here and in stable condition. Thank the gods.”

His eyes soften, and you notice how they crinkle at the ends. All previous darkness has vanished, and he once again looks so soft you doubt he could ever even hurt a fly.

“Mind if I change your bandages?” He makes eye contact with you and he jumps, raising his hands up in defense as his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn pink. “Just some of the ones around your head and arms! Ma will take care of the rest like she always does. Promise!”

“... Alright.” You shrug and wince. Hotaka’s quick to steady you.

“Careful now. You’ve been out for almost a month.”

‘A month?’

…Well considering the extent of your injuries, it does make sense. Just a bit.

You can’t help but wonder, though, what’s gone on in that month you’ve been gone, or, well—dead. How is the army faring? What’s the progress with the war? Is Sakamoto even alive?

The last question fills you with an unspeakable guilt. One you wisely decide not to dwell on in the moment. You’re not Baki right now. Baki is dead.

Instead, you decide to do something else.

“...Thank you.” You murmur it softly enough that you’re half sure he doesn’t even hear you while he bandages you up. That is, at least, until he gives a gentle smile, eyes not leaving where they focus on his handiwork.

Thus the two of you stay like that for a while—slow, mending.

iii.

A few weeks later and you’ve finally graduated from bedrest to monitored sitting.

In that amount of time, you’ve been able to piece much more of your predicament together: after your fall, the waters washed you ashore near a small country village, right as a small fishing family (the Yamane) was getting ready to make their way home. Hotaka’s mother, who refuses to give you her name and insists you call her ‘Ma,’ was able to use her medical training as the village’s doctor to miraculously stabilize your condition from the brink of death, placing you under the care of the Yamane family for the past month.

In return, you’ve given the Yamane a handful of explanations of your own—all with varying degrees of truth to them.

Your name is (y/n). True. You have no known surviving family. Also true. You fell into the waters that brought you here after having your stomach sliced open by a samurai.

…

Not quite.

But, in your defense, the last one was less of your own handiwork and more so thanks to the vivid imaginations of the people that saved you. And in a way, they weren’t wrong. It’s just that you had conveniently chosen to leave out the fact that the disgraceful samurai (you would have loved to pin your injuries on the amanto, but the blade you were found gripping onto was undeniably human in nature) was in fact you.

Still, it felt a bit strange listening to them curse out the samurai who did this to you.

“(Y/n)-chan, you need to eat more! Remember: the more food you get in your system, the faster you’ll recover!” Ma chastises you from across the table, making sure to pile on a healthy dose of fish and rice onto your plate. “Really what is it with you youngins? You’re not samurai, you don’t need to starve like them.”

She’s a plump, jolly old woman, the one you owe much of your miraculous survival to. The moment Hotaka had gone through the screen door to deliver news of your awakening, she had come barreling in, armed with about a dozen soft foods for you to ingest. Ma’s a bit…much, to say the least. But beneath her jaunty antics you can feel it, a hardened medic who’s seen more than her fair share of horrors. She was able to save you—it had to take more than just some village hobbyist doctor to get that done.

Regardless of your feelings on your survival, you will acknowledge that you are indebted to her in a way you likely can never repay. In fact, upon your insistence of it, she merely shook you off and told you to “live well” with a strangely soft look in her eyes. Whatever that meant.

“Let her eat at her own pace, Ma. Won’t do any good to have her bursting past her stitches.” Pa grumbles good-naturedly, swiping an extra-glazed sweet potato from under you. Cheeky bastard.

Whereas Ma was all soft curves and circles, Pa cut a much more severe figure, taught muscles pulled against a tall, bony frame deceptive in its composition. Weather-worn though he appeared, his years of fishing made him strong and sturdy, unable to be blown over by even the strongest of typhoons. He was the one who found you, fishing you out of the water and bringing you to shore like some sort of start to a classic children’s folktale.

When it was clear you wouldn’t die from a spare gust of wind aimed in the wrong direction, he even joked that the soaked rag you called your fish toy was what led him to haul you in.

However, when he wasn’t busy pulling salmon and girls that were supposed to be dead from the waters, he spent his time gambling at the local cockfighting ring. Money seemed to slip through that man’s fingers in a way fish never could, and you weren’t unused to him coming back late with nothing but the next morning’s meal in one hand and an apology in the other (all to be met with a double-handed walloping from his less than forgiving wife). Still, he was never so careless as to let his family lie in need, and so you graciously looked the other way from habits you yourself found to be less than savory.

“Sorry about them, (y/n)-chan…” Hotaka mumbles against your ear from his place beside you.

You don’t flinch, even at the lack of space between you two, long since used to this dinner routine of Ma insisting you eat more, Pa pilfering your plate for the juiciest bites, and Hotaka apologizing for every little so-called slight upon you. Instead, you simply roll your eyes, snort, and scoop another wad of rice into your mouth. You make sure to do so elegantly, like a proper samurai, or in this case “lady,” should.

“Thank you for the food.” You make sure to say it clearly, enunciating every syllable in a perfectly proper fashion. Gods, how strange it feels to talk in your normal voice. You find yourself having to cut off the huskiness you’ve grown so used to injecting it with.

“Is that all you’re eating, dearie?” Ma shoots you her signature stern look, despite the fact that even without Pa’s help, you’ve polished off at least three plates of food. Your stomach gurgles. Maybe two plates would have been wiser, but damn that fish was good.

“Ma, she’s going to get sick if you make her eat anymore…” Hotaka rises to you and your belly’s defense.

“Don’t you lecture me on what it takes to get sick ‘Taka! Who do you think raised you to be the big, healthy boy you are today?” She looks offended. “Your father!?”

”It’s true.” Pa nods sagely.

Hotaka groans, a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment coloring his cheeks pink as he still continues to rise to get up and help guide you back to your room.

“Feed the rest to Andii if you neeed to.” He shoots back.

Logically, you’re thankful for his help, but another part of you still feels the humiliation and shame well up at how useless, how vulnerable, how female you are to him. Hotaka’s been a nice boy thus far, but what difference does that make? You know better than to trust pretty faces and gentle smiles, and every time he addresses you, that same sinking feeling comes back with a vengeance.

‘He could do anything to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop him.’

At least as a man, you had some visage of protection, the illusion of camaraderie shielding you from glances of lust and desire. But now? Now you were like any penned bitch waiting for the wolves to tread in for their supper.

Still, it’s not like you have an out. All eyes are on you now, and all you can do is worthlessly shamble about as you try to play the part of a lost girl. You suppose it helps that in a sense, you are one. Maybe that’s what you always were, whether it be under rags or robes or armor: just a lost, little, stupid girl playing with men whose appetites were unaware that they could be sated by her.

As Hotaka takes your arm, you force yourself not to flinch. You make sure to smile and nod and thank him. You show you’re grateful, but not too much.

Too much would get hopes too high for something you can not, will not, give him.

Pity so that despite this awareness, your eyes are not privy to the way Ma and Pa knowingly smile across the dinner table, hands finding each other as they look at the two of you, and notice things that anyone would notice when man and woman stand side by side.

~~~

“Sorry about them, (y/n)-chan.” Hotaka murmurs as he guides you towards the room, hands steadying you and your uneven, still-relearning-how-to-walk gait. “They mean well, but I know from personal experience that that doesn’t negate how…much they are.”

You nod your head, already starting to feel the exhaustion you’d been putting off from that session at the dinner table. The leftover onigiri from lunch wasn’t the only thing being grilled during that meal.

“Seriously though, if they ever give you any more trouble about something and you don’t want to fight your way out of it alone, just kick me under the table and I’ll cover for you. I’m kind of a certified pro when it comes to handling them. Tonight excluded.”

You snort, pushing open the sliding door as the two of you reach your destination.

“Thanks, Hotaka.” You mean it, sincerely. He’s a nice boy, a good boy you’d even venture forward to say. Does that mean you’d put your unwavering faith in him? Of course not. But you’ve spent enough years around guys to have some semblance of reliable character judgement. Hotaka’s your classic case of a kind, if not too timid for his size, village boy who’s yet to truly face the grisly realities of the world. Back in the army, you’d get them all the time: the wide-eyed, still green types who had heads full of ideals and bellies full of their mama’s bentos.

But then again, look where those got them. Heads skewered on spikes and lobbed back over camp walls.

You have to stop yourself from letting through a pitying look at Hotaka, instead straining your arm towards his head. He freezes at first, unsure of what you’re seeking to do and whether it’ll stress your stitches, caught halfway between stopping your arm or going back to steadying you, but when your hand finds the top of his head, ruffling his hair under your fingers in what you’ve come to learn is an amicable gesture, he eases up, loosening his shoulders and lowering his head for you.

“...‘S no problem…” He mumbles, mouth quivering beneath his raised hand as a traitorous pink begins to build in his ears again. Gods, he’s so easily flustered.

After a couple more strokes, you lower your hand, hobbling over to the futon you could almost call ‘home’ for the past couple of weeks. Hotaka takes one look, gets the hint, and nods, making his way back to the door and offering you his services as ‘one call away’ before sliding it shut.

…

Your smile falls.

Thank the gods it’s over.

You flop onto the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling as you conduct your daily ritual of apathetically absorbing your day. Medicines in the morning, physical therapy in the afternoon, a game of twenty questions in the evening. All as you, but not you, as (y/n).

It’s been weeks, but you still can’t seem to wrap your head around it. The fact that Baki is dead and (y/n) is alive and Sakamoto is in gods’ know what state.

You should be dead. You really should be dead. If not from your botched seppuku, then from an amended one right here, right now. You know where Ma keeps the knives, where Pa hides his fishing lines, death is only one effortful hobble in the night away, and yet—

You can’t do it. That same force that diverted your blade that infamous morning keeps you stuck in bed, actionless, useless, surviving. You don’t deserve this, this care, but it seems that deep down you don’t feel as though you deserve death either.

Your blade sings forward, hot and burning in your hands as though it had been cast straight into them. And just like fired metal, it cuts through—cleanly, neatly, and without discrimination.

Through Mr. Oda.

And through Sakamoto’s wrist.

You turn your head, gazing into the mirror that stands at your bedside. Long hair spills forth, thick eyelashes flutter, and delicate lips part ever so slightly. A woman.

Perhaps this was it. Someone like you, a liar who masqueraded as a samurai with stolen honor, did not deserve death, nor the peace that came with it. No, you deserved something much worse, something that lingered and forced you forward day after day in wretched existence since you couldn’t find it in yourself to part with it.

“(Y/n)-chan.” Hotaka’s well-meaning, but grating, nickname echoes in your head.

…

Yes, it seems that your punishment has only just begun.

iv.

Days turn to weeks, weeks to months, and months to years. The seasons change, as they always do, and with them so do you.

Baki is dead. He died not during the instance in which the sword pierced his stomach, but the moment that he cut down Mr. Oda, and by proxy, Sakamoto. The men who you fought against likely know this, but the villagers you live alongside now remain unaware, the plights of foolish samurai as foreign to them as the amanto who come with honeyed offerings of peace.

It is with this knowledge, that you know you must move on, must forgo your previous desires and dreams and regrets, and live the life you so selfishly granted to yourself.

You are (y/n) (no last name, you never once needed one), just a lost little girl whose appetites align with the crowds, the masses. When they wake, you wake. When they eat, you eat. When they pray, you stare blankly at the temple alter and wonder if a god really is there listening to your silence. You are what they dress you up as, what they project onto you, and ultimately, what they decide is best for you.

You’ve lost the drive to be anything else.

No longer are you the girl with the price tag, the district ring’s champion fighter, the student of Shoyou, nor the Black Inu. You are simply nothing.

Slowly but surely you fall into new patterns, forgoing your bindings for modest kimonos, cooking with Ma while the men go out to fish, and smiling blankly whenever a conversation or allusion to marriage is thrown your way. This is the hell you forsook your honor for, and it is the corpse you will wed.

“(Y/n)-chan! Are you ready for temple?” Hotaka calls out through the halls.

You stand up from where you were perched, reading some amanto book the nearby occupying forces had gifted the village. It’s been years now, and you no longer need an aid to stand. The wounds cast in your flesh have healed for the most part, though you doubt even Ma’s careful stitching will allow you to ever wield a sword in the manner Shoyou taught you again.

Good. You don’t deserve to.

“Coming!” You call, running to the entrance to grab your parasol and slip on your sandals.

It’s a peaceful Spring day, one like any other as you make your way to the local shrine, newly built from fancy, imported space resources. The birds sing, the flowers in the trees flutter down fully bloomed, and the sky rings a crystal clear blue.

And yet still, you feel…nothing.

You smile and nod and do what is expected of you. You respond when spoken to and bow when approached. You even giggle when the need arises as some man cracks an unfunny joke and then you smirk when his wife berates him. Life is peaceful in the village hidden in the fields. It is also empty.

Years pass. They feel like decades. The samurai fade, and the amanto reign supreme. The people of your village do not seem to mind, lives blissfully unaffected by the loss of something they never needed and the gaining of something they never dreamed of. Through it, you say nothing.

The war has ended. It does not concern you.

Perhaps, to be truthful, it never really did.

#no soft sounds #sakata gintoki x reader #gintama x reader #gintama #sakata gintoki #katsura kotarou #takasugi shinsuke #sakamoto tatsuma

15 notes · View notes

starlightanya0wsblog · 6 months ago

Text

*Y/N and Katsura sitting together while drinking*

Y/N: Ok I'll admit it! I'm in love with Gintoki! *drama queen pose*

Katsura: (=_=) Wow, who would have thought- gosh that's such a shocker...

Y/N: Zura, seriously; fuck you.

Katsura: Zura janai! Katsura da!

Y/N: (=_=)💢

36 notes · View notes

chugging-bleach · 9 months ago

Text

I finally finished editing the chapters of my gintama x reader fic! The last chapter will be posted soon (before the end of 2024) so consider giving it a read <3

The Baby Daddy deserves to suffer as much as the Baby Mommy to birth an abomination

Pairings: Sakata Gintoki/Reader, Hijikata Toshirou/reader, Katsura Kotarou/Reader, Sacchan | Sarutobi Ayame/You, Tsukuyo (Gintama)/You, Takasugi Shinsuke/You, Kawakami Bansai/You, Kijima Matako/You

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Fluff and Angst, Angst, Drunken Shenanigans, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Reader-Insert, Blow Jobs, Public Blow Jobs, Drunk Blow Jobs, Out of Character, Alley Sex, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Lesbian Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Jealousy, Roof Sex, Dark humour, Alcohol Withdrawal, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drunk Sex Abortion, Not Beta Read the yorozuya took my money and ghosted, Light Bondage

Summary:

"I'm pregnant."

After one-too-many nights drinking, (y/n) finds herself with a baby. And no idea about who the father of this baby is.

She decides to ask the Yorozuya for help in her quest to confront the Baby Daddy.

#gintama #gintama x reader #gintoki x reader #katsura x reader #hijikata x reader #tsukuyo x reader #sarutobi x reader #takasugi shinsuke x reader #kawakami bansai x reader #kijima matako x reader #gintama fanfiction

19 notes · View notes

sugisyakult · 11 months ago

Text

that little shinsuke fic that i wrote a while ago has gotten 54 likes!! i was not expecting that at all and i just wanted to say thank you guys for reading my fic and liking it! i never thought anyone would actually like it tbh, so thank you guys!

i think i will try to write some more shinsuke fics to save me from the drought and hopefully expand my writing skills, but if you guys liked that last one then i would be happy to try and write some more for y’all :)

#gintama #takasugi shinsuke #gintama imagine #gintama x reader #gintama fanfiction #takasugi shinsuke imagine #takasugi shinsuke x reader #takasugi shinsuke fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

vividly-vermillion · 1 month ago

Text

🐾Welcome to the Hearts for Hybrids Shelter! 🐾

Our goal is to find the perfect forever home for all of our Hybrids!

Come in, take a look around and if you find one that speaks to your heart, feel free to get to know them closer in our little play pen 🐾

We have all sorts of hybrids from water, land up to airborne ones, there will be a perfect companion for you here, I'm sure of it!

RULES:

This Collab is set in a universe where Hybrids are kept like pets - they have less rights than humans but also more rights than a regular pet.

You can create for your adoption story or just a slice of life

♡ You must be 18+ to participate

♡ You do not need to follow me in order to participate in the Collab

♡ Sfw, nsfw and dc are welcome. This is your story after all.

♡ You can write or draw anything your heart desires as long as it involves either a Hybrid! Character or Hybrid! Reader

♡ Please do let me know via asks/dm if you want to participate!

♡ character repetitions are perfectly fine.

♡ Please use the tag #heartsforhybrids and do say that it's for this collab so I can add you to the Masterlist below

♡ There is no Deadline.

♡ The use of AI is strictly forbidden

🐾 MASTERLIST 🐾

@streimiv - Unknown

@ghoularaki - Aizawa x cat hybrid!Reader x cat hybrid!Shinsou

@minxybabe - Merman!Eren x Reader

@elleoelliot - Unknown

@forest-hashira - Unknown

@purpleqilinwrites - Panther!Hoshina (sfw)

@doumadono - Cat hybrid!Shigaraki x Reader

@doumadono - Dragon hybrid!Bakugo x Reader (nsfw)

@mcdonaldsnumberone - moth hybrid!Oberon x reader

@doki-doki-imagines - Panther!Takasugi x Reader

#✶࿐inkspills #heartsforhybrids #hybrid collab #dividers by cursed carmine

118 notes · View notes

mizu-kie · 1 year ago

Text

HIJIKATA TOSHIRO x Reader Angst Hijikata's love for Mitsuba ( Sougo's sister) silently destroying you.

Note: in back with angst post hehe I'll post another angst here. ( Takasugi Shinsuke and Sakata Gintoki)

You leaned against the door as you watched Hijikata standing silently under the starlit sky smoking at his usual smoking spot . His profile was etched with a quiet sorrow that you had grown to recognize all too well. For years, you had been by his side, loving him with all your heart, yet unable to breach the shadow that Mitsuba cast over his soul.

I knew the depths of Hijikata's love for Mitsuba , the woman who had filled his life with laughter and light before illness stole her away. When he married you, you thought it was a dufy he needs to comply due to a mistake you both made, you knew he carried a piece of her in his heart, a part that would always belong to someone else. But you made a choice to stand beside him, to love him despite the lingering presence of his past love.

Our daughter, our beautiful daughter, slept peacefully in her room down the hall. She was the joy of our lives, the living proof of the love Hijikata and I had done that night when the both of your were drunk but her laughter filled our home, a sound that brought warmth even on the coldest of days.

You approach Hijikata, you placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles as he turned to face you. His eyes, usually guarded and distant, softened as they met yours. In that moment, yousaw gratitude and sorrow mingled together, emotions he rarely let show.

"Hijikata-san," you spoke softly, my voice barely above a whisper, "I know there's a sadness in your heart that I can't fully understand. But I want you to know that I love you. Truly and deeply. And I always will." you assured him

His grip tightened on you, as if holding onto you was an anchor in the storm of his emotions. He looked at you with a mixture of relief and guilt, words unspoken but understood between the two of you.

"Y/N ," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "thank you. For everything. For loving me despite everything."

You smiled gently, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "I made a promise to stand by you, Hijikata-san. And I intend to keep that promise."

In that moment, as we stood together under the quiet canopy of stars, you realized that love wasn't always about possessing someone's heart completely. It was about accepting their past, their wounds, and their regrets, and choosing to love them anyway. Hijikata might always carry a piece of Mitsuba with him, but you knew now that my love was a gift he needed just as much.

As we returned to the warmth of our home, our daughter's laughter echoing through the halls, you silently vowed to cherish every moment we had together. In your intertwined stories, you found strength in knowing that your love have to help him heal, even if scars will remain . And as we faced the future together, you knew that your love would continue to be the foundation upon which your family would thrive.

Even you know it's hurting you...

#anime and manga #gintama #hijikata toushirou #toshiro hijikata #shinsengumi #ginatama anime #anime #gintama hijikata #hijikata toshiro #manga #angst #ginatama angst #hijikata toshiro angst #wife #hijikata toshiro wife

20 notes · View notes

pfpanimes · 2 years ago

Text

⌕ HAPPY B-DAY TAKASUGI!

like or reblog if you save/use.

133 notes · View notes

lilac-5ky · 2 years ago

Text

The Embodiment of a Dream, pt.2 (Takasugi x Courtesan Fem!Reader)

A/N: WELL, I said I'd finish this in February, but somehow it's April now?!?! Crazy, I know right .-. I'm so bad with deadlines, sue me or straight up murder me, I'll take either ;-; On another note, THIS AIN'T THE LAST PART OF THE FIC, there was a change in plans. The third part will be the final one, decided to break it into two pieces since I wanted the word count to stay in the 7k-8k words. Hoping this turned out good enough!

Plot: The continuation of the relationship between Takasugi and a Yoshiwara courtesan.

Warning: Similar to the first part, but this one actually includes smut.

Part 1

In the wake of Shinsuke’s injury, you found yourself running through the halls like a headless chicken, struggling your hardest to prevent an unprecedented situation from blowing up. The Shinsengumi were gone, but the hunt was far from over. If someone had seen him enter your room all bloodied up, someone who knew both his face and the name Takasugi Shinsuke put two and two together, then your heads wouldn’t be the only ones to roll. You sure didn’t hold the people of this house in high esteem, but you weren’t too keen on unnecessary bloodshed either.

Shinsuke’s coming occurred in secrecy, and a secret it shall remain until all conflict can be avoided.

Your first initiative was to weasel your way out of tonight’s workload. Fortunately, one look at your recolored kimono was enough to convince Boss to exempt you. Miscarriages were somewhat of a common trade feature, and judging by the sheer volume of red splattered across your skirt, yours must have been quite the excruciating one.

To say this was part of a bigger, elaborate plan would be a lie. But his false interpretation was most convenient when it came to limiting your quarter’s traffic and definitely earned you more time —three days off, to be precise— than any half-assed sniffling would.

He promised that a hearty dinner be delivered to your doorstep, and you graciously departed, leaving him to smoke through the contents of his hidden stash of Amanto-produced tobacco in peace.

You climbed the stairs back to your room, cradling your stomach and wincing in feigned anguish whenever one of the girls happened to pass you by. None offered help, and none dared make any inquiries. Under the guise of serving Yoshiwara’s much-treasured laws of privacy, they refused to admit their unwillingness to see past the ends of their noses. Not that you blamed them. You were all too familiar with the concept, and if it weren’t for a certain brooding patient confined within the four walls of your bedroom, then you could claim to abide by such rules yourself.

You caught Shinsuke sleeping a deep slumber, his breath quietly sizzling in his nostrils. The painkillers must have finally kicked in. Drowsiness was among the first side effects listed in the box’s endless list of instructions, though as far as you were concerned, the pills’ actual effect on him remained unknown.

What great irony, you sneered. To think that all this medicine that was once meant for you has now returned to him. Truly ironic.

Around him, torn pieces of cotton were sprinkled all over the floor like confetti; the kimono they composed no longer in existence. He wasn’t so provident as to carry extra dressings on him, and you weren’t about to go pharmacy scavenging in the middle of the night. And so, your precious customer’s precious gift ended in thin strips of amputated cranes and decomposing camellias, the first of which stared at you with an accusatory look that begged you to feel something other than the sickening delight you got from snipping them.

After successfully discarding them, you dragged your dresser upon that one stubborn bloodstain on the carpet, grimacing at every instance of shrill sound that threatened to wake him up, and once that was out of the way, you picked out a clean outfit and headed into the bathroom, finding him in the exact same spot you’d left him, with the only indication of his being alive that of his consistently sharp breathing.

There was little you could do at this point. All that was left was to participate in this dull game of wait-and-see until he could confirm his own condition himself.

But what if he didn’t wake up? What if it took him longer than three days to recover? What if he never woke up? Not after three days, not ever again?

Thoughts of equal concern festered in your mind all the while you watched after him, your fingers itching to drop the sewing kit and shake him awake. Unlike that time you’d mistook him for asleep, his current expression appeared thoroughly serene. His identically shut eyelids could very easily be home to a pair of identically green orbs, and as for his lips… his gaping lips were almost calling out to yours.

You sighed loudly and crossed the thread through another hole in his yukata. Without its owner wearing it, the fabric hung lifeless in your hands, creasing and crumpling at your needle’s disposal as you tended to each and every damaged butterfly wing. One would think these were a shogun’s or even an emperor’s garments, for such was your reverence, and yet the color of the patches regrettably turned out a shade too light.

Another sigh followed, joined by a deeper one that was certainly not yours.

“How are you feeling?”

His eye fluttered slowly enough to remind you of its singularity “Like I should be dead instead.”

“I’m glad you aren’t,” you grinned, feeling a weight dropping off your shoulders. “I’d hate to lose my favorite customer.”

“And here I thought you simply wanted to avoid getting jumped by a mob of samurai,” he said, his voice gruff from sleep. “So? Have you grown tired of playing nurse yet?”

“Not at all. If it pleases you, I can dress the part too.” You joked.

A dry chuckle scraped his throat. “Almost forgot we were in Yoshiwara.”

Securing the thread into a knot, you snapped the loose end with your teeth. The job was done, and while you wouldn’t call it as good as new, it seemed decent enough to carry him home— wherever that was.

“How about some water?” You proposed, but Shinsuke didn’t answer.

His interest was drawn past the window sill and the neon-light signs of the opposing building to the charcoal sky above. It was pitch black. No moon nor star dared peak beneath the clouds for fear of leading his pursuers back to him. All was shrouded in a veil of perfect stillness that fed into his gaze, creating a seemingly bottomless vortex at the center of his eye.

“Shinsuke…?”

As if an imaginary plug were pulled, the darkness began to dissipate, unclear whether it poured back out or further in. His shoulders rose up to his ears, although, no later than a second passed, a parched cough came to contradict his shrug.

You folded the yukata to the side and fetched him a flask of cold water. First, he groaned, and then his eye rolled in seeming disdain, but eventually his lips parted and let you tilt the sprout between, his hand forcing yours away once he’d had enough.

“You know, you try too hard to be insufferable.”

“And I’m not?” He smirked.

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I happen to find your whims quite—”

Before you could finish your sentence, a knock against the door’s frame came to interrupt. Must be dinner, you instinctively thought and jumped up, motioning him to keep quiet, just in case.

Right outside the threshold, a tray that contained one steaming bowl of beef udon awaited, the rich aroma of its broth spiraling into your nostrils. Thick noodles, miso soup, shiitake mushrooms, freshly chopped scallions, and golden-brown sesame oil drizzled on top; the signature dish of the corner eatery. Boss didn’t kid when he dubbed this a “hearty dinner.” It almost pained you to part from it, but between the two of you, Shinsuke was the one who needed strength the most.

“Room service,” you declared, sliding through the door. “Please, quit being stubborn and have something to eat.”

He glanced your way apathetically, neither declining nor accepting your offer until a spoon was aimed at his mouth.

“That won’t be needed,” he propped himself onto his elbows.“I’d rather save myself some dignity.”

As he sat up, the sheets receded down his thighs, revealing a series of neatly wrapped dressings whose color gradiented to dark brown. Thank goodness, he must have stopped bleeding out.

You nodded in respect to his request and transferred the tray to his lap, watching each spoonful succeed over another and coughing loudly whenever your stomach dared act up. It felt so empty— your body, that was. Drool drained backward in your throat, your mouth gradually assuming the raw dryness of cotton. Was this the taste of abnegation, you mused.

Becoming aware of your indiscreet stare, he suggested that you split the noodles in half, but when he did, you found it much easier to ball your sleeve over your fist and wipe the corner of his mouth with a smile on yours, ushering him to eat more.

Soon, the bowl emptied and Shinsuke reclined back to his previous position, whilst you sat to his right like a watchful sentry. The minute his head hit the pillow, the light in his eye dimmed, suggesting his exhaustion. Again, he seemed so worn out, that your name barely echoed as a faint whisper past his sealed lips.

“Anything else you need?”

“Undress.” The clear spelling of the word left little room for interpretation. Still, your first instinct was to cower in your corner.

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” he smirked.“Even if I wanted to express my… profound gratitude, those pills you fed me would stand in the way.”

“Then—”

“I’ve already indebted myself borrowing your food and bedding. Least I can do is return one of the two,” he continued. “Take your clothes off, or keep them on, if that’s what suits you. Just come lie down beside me.”

Your eyes locked to affirm the certainty of his tone. He was dead serious about his intentions, though the prospect of sharing a bed was perhaps more tantalizing than he’d intended it to be. It gave reason for your heart to beat faster and for a certain familiar tingle to surge between your thighs, ushering you to acknowledge it— which you unwittingly did, as you shifted in your place and pressed your knees together.

Your habit of fidgeting with your clothes in stressful times resumed, except this once, your fingers were tugging at the obi to loosen it up, each layer uncoiling into a pile of huddled snakes for you to stomp on, as you rose to your feet and shed off your kimono. You had his attention. No, more than that, you had his eye entirely hooked on you, studying each curve of your body with unmistakable interest and fascination, as if it were an art piece for him to appraise. And when he looked at you like that, you realized just how much you longed to be seen.

A little smile stretched from the corners of your lips to his, as you circled around the futon and slipped beneath the covers. Even when he’d barely budged from bed, your side of the linen remained excruciatingly cold for your skin to handle. You tried shriveling in half, but in doing so you bumped your head against his arm. You spluttered an apology and turned the other way, only to conclude the position was equally discourteous.

And thus, you ended up with your arms crossed over your breasts, your conscience idly counting wooden tiles in the ceiling and praying that their numbers were great enough for you to doze off— they weren’t. They didn’t exceed the double digits, and when you finished counting each about five times, you understood that sleep was never an option. Not when you insisted on stealing furtive glances at him, one patch of skin at a time.

You didn’t have the chance to fully appreciate it earlier, but Gods, he looked even better without a darn thing on. His body was the perfect continuation of his beautiful face. Lean, but not actually scrawny. Toned, but not too brawny either. Arms that were tried in strenuous swordsmanship and delicate collarbones that framed his pecs. A thin sheen of sweat coated his abs to the point where you could see them. It made his skin subtly glisten in the dark, and it made you want to skim over him; first with your palms, and then with your lips— if he allowed.

The chilly air subdued to the kind of unsettling heat that had your breath hitching up your throat, restless exhales eventually shaping up into becoming his name.

“Why me?” At last, the question burned its fuse. “There are plenty of women in Yoshiwara— why me?”

“Because,” the sheets to your right rustled, “you were the only one not affiliated with some Bakufu dog.”

“Is that… all?”

“That’s the reason why I chose you,” he confirmed your disappointment, “but aren’t you more curious as to why I kept coming back?”

Your cheek tilted in a cushion of sudden warmth, his palm holding the weight of your gazes together. He leaned closer, so close that you could no longer see him, but feel him. The feathery touch of his purple strands over your forehead, the leftover tobacco essence in his breath, and the shared heartbeat as it pounded in your chests. He prevailed against all senses, common and uncommon, getting the better, if not the best, of you.

“Your eyes,” you heard him say, and popped them open. “A skilled courtesan knows to orchestrate the perfect lie with body, soul, and mind, and yet, your eyes refuse to coordinate. Your distaste, your distrust, and your hatred. The true colors you think the red lights hide,” the smile rang in his voice. “You really think those are hidden from me?”

The very object of his judgment must have betrayed your surprise, considering he was the one to answer his own question.

“Relax. I don’t see beyond what you choose to reveal.”

“And what do you see now?” A shaky voice asked.

“Myself.”

His next breath stole the oxygen from yours, with his lips deliberately ghosting over your jaw in a fleeting motion that escorted him back to his pillow. Was this seduction? If so, it felt an awful lot like frustration.

“This is the second time you question my skills.”

“Does it bother you?” Shinsuke asked. “In any case, what I’m questioning isn’t your skills as a courtesan, but your nature as one.”

“I wasn’t born into it,” you admitted, knitting your fingers over your stomach. “A prostitute, a terrorist, some…. ‘Bakufu dog.’ Nobody is born into nothing. We get assigned to these roles and are expected to play them up to the final round of applause. Some are just lucky enough to fit the part.”

“Turns out I was right, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those who are interesting either have one screw too loose or have suffered a great deal.”

“And what makes you think I’ve suffered?”

You didn’t expect an answer��not truly, at least. And so, you skipped over to the next question, the one whose answer itched you the most to find. “Have you suffered a lot?”

“Kind of you to exempt me from the first category,” he jested, his light-hearted chuckle barely matching the solemn expression on his face. “Most would assume a man seeking to destroy the world is bat-shit crazy.”

“Because I’ve come to know a Shinsuke, most don’t. To tell you the truth, I…” you bit your lips into a straight line and rolled to face him. He was curious enough to return the gesture, his shoulders shifting in your direction as he balanced himself on his good side.

“I’ve seen you. Way before we were acquainted, I saw you walk those very same streets with people that accompany you no longer. You were admired, and you were praised, and you— I didn’t get the chance to see your face, back then, but I know you must’ve had at least one good reason to smile, didn’t you?

“I don’t mean to pry into your past, and I won’t ask what happened between the two versions of you. But the Shinsuke who brought a lowly courtesan medicine for her sickness; the Shinsuke who told me to live as a woman rather than a puppet; the Shinsuke who in the face of death sought my company instead of a doctor’s; the Shinsuke who gave me a reason to laugh, and sing, and a reason to get out of bed and to endure all the vileness of men, and taught me there’s kindness in the night— Those versions of you are far more precious to me than any war-general or world-class terrorist I could meet.

“And I don’t mean to repeat myself, but I’d like to ask a final time. Have you suffered on your way here? Has it been hard on you?”

A pained smile was all he could muster to reply.

You sighed for him, for the man he was and the man he’d become, and for the little girl whose face still gleamed in your memory between trawlers and rows of fishing poles in her father’s shed, free of tarnish. Someone had to mourn for those and the futures they’d lost, and seeing as he was there right now, you guessed he didn’t have anyone else to do that in his stead.

“If you keep at it, you might convince me that it’s real.” He quietly mumbled.

“Is it not?”

In no time, you’d crossed over to his side, your fingers palpitating between his neck and jawline. It was as if gravity pulled you down to him, a force of attraction so great that when your eyes settled on his lips, your tongue begged to tease them apart. And when they did part, all doubt and uncertainty were negated, for this was no matter of sentiment or intentions, but of bodies coming together.

His hands spanned from your shoulders to your waist and to your thighs below, the softness of your moan meeting with the hoarseness of his groan as wetness met with firmness. He was dragging you closer by any means possible, hips joining and then thrusting in futility of his clothed cock. You opened up for him, your knee coiling around his torso as your fingers slid across his stomach, reveling in how his muscles tightened and tensed up until they gave way to a violent jolt.

“Sh-Shinsuke-san!” You immediately unraveled, your eyes searching for signs of pain in his stiffened expression. “Are you okay?”

“I thought we moved past this.” His lips curled into a grimace as he followed your stare to his bandages. They were still intact, albeit slightly wrinkled. You lowered a hand over his wound and he gulped down hard, his shaky breath contradicting the “I’m fine” he was about to utter.

But when you pulled your fingers off and attempted to return to your pillow, he refused to separate from your waist and held you even tighter, pairing your chin with his shoulder and the small of your back with both his arms. You couldn’t object, or rather, you didn’t want to object. In his embrace, you felt so small that no reason seemed big enough to leave it.

“I couldn’t care less if it isn’t,” Shinsuke whispered, circling back to his previous question. “I don’t care if you are a Yoshiwara woman, and I don’t care how many men you’ve slept with or deceived either. From this moment onward, you can lie all you want. Lie and I’ll believe, because… you are mine.”

Before you knew it, tears began welling in your eyes for a reason you could hardly define. A woman who’d spend her entire life in possession of another, a woman whose body was hardly hers, to begin with, a woman that had nothing to her name— What could such a woman aspire to give? If all parts of you were bought out, what could he possibly hope to own?

However, his words had already seeped under your skin, traversing from one ear to the other, down your spine, and up your head again, as you hesitantly came to confirm his notion with the meekest of nods.

The last thing you made of that night was the shape of his lips against your skin, along with the oath that accompanied them: Even if no part of me belongs to me, whatever fragment of my heart remains is yours to keep. Because… I am yours.

He was gone the morning after.

And the morning after that.

And the morning after the morning after that.

You counted a total of 36 mornings where he didn’t give a single sign of life. Mornings that were succeeded by insufferable noons full of idle girl talk in the balcony, and evenings where the alcohol was nearly not enough to blur out the faces of those around you. But far more intolerable than hearing the same story about some silver-haired scoundrel trying to trade pachinko balls for cash, and pretending to find joy in the way some sleazy merchant plowed you on all four, was not knowing whether Shinsuke was alive or dead.

As much as you’d like to personally dig into it, snooping around when Shinsengumi’s investigation had just been put on hold was bound to turn all eyes on your back, and if he was to ever return, you didn’t want your lack of discretion to stand in the way. Yoshiwara was treacherous enough as it was. Besides, rumor had it that the cops’ failure in capturing a mere “phantom terrorist” forced the Commissioner to cut down on police funds, along with a few heads of his incompetent men. The latter part sounded mostly fictitious, though part of you did hope that the ill-mannered cop from the other day was among those headless corpses.

In any case, it was safe to assume neither Shinsuke nor his body had been found. Whether he’d made it back to his comrades in one piece or bled out in some dark alleyway, knowing he’d escaped their clutches gave you hope. And perhaps, it was hope that brought you to the aforementioned congregations, whose main gossip topic was your house’s love affairs.

It turned out that more than half of those money-depended relationships you previously mocked were built on a much deeper basis than one would imagine. Each girl had this one patron whose talk alone made their eyes shimmer. Some carried a strand of their hair around their pinky— a promise. Others scarcely held onto their correspondence beneath their undergarments until the paper thinned. One kept an entire box devoted to memorabilia of their beloved: a handkerchief they left behind, a jade ring that was their first gift, and pictures. Far too many pictures of them.

A few months back you would have sneered at their faces, but the longer you spent in their company, the more you began feeling some sort of kinship blossom between you. To have a preference escalate to something more, was a feeling you knew all too well.

It was inevitable that by the fifth time you attended their meetings, you’d be asked about your own affairs, and when that moment came, you chuckled politely and switched the topic back to the previous speaker’s flame. So far this tactic had worked 31 out of 31 times, and while neither side shared the information the other longed to hear —in your case, news about the one that got away,— listening to them read their letters out loud had given birth to a new idea.

Now, you weren’t proficient in literature by no means, and the only letters you’d ever exchanged were based on false attraction. But if you could somehow manage to get a letter delivered and answered, your mind would be put to rest.

Your first efforts were defined by a series of smudged-up writings of his name. “Shinsuke” felt too plain a salutation and “Shinsuke-san” was sure to earn you an earful. “Takasugi,” or “Takasugi-san” came off too formal, while “My beloved” was still a matter of contemplation. Eventually, you decided that “Dear Shinsuke” which your latest attempts featured, was the right amount of personal without sounding too pretentious or unnatural.

Once you’d gotten that down, your primary concern became the letter’s main body. What on earth would you write him? The letters of those girls were heavily dosed with words of eloquent sensibility that a mere “I miss you—I’m worried about you—Please come back” could never hope to compete with. Urgency aside, you didn’t want to come off as an illiterate idiot.

You tried your hardest, crumpling one ball of paper after the other and then cringing equally as hard at what came to be the final product among an abundance of discarded drafts that littered the floor.

Dear Shinsuke,

How strange it is to have written numerous letters for my pen to only tremble now. Ink does sentiment little justice, and yet my entire heart’s contents are summed in that first salutation. Dear’s what I’ve come to call you, for dear’s what you are to me.

And so I call you dear again, twice and then thrice, while watching the sunrise. I used to hate all dawns that led to our nights’ demise, but now each dawn brings me new hope. Hope that you’re safe and in good health, for I dare not imagine you unwell. They say patience is a virtue, but how many more suns need to rise before I become virtuous? How many hollow moons until my longing settles?

The ways to express my desire are as plentiful as the stars written in the skies, and I fear, that for as long as you evade my arms’ embrace they’ll insist to multiply.

Nevertheless, I must draw the line here and convey one final thought. I’ve been pondering on words you’ve said, and have concluded that a dream’s end lies between its fulfillment and the waking of its host. Because a dream completed is no different than a goal achieved, and a dreamer’s awakening shutters all that could have been.

Am I dreaming, my dear Shinsuke? Or will my dream begin when we’re no longer apart? If I’m asleep, don’t wake me up, but if I’m awake, please hurry back.

Faithfully yours,

Your improper courtesan.

You must have folded and unfolded that last piece of paper at least a dozen times, sighing at each interval in between. This is so embarrassing, you ruminated, forehead against the table, and hands thrown over the edge in indication of surrender. An entire day went by and this was the best you could come up with. How very embarrassing; words you must have said out loud for you got an actual response.

“Didn’t know Yoshiwara women were capable of embarrassment.” The voice of a man cooed in your ear, its tone so gentle that if you hadn’t been scared out of your wits, you would have leaned back to relish it.

However, the only thing you managed was to flinch in such rapidness that caused the ink bottle to fly straight into his palm. Wide-eyed, you traced the fingers back to their owner, well aware of whom they belonged to. He looked good. He always did, but what set him apart from the last time you saw him was the significant lack of bandages. Even his damaged eye was left bare on a rare occurrence.

“You’re back!” You gasped.

“I am,” Shinsuke nodded. “Although, I can’t say I remember this place looking like a pigsty.”

You glanced around in horror at what the place you used to call your “room” had become. There were more pages on the floor than there would’ve been if you’d shredded an entire collection of encyclopedias.

“How long have you been standing there?” You asked as you attempted to sweep the papers into one big pile away from his legs.

“Long enough to realize the cause of your embarrassment.” His eye wandered toward your makeshift desk and settled on the letter upon it.

Your arms urged to cover the words from his sight, but unfortunately, he was too fast for your own good.

“This isn’t-”

“A love letter?” He smirked, waving it in the air to unfold it.

“Meant for you!” You protested.

“It has my name on.” His forefinger pointed where the title should be.

“It’s nothing important-”

“If it wasn’t, then why waste all this paper?”

“Please,” you tugged at his yukata. “don’t.”

He lowered the letter for your eyes to meet— his narrowed green orb rotating a full circle. Perhaps it was your pleading tone, or maybe the pup-like stare you were giving him. No matter the cause, he was merciful enough to fold the letter inside his yukata and take a seat beside you, his interest soon drawn by the empty bottle of sake on the table’s corner.

Normally, a girl would’ve brought a refill before a guest arrived, but as fast as you were concerned your night wasn’t booked in advance.

“Should I bring you something to drink?” You tried to change the subject.

“No need,” he shrugged, shifting the bottle between his fingers.

“Have you eaten…?”

“I have.”

Was this his way of keeping a grudge, you wondered, spotting the creased paper corner that peaked from his chest.

“Aren’t you going to read that?”

He let go of the bottle at once, head tilting in your direction. “I don’t see why I should when you don’t want me to.”

“Then why are you keeping it?”

Your question brought forth a smile to his features— one that could be considered equal parts smug as it was coy.

“To commemorate the first love letter I receive,” Shinsuke answered.

“I find it hard to believe no one’s ever written you one before,” you said, adding a second part to your sentence in case he found the first too insolent. “You seem the kind of man who receives lots of letters, is all.”

“None I wasn’t allowed to read,” he retorted. “For that, I consider yours the first.”

Allow is a heavy word, you wished to object, though he wasn’t quite wrong either.

“How are you?” You asked in a cowardly voice and then repeated again.“That’s what the letter says. ‘How are you? I’m fine.’”

“Is that all?” he chuckled. “You wrote me a letter to ask how I’m doing?”

“…And I miss you,” you sighed. “‘I miss you, I’m worried about you, please come back alive.’”

The tone of your complexion was reflected on his cheeks, as an inconspicuous red hue spread upon them. You bet he didn’t blush too often, or else he’d know to hide it. Even his smile seemed mellower than before, lacking the usual cunning sharpness.

“You talk more like a courtesan now.”

“Isn’t it time I acted like one, too?” Your hand moved on top of his own and brought it to your lips, unlocking each of his fingers with a kiss. “I want you.”

He cupped your face in his palm and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes glinting at what was about to come. “Was this also in the letter?”

“No,” you smiled. “I wanted to say this in person. I want you-”

And suddenly, you understood what being his entailed, for your lips belonged to him, along with your tongue, your breath, and all you had to give. It was all his. The neck his eager palm steadied, the silky hair his fingers carefully untangled, the soft thighs straddling him, and the visceral sounds your mouths exchanged. It was all his to take. Every part of you that once was, no longer were. Only a fervent urge left burning in its place, augmented with every little jab across your velvet skin.

His lips withdrew to your neck, arms tightening around your waist for your chest to rise up against him. You tried to untie your obi, but Shinsuke acted first, sliding your kimono well past your cleavage and attaching himself to your breasts— one at a time. His wet tongue rolled around your nipples, sucking them into hardness, while his eye focused solely on your expressions.

You bit your agape mouth shut, gulping the heaviest of breathings down as his hand crossed between your legs to find the spot that begged for him the most. He circled his thumb over your clit in a way that was awfully similar to how he’d held your lips. He moved it languidly and continuously, again and then all over again until a needy moan was coaxed. And when that happened, he kept on going, ignoring the strain in his fundoshi, and persisting until his face was squeezed between your heaving breasts. He remained kissing them and kissing you down from your high, the final of his tender kisses landing upon your fiery cheeks.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

For a minute, you failed to register what he meant, though when you did, neither had the chance at a chuckle as you fell back onto each other. Insatiable fingers freed him from his obi, exposing his body to your touch. He laid back against his elbows, a hint of surprise widening his eye as you planted your lips on his chest and licked your way around his nipples. You sucked one of them in, gently pinching the other with your thumb and forefinger. Does it feel good, you meant to ask, but seeing as his head arched backward, it was safe to assume he savored this no less than you did.

Your mouth drifted to his stomach, hands pushing the fabric aside only to stop at the first of a series of mismatched patches. He could’ve gotten himself a new yukata, and yet he wore the one you’d fixed him with equal pride.

Fawning over the notion, you didn’t notice him turn the tables on you, just like he didn’t notice his knee nudging the table down, the ink bottle he’d tried so hard to salvage cracking into a pool of ebony black across the tatami your head laid upon. He brushed all hair off your face and stared at you for a good while, his gaze almost pious. You wondered what he thought of— if he thought about anything at all, and what he saw— if he saw anything worth seeing in that impressionable face of yours, though soon, you grew too preoccupied with his actions to care about his thoughts.

He claimed your hand and pushed it above your head, locking his fingers together with yours. His arm felt heavy; not as heavy as his hips and certainly not as heavy as the bundle of nerves in the pit of your stomach, but still, heavy enough to restrain you. It was time. Your knees bent back to your stomach, allowing him to align with your entrance. And when he pushed himself in, gods, he was still looking deep within your eyes, at the soul, you doubted existed. He watched it darken and twist in pleasure that you shared, and if someone asked what he did so differently from all others, you wouldn’t dare to voice that four-letter word at loud.

The difference was never in his thrusts or the way he kissed, so full of ecstasy and life. The difference lay in how he made everything burn brighter and blur murkier at the same time, in how he was capable of anchoring you, as he was in making you soar. Because the answer and the question were both him and if that imaginary, indiscreet stranger pried for more, you’d decided to name this your first time, too.

“If someone walked in right now, they wouldn’t be able to tell the courtesan and the guest apart.”

“If someone walked in right now, they’d be lucky if a courtesan and a guest were all they saw.”

One’s words accompanied a dull trail of smoke and the other’s a vibrant melody, with the first pouring out your lips and the second from his fingers. One sat with their knees apart, and the other lay on their back. One was naked from the waist up, and the other completely bare. One focused on the other, and the other focused on their song, both sharing the same complacent smile on their lips.

“You seem awfully fond of my pipe,” said Shinsuke, strumming one string after the other, while you drew short and frequent puffs.

“My father had a kiseru just like this one,” you exhaled, shifting the pipe between your knuckles. “He loved himself a good smoke after dinner. Called it ‘the last instance of affordable freedom in this shit world.’ Ma’ had different ideas. To put it short, she hated it. Opened all windows and fanned the smoke out as if the house was on fire.

“I remember how, once, sis stole the kiseru from his jacket and we took a puff each, not fully grasping what it was. It was horrible, that’s what it was,” a chuckle broke through your words. “But not as horrible as Mother’s shrieks when she found us puking our guts out on the kitchen floor. She’d made us swear we’d never touch tobacco again, and we took the oath without second-guessing.”

“And here you are breaking it,” he sneered.

“Madam’s the same way,” you went past his interruption. “She hates it when Boss smokes and nags him every chance she gets, even though she was the one who taught us how to handle it, should a guest ask us to indulge. One of the many must-knows of the job,” you explained, closing your fingers over the pipe’s neck. “You’re right. I really am fond of this. Maybe because it’s yours. Maybe because it tastes like you.”

His lips curved into a slight smile, his eye never stirring away from the instrument on his lap. “Keep it. I have no grand memories to back my habit up.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Take it,” he insisted. “See it as an addition to your stories, or just something to remember me by.”

“You talk as if you won’t be coming back…”

“‘Increased chances of sudden death’ and ‘low life expectancy’ are both in the job description,” he shrugged. “Who knows when my time to kick the bucket will come? We might not get a chance at goodbye then”

“That’s not fair,” you said in a quiet voice full of complaint, gaze lowering along with the music’s tempo. “Haven’t enough died already?” Haven’t I lost enough already? “Why should you die too?” Why should I lose you too?

“You aren’t wrong. Certainly, more than enough have died to incriminate the Bakufu, but not quite as many shoguns have perished to atone for that sin. I intend to force a draw on the scale. Ten shoguns for each of my fallen soldiers, until no man’s left to step in the ringleader’s shoes. That should be enough to justify their sacrifice, don’t you think? As for me,” his smile turned into a sinister grin while saying those words. “I don’t wish to die in a world where the last instance of affordable freedom is tobacco.”

The lump in your throat began to dissipate with your settling back against the pillow. You knew better than to trust a single word that came out of your guests’ mouths, but his determination convinced you to accept the pipe with a clear conscience.

The music resumed —not that it’d ever stopped—, a tune sweeter than those you were used to. With your chin balanced on your elbow, you found yourself humming in accordance with the notes, nodding along to the mellifluous rhythm he composed.

“This sounds nice,” you smiled once you had his attention. “What is it?”

“Who knows?” He humored you, knowingly triggering your favorite pastime of lyrical guesswork.

“Hmm, it’s soft— like affection, but,” you leaned closer “the way each chord lingers well before giving way to another, is almost like seduction.”

“Are you, now?” He rasped, fingers hesitating to pick the next harmony. “Seduced?”

You stole a playful peck from his lips as an answer, his eye barely given enough time to close.

“Who knows?” you mumbled, his mouth quick to welcome yours with ease. How many kisses had you shared to reach this point of familiarity; a fleeting thought crossed your mind. How many kisses did it take for this to feel like the most natural and right thing in the world?

Even as you straddled his lap, Shinsuke still held onto the shamisen, its tuning pegs sharply digging into your flesh. If this turned anything like the previous night —or the one before— did, he’d soon shove it in the corner and pick you up instead. He’d trail the entirety of your skin, from your neck down to your thighs, peppering little purple love bites wherever he saw fit. He’d throw your knees over his shoulders and he’d drink you up, his tongue prying where his eye couldn’t, and once he was sated, he’d lace your bodies together and pace slowly— slowly enough for your hips to melt together while he’d again be kissing your lips.

You knew exactly how it’d go, for you’d learned his preferences by heart, and yet your excitement refused to fizzle out. You shoved the instrument away from his reach, implementing an abrupt and rather rude ending to his concert. His hands slithered behind your back and firmly hugged your bum. It hadn’t been too long since he had his release, though you could very well feel the extent of his impatience.

“I can’t get enough of you,” one of you said, their voice obscured by the not-so-distant knocking on the door.

Cursing under your breath about how one of these days you’d have to rip it into paper shreds, you stumbled outside, your head peaking first over your naked body, in case you had company. All seemed clear, except for the unannounced visitor that awaited at your feet; a large rectangular wooden box.

“I see it finally arrived,” Shinsuke observed once you brought it to his sight. “About time.”

“Is it an explosive device of some sort?” you joked, lightly shaking the box.

“No,” he smirked. “Only a token of my gratitude. Go on, open it.”

A thin layer of wrapping paper covered what was a dark purple fabric. Silk, you realized as you ran your fingers across its length. A kimono, judging by the lighter-colored cuffs. An exquisite kimono, you added, its elegant pattern of pine, bamboo, and plum trees in gold taking you by surprise. An exquisite kimono in his colors, you concluded, comparing it to the yukata he donned.

“This…” you began, though your stupefied expression seemed to have spoken on its own.

“Save it,” he shook his head. “This is just compensation for your ruined dress and your hospitality. Was supposed to arrive weeks ago, but now that it’s here… turn around.”

He pulled the kimono out of the paper and you did as told, setting the box aside. You felt him get closer, his hot breath tingling your nape as the cold sensation of silk spread over your shoulders. His hands flattened it over your curves, sliding down your waist and hips, and then reaching to your front to fix the hem in place. You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose, but when his knuckles ghosted over your nipples, you knew his objective involved more than dressing you up.

“Out of all the men to have stepped in here,” you said as he fished out a yellow obi from the box’s depths “you are the first to dress me rather than undress me.”

At first, he didn’t respond. He proceeded to wrap the obi around you, and once it was securely tied, his voice cooed in your ear “Since when were the two mutually exclusive?”

Your gaze met his briefly, as his lips fell on your own and his hands hiked up your dress. Two fingers slipped within your walls, massaging your insides gently while you brought each other to your knees, his palm carefully sinking your head onto the floor. Your heart beat louder than his voice telling you how well it suited you, though you didn’t need to hear it. His touch said all you need to know, sturdy hips lazily bucking against your own.

“Sh-Shinsuke?” you managed, removing his hand from your body. A darkened green orb peered at you curiously, lust not quite shaken from his stare.

“Have you ever been in love?” you regretted asking as soon as you did.

His curiosity turned into something else, something he can’t explain, just like he can’t give an answer to your question. He almost looked offended and you almost apologized, but then he hushed you with a heady kiss that had your head spinning.

“How does this feel?” he asked, well aware of the effect he had on you.

“G—good,” you panted.

He nodded, carefully dragging his open mouth along your jawline and neck where a second, far more fleeting kiss landed exactly where your breasts began.

“How does this feel?” he asked again.

“Good,” you answered, again with the same elementary term you used before.

His winsome smile hid underneath purple layers of hair, as he lowered his head down between your legs and spread them apart. He trailed a path from one thigh to the other, his lips not once closing to cover his warm breath. His fingers dug at your skin while he pulled you closer, the tip of his nose rubbing against your swollen clit that ached for him to touch it. But before he had the chance to either make contact or ask the final of his questions, you moaned the same word you did before.

It feels good. So, so, so damn good.

“Then,” Shinsuke climbed back up, “let’s call this love.”

#takasugi x reader #takasugi shinsuke x reader #takasugi shinsuke fanfiction #takasugi #takasugi smut #gintama #gintama smut #gintama fanfiction #ginama imagine #takasugi imagine #takasugi reader #takasugi gintama #takasugi shinsuke

73 notes · View notes

ziinesso · 3 years ago

Text

He didn’t like the others. He didn’t care about them. Yet they were necessary. They needed to make a stop in your lives. Occasionaly, too often. To check his appeal. And then, shoo. Out of his sight. He needed affection, something tender now. He was charming, it had been confirmed. Now he wished to be vulnerable. He needed your kisses, to feel something deeper.

Fidelity is too strict of a term. Exclusive love suited him better. After all, you were the one he loved. The rest was just silly mistakes.

- shanks (op) ; gojo (jjk) ; hanma, ran (tr) ; takasugi (gt) ; hawks (bnha)

#sso.drabble #shanks x reader #gojo x reader #hanma x reader #ran x reader #takasugi x reader #hawks x reader #one piece x reader #jjk x reader #tokyorev x reader #gintama x reader #bnha x reader

320 notes · View notes

doki-doki-imagines · 11 months ago

Note

hi how are you doing? i hope you are doing well! i had a funny idea, what do you think joy4’s reaction would be to the prank

“is that seat taken?”

“no”

*sits on his lap* “thank you 😊😌”

(i would pay my life savings to sit on zura’s lap)

Kotaro Katsura:

-It all depends on the setting…jk.

-He’d stutter and shout to get off even if you are alone together, so unused to PDA.

-“Shhh Kotaro, it’s just us.” You whisper, lips so near his, your soft hands cupping the apple of his cheeks.

-He’ll get quiet soon after, he won’t yield to your seduction, tho.

-For now.

-In public, he’d just get red from his ears to the end of his feet. You’ll get lifted ,02 seconds after. Tell him at the end of the meeting that it was just a prank and he’ll tease you tenfold at night.

-Be cautious, Kotaro can get pretty creative.

Tatsuma Sakamoto:

-If it’s for him, you could live on his lap, like glued on it.

-And he doesn’t mind your teasing! “It adds spice ahahaha”

-But have you considered…Mutsu consent?

-“You filthy pig, do this stuff in your own room!”

-Thankfully Mutsu wrath never hits you, but now you have a boyfriend to salvage from the deep ocean…

Shinsuke Takasugi:

-The smirk that is plastered on his face actually sends chills down your spine.

-Shinsuke doesn’t say a single word, therefore you don’t know if he’s gonna kill you for insubordination or tease you till you are reduced in a puddle of tears while burning for shame.

-You feel him move around, but the moment you turn your head to look at him, his shamisen is placed on your lap, his arms now tightly around your waist.

-“Today I’ll teach you how to play-“ You feel his warm breath on your cheek, voice so deep it seems like delving into your meat. “Do as I say and don’t make mistakes-“ His cold fingers grip yours, placing it on the strings of the instrument “You know I’m not soft with my punishments.”

Gintoki Sakata:

-“MH?” Gin is astonished.

-“Hey, hey did you pay your fee to sit on my lap? You know, my lap is my new luxury service that many want-“

“Many? Have other people tried it before me?”

-Chills, death, and suddenly cold sweat start to run down Gintoki’s forehead. His damn mouth that talks before the brain starts working…not that it would have helped him.

-“N-no no I was just joking-“

“Then go joke with all those persons that want your services.” You get up, leaving a very distressed and equally worried Gintoki sitting on the broken chairs of the bar.

-Excellent way to get him at your feet ready to do anything for you.

#gintama imagine #gintama headcanons #gintama x reader #katsura kotarou #katsura x reader #tatsuma sakamoto #tatsuma x reader #gintoki sakata #gintoki x reader #takasugi shinsuke #taksugi x reader

130 notes · View notes

sparks-joy-imagines · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Could you write about how Takasugi, Katsura and Sougo would confess their feelings to someone? Can be in a non direct way too just really curious to see how they’d express their love for someone.

hi anon, thanks for your request! (Sorry for not being active for a while!) -niob

Takasugi:

he is in denial that he has developed feelings for you for a while and then a while longer

he is neither good at articulating his feelings properly nor at showing them with gestures

he may try to tell you how he feels in a roundabout way or metaphor but ends up saying “you should know how I feel about you” half annoyed, half flustered if you don't get it

he’ll get annoyed if you still don't get what he means or if you persist on him saying it properly

sometimes the looks he gives you expose his feelings for you but you'll never see it because he only looks at you this way when you are busy with something else and pay him no mind

Katsura:

for some reason he is always close to you, pops up out of nowhere randomly and you never know where he comes from

he is always there when you need his help and always there to get on your nerves when you absolutely don’t need it

Katsura does not even know himself why he ends up around you so damn often

he does not show his feelings for you purposely but the signs are just obvious at some point

he takes interest in your hobbies, work, your favourite food and just everything related to you

Okita:

he is like a child, has no idea how to properly express his feelings, or maybe he does but his pride won’t let him

he annoys you to death, whenever he sees a chance to get on your nerves, or embarrass you (especially in public) he takes the chance without hesitation

unfortunately, he is not good at knowing when to stop, and he’ll reach the point where he does hurt your feelings and it makes him feel utterly sorry, but a genuine apology is also not something he can muster

after you seemed to have recovered from his bullying, he starts again

giving you a pretty collar with a matching leash and asking you to be his pet is the closest you’ll get to a confession

#gintama #takasugi shinsuke #katsura kotarou #okita sougo #takasugi x reader #katsura x reader #okita x reader #gintama x reader #gintama headcanons #headcanons #text #gintama requests are open #niob

154 notes · View notes

vivere-est-nocere · 2 months ago

Text

No Soft Sounds (8)

↳ Sakata Gintoki x Reader x Gintama Cast

Lesson 8: Sexism was right—Men and women can’t be friends.

prev - directory - next

It was supposed to be a good day—a fun day, even. A day you could spend licking your wounds, wetting your stones, and sharpening your swords. A day in which the war paused, if only for the few hours the Sun was set and the night would come in filled with screams brought on by something other than pain and fury.

Sakamoto himself told you that it was going to be a good day.

“Sit still, would you?” The courtesan with a brush to your face, who has been painting it for the last hour, leans back and chides you. “My hands are the best in the business, but they’re not divinely blessed to deal with you squirming around.”

An important thing to note though: Sakamoto is a liar.

~~~

You fancy yourself as someone who’s become very careful in their actions, meticulous even on your laziest of days. It’s not like you have much choice in it though, it’s a matter of life or death for you.

One weak wrap, one injury in need of another’s attendance, a slip of the tongue—and you’re out. Out and vulnerable at the hands of men who you watch over dearly, but can’t bear the thought of having them see you, the real you.

“Women have their place,” the handler mutters to his fellow man as they watch an escort pass by with hungry eyes, “In the kitchen or wrapped around my cock.”

“Why not both?” The other laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “I want my mouth full of her pickled plum and her mouth around my pickled cucumber if you get my drift.”

“God, you’re insufferable!” The first one laughs. His eyes near roll into the back of his head, and he sputters like a sweaty little hog that’s just had its first lay. “But now you’ve got me thinking… Let’s pay a visit to Chika when shift’s out. Heard it was her birthday last week.”

His companion grins; he knows where this is going. “Count me in.”

Men are pigs. It’s in their blood, in their eyes, and in the dirt they drag girls down into to make them women. No exceptions.

And while you’d like to believe otherwise of the boys you’ve grown up alongside, of the very man that saved you—you can’t.

A hand that reaches out to you. Just you.

You just can’t.

Because what is it that separates you from the rest? Luck? History? Possession? You’ve seen the tide reverse on all those claimed bonds, washing away lines drawn in wet sand. In the end, no matter what airs you falsify, you’re still just a girl who’s running from Mother Nature at every other turn.

Which is why you can not afford any hint of womanhood— of weakness to seep into the waters you wade in day by day.

It’s why you bow your head and suck it in as you paw out half of your paltry allowance to Sakamoto for hemorrhoid cream as a cover up for the bloody sheets you need to dispose of once a month. Thank the big sisters that you can navigate this nightmare with even a hint of direction.

It’s also why when you accidentally combine a busted lock and a man who opts on this particular day to announce his presence after he’s breached the door, that you get a classic “he walks in on you with your mask off” incident on your hands. Such as right now.

“Hey just realized I gave you the twelve hour cream instead of the twenty-four hour one my—”

For once in your life, your fight or flight response fails you, leaving you frozen in place. The chill reaches Sakamoto and he too stops in his tracks.

“—bad.”

Sakamoto stares.

You stare.

Sakamoto stares.

You reach for your sword, you like Sakamoto but no witnesses means—

“Oh my god. I owe Toshiyuki big time.” he breathes out and you pause (hesitation is weakness, but so is the truth). This…isn’t the reaction you’d expected.

‘What the hell is he talking about?’

Seeing your befuddled expression he clears his throat, closes the door, and springs on you, surprisingly quick. This is it, this is the end of your journey—

“Baki, you’re so pretty for a guy!” …What. He continues babbling, shaking you by the shoulders so hard, you can’t seem to get a grip on anything, much less your blade. “I mean, it’s not like the parts of your face that you show us are ugly. Quite the opposite, in fact. But man, I thought you’d be rocking some serious scars or hideous deformations or something, but you look normal. Great, even—This changes everything, you don’t understand!”

He’s right, you don’t understand. Not one bit aside from the fact that he (thank god) still sees you as a man. Just… a pretty one.

The gears of your mind churn and you finally find some arm room to pick up and slide on your mask. The scheming vice of hope you’ve begun to pick up ever since he’s entered the group returns.

You can make this work. Sakamoto doesn’t need to die.

Yet.

“Baki,” you startle at his serious-sounding voice and expression. “Today is going to be a great day, I guarantee it.”

You raise an eyebrow.

~~~

Great day for him? Definitely.

For you? Absolutely not.

“I’m seriously jealous,” the courtesan—she said her name was Atsuko—laments. “Where’s the justice in giving all the pretty features to boys? And to a soldier no less…”

She sticks a gob of something black near your eye (you swear she was aiming straight for it) and you dodge on instinct. The courtesan, thoroughly unimpressed with your struggle, smacks you in the back of the head in exasperated response. You still yourself obediently, allowing her to put the black mixture on your face, and elect to turn your focus to the game plan instead.

Sakamoto, ever the opportunistic merchant, was ready to strike a deal the moment he sniffed out the boon he had in his hands. You should feel lucky it’s such a trivial and stupid trade, but even now you don’t.

“It’s simple, really.” Sakamoto explains as he paces back and forth in the small room you two now connive in. “We dress you up like a girl—some buddies at the brothel owe me a favor, get you in front of one of the guys that owes me money, and then BAM! Just when he thinks he’s all relaxed and checking chicks out, you hit him with a sword to his throat!”

It was a stupid plan, and you said so yourself. Stupid, unnecessary, and frankly humiliating.

But it’s not like you had any other ways of shutting Sakamoto up that didn’t involve thoroughly ruining your relationship or your cover. After all, holding him at swordpoint and threatening him to leave and never return would be much too dramatic a reaction for a guy who supposedly was self-conscious of his “girly” face. So dressing up as a courtesan and threatening one of your men before disappearing in Sakamoto’s carefully orchestrated chaos it is.

No reward comes without its risks.

So that’s why you bite your lip (Atsuko yells at you for that too—she says it’ll rough them up too much for lipstick), swallow your pride, and allow yourself to be painted beyond recognition for some stupid prank. Maybe you were as daft as all your former classmates said you were years ago. You certainly feel it.

“And…done!” Atsuko cheers, leaning back to admire her handiwork. “The gods have their favorites alright.”

She says this in mock disapproval, though there’s no real bite to her bark. From what you’ve gathered, she’s a nice girl. But aren’t they all? Honestly, she reminds you a lot of the big sisters you grew up alongside. You wonder then too if her energy and playfulness is a cleverly crafted lie as well.

…

No. It’ll do no good to interfere with women, no matter the time nor place. You have a job to do and by God you’re going to do it and then kick Sakamoto’s ass to the other side of Japan.

So you continue on, resolved, allowing the courtesans to fawn over and fix your clothing into place (luckily they let you don your garb yourself), teach you a crash course on how to hold yourself (it’s not hard to pick up with the experience you’ve grown up with), and usher you into the room where you’ll pretend to wait to be “picked” by your target. Of course, he won’t pick you, and you’ll never get far enough for that to happen, so the plan is near foolproof.

Go in, sit pretty, ambush, disappear, freedom.

…And just ignore the feeling of dread that crawls up your spine at the thought of how closely you’re flirting with the fate you managed to escape all those years ago.

If you don’t look in the mirror, then none of it is real anyways.

Entering the room, you take a seat amidst the other courtesans. You keep your head bowed low as a line of footsteps and the sliding of a paper door alert you to the visitors. They file in, one by one and take their places across from you. The other girls giggle and coo, waving at them in a bid to be picked. You don’t bother.

Finally, you look up…

…only to be greeted by two achingly familiar faces.

Fuck the plan. You’re going to kill Sakamoto.

ii.

Hope is a vice. Love is a poison. Reliance is weakness—blah, blah, blah. Right now that doesn’t matter.

What matters is that you’re going to kill Tatsuma Sakamoto, by this you swear. Fuck your sentimentality, fuck your former hesitations, you should have separated his head from his body when you were presented the chance.

Upon seeing nothing whatsoever of your agreed upon target, your eyes immediately dart to the door, where you see his panicked figure slinking back into the hallways as a means of retreat, realizing how monumentally he’s fucked up by evidently getting the wrong group to the wrong room. The motherfucker thinks he can run and hide behind walls of paper? Think again.

Just before you’re able to spring to your feet and chase him down, sandals be damned, the logical side of your brain finally returns from its overstayed vacation, reminding you that should you make any sudden moves, you’ll be caught by the very men who have you in such a tough position:

Gintoki and Takasugi.

They sit across from you, on their knees and hands in their laps, allowing one of the girls to serve them tea as they scan over the group. Luckily for you, there’s a sizable pool of women here, and it seems their gazes have yet to make it to your side of the cluster.

Great. Just great. Did you mention that you were going to skewer Sakamoto’s torso on your sword?

A shrill giggle snaps you from your thoughts. It only takes a moment to put together that Gintoki’s said something stupid, prompting the girl that’s currently got his attention to laugh like it’s some conditioned instinct. He basks in the affirmation of her enjoyment, ego no doubt inflating three times its size like the heart of a certain green, holiday shrew.

“And then I said—I said—”

It’s another one of his embellished war stories, tales of valor and triumph painted over the more sodden truth that you’re so used to smacking out of him whenever he goes bragging to new recruits. This time though, the audience is captivated and you are a captive of the audience.

You discreetly turn the side of your gaze to Takasugi. He’s not tense—that wouldn’t be the right word for someone so nonchalant—but more so stiff, sipping his tea with an unimpressed boredom. His attendant, a shy looking girl, longingly follows the movements of his hand which lazily holds the cup as it swirls his tea. She looks as though she wishes she could be as up and personal as the girl with Gin, though it’s clear to see she’d never dare throw herself on the dark-haired soldier.

Speaking of—one would wonder why he even bothers coming to such a place, but you’re not currently at such a liberty to speculate.

“Bring on the booze and bring on the chicks!” Gintoki drunkenly (he’s wasted already?!) slurs, clapping his hands together and cementing the fact that you need to kick his ass later. That’s it, now’s your time to shine, or rather, do the opposite.

Row by row, the girls line up and take their places, each staring ahead with their own version of a seductive look, ranging from youthful openness to mature confidence. You settle yourself near the middle’s end, a spot where they’re most likely to stop paying attention and least likely to recall on a second pass. All you need to do now is look vaguely like a courtesan, avoid eye-contact, and hold your breath until you can exact revenge on the fool you let get the better of you and live to tell the tale.

“Her.” Two voices ring out at the same time. The women around you gasp and begin to whisper. You hold back the urge to roll your eyes. It’s a tale as old as time itself.

“What was that, pal?” Gintoki’s voice is anything but friendly, the smile in it offering an unspoken challenge, as though he was some animal whose territory was encroached on.

“You heard me.” And Takasugi’s sounds like he couldn’t care less. Yet still, he continues to insist. “Her.”

‘Picking the same girl? Great.’

No doubt this will be grounds for another feud between the two. They can never seem to keep things on the battlefield.

‘Wonder who the poor soul is… and who she’s going to pick.’

It’s not that you care. Of course you don’t—matters of brothels and your cohorts’ love lives are none of your concern, none at all. You don’t care. Not one bit.

…

The room has been kept in silent whispers for a few moments too long. You divert your attention back to the two men, only to quickly feel your heart plummet into your bowels.

Why are they both pointing at you?

iii.

Okay, okay. No big deal. There must have been some sort of misunderstanding. You look from side to side, behind you, hell you even tap the shoulder of the girl in front of you, but all she does is turn and look at you with a mixture of pity and jealousy.

‘No.’

This can’t be happening. It really can’t be. It makes absolutely no sense in any realm of reality. You’ve acted as a guy longer than you’ve existed as a girl, so what kind of amanto romcom situation does the universe think it can pull on you?

Gintoki and Takasugi are not fighting over you.

You insist upon this truth, but their ensuing physical altercation speaks otherwise.

Before any of the courtesans can move to intervene, they’re already on each other, a mass of robes and limbs tussling back and forth as they pull and prod at each other in a very decidedly unmanly fashion. If you weren’t so busy bashing your brain around in your head like a baby’s rattle, you might have looked down and sneered upon such behavior.

“What’s the big idea here, ‘Sugi? I thought you weren’t even into this kinda stuff!” Gintoki rears his head, as though offended by the very notion of the purple-haired man competing with him for something such as this.

“Grow up. A man can do as he pleases for his one night off.” Takasugi grits out with a faceful of foot, “If anything, don’t you think you indulge yourself too much already? Surely you can let this one go without getting all up in arms!”

“Shove it!”

Takasugi’s about to follow up with another contemptuous comment when he is interrupted by the sliding open of the room’s door and another speaker entering the fray.

“Enough.” The voice is calm—quiet, even—but radiates throughout the room with a steadiness that shatters even the most inane skirmish your two compatriot hotheads can manage. All eyes turn to its source, a tall woman with a straight back and head held high, it’s a familiar face for you—Atsuko.

If you think about it, it’s her fault for doing such a good job of dressing you up and making a disguise all her own.

She strides into the room with purpose, stern and commanding in her affect. One by one, the courtesans bow their heads, and even Gintoki and Takasugi look like two boys caught with their wrists stuck in the cookie jar.

“What is the meaning of all this… commotion?”

The words are striking, delivered with a well-maintained venom, and the two perpetrators flinch. You’ve seen Gintoki scramble a good amount of times—it’s the territory that comes with being an asshead like him, but Takasugi? Now this was a sight to behold, that is, if you were in any state to behold it. Currently, you’re more focused on whether you could survive the fall from this room’s balcony. Probably. Easily.

You begin your slinking (which is quite impressive all things considered with the layers you’re wrapped in).

“Well, it’s just—”

“In the sense that—”

“You see—”

“Funny story—”

They’re scrambling. Scrambling to absolve themselves of guilt while laying the blame upon the other. Classic. Not more than a few days ago had they been in battle, back-to-back, lives readily laid down for the other, and now they were willing to sell out their fellow soldier if it meant evading the wrath of a very intimidating, but still just female, woman.

Realistically, they have nothing to fear. Realistically, Atsuko has everything to. And yet, she doesn’t. Doesn’t show a single thing on her person other than a commanding authority as though this brothel has its documents under her name.

“Enough.” She holds a hand up to silence them and they both quiet. “I believe I have a good idea of what’s going on. You there.”

Her pointer finger pins you down, one foot already over the balcony railing. Several girls gasp, one faints, the others just look mildly as though they want to join you. You freeze in place, somehow victim to the same spell that keeps Takasugi and Gintoki at her mercy. Robotically, you crane your neck around to look back at her, mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out. Perhaps it’s better that way.

“Two clients are asking for you. As a courtesan of this house, you get the final say in who you entertain tonight.” Atsuko looks at you knowingly, but stern. “You represent the Silken Lotus, and are expected to follow your duties to the best of your abilities—”

“—No matter how long, nor what circumstances your service comes under.” She seems to silently finish with her eyes.

“Boys,” they perk up at her call, “make your cases.”

A cough. And then, a start.

“Ladies of the esteemed House of the Silken lotus—”

Gintoki is first—of course he is. You don’t take Takasugi as the sort to beg for a quick lay; Gintoki you absolutely do.

…

You try to ignore the weird taste in your mouth from that thought. You’ve always tried to keep your nose out of the boys’ love lives for… obvious reasons, so at this point it feels insanely taboo to even entertain notions connected to their conquest history.

“—beautiful, fair maiden… Blah blah… dashing soldier… blah blah blah… uncontested charm and wits—”

Maybe taboo isn’t the best word for it. It’s a strange sense of guilt, a hollow emptiness of sorts. But nonetheless, as Gintoki’s blabbering comes to an end, none of which you were actually paying attention to for your own wellbeing, you bury the feeling. It’s an unnecessary thought; one you refuse to dwell on.

Gintoki finishes with a flourish and bow towards you with a shifty wink.

…

It’s Takasugi’s turn anyway.

“Do it or don’t. I couldn’t care less.” He almost… glares at you when he says this, and your stoney cool facade falters as your eyebrow twitches. Wasn’t he the one that was asking for you and butting heads with Gintoki over it in the first place? The sheer absurdity and nerve of him is almost enough to settle and redirect your nerves towards it all. Almost.

You keep your smile, but it feels more like a grimace at this point.

Here you are, teetering a line between truth and lies, life and death, Gintoki and Takasugi, all whilst covered head to toe in the magical workings of Atsuko. You have to make a choice, one that will ensure that you see it through to the next sunrise, hopefully in the clothes and mask you’ve long since grown accustomed to rather than these frivolous garments. Gintoki, the stupid pervert, or Takasugi, the eagle-eyed stick in the mud. One annoying, but the other outright damning.

In the end that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? The choice should be obvious.

…

So someway, somehow, your finger finds its way to Takasugi.

#no soft sounds #sakata gintoki x reader #gintama x reader #gintama #sakata gintoki #katsura kotarou #takasugi shinsuke #sakamoto tatsuma

11 notes · View notes