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#ikesen shingen
ikeromantic · 14 days
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Ikesen Boys React to a Tattooed MC pt 2
Thank you again to @otomedad for this idea!
Kenshin, Shingen, and Yoshimoto. Approx. 2400 words. Part 1 here!
Kenshin
Kenshin froze mid-step, his mismatched eyes going wide. You froze too, a shout of surprise caught behind your lips. Your kimono hung open, half undressed as you prepared for a bath.
The tub of steaming water sat behind a decorative screen, and you were wishing you were behind it too. “Umm. Hi?” You tug the fabric closed, your face hot. 
He swallows, and turns his head to look down the empty corridor leading to your ‘room’. “You were not expecting me. I will go.”
“No, wait!” Your voice startles you as much as him. Kenshin turns his head to glance your direction expectantly. You pause, unsure what to say. “I was hoping you would come today.” 
If anything, this seems to surprise him even more than seeing you unclothed. 
“If you like, you can wait with me for the bathwater to cool down. It’s too hot to soak in right now.” You sit down on the small stool beside the bars of your well-appointed cell. 
Kenshin says nothing for a long moment, then he nods. There is something unsettled about him as he pulls up a stool to sit across from you. “Is there anything you need?”
You shrug, glancing around at the stone walls and wooden bars. “Out? Other than that, no.”
He looks down, his lips twisting in a faint grimace. The frown turns to puzzlement. “What is that?”
You realize he’s noticed the cherry blossom petal on the top of your bare foot. “Oh. It’s part of my tattoo.” You carefully shift your kimono open a little bit to show the rest of your leg. Cherry blossoms and pink petals dance across your skin, as if floating on a forever breeze in some place where it is always spring. 
Kenshin regards the ink with more curiosity than you expected. His hand drifts toward the bars that separate you. “Beautiful,” he breathes. 
Your skin prickles and warms with expectation of his touch. The tip of his cool, calloused finger brushes your calf, setting your heart off at a gallop. You aren’t sure if the butterflies in your belly are from the compliment or the feel of his hand on your leg. 
“It does not come off,” he states, rather than asks. 
“Right. It’s ink under my skin so . . . I guess I’m stuck with it for life.” You try for a carefree smile, but miss the mark as his eyes flick up to meet yours. 
Kenshin considers this for a moment, then nods. “It is like a scar, then.” His eyes narrow. “Why was this done to you?”
You do smile then, at the protective note in his voice. “I did it to me. Or, at least, I picked the design and the spot. I wanted something to remind me that life is short. To enjoy the beauty in it, as long as it lasts. Because, you know. It won’t last long.” 
His fingers trace the edges of the petals and blossoms, moving up past your knee to the top of the flowers on your thigh. “The inevitability of loss,” he says, more to himself than to you. There is something warm in his eyes, something fragile.
“No,” you shake your head. “The celebration of beauty, however fleeting. Take joy where you can, right?” 
“Take joy . . .” His gaze falls back to your leg, and he snatches his hand away as if suddenly scalded by your skin. Shutters of ice close him off from you again as he stands. 
You stand as well, reaching for him through the cell bars. Your fingers brush his shoulder before he steps back. 
“If there is nothing you need, I will go.”
“I do need something.” Your voice shakes a little as your hand drops to your side. “I wish you’d visit me more often. Stay for a little longer when you do. I like being around you.”
Kenshin does not reply. He studies you for a moment, before turning away. His steps echo down the empty corridor, making you feel somehow even more alone than before he came. 
Shingen
Shingen’s hand trailed along the smooth silk of your kimono, the warmth of his touch soaking through to your back. He wasn’t technically supposed to be touching you, just watching the stars. But he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself, and you weren’t going to complain. Not tonight, anyway.
“Are you sore, angel,” he asked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
“No,” you shot back, then admitted, “a little.” The day’s hike through mountainous forest hadn’t been easy, especially carrying a pack. You regretted insisting on carrying it, but pride wouldn’t let you take it easy. 
Shingen’s lips curled up in a subtle smile. “I see.” His hand stilled on your back. “You know what the best thing for sore muscles is?”
You turn your head to regard him, sensing a trap. “A hot bath?”
“Those are pretty good. But love is what makes the angel sing.” He grins at you, playful and teasing.
“Seriously, Shingen?” You huff and pull away from his touch.
He sighs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. It’s not every day an actual goddess graces me with her presence.” 
You glare at him, annoyed and flattered and annoyed with yourself for being flattered. “Whatever. I’m going inside.”
“Don’t leave, angel.” There’s a slight pleading tone to his voice. “As an apology, let me give you a shoulder rub. It will make us both feel better. I promise.” The sensual tilt of his lips and the appeal in his gaze give you pause. A massage would feel nice, but . . .
“No. I don’t trust you.” The words leave your mouth in a rushed exhalation, leaving so much unsaid. It wasn’t Shingen you didn’t trust, it was yourself. 
He looked down, his eyes dark and unreadable in the dim starlight. “I promise, I’m not trying to make you mine.” Shingen held his hands out as if in surrender. “Let me help?”
The silence between you expands, an almost physical thing pressing against your skin and making it hard to breathe. You give a curt nod, giving in to what you know you want, even if you can’t admit it. 
Shingen settles behind you. His hands slide down your shoulders, gently tugging your kimono down to bare them. His breath catches and he goes still. 
For a moment, you are confused, and then you realize he must have seen it. Your tattoo. Maple leaves drifting along your spine, from just below your neck to your hip. A riot of warm colors and fine lines etching your skin. You still remember the pain of having it done. But it was worth it. “Something wrong?” You try for a teasing tone, but your voice is too breathy to make that mark.
 “Your back -” He pulls your kimono lower still, revealing more of the falling leaves. His calloused hand presses against the ink as if to wipe it away. “My angel is a work of art.”
A shiver runs through your skin at the feel of his hand on you. Your galloping heart speeds even more, racing uncontrollably as heat flushes your face. “You’re not supposed to be flirting,” you manage.
Shingen’s laugh sends a puff of warm breath across your neck. “That wasn’t flirting. I’m only stating the obvious.” His thumbs press into your tense, tired flesh, a gentle pressure to ease sore muscles. “Is the art something from your village? I have never seen anything like it painted into skin.”
You struggle for a moment to find words, distracted by his closeness and the intimacy of his touch. He clearly knows how to give a massage, and the sensation is short circuiting your brain. “Umm. It . . . mmmm . . . I got it to remind myself.”
“Of?” His lips are distressingly close to the leaf at the top of your spine, almost brushing the inked skin.
“Th-that I am carried. Forward. Even when life is tough. Like a leaf in the wind. Do what I can and leave what I can’t to fate. Or god. Or . . . chaos, I guess. Trust that life is - is pushing me to where I need to be.” You stutter through an explanation, leaving out all the context and emotion surrounding the decision on this image in this spot in those colors.
Shingen is quiet for a while, his skilled hands working out the knots in your shoulders and upper back. “My angel is a philosopher. Something holding us up in our worst moments.” He sounds more thoughtful than you expected when he finally speaks. Rather than blowing off the meaning of the design, he seems interested. 
“I needed something to hang on to,” you say softly, self-consciously. His praise feels undeserved, but makes your heart feel full, your chest tight.
“We all do, sometimes.” You feel the press of a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.
Quiet descends between you again, a soft silence of connection and comfort. 
Yoshimoto
You sit completely still, afraid to even breathe deeply. Yoshimoto’s fingers comb gently through your hair, coaxing it into position. He hums a tune you almost recognize as he works, styling you for the artists that will arrive soon. 
“Are you sure this is a good idea? I bet there are a lot of more qualified models in Kasugayama,” you say through stiff lips. This whole idea has you on edge. Art is wonderful, and you love making it - but being in it? Not so much. 
Yoshimoto adjusts your necklace. “You are perfect. There is none more qualified.” He steps back, inspecting his work. 
“I am so very not perfect,” you argue, thinking of all the parts of yourself you’d change if you could. “Surely Okuni would be better -”
“No. I want them to paint you.” The way he says it sends a thrill through you, as if he would value more your image than any other. Which can’t be true. Yoshimoto is just an appreciator of art. And you, as his friend and student, happened to be available for this painting session with some up and coming artists. 
You take a shallow breath. The next part will be the hardest, even knowing it is coming. “Fine. I guess.” The blanket in your lap seems smaller by the moment and you feel heat rising in your cheeks as you take it in one hand. 
Yoshimoto smiles and moves close again, his fingers hover at the edge of the decorative kimono draped over your shoulders. “I am honored by your trust in me.” 
“Wait!” You take a deeper breath, a panicky feeling welling up in your chest. “I can’t model. I - I have a tattoo!” You feel a sudden certainty that, just like your parents, Yoshimoto will hate the ink on your skin, and the artists will refuse to paint you, and - and -
He settles a hand on your cheek, turning your head toward him. “Thank you for telling me. May I see it?” His eyes are wide and clear, empty of judgment or censure. 
You study his face a moment longer, feeling self conscious. “Ok.”
He pulls the fabric down as you lift the blanket to your chest. Almost the pose you were meant to take for the artists.
Despite the white silk now covering your breasts, you feel exposed. Your entire back on display, bare shouldered and covered with almost nothing from the back of your neck to the top of your butt cheeks. Vulnerable. On display. You wait for Yoshimoto to say something, but he is silent. 
“Well?” Your voice is sharp and anxious, and you resist the urge to tug the fabric up and hide behind it.
Yoshimoto takes a breath. His hands brush your sides, stopping at the edges of your tattoo. Chrysanthemums spread from the center of your back to your hips, delicate and colorful. He kneels to look at them more closely, close enough that his hair tickles against your skin. 
You love the way they look, bright and playful. Accentuating the natural curves of your low back and hip. But you can’t tell what his reaction is. His quiet only wrenches your nerves tighter. “If you don’t say something, I think I’m going to cry.”
His soft touch brushes the inked flowers, as if painting the petals with his fingertips. “I . . . I did not expect . . .”
“It’s fine.” You reach for the kimono, ready to cover up and escape with a little dignity. 
Yoshimoto’s hand catches yours. “Please. Let me look a little longer. It is beautiful.” His gaze meets yours, fey eyes almost aglow. “You are beautiful.” 
Your breath catches, there is a tightness in your chest. A trembling, uncertain emotion that you cannot name. “Alright.” 
His smile is tender and affectionate as his eyes drift back to your tattoo. “These colors are amazing. I have never seen such bright irezumi. And the way it follows the shape of your body -” His caress sends a pleasant shock up your back and sets your pulse pounding. “This was done by a master artist. Only fitting for such a canvas.”
“They were really good,” you nod, recalling the waitlist and the cost. “They designed it for me after I told them what I wanted. Something with meaning, memories and promises. I wanted to look at it the rest of my life and know it holds what is close to my heart.” 
You gesture toward the flowers he is touching. “Red for the promise of love, yellow for what I’ve lost, white for loyalty. And all of it together for beauty, inside and out.” The words pour out as if from a broken dam. You’ve never told anyone all of this, never had the opportunity or the trust. But you want Yoshimoto to know you. To understand you.
“Did you know it is also a symbol of royalty?” His voice is soft, barely audible. 
“I do. Not that I am. Royal. I mean, Nobunaga made me a princess but I’m just a normal person. Nothing special.” You shrug. “I just thought it was a really pretty flower.”
Yoshimoto’s arms wrap around you, and his cheek rests against your back. You feel the flutter of his eyelids as he closes them. “You are special. Talented and beautiful and kind. I can think of no other more deserving of such a mark.”
Bittersweet pleasure floods you. There is nothing you can say to that, and so you let yourself enjoy his embrace. The feel of him pressed close. If only it could last. If only you could speak the words that lie heavy in your heart. If, if, if.
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hideoutpastel · 11 months
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I feckin love this trend…
Back to daddy Shingen to kill the burnout!
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wordycheeseblob · 3 months
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'Cause I'm here now, and asking
Melt me down, recast me burn me clean
Like glass from sandy ground
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Palette [Walking Disasters]
Good Grief - Dessa
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@the12thnightproject
Impromptu!! :D I'll be honest my first attempt at this drawing looked like Kanetsugu.. But I had fun with this palette and hope you like the result.
But Shingen? One of my ikesen top three orz
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oda-princess · 6 months
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natimiles · 10 days
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Ikemen Sengoku Loading Banners
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Masterlists
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worlds-smallestviolin · 4 months
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Shingen: So, you guys ready for tomorrow's B-A-T-T-L-E?
Yukimura: Yeah, it's going to be a tough F-I-G-H-T.
Kenshin: What are you guys talking about?
Sasuke: Yeah, why did you guys just spell fig...
Shingen: No, No, No!Shut up!
Yukimura: Don't say it!
Sasuke: Uh why?
Yukimura: Oh God, how do we tell you this?
Shingen: Kenshin... can't spell.
Sasuke: ...
Sasuke: What?!
Shingen: He can't spell, so when we talk about something he wants, we spell it out loud so he doesn't get too excited.
Sasuke: He's a grown man! He can't handle hearing the word FIGHT?
Kenshin: Fight?!
Shingen: No fight!
Kenshin: Fight?!
Shingen: No fight!
Kenshin: Fight?!
Shingen: No fight!
Kenshin: Aww 🥺
Sasuke: OK, what's happening?
Yukimura: We told you. He gets excited when he hears the word F-I-G-H-T.
Kenshin: What you're talking about?
Shingen: Food.
Kenshin: Oh, sucks.
Sasuke: I don't know guys. I feel like you're fighting a losing battle on this one.
Kenshin: Battle?!
Yukimura: No battle!
Kenshin: Battle?!
Yukimura: No battle!
Kenshin: Battle?!
Yukimura: No battle!
Kenshin:Awwwwwww 🥺
Shingen: Man, you have to spell if you're talking about B-A-T- T-L-E.
Sasuke: OK, so we are going to W-A-R.
Kenshin: WAR?!?
Shingen: Aw man.
Yukimura: Dude, really!
Sasuke: Oh come on, I spelled it.
Shingen: Well he knows how to spell war.
Sasuke: So he can spell war, but he can't spell fight?
Kenshin: Fight?!?
Sasuke: NO FIGHT!!!
Kenshin: Fight?!?
Sasuke: NO FIGHT!!!
Kenshin: Fight?!?
Sasuke: NO FIGHT!!!
Kenshin: God!🤬
Shingen: OK, he's getting fussy. Time for a N-A-P.
Kenshin: Yeah.😄
Sasuke: What does N-A-P spell?
Kenshin: Sake🤤
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gloriouspiratenacho · 6 months
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“Did Sasuke just bring 😧”
“a WOMAN 😒”
“home with him?! 😏”
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bakersgrief · 3 months
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Ikeseries men that would get on their knees and beg you to let them eat you out:
Mitsuhide Akechi
Shingen Takeda
Kenshin Uesugi
Jonah Clemence
Blanc Lapin
Comte
Clavis Lelouch
Luke Randolph
Silvio Ricci
Gilbert Von Obsidian (he would threaten u but mentally he's begging)
Lmk if I missed anyone
(Edit) Rio Ortiz
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mynameiskan · 16 days
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Requested by @oda-princess
[ A lovely day with lord Kenshin. ]
Just a normal day in Kasugayama castle.
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the12thnightproject · 1 month
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Warlords in a Snowball Fight
A general winter themed flash headcanon, as a gift for the Flash Exchange. @flash-exchange
Headcanon: Warlords in a Snowball Fight
In Azuchi…
Nobunaga – Strides through the field of battle, easily packing the snow into efficient weapons. Cooly confident that nobody would dare...  Splat!
Masamune – A snow battle? Bring it on! Runs wildly into action, skidding to a drift, quickly forms lopsided snowballs, and throws them with surprisingly good aim, especially given his blind side. Which… by the way… Splat!
Hideyoshi –  Sets out a list of rules, including, no ice in the middle of your snowball, no throwing snowballs inside the castle, absolutely no running! In the midst of announcing the rules… Splat!
Ieyasu –  Splat! He goes home and locks himself in his panic room with his emotional support sourdough starter.
Mitsunari – An army is made and broken by its organization. Carefully stockpiles snowballs at strategic points throughout Azuchi. Then gets distracted by a new book and forgets to join in the battle.
Ranmaru – Finds Mitsunari’s useful stacks of snowballs, and climbs to the roof, where he systematically picks everyone off, sniper style. Splat!
Keiji – Stands in the center of the field of play, grabbing the closest snow at hand, and throwing it randomly. He’s a dervish. Then he opens his arms wide and yodels, “Who wants to take on the wild child of these war-torn islands, he whose name is sung far and wide, the roguish misfit, Keiji Maeda?”  Splat! Splat! Splat!  
Mitsuhide – Excels at sneaking from hiding spot to hiding spot, surprising victims by popping up out of nowhere and disappearing before they can retaliate. Is also the reason Ieyasu is hiding.
At Kasugayama… things are slightly more dangerous
Kenshin – Instead of snowballs, hurls icicles like spears.
Kanetsugu –  When people complain about flying icicles, tells them they should be honored to receive such attention from the God of War.
Shingen – Organizes Yukimura and Yoshimoto into a team and carefully strategizes the best times and places to attack. Has also built a working snow catapult. In spite of all that, he ends up strangely covered in snow, because, let’s face it, the man looks great in a wet kimono. And out of one.
Yukimura – Is an athletic and efficient snowball thrower, very good on the front lines in an all-out battle, but not terribly good at sneak attacks.
Yoshimoto – Is every snowflake truly different? Let’s find out? He wanders out into the garden. Is not seen until spring.
Sasuke – After getting hit by one too many icicles, packs his snowballs with ground spikes and sets off smoke bombs to escape.
Lone Forces…
Kennyo –  Tricks Azuchi and Kasugayama into fighting each other, then goes off and feeds hungry forest creatures.
Motonari – Snow? Snow doesn’t burn. Hell has frozen over. Sets sail for more tropical climates at the first sign of a flake.
Kicho – Sets off an avalanche.
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lunillum · 5 months
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IkeSen MC being the absolute mood: Part 5 - Shingen edition
Pt 1 || Pt 2 || Pt 3 || Pt 4
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The Warlords- Dad Headcanon: Shingen Takeda
Hi I am just trying to get my thoughts out as I obsess alone over this series. I am feeling just very domesticated this week and have a ton of headcanons and scenarios about these guys as dads and can't help myself :')) I love them so much
First up is Shingen because I am just in love with the man, unconditionally.
>sweetest girl dad to I'm gonna say 3 princesses.
>Hair bows and flowers and dolls everywhere.
>They practice putting ribbons in his hair right in the middle of war council meetings with Kenshin and his vassals and it doesn't phase him one bit. Makes uncle Yukimura the make up guinea pig though.
>Will go out of his way to have tea with them every day he can.
>His girls are the pride and joy of Kai and he will boast about them to anyone who asks
>Oh boy though are they some warriors.
>Oldest child is stoic and somehow takes after Uncle Lord Kenshin.
>Middle child spends too much time with Yukimura. He's actually very sacred of her. nagging little sister energy.
>Youngest daughter is an absolute monster and Shingen loves it when he isn't the target of her assaults.
>Wants his daughters to be fierce warriors, but amazing women and supports them in nearly everything they are interested in.
".. The Takeda Forces will attack from the north, as originally planned." Shingen states, trying to point to the location on the map in front of him."Yukimura. I need you to-"
"Daddy hold still!" The little girl behind him orders, taking another lock of his hair into her grasps as she tries fitting it into another bow. "You keep messing it up!" Shingen clears his throat, leaning over slightly so his daughter can reach better."Yukimaru, as I was saying... I need you to lead the men before down in order to surprise the Oda forces. We can have them surrounded by-" "Yuki can't do anything until his nails are dry!" The middle girl chimes in, looking up as she blows on Yukimura's freshly painted hands. He grimaces, looking over at Shingen who just sighs once again, continuing. "What do you think, Kenshin?" He asks, looking across to his ally, who was eying Shingen's oldest child suspiciously while she staring at him, wide eyed and unblinking. "Is... she okay?" Kenshin asks, unwilling to break eye contact with her. "Yeah she's fine. that's how she says hi." Shingen waves his hand dismissively, handing his daughter another ribbon to tie into his hair. "Anyways...."
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orangejuice707 · 4 months
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Funny shit from yoshimoto's route
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Some of these could have made numbers on tumblr and used as reaction memes
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oda-princess · 3 months
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You can't tell me this ain't them XD
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natimiles · 3 months
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Ikemen Sengoku: Voice Actors | Part 3
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Masterlists
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