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ozzgin · 5 months

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I love your work! you have such a fun take on yandere's and I would love to see what kind of yandere hcs you could cook up for a host-club / paid to go on dates with you yandere ❤️ double points if you can make it so that the reader is never really one to cross a line or think the yandere really likes them...

If you don't want to do this prompt tho I completely understand ❤️

The idea makes me a little nostalgic as it gives me Ouran vibes. Also reminded me I've never played 'Men of Yoshiwara' past the prologue, which also has male courtesans ready to service you. In any case, it's definitely something I can expand on! :)

Yandere! Host x Reader

You've never considered yourself to be the type frequenting host clubs. Yet the loneliness is becoming noticeable and perhaps it's your lack of experience keeping you out of the dating scene. Mingling with paid professionals could prepare you for a future boyfriend. Except your assigned host has other plans in mind for you.

Content: gender neutral reader, inexperienced reader, obsessive behavior, manipulation

Ah, you definitely don't belong here. He can tell within seconds and he hasn't even reached the table yet. You're nervously readjusting the sleeves of your shirt - do you usually not wear such outfits? - and merely glance around the room for a brief moment before casting your eyes back down in sheepish modesty. Well, not necessarily a sight of unpreceded novelty. Many people are intrigued by the idea of a host club, so even just idle curiosity is enough incentive for one to end up among the charismatic crowd of paid affections. Today it's you who has stumbled into the hungry mouth of the wolf, and he happens to be the one to entertain you away from whatever unpleasantries are currently consuming you.

He gently stretches his slender fingers across your shoulder, a feathery touch light enough as to not startle you. You look up and acknowledge his presence, ready to stand up for introductions. His hold on you is firm, letting you know there is no need to leave the comfort of your sofa. "Now then, this isn't a job interview. You don't need to be so formal." He explains with a chuckle. You nod. Embarrassingly enough, your eyes are glued to his face for longer than what you'd consider polite admiration. A waste of good looks is your immediate thought. Surely someone as stunning as him could've worked as a model or actor. You suspect he isn't as enthusiastic to meet you as his voice leads one to believe, so the ability to pretend certainly isn't missing.

One peek at the table next to you, and the answer quickly presents itself. An older woman is inspecting the menu, surrounded by multiple bottles of champagne whose name even you recognize. You doubt the average acting career could provide this amount of luxury. The corners of your lips curl slightly upwards in a pitiful self awareness. Sadly for this guy, you're not a big spender. Whether he, too, is aware of this disappointing fact is impossible to tell. His handsome features remain cheerfully relaxed. "Tell me about yourself. What brings a darling like you here?" He inquires graciously, resting his chin on the back of his hands as he settles before you with an intent gaze.

You narrate your hardship: whether because of your looks or your awkwardness, something impedes you from having acquired a partner; and so the idea of gaining experience through less orthodox means came to fruition. Your host listens carefully, refilling your glass every now and then with a compassionate frown, lips parted in unspoken sympathy. Of course, he understands. Naturally. Once you're finished, he straightens himself in newfound determination: worry not, he will be your coach in love.

Thus begins the unusual partnership. You hadn't expected the man to readily agree to such a ridiculous request. A handful of visits have made it clear to you he's in high demand, most likely one of the top earners. Why would he waste his precious (and otherwise profitable) time with a humble customer like you? Maybe it's bad form to refuse lower paid offers too often, so he's keeping you for balance. You'll never know. His professionalism betrays no hint of annoyance.

You cannot help but marvel at his masterful lying. It becomes quite clear to you why so many people fall helplessly in love with paid hosts. Everything is executed with the utmost care for detail. The loving caress of the cheek he occasionally initiates, seemingly unprompted. The long, ardent stares into your eyes, as you must practice your eye contact. His hot lips brushing against your fingers while he spoils you with diminutives and sickly sweet words of appreciation.

You frequently have to remind yourself that everything is dictated by a contract. A code of conduct meant to be replicated for you and all other clients coming afterwards. How many other poor souls fawn over this alluring devil? You wouldn't want to burden him with an additional customer who forgets boundaries. You know your place too well.

Admirable manners. Frustratingly so. He wishes you'd just give in already and drop the shy act around him. You've caught his interest from the moment he spotted you in that cluttered, crowded room reeking of overpriced alcohol and solitude. Everything about you signaled blindingly clear: you're someone others can easily take advantage of. To think you would've landed right in his hands, to be molded as he pleases. The little sob story about being inexperienced with men, your clumsy attempts to follow along his flirts. Oh, you're just begging to be defiled. Again, and again and again, until there's nothing left of you. Then he'd caringly patch you back together and start anew. His very own corner of innocence.

The indecent daydreams are cut short when you proudly announce, during one of your dates, that you finally feel confident enough to pursue a genuine partner. You have booked a nice hotel room for this occasion; One last gesture of grandeur to show your gratitude for all the advice and love (even though it wasn't genuine). He's sitting on the edge of the plush mattress, dumbfounded, fiddling with the thick, ornate border of the bed runner. Huh? What the hell are you talking about? He's spent all this time getting to know you. What gets you flustered and bothered, what makes you excited, sad, anxious, angry, bored. He taught you how to come out of your shell. Why, so you can go ahead and waste yourself on some fucking idiot?

"My, aren't you eager. You haven't even had your first kiss." He says with a cheeky smile. "I think I can manage-" you want to say, but he quickly interrupts with a curt: "No one likes an amateur kisser". You're immediately silenced. His voice sounds cold, with a hint of anger in it. "I'm sorry, darling love, it's true." He resumes in an entirely different tonality, dragging his words with an eerie kindness attached to them. He tuts a little, turning towards you and patting his knees. There, there, don't look so deflated. If a simple observation like his hurt you this much, how would you handle the much meaner, downright heartless world out there?

Such is reality. Men are cruel and you had the bad luck to be born with a gentle heart. He delicately guides you to sit in his lap, cupping your burning face between his large hands. He knows this expression too well - you're humiliated. And thus, can he truly allow anyone else out there to see you so vulnerable like this? No, this kind of intimacy is reserved for him. You must understand. He has disciplined you to his liking, and simultaneously learned all the nooks and crannies of your being. It's too late to go back to a simple host and client relationship.

"Why don't you practice with me first, love?" He breaks the silence, placing his lips against your forehead in encouragement. You feel a sudden pressure faintly throbbing underneath you. "T-the kiss?" You ask hesitantly, trying to ignore the sensation and squirming in his tightening hold.

"Everything."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere host #male yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere original character

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tojifile · 1 year

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Kibutsuji Muzan: Reincarnation

You're back..

Genre: Romance // Muzan x oiran!reader

⚠️: prostitute!reader, suggestive, kidnapping, not fully consensual

A/N: My first non-bsd fanfic !! I'm super happy about it, I read about an oiran and the differences in social classes at 12AM, it was like reviewing for my history class again. It was a lot of late-night reading so if there's misinformation please inform me immediately !!

INSPO: pinejayy

It was a well-lit and busy night, as it always was in the entertainment district. Little did everybody know the demon king—Kibutsuji Muzan was in their midst, walking along the streets, blending in with the loud crowd.

An procession was about to start, all eyes would be on the oiran—dragging her geta on the ground as she walked. The oiran on this particular night was none other than, you. Your scent was immediately picked up by Muzan. It was the same scent he had grown to love, from the person he had lost to time.

His interest was piqued the moment he picked up your scent. His gaze traveled far, trying to find the source of the scent. His gaze then landed on you, he watched you as you walked with such grace, you were as beautiful as the day he lost you.

Muzan lost you through the inevitable disease called time. You weren't willing to become a demon—instead, you promised him that you would find eachother in each lifetime and it will all end the same, with you in his arms.

You were given the name 'Minori' by the oiran who took you in as a child, starving in the unforgiving world of class and power. As an oiran you were known to be quite finicky. Although an oiran did have the right to choose who they would lay with, you were known for having not slept with anyone ever since you rose to your rank. Many men tried wooing you with their "looks" and "charm" but in the end you deem none of the worthy.

You were intelligent, beautiful, and skilled in various languages and arts. You were also a dear friend of Koinatsu, one of the most revered oiran in the Yoshiwara District. Muzan had heard about Minori before, from mundane gossip to papers of advertisement. He just didn't expect it to actually be you.

After seeing you walk, he spoke to Daki. He had released an order to his demons that you weren't allowed to be killed—instead, you had to be protected. Anyone who had protested against Muzan's order was immediately killed, without another word from their lifeless lips.

You had just gone back from the procession, you were quietly fixing up in your room, filling it with your presence. It was neither sweet nor destructive, it was just you. You were sitting in front of the mirror, fixing your hair until you saw a man appear behind you—you immediately stood up and looked back in fear.

Suddenly the room went dark, you couldn't see a thing. You then felt an eerie presence behind you—it was Muzan. He gently grabbed you from behind, by the waist and pulled you closer to him. "You're back.." he whispered in your ear.

It was strange, the man's touch was cold and his breath wasn't even slightly warm. Your body tensed up, "b- back..?." you nervously asked "Y/N.. I thought I'd never see you again.." he mumbled softly while one hand was secured on your waist, preventing further problems and the other hand lifting your chin to one side, granting him access to your neck.

'Y/N? Who was he talking about? I don't even know anyone named Y/N, maybe this was a new thing with men, maybe roleplay is quite popular nowadays, is this just a drunkard that wandered in my room?!' were the thoughts that ran into your head. You were too afraid to move, you didn't know what wrath would be brought down on you if you disobey.

Chomp he bit your neck, his fangs sunk into your neck, blood trickled down your skin, staining your carefully crafted kimono. You felt a sharp pain in your neck, you felt the blood trickling down your skin as well. He removed his teeth from your skin, letting the blood flow down.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as he stopped biting you, he turned you to him and wiped your tears away with his thumbs, a soft smile could be seen on his face. "Oh Y/N.. you used to love my bites.." he spoke with a sweet tone. You reached up for his hands "Who are you.. please stop.." You muttered, your fear was clear, you were trembling slightly as you held the back of his hands tightly. This made him angry, his grasp on you tightened and the soft smile on his face was replaced by an angry scowl.

He wasn't letting you go this time. You were going to live with him forever, he couldn't abide by your wishes. He needed you by his side, he wasn't going to play by the rules set by time and destiny.

You whimpered softly as he tightened his grip. His hands travelled back to your waist, pulling you in. You haven't fully grasped the events of the night. It was all too much.. how could he bite you like that? Who was Y/N? You looked at him through your tear-filled eyes and held onto his chest. "P- please.." you mumbled.

Muzan wasn't going to listen to reason, he let you have some of his blood to ensure that you'd stay with him forever. You were now a demon at his mercy. Although you didn't suffer the same curse the other demons did. Muzan wanted to hear you say his name, after not hearing it for centuries, he needed to hear it now.

You grasped his arms tightly as you felt yourself transform from a human to a demon. You felt your fangs and your desire for blood growing. You were still clearly competent but your body grew weaker due to the high concentration of his blood. Muzan picked you up, making sure you wouldn't be able to escape. "It doesn't matter if you don't remember me, in time you'll learn to love me again." He spoke with a cold tone. He then disappeared into the night sky with you in his arms.

Spontaneous post: 07/03/23 02:25AM GMT+8 Philippine Standard Time

#kny #kimetsu muzan #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #muzan x reader #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan x you #muzan kibutsuji x you #kibutsuji kny #kibtsuji muzan #muzan #kibutsuji #kny reader insert #kny muzan #kny x y/n #muzan x y/n

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insane-brit · 11 months

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Royalty (Ch. 3)

Muzan Kibutsuji x Soulamte!Fem!Reader

Chapter Links: Prologue, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter three

Next scheduled Royalty update (Ch 4.): July 30th, 2023.

Tags/Warnings: Enemies to lovers, semi slow burn, dark story/themes, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE (neck snapping, spinal shock), prostitution, attempted coercion, hatred, mentions of IRL Japanese history, slight misogyny, panic attack, blood.

A/N: It's finally here!!! Yay! Thank you all for being patient with me as these last few weeks have been hectic. I just got back from a convention and classes are a lot. I'm also going back through and adding (F/N) to the first two chapters with reader in it since I didn't do that before (I like to use it sparingly). So, be on the lookout for those edits.

I do want to say that I have a schedule planned for this series. Due to my classes and the upcoming semester I will update Royalty every other week to give me time to write properly. Other works such as requests will be filled/posted as they are completed.

Therefore, the next update (Ch. 4) will be on July 30th, 2023!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: 2.6K

The stench of rot permeated through the orifices of every human that he encountered. Death walked hand in hand with them as they decayed with each passing minute. Demons were much the same but dulled. Their aging halted and cells regenerated in a never-ending cycle until their head was severed or body burned. Flaws in his creations and himself.

Muzan’s carefully crafted work, hand-picked from the hundreds and thousands of demons over the ages, the Upper and Lower moons had defects in their own ways. Dismantling the Lower ranks proved to ease the spreading desperation in his subconscious. They were worthless beings. Unfit for their stations and yet the Upper ranks manifested to be just as disappointing as the rest. Failing for centuries at annihilating the family bound to him by blood and unearthing the blossom that would grant him the ability to conquer the sun. The amaryllis.

The only reason they proved to be of use was they kept the Kisatsutai on their toes. Terminating the lives of their most powerful and stripping them of their morality. Despite him wanting to rip the ranks to shreds and gnash his teeth on their bones, they were his strongest. He would let them carry on with their lives if they served and attested themselves to be worthy of the position so graciously bestowed upon them.

Walking the various winding concrete of Yoshiwara was not Muzan’s ideal pastime. Though it was vital to remind his Jūnikizuki where they stood and to oversee the progress, they had made both for themselves and his sake. Situating himself near a wall, his eyes observed the lowly human creatures. Their affairs exhibited in the confines of the residence they were assigned to and sought out. Women and men alike with their sultry gazes swept across the bodies that passed them. Muzan was no exception. The impure burn of their eyes had him clenching his jaw. It was revolting and he would rather them be looking upon him in other ways. They were ignorant, but one day they would understand. If they were capable of such a feat. A soft gasp from behind him had him tense.

“Aren’t you pretty?” A woman brushed the side of his arm before stopping in front of him. A smirk curled on her face as she tilted her head. Eye’s tracing over his features before going lower.

“I know just the woman who may interest you,” her nail tapped her lower lip. “And she may be interested in return.”

Muzan glared at her, expression stoic and lips in a tight line. “No, thank you.”

She pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in a display that left him with a foul taste in his mouth. “Oh, come on. I promise we’re not that bad, and besides,” she drawled, smoothing out the front of her layered kimono. “I can show you a good time if the others don’t meet your expecta-.”

Her skull cracked against the building. Stone dug into her scalp as little pieces opened the skin, blood streamed from the wound. A choked sound bubbled up from her throat as Muzan tightened his grip.

His face was mere inches from hers. “Courtesans just don’t know when to quit.” Her throat bobbed as she clawed at his wrist. Pupils blown and eyes swelled, she sounded pitiable. “Know your place.”

His expression was callous. Complete disregard for the woman’s life. In one swift motion, her vertebrae splintered underneath the skin. The crack reverberated under his fingers as she paled. Sweat beaded near her hairline and her pulse dropped. The thrum lagged in intensity compared to moments ago. Practically tossing her against the wall, he stared down at the nearly unconscious body. The rise and fall of her chest ceased at the loss of function and urine trailed from under the slightly hoisted garments.

Muzan stepped away from the body. A look of repugnance danced in his eyes as his shoes clicked against the alley. The sheer commotion of the streets and people engrossed in their activities served to cover the deed. No eyes to behold the barbaric and heinous force that now lay with the crumpled cadaver. Not that it made any difference to him if someone bore witness or not. The action wouldn’t beget any kind of repercussion. He had killed thousands and the sole individual who could strike him down for his immorality was long gone.

Rounding the corner of the brothel yielded another side road. Livelier than the alleyway, but not as bustling as the main street. Muzan’s gaze swept over the scene. The mix of Chouchin and modern cast bronze lanterns emitted a golden tint. Shadowing the timber structures inlaid with ornate decor and carefully crafted sliding doors. In the time since his birth in the Heian Era, Muzan had seen the rise and fall of many and their attempts at jurisdiction. From the brutal Onin War between the Daimyō and Ashikaga shogunate to the collapse of the Tokugawa shôgun. Modernizing and progressing the country into the complex order it is today.

He wouldn't normally immerse himself in the trivial matters of the government, especially with them being substandard compared to himself, however, it was vital to his continuity. Being knowledgeable in the ever-changing systems, inventions, and styles granted him more expertise in the art of blending in. Offsetting the swordsmen intent on his demise for over a thousand years.

Observing the bleary silhouettes of people through the translucent paper on the shoji windows, he tipped the edge of his white fedora to the side. Eyeing the Kyogoku House, where Upper moon six, Gyutaro, resided. Daki may be the outward appearance and has some finesse in fighting, but that is all she’ll ever amount to. A mere child whose sole purpose is to keep her brother under control. A pitiful feat that she thinks her lord cares for and believes in her. On her knees and practically drooling over his approval. It's pathetic.

Narrowing his eyes, Muzan strode down the street. He had more pivotal things to execute rather than linger in these vulgar places. A puddle splashed as his shoe struck it. The ripples reflected molten gold from the lanterns. He looked down at the undulating liquid before his eyes sharpened. The tightness in his wrist and the scintillating flicker of the cursed filament did not go unnoticed. Muzan felt the cavity of choler dig itself further as eyes burrowed into his stature. Halting his movements, he could feel the emotions coming off the person like waves. Kismet had its way of interfering with his aspirations as of late, and it appears no matter how hard he disregarded the incident many nights ago, resilience persevered. Nails sharpening, he turned and eyed the human ogling at him.

Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes wide. Skin pale as if she had seen a ghost. His gaze dragged over her body, and he glowered in realization. The all-too-familiar black uniform with white accents stood out like a sore thumb. The haori that encapsulated the kanji on the back of the uniform was a mix of snow and sable. Swirls of what looked to be smoke and other intricate designs littered the bottom, but Muzan didn’t put much care into what the woman was wearing. His sole focus was on what she was. A Sureiyā. A Hashira.

If there were any gods or Buddha in his thousand years of existence, they were surely trying his patience.

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(F/N) felt like her blood had been turned to ice. The glassy veins froze her in place as she owlishly stared into the eyes of her supposed soulmate. Hearing shot, ringing reverberated in her ears and the thronging behind her sounded muffled. As if she had been pulled into the unforgiving deep as her lungs screamed and begged for an end.

He did not move, and from where she stood, she could not discern an emotion on his face. It was phlegmatic. Unwavering, constant. It unnerved (F/N) as her feelings swirled and compacted into what felt like a ticking bomb. Fury, horror, uncertainty…. contentment? It was all too much and didn't do anything to ease her palpitating heart. Eyes darted down to the thread, soaking up every single fiber and shine it emitted as she stalked its trail. It ended at his alabaster skin. Gouging itself into the flesh, and if his eyes weren't enough evidence, that's when she noticed his nails. They tapered into an acute point where deep indigo melted into pale blue.

Breathing ragged, she took a few shaky steps back. Gaze never leaving him. (F/N) was jolted out of her stupor as a body rammed into her hard. The force sent them both tumbling to the ground. Her head and elbow cracked against the pavement. Grit dug into her flesh and tore it open as her vision doubled. Groaning softly, (F/N) brought her other hand up to cradle her head. A weight was pressed onto her torso, and it felt suffocating as it moved around. Muffled voices resonated around her, and as her vision cleared, she observed the multitude of bodies surveying the scene. Beady eyes pierced her soul, and some looked on with pity. Others glared and whispered in hushed voices like secrets carried by the wind, and she felt her face flush in embarrassment.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” A voice hissed and handfuls of her uniform were jerked forward. A man hovered over her dazed form and shook her harshly. “How dare you wench! Where is your procurer? You should be punished for your insolence.”

(F/N) clenched her teeth and slammed her fist into his chest, effectively shoving him off her. Blood oozed from her elbow and stained his hakama as he fell into the surrounding crowd. Women shrieked and men howled with laughter at the display. She staggered to her feet, clutching the laceration, and glared at the man seething on the ground.

“Nothing is wrong with me.” she spat at him. Her nerves were firing. The adrenaline from the collision, that she laid eyes on the progenitor, and that he was her soulmate no less had her on the verge of a breakdown. Something that she had not felt in years. The feeling of all these emotions flowing had her choking back the ball that had formed in her throat. “Watch where you're going next time.” She hissed. (F/N) knew it was her fault but at that moment she could care less. Her eyes darted back towards the side street. People’s bodies presented to be an obstacle as she tilted her head frantically to inspect the spot where he once stood.

There was nothing. No trace that he was there and that only served to make her panic more. The only verification that his presence remained was the line connecting the two of them. It was slack, but barely compared to the tautness of it mere moments ago. Pivoting around she shoved people out of her way as she bolted down the road. The man on the ground cursed her form which was swallowed by the sea of people.

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(F/N)’s back pressed against the cool bark of a maple. She clutched the front of her uniform as choked sounds escaped her cracked lips. Her vision warped from the tears she held back; her hands shook with force and her feet tingled.

She didn’t know how far she had run from the district, but she had to get out. She ran until she couldn’t anymore and collapsed in the emerald grass and darkened trees. The thought of those eyes drilling into hers and the shifting cataclysmic ambiance that surrounded his physique had her struggling to breathe. The air came in short bursts as her chest tightened.

It was hard.

Breathing was hard.

The only relief she felt was the sight of the thread loose and gathered in ringlets on the swaying grass. He hadn’t followed her. She was out of sight of anything besides the surrounding fauna which she no doubt scared away with the distressed sounds pouring from her mouth.

Thoughts raced from Kibutsuji to her mission.

Her failed mission.

Grabbing the nearest rock, (F/N) screamed in rage and brought it down onto the blood-red tie. Beating it repeatedly into the ground. Each hit sent a shock wave of what felt like needles through her arm as a warning. Yet, it stayed constant. No fraying, no cut, no snapping. It remained in perfect condition, and she swore it glowed brighter, mocking her. Grinding her teeth together she continued to strike it until the palms of her hands bled from the grip she had on the stone.

Panting from the energy exerted, she chucked the rock at the nearest tree and watched it break into pieces and dust. Her nails dug into her slick palm as she sat there hunched over on her knees.

The thought of the pillars and her Master’s crestfallen, disgusted faces haunted her mind. If they were to see her in this state, abandoning a mission, and fleeing from their sworn enemy when she had every opportunity to launch an assault on him, well, she could only imagine the contempt that would stem from their hearts. (F/N) imagined Master Kagaya exiling her for breaking the oath she swore her life to the moment she passed Final Selection.

“I swear to battle valiantly, not show hesitation, doubt, or cowardice in the face of danger, and place the needs of the Kisatsutai before my own.”

She placed a quivering palm over her mouth as nausea threatened to overtake her. Everything she worked towards, dedicated her life to, everything, destroyed in minutes. Obliterated by her selfishness and pusillanimity. She was no valiant swordsman. The prowess she claimed to have died the moment realization sunk in. Snuffed like a flame.

A soft flutter and pitter-patter of feet landed near her as she held back the urge to purge the contents of her stomach. The crunching of leaves and soft cooing drew closer until she had no choice but to look up. Seiichi, her Kasugai crow cocked his head and ruffled his feathers at her. A small talisman was wrapped around his neck with string, engraved with designs and different Kanji. An item her grandfather gave to her before he passed that she then gave to her crow.

“Tengen, Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke are almost to Yoshiwara. You must meet them!” he cawed and made her flinch from the sudden loud noise.

“No. No Seiichi,” she took in a shaky breath before reaching out and picking him up. “I can’t. Not now.”

Setting the crow on her lap, she scratched the top of his head. Effectively making him quiet down and simultaneously began to clear the haze of panic that had been clouding her mind for hours.

“Please, don’t go to the Master. Not yet. Just stay with me for a while.” she whispered and hung her head low, hair falling in front of her face.

Seiichi didn’t make a sound. Nor did he move from his position on her lap. Indicating that he heard her plea and complied with her wish, going against his orders.

The sky steadily grew a lighter shade. A blue hue cast over the scenery before her and a few birds chirped. Beads of dew rolled off blades of grass and she shivered from the chill breeze that blew through the canopy of trees. Her body felt heavy and the wound on her elbow had dried. Pulling the skin when she would bend her arm. (F/N) observed her appearance, her haori was dirty and had a few rips in it from her fall, but for the most part, she appeared to be fine.

The sound of something being sat down had her and Seiichi whipping their heads up to look for the source. The hair on her nape prickled and she sucked in a breath. Hand reaching for her blade. The sun had not come up yet. Any demon still had the chance to strike if they so desired.

“Oh, are you alright dear?”

Taglist: @shellseys @athalahild @stxrrielle @lulu-83 @nianre @sincerely-aaronette @kathleen7i @woozzz

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daze4all · 7 months

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Host Club AU Reader Series: Host! Dan Heng, Blade, Jing Yuan, Loucha, Gepard, Sampo

Smoky room and a sweet scent, golden tasseled curtains and a plush velvet loveseat spread out.

In a room where handsome men beckon you into the jazz filled space.

For a moment to forget your worries and relax

Which Host would you like to request milady?

youtube

3 Takes on This Reverse Harem Setting

Modern Spicy Japanese Host club Guys in Suits with Secrets issue. Stelle /Reader Manager

Comedic Ouran Highschool host Club twist with Stelle/Reader Haruhi forced to crossdress as a host Caelus!

Ancient Asian Past Brothel like Red Light district. Yoshiwara! Past life! Client! Stelle x Host forbidden love. Escape attempt. From red light district prostitution.

Alternative dark setting with forbidden love setting clients customer relations… secret romance to steal away high-class courtesan or ancient Chinese harem setting.

To get you in the mood this spicy Amv of the tall Guys in Suits by Thoma inspired me abit~

Secrets in the Host Club

Host! Dan Heng has a contract to pay from predecessor top host

Host! Dan Feng who disappeared to have baby Dan Heng due to a scandal with a client. Father-Son or twins? Scandalous~

Or they be the Hitachin Twins lol Brotherly love/ twincest for comedy value like Ourna Highscool Host Club lol.

Host! Blade abnormally obsessed with beating Dan Heng in the rankings.

Bl vibes from a past bromance Dan Feng maybe

possible amnesia but flashes of their past lives in yoshiwara maybe?

desire to beat dan heng as top host

-Blade like Mori Like tough silent guy host in OHSHC! AU

Host! Jing yuan Current top one host

been their the longest watching this drama

smugly knowing the whole stories

Wingman! Jing Yuan secretly wants Blade x Dan Heng together so he can get with manager/reader or Stelle/Caelus

Secretly some ceo or big shot being forced to marry like Tamaki souh but avoiding engagement by keeping up playboy personality by keeping up the host club.

The Tamaki Souh the King of the host club who wants his host club family to get along and be fam

Host! Loucha maybe sneaked in their as Kyoya keeps it together financially.

-Mysterious

- Spy ! Loucha Secretly undermines club

- Double Agent! Louche Maybe geos to Belobag! club and have to bring him back for ratings

- but he a double spy who was stealing belobog host sclub’s secrets

- Steals Gepard & Sampo maybes he sways them to join Xianzhou/Loufu’s Host Club Rival Planets / Clubs

Host! Gepard awkward embarrassed host.

- actually FBI Or undercover COP as sus undercover drug dealing going on.

- Guy Next door? Natural! Host like Haruhi. Or Mori tough guy.

Cop! Gepard there to To bust Host! Sampo being that Sus dealer of kinky toys not drugs lol.

Host! Flirty! Sampo Criminal Dangerous Host

Fun Host Theme nights: Yukata night, suit day, glasses day, costume day, pirate etc. other kinks ppl can comment.

Host! Stelle : Client, host/crossdressing Caelus or manager willed to take over and run host club that is suffering from a debt from scandal with top star (Dan Feng)

Breaks vase like Haruhi just student at college idk lol gets into shifty host club for rich famous lol

Or modern au or ancient red light district brothel?honkai

NanookL manager! dad of stelle? Debt lender guy have to make up deficit too for club

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tenko-thinks · 10 months

Note

*pops into existence* i know you do oc x canon but ima make it more accessible grehehe!

(Annoying tsundere F reader x uppermoons “specifically a ver pissy gyutaro”)

•u• if you do this for meow… i will leave you a green apple 🍏

Fret not I also do x readers w specific traits he ho and omg... green aple...

Upper Moons with an Annoying "Tsundere" fem!Reader

Cws : Gyutaro sucks but like that's it, other than that, none I think

Ft : Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza , Gyutaro

♡ --- ♡

Kokushibo

Now Koku is from the sengoku era. And is wholly unused to a woman like you.

But.. Not in a bad way, per sey.

He finds your outbursts somewhat amusing in a futile animal attempting to escape a predator kind of way.

He wants to break you in. Turn you into an ideal wife for him. Perhaps with a small amount of fire in you if possible.

The demon can't deny the charm of you getting flustered and swatting at his clothing or squawking when another person calls out your affections.

It's part of what draws him to you, with your uniqueness. If only you were a little quieter..

It's a very amusing sight. Upper moon one with a firecracker of a woman banging on his chest. And he allows it.

Douma

Douma, unlike Kokushibo is used to all sorts of ladies. And your unwillingness to behave has him intrigued.

Of course he could just kill and eat you. But where's the fun in that?

He wants to know what makes you tick! It's all a game to upper two. For his own amusement.

Goes out of his way to trigger outbursts from you. Whether it be by breaking your personal space or whispering something into your ear of a not so clean variety.

You're annoying? Babygirl so is he. Match made in hell.

He may keep you for his entertainment, loving to egg you on.

It makes his day to day far less boring, after all.

Akaza

"Lord give me the strength to keep my vow."

Akaza likes to keep a calm facade, but he is quick to agitate. So how you bagged him? Beyond anyone.

Every day you test his internal moral compass of not even laying a finger on a woman because God does he want to throttle you.

Never has he wanted to actually harm or kill you but ohh the urge to smack you upside the head is there. His self restraint is otherworldly.

The two of you get into verbal arguments a lot about affection neither of your dumbasses can even hold hands without a "You touched me" "NUH UH" moment.

In the end, akaza does care for you. Hence staying with you but please. For his sake of not popping all of his blood vessels at once. Chill.

Gyutaro

Godspeed girl.

Gyutaro deals with his sister every waking moment of his life. So he thinks he's equipped to handle you just as well.

Haha. Wishful thinking on his part.

When you have your outbursts of yelling at him despite his coddling no longer is he playing the game of pacifying you.

He does love you in his own very, Gyutaro way. And has done his best to show it in a non fucked up demonic way.

You start yelling at him again? Fine by him. He's going to let you starve for all he cares. For a day or two. He won't let you die. But like hell he lets you leave when there are so many other more attractive men in yoshiwara.

His insecurities will get the better of him eventually and he'll snap back. Using all of yours against you until you're on the ground in front of him sobbing.

Ignore him all you want, he and Ume are going to be the only thing you know. Because you dug your own damn grave.

#demon slayer #douma x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #akaza x reader #demon slayer x reader #douma #gyutaro x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #akaza #kokushibo #kokushibo x reader #kny gyutaro #kny akaza #kny douma #kny x reader #kny kokushibo

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amalthea-fictions · 1 year

Note

hello! i am here to make a request :) could you write Rengoku x Fem!Reader where reader is a demon slayer that has to work as an oiran in red light district to spy on clients. Reader is selected for this job because she is the only one unmarried.

thank you xoxo

AH this is such a cute idea because Kyo is such a GENTLEMAN!

-----

Your fingers are calloused from all of your years as a Demon Slayer, so the scrubbing doesn’t bother you so much.

Your hands are red and knuckles white against the brush. Of course, you’ve been going back and forth across the same spot for over an hour now, so it’s already glittering– but the wall is thin between this room and the next. Perfectly conducive to eavesdropping. So, what’s a few hundred extra floor scrubbings if it means getting valuable info for the Corps?

“...aren’t as skilled as the ones in Yoshiwara.” The client is sighing.

You hear your manager scrambling. “Ah, that can’t possibly be true! Besides, Yoshiwara is dangerous!”

The client snorts.

You have to crane your neck with your ear against the shoji to hear your manager continue. “..’s true,” she says, hushed. “I’ve heard that attractive young men and women turn up missing all the time.”

That’s not the first the Corps has heard this rumor. What you’re interested in, is if it could be a–

“Pfft, ‘demons?’ You really think you can scare me into buying an oiran in this small town?”

You hear footsteps approaching your room from down the hallway. But you need to hear what your manager says next.

“If you want to risk your life, fine…” Her indignant snort is muffled through the wall.

The footsteps are closer. Tip, tip tip.

“..but don’t come crying back to me when the Red Light Princess eats you for dinner.”

“Red Light Princess.” That’s a new one. Perhaps some of the other slayers should investigate Yoshiwara.

Tip, tip, tip–

You’re able to jump back into a tabletop position just in time, huddled over your floorbrush as the Tayu steps into the room.

“Ah, there you are, [Y/N],” she smiles. You look up, pretending not to have noticed her entering. “Please, come with me.”

You bow your head politely and leave the brush on the bucket. The Tayu spins around and begins back down the hallway, and you follow.

“Is everything alright, madam?” You’ve quickly put back on the mask of a sweet, innocent courtesan.

The house Tayu doesn’t look up, but continues gliding forward with perfect posture. “It seems you have made quite the impression in town, already.”

Your stomach churns. You’ve only been here a week, but haven’t been called by clients. There’s no way you could have done anything to blow your cover yet, right?

“What do you mean, madam?”

She stops in her tracks to turn to you. Her smile is saccharine when she says, “You are being summoned by a client. He has asked for you by name.”

You must visibly blanch, because her gaze turns sympathetic.

“Ah, do not fear,” the Tayu chuckles. “This will be your first, no?”

The Tayu continues down the hall and gives you “friendly and helpful” reminders over how to entertain the client for the night. You’re not worried about pouring tea, or playing shamisen, or making intellectual conversation. You’re worried about the fact that, fundamentally, a client could ask for… other services.

Of course you understood this when you accepted the mission. It’s just, the plan was always to lay low, and not stand out, so that this possibility could be avoided.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, that somehow you miss the boisterous laugh echoing from the front of the house.

“That is him,” the Tayu says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Are you ready?”

You nod and smile. Thankfully, your years of demon-slaying have helped you school your emotions enough for your face to stay blank as you step out of the hallway.

Because there, surrounded by giggling women, with his arms folded, and a smile from ear to ear, is the flame hashira Kyojuro Rengoku.

The Tayu bows politely and hands you off. “[Y/N] will guide you to your room for the night, sir.”

“WONDERFUL!” Kyojuro shouts, earning another giggle from the crowd of women around him. “Thank you very much!”

You say nothing to Kyojuro as you lead him away from the entryway and into the house, but you can feel his owl-eyed stare boring into you the entire time.

Finally, when you’re in the guest’s quarters, you slide the door behind you and spin to him.

“Rengoku!” You hiss, and then bow. “I mean– It’s a pleasure to see you– but what’s wrong? Why are you here? I thought I was only supposed to communicate with the corps through crow?”

“NOT TO WORRY!” He booms, and you stare daggers at him. His eyes bulge. “Ahem. Not to worry!” he corrects, now in a whisper. “I am not here on official demon slayer business!”

You raise your eyebrow at the way he sets his pack of belongings on the floor. “Then… why are you here?”

“To be frank, I was worried about you!” Kyojuro offers you the biggest, sweetest smile. And suddenly your face goes red. And all of a sudden you’re acutely aware of how you’re dressed, all of the makeup plastered on your face, and the fact that you and him are alone in a pleasure room together.

You brush your hair away from your face, turning so that the flame hashira (hopefully) cannot see the blush flaring your cheeks. “I– I appreciate the sentiment, really. But there don’t seem to be any demons here? And even if there were, did you not think I could handle myself?”

“Quite the opposite!” He assures, catching himself before he grew too loud again. “If it were a demon, I would not be worried at all. But I was quite uncomfortable hearing that you were sent to work undercover as an oiran.”

“B-but–” you stutter over yourself. Kyojuro really came here just to make sure you were okay? Suddenly it’s way too hot in the dress you’re in. “Kyojuro, by being here, you could compromise my cover!”

He shakes his head vigorously. “Not to worry! I had the house women convinced I am but a simple patron who was enraptured by your beauty!”

Your throat works.

By all means, he shouldn’t be here. But sending him away now would make you even more suspicious. And yet, you can’t seem to convince yourself that you even want to send him away.

“Moreover,” he adds, and his tone has changed. When you turn up to see his gaze, his expression is solemn. “The thought of you being forced to participate in unseemly activities for the corps is deeply unsettling. I would not want you treated so indecently.”

Your brain has frozen.

Your… your duty is to stay and collect information for the Corps. So you should. Right?

Suddenly Kyojuro steps forward and places his hands on your shoulders. Your heart stops. It’s not until he gently guides you away from the wall that you realize you’ve glued yourself there the entire time.

“[Y/N],” he whispers. “Your honor is more important for me to protect than your cover.”

He slides his thumb across your cheek and you realize you’re crying. And now that you’re aware of the hot tears on your face, they seem to overflow.

You try speaking but it turns into a shaky hiccup for air.

“I am sorry you were selected for this mission.” His voice is soft and sincere.

You shake your head. “It’s– it’s alright.” You try and sound confident through the tears, but the truth is, this is the first time you’ve even thought about how you felt being on this mission.

Kyojuro chuckles. “It does not seem that way to me.”

He smiles at you, and he’s bright and safe and warm. You lean your forehead into his chest. He responds by wrapping his arms around you. His uniform and haori smell of smoke and ash– and it’s comforting, being cradled by his scent.

He holds you until you steady your breathing through the tears. Finally, he whispers into your hair: “Have you found enough information to leave yet?”

You shake your head. “Kyojuro, I’ve only been here a week–”

Your eyes widen as he presses his finger to your lips. “That is not what I asked, little flame.”

You sigh as he lowers his hand from your chin. “I… I have reason to believe there are demons in the Yoshiwara red-light district.”

He smiles, and you can practically see his eyes overflowing with pride. “See? I knew you would make quick work of this mission!”

You shake your head. “But, Kyojuro, that doesn’t mean I can just leave–”

“If I recall correctly,” he interrupts, and you feel his arms around your back pulling you closer. Your breath hitches as you’re pressed into him. “A client can request to marry a courtesan, correct? And, with the appropriate dowry, she is able to leave the house.”

You blink. “Are… are you proposing to me?!”

He laughs. “Not to worry! I would actually propose to you in a more beautiful place than this. This is a means to an end.”

You try to process the meaning behind his words. But, between the heat of his arms around your back and the way he’s smiling at you, you can’t seem to put together any logical thoughts right now.

“So, what if I ask the manager to marry you in the morning? Then, once we leave, I will treat you to a dinner! And we can report back to the demon slayer corps together.”

“I…” your heart won’t slow down. “I suppose that would work. But you’re sure–”

“Absolutely.” He smiles at you again, and cups your cheek. “Unless, the thought of being betrothed to me is that unbearable?”

You shake your head, perhaps more eagerly than you intended, because he laughs.

Then, he brushes hair behind your ear, and his fingers are gentle and tender. Every nerve in your body is on fire.

“Then,” he says, voice in a low whisper, “let’s get married, little flame.”

#rengoku kyojuro x reader #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x reader

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seneon · 1 year

Note

I'm so sorry i didn't know about this lmao >¬<

Can You please do a Abyss x reader oneshot ? (i don't know for an idea I'm really bad for idéa sorry T-T) but whatever You write i know it would be amazing <3

I really don't know what to say sorry ahah :')

featuring. abyss razor x fem! reader — oneshot.

genre. romance | fuedal japan! alternate universe.

synopsis. in which, abyss was sent on a mission to capture an infamous criminal but in reality, he saves her.

notes. 1.8k words | taken and edited from my oneshot book ANGELS in wattpad. this is originally a kamui (gintama) and rin oneshot. anyways, abyss is actually so pretty 😭😭

abyss razor roamed through the underground red light districts of yoshiwara — old tokyo, with the samurai lord he served under, abel walker.

they were oblivious to it, but women had their eyes on the fellow samurai.

the ladies whispered among themselves, wondering who these attractive young men were.

the samurai men had striking features, good height, their eyes, and overall, their serious demeanour. they wore fine clothing, showing everyone they work for the shogun, prominent and the best in their field.

a mission was what the two were on, in seacrh of a few criminals to murder. each samurai was given a different task, abel receiving the more brutal and heinous criminals and abyss receiving orders to search for intel.

but abyss never intended to search for intel upon stepping foot in this... all glorious district of endless entertainment.

it bore him to know that many samurai came here to have fun with women and drink their night away, immediately spotting a few rivals of his, drinking.

abyss' sole purpose of coming here was to find for a certain woman.

ah . . . a woman that held a great place in his organ called heart. never would abyss himself thought he would be looking forward in a search for her, a recently known villain.

"abyss, go west. i will search east. we return at six in the middle of four directions," abel said before vanishing in a flash, heading to the east for his mission.

the said male scanned the area and started to move his feet to collect as many information on you as he can.

there were oiran making their way to customers of prominence, dancers, sake, music and light all around the place. it was a place abyss wasn't very fond of, for he preferred silence and a time to solitary.

what he needed now was a change of clothes. citizens had their eyes on the samurai, growing weary of his idea of being in a red light district. so he went to the nearest shop to buy a cheap kimono to disguise himself.

abyss quickly picked up the clues that was given to him as a starter from the palace. now he has a lead, that you were a master in disguise, and there was a well-known brothel that recently recruited a skillful courtesan.

that brothel was the first place he went to as a normal customer looking for a service.

"greetings. may i ask for kitsuhime oiran?" he asked the receptionist, as the male shook his head.

"kitsuhime-sama is currently serving a customer, but our other courtesans are available for you, sir."

"it's alright. when will she be free? i'll pay you in gold for an audience with her."

the receptionist hesitated to answer the offer abyss gave him. it had not been the first time men had brought up gold for their best courtesan in their service.

"uh, she should be free in two days. if you could wait sir, we'll—"

"how does a hundred gold sound to you?"

"uhm... i'm not sure if that's how it works.."

"a hundred and fifty."

"sir.."

"excuse me, what is going on?" another male voice asked, standing beside abyss in hopes on lending a hand to the troubled.

the receptionist perked up in hope. "ah! haru-sama! this fellow customer wanted an audience with kitsuhime-sama, and he keeps raising the wage. i don't know what to do..."

the male whom the blue-haired male assumed was a high ranking staff in this brothel placed his fingers on his chin, thinking hardly. his dark red scanned from top to bottom, before letting out a sigh. "guess there's no choice. did you bring the goods?"

rin nodded, stashing a bag of gold onto the table. "when can i meet the courtesan?"

"right now. her schedule is empty, since her customer went out for a small errand," haru said as he quickly counted the gold. "one hundred fourty two, three... one fifty... deal. you have fifteen minutes at most. this way, sir."

the male with red eyes led abyss through the huge brothel and abyss wished he at least waxed his ears temporarily from the erotic sounds he kept hearing throughout the whole place.

he felt relieved when they ascended, the noises disappearing behind them. abyss believed they were heading to the highest and most off-limits floors, a high-class area.

haru stopped at the room right at the end of the floor, opening the door while stepping aside for the customer to head in. he walked in after abyss, shutting the door behind him.

abyss grew alert at the sound of the door shutting, his eyes looking around the room.

"kitsuhime-sama! you have an unexpected audience," haru said, abyss taking a glance behind to have his eyes widened in sheer shock.

he froze at the sight of haru slowly peeling himself off. only to reveal a completely different person underneath it.

abyss couldn't see who it was, for the male was peeling off the skin on his face. e/c eyes then flashed under the moonlight, fingers moving to remove the wig.

a chill ran down abyss' spine, like tiny spiders crawling down his skin. the moment it was revealed who was under it, he couldn't help but remembered old memories that seemed to get more prominent now that he sees a familiar face.

how long has it been since he saw that face? the same old smirk that he recognised since childhood, and the eyes that held so many dreams, only to be crushed right in front of him.

"care for a round of sake?" you asked, your smirk turning into a slight smile.

the razor was too stunned to speak at the sight of seeing you for the first time in all these years. you were a criminal now, working as a courtesan, and disguised as a man...?

everything was spinning around him. he didn't know what to do, so he simply nodded and sat down on the cushion laid out for customers and a courtesan to have a chat.

it was quiet, sentimental, as you carefully and gracefully poured japanese alcohol into both cups, handing one to abyss. he picked it up and drank it, still registering what had happened.

"why have you come here?" you asked, gaze on the samurai, "i thought you didn't like red light districts."

it was quiet again. you sipped on your alcohol, never taking your eyes off of the man you haven't seen for a long time.

he was as beautiful as you remember, a child connected to the moon in a way that it favours him. even if his eyes were eyepatched from a battle wound. abyss is even more beautiful now, his features chiseled and you could tell he had been doing some hard work.

"i'm on a mission. you are one of the shogun's targets."

"and you've became a shogun dog," you never let him finished. shutting your eyes while feeling the most ease, you sighed.

abyss felt his eyes twitched at your answer, but he kept his cool and set down the sake cup. "i became one to receive top notch training. to find you, and follow you until the ends of the earth."

it was your turn to be caught off-guard. it seems like he hadn't forget about the promise they made during childhood after all.

"as courtesan, may i have my valued customer's name?" you asked, wanting to hear him said it himself.

"abyss razor."

it ringed around your ears, inside your mind and down to the core of your memories. you knew who he was, yet hearing him said it himself was . . . different.

abyss!

a little girl, no more than the age of nine would call out for the boy who was staring at the black heavens that was filled with twinkling little life.

she would twirl around and capture abyss into a deadly hug, releasing to then plop herself beside him. wherein little abyss would be flushed red and continue his stargazing.

"hey abyss, when you grow up, what do you want to do or be?" she asked, and the little razor would soon fell deep into his thoughts.

"hmm... i want to be like abel-san! i want to be a cool man who's going to be a samurai and protect everyone i love. like mom and dad, abel-san... and you!" he gave her a goofy smile. "you?"

it was little y/n's turn to think for a while. and when she found the perfect answer, she returned the same childish grin he gave her. "i'll go with you anywhere!!"

lies.

she was taken away months after those words came out. oh how abyss fell into ultimate despair seeing her getting taken away by the shogun's officials. her eyes only held the look of fear, tears running down her cheeks.

"i'll be a strong samurai and protect you! then i'll follow you wherever you go! i promise, y/n!" abyss could only shout his little throat out, his older friend, abel, holding him back from any more harm the officials might inflict.

abyss couldn't defeat the people that took away his only friend. he was simply too weak, a mere child with the brightest dreams.

who knew the person he looked up to the most would also leave him to volunteer in a recruitment for new generation samurai?

everything was ruined, so much that abyss' mind became twisted and he too, would soon join the next recruitment to search for you. only to find that you are now a criminal.

your eyes stared at the table contents of a tea set. throat becoming dryer and dryer as seconds passed by. "i'm a murderer now. what are you going to do?" it turned intense and heavy around the atmosphere.

".. i don't care. you simply killed the men that tried assaulting you back in the palace right? that is nothing," he said coolly, pouring for the both of you another drink. "i plan to retire to make the shogun mad anyways."

"so, will you come with me?"

you chuckled at his words. things had certainly changed, abyss too, for he had grown way more mature than you are compared to your childhood days.

it all felt so nostalgic, to be speaking to the razor the same as you both did back then.

"i will."

a smile unconsciously crawled up to abyss' lips, portraying a beauty you hadn't seen in forever. such a work of art, indeed.

if the woman sitting in front of him knew what he was thinking about, you were definitely, most certainly the y/n that abyss was looking for.

there was no mistaking it. you were the light to his darkness. and even if you committed a crime or two, it was all for abyss and a promise.

you elegantly stood up, a habit picked up from the brothel owner that brought you in to keep your disguise.

"but first. i just want you to know this place is a disguise itself. everyone here has committed a crime before, even customers. it's my home."

"sounds like a you thing to do. now then, shall we abandon everything and head for a run? i don't want to be seen as a samurai any longer ," he stood up, holding a hand out.

you immediately accepted it with a smile, "we shall, abyss."

"perfect."

istg if anyone talks or mentions about raiden shogun or whoever tf she is, i will literally send you paragraphs to educate you that shogun doesn't only exist in genshin impact and it's actually history in japan 💀

#🎥 senreqs #mashle #mashle x reader #abyss #abyss razor #abyss x reader #abyss razor x reader #mashle hcs #abel walker #mashle abyss

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my2dhusband · 8 months

Text

The men of Yoshiwara: Oghiya - Guia rota Utsusemi

Guia rota Utsusemi - The men of Yoshiwara: Oghiya.

As respostas estão em inglês porque no jogo estará em inglês, assim ficará mais fácil você acertar a resposta. Final super feliz: Chapter 1 “Ask about Utsusemi’s preferences.” “Yes, I thought I’d visit you tonight.” Chapter 2 “You’re easy to talk to.” “It was amazing.” Chapter 3 “…Yes.” “Why he learned horseback archery.” Chapter 4 “He’s just like an acquaintance.” “…It’s…

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#RomanceVirtual #Guia #Guia de rotas #jogoderomancevisual #jogos #jogos de romance #otome games #Otomegame #The men of Yoshiwara: Oghiya #visual novel

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seekers-who-are-lovers · 10 months

Text

Gennai Hiraga.

Of all the name-droppings the series has been doing, so far they do it exceptionally well when it comes to Japanese folklore and historical personages.

Hiraga was a real person. Now, what’s so interesting about him is that not only he came from a low-ranking samurai family during the Edo Period, he was also a polymath, a rōnin (wandering samurai) a doctor, a pharmacologist, an inventor. Most of all, he was purported to be a homosexual. He frequented the brothels that showcased male prostitutes.

Hiraga (1726-1779) was a prominent Rangakusha (scholar of "Dutch"-i.e., European-learning) and botanist who conducted experiments with asbestos and electricity. He was also one of the most popular writers of the late Tokugawa period and a regular patron of the male brothels referred to as kodomo-ya. His friend, the leading scholar Ota Nanpo, recorded that "when [Gennai] had money, he hurried to spend it in Yoshicho on the pleasure-boys. There he would spend days at a time, and that is why he glorified nanshoku in Nenashigusa.

He was also a writer, a satirist to be exact. He also wrote guidebooks on the male prostitution in Japan.

Those who like female prostitutes dislike youths; those who like youths revile female prostitutes. — Hiraga Gennai, “San no asa” (1768)

…

Gennai himself, according to Ota Nanpo, often visited Yoshicho and the "southern wards" of Edo, with their nanshoku teahouses, but never went to Yoshiwara, with its female prostitutes. His biographers claim the scholar was not simply a shudo-zuki but an onna-girai, or "woman-hater."' Men identified as such, like similar characters in Ming-Qing or even in English Augustan literature, find any contact with the female sex revolting.

…

For the benefit of such culturally deprived men, Gennai lightheartedly describes the nanshoku-jaya experience, including its thrills and frustrations: “Stroking his patron's arm, [a male prostitute] will strike a dreamlike pose, as though he is himself reaching heights of ecstasy. He'll make endless, capricious vows,i and address you with the most intimate names. [Tears] will appear about the eyes on his dazzled face. Aara, that's strange! Is this some apparition? A group [sent from] his manager!k Yai! Those of you who love sweets might find this amusing. But don't laugh. It'd be the gravest mistake not to eat up all those crumbs. You might start taking a liking to wine!”

One of his works dealt with farting and a story about a Kappa “that tries to seduce the actor and then attempts to drown them, in order to complete their task. In the end the Kappa ends up falling for the young actor and instead brings back a less attractive Onnagata as a consolation prize.”

Kappa is a type of a water sprite in Japanese folklore.

Mischievous by nature, they loudly pass gas in public and love to peek up women’s kimonos. Sometimes their mischief turns violent. Kappa have been known to kidnap or rape swimming women, and kill people. A kappa’s preferred method of attack is to drown its victims, or bite them to death under water. Kappa also devour humans alive. Usually they go for the rear end to get at the shirikodama, a mythical ball of flesh located just inside the anus.

Anyway, Gennai Hiraga is indeed an interesting person. The episode tied him up nicely emphasising his Jack of all trades-esque personality.

Source: “Male Colors: The Construction of Homosexuality in Tokugawa Japan,” Gary P. Leupp

#undead girl murder farce #undead murder farce #aya rindo #tsugaru shinuchi #shizuku hasei #episode 9 #werewolves #gennai hiraga #ugmf spoilers

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maladaptivedaydreamsx · 9 months

Text

there's a switch sale going on rn and a bunch of otome games were under $10 atm 👁️👁️✨

i had some coins aka discounts so i threw em at 3 titles, the rest are just demos lol,, but i heard they're decent so..wml?

#aerin.jpg #personal(?)#switch otoges #switch otomes #the men of yoshiwara #the amazing shinsengumi #tldr i just wanted a lil side piece #praying switch vers isn't hitting censored from the stream one lol;;;#my post 📫

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pieroulette · 1 year

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「 AS THE RED SUN BLOOMS 」

赤い太陽が咲くように

PART 1 of CHAPTER 1: 炎 (Flame)

"I want to read, I want to write."

2023 | 18+ | SERIES | NISHIMURA RIKI (X READER) × MASTERLIST

GENRE coming-of-age, historical romance, 18th century Japan/Edo period, slow burn romance, drama, angst, graphic violence, family, reader isn't a Japanese in this story.

WARNING FOR (CHAPTER 1) : prostitution (red light district), graphic violence, profanity, self harm.

WC 5k

📖 bold dialogues means characters are speaking in Japanese.

「 2003 MARCH 」

A hand lifted up in a swaying motion, gesturing for a certain someone to come over. "Little girl, it's your turn. Come here."

"Ah, right." a child stood up on her tiny feet.

Scorching sun rays flew over the window, blending its golden hues along the wooden floor, dust particles visibly swaying under the rays as the young girl’s form walks across it, the edges of her shadow breathing life below the floor as she did so.

"So, Lia. Who's your role model and why do you want to be like them?" the teacher asked with a hint of enthusiasm in her voice.

Hesitance evident on the young girl's expression as her eyes darted over to the children before her. The cherry pink curtain flows along the gentle breeze, blowing against everyone's hair.

The young girl, slightly abashed—spoke in a voice like a whisper. "My role model.. is Grandma."

"Oh, that's great. Then would you like to tell us what you admire about your grandma?"

"She is awesome." the girl exclaimed, "She's not perfect but.. that's what I like about her."

"What is her profession then? What did she do when she was young?

"S-she's a.." The girl looked down, "A prostitute." What she said were met with gasps and murmurs, especially from the children themselves still unsure of the fact but had shock splattered on their features.

“L-Lia-”

“But she’s a woman before she was that, and it’s not like she wanted to do it either." The young girl took a deep breath, eyebrows furrowing. "So please do not ignore what she had achieved her entire life just because that was her job back then!”

「 Yoshiwara District - 1803 [ Edo Period ] 」

The sun had returned to its home, darkness crawled back and the lanterns were lit up. The day had just begun, for when other people had gone back to sleep after a long day's work. In this place, however, night was the day for this entertainment district.

Lit up lanterns akin to blazing flames, every alleyway and street was busting with drums, surging screams of the performers of the festival, the flashy attires of the yuujyo around the town swaying their delicate hands to lure in men to their residence, and the still and silent moonlight above the sky being concealed by the passing coal-like clouds.

"Bring me the finest lady you ever had here!" the deep voice of a man in a kimono exclaimed amidst the joyous atmosphere in the main quarters.

A high pitched voice of a woman answers back, clearly delighted by the man's call for attention.

"Ah, milord! Which lady would you like for us to bring you for your prosperous day today? I couldn't be any happier to serve you." red lips and flamboyant jewelries adorned the woman's hair, a smile so bright yet so cunning.

With his chin resting on his palms, a lazy look presented on his scarred feature, his other hand raises an index finger gesturing towards the girl from the farthest corner of the room, standing still and obedient; you.

"That young lady, how much is she worth?"

"Aaah! Our (Name)-" She looks at you elated as ever, gesturing for you to come forward, "She has reached 18 this year, if you want, you could get her for a cheaper price. A special kind of breed we had trained specially for you, milord. Yet, I have to inform you that our dear (Name) is unable to speak our language, dear master."

"Why so? Hasn't she stayed here?"

A smirk blown past the woman's lips after tucking your hair locks behind your ear, revealing your features to the man before you.

"For taming purposes, my lord. A lady of her worth should be able to obey without any difficulties.” the lady suppressed a giggle with an index finger against her red lips, “A yes, a hush with a finger, come here, go there, do this, do that—such simple commands with the help of your finger have no need for her to speak, she must only obey. Likewise, her serving you would be a better way for her to use her mouth in a better use." The woman eventually lets out a dark giggle, brushing her red tinted lips with her dainty finger much to the man's amusement. "Use her as you wish, milord. Should she escape from your hands, no need to break a sweat for no one would help her and she, too, could never utter a word to anyone to understand her."

“She’s perfect to be your one and only doll, milord.” one of your mates came, swaying her hips and hand as she said so.

"Haha, perfect!" the man threw his bag of silver coins on the floor, the zegen visibly elated.

Another day, another daily occurrence for your so-called lavish life. One more step closer to being an oiran, one more step closer to living the richest life, one more step closer to something you seem not to care enough about.

Throwing off your self dignity like a piece of fabric, akin to that laying on the tatami mat. Hair ornaments engraved with priceless gems as it dangled off your hair, red tinted lips smudged over your powdered cheeks after hours of preparation just for another bag of silver coins thrown beside you.

In the Yoshiwara district, the prostitutes found within it would consist of yujo (woman of pleasure); the district’s rank and file prostitutes. Girls and women are scouted all over Japan to yuukaku—people who scout them are called zegen, they’re the ones who will pick you. Scouting is what they called it, yet it was basically human trafficking. But to the women themselves, it was the only way of living.

Kamuro were the little girls aged around ten that served the oirans, they did everyday chores for her and accompanied her. Shinzou were the ones older than kamuro, and they were trainees for yuujyo, however there are four types of shinzou:

Bandou shinzou (番頭新造) were girls that were not too attractive to become a yuujyo, or yuujyo that are too old, they took care of the oiran.

Furisode shinzou (振袖新造) were yuujyo trainees around the age of 15-16. They did not take customers. Furisode shinzou became oiran in the future.

Tomesode shinzou (留袖新造) were the same age of the furisode shinzou, but did not had the future of becoming a high grade yujyo. They took customers.

Lastly, taiko shinzou (太鼓新造) were yuujyo that didn't have many customers, but were very good at entertaining customers with their talents. They were the type that showed their talent at banquets.

Oiran (花魁) is the highest-ranking courtesans who were considered to be above common yuujyo who were regular prostitutes sitting in the harimise of Yoshiwara—sitting behind bars in a shop-window like arrangement. Oiran typically only entertained the upper classes of society, gaining the nickname keisei 'castle toppler' for their perceived ability to steal the hearts and match the wits of upper-class men; they're known for their more refined entertainment skills and training in the traditional arts.

Young girls that would become oiran would be educated from when they were kamuro. The lessons consisted of calligraphy, tea ceremonies, tanka poetry, igo, koto and shamisen. To become an oiran, you’d have to go through all the process to becoming a kamuro, furisode shinzou, and finally an oiran.

Currently, you are a furisode shinzou, in training to become an oiran in the future. Well, at least that’s what they made it seem like to you before.

The golden sun from the painted white sky glowed so much brighter today for no reason, the rays hitting your empty soulless orbs as you looked up to it. Droplets of gentle white powder, almost like fairy dust came instead of wet droplets, signifying the month of winter is about to come soon—completing the whole cycle of one year.

“Cold.” you breathe out, and what followed suit was a huge puff of air.

An oiran should be cultured and educated, as you were taught before but now—your situation is nothing close to what they claimed you to be.

Heck, you don’t even know their language. As far as you remember, it hadn't always been like this before. So what changed?

You sighed, you had your pieces of language clumped together in the back of your mind—still holding strong from the early years of your childhood. Since then, you've concluded that you're no part of this nation. The lingering memories in you only consist of someone, two people giving you away with tears in their eyes.

Probably your parents, yet you don't even care at this point as to what happened. For what he sowed back then was what you reaped now. A pathetic flower that blooms for the sake of men's pleasure, petals of yours only waiting in silence before all of it are scattered away, all for nothing.

Crackles of orange blades rising up the air, glowing particles swaying around along with the oiran's fabric as she straightened her posture. With a tight grip of your kimono, helding up to your shoulder, you look out from the window to the oiran on the street, going on her slow yet graceful journey to the man who had chosen her as his precious wife. The crowd observed her in awe, some with indifference, some with no absolute care.

Your initial memories in the yūkaku district consists of vague memories of your pitiful parents on their knees, begging for the head to take you in—for they can no longer raise you on their own. They’ve sold you for their own benefit, but you’ve thanked them solely for it, for at least you had a comfortable life now.

“Those eyes, I like those eyes. Fine, I’ll take her and raise her to become an oiran.” The zegen hummed, “But from now on, you’re not allowed to see her ever again.”

Of course, you didn’t understand the zegen's words—it was what you remember your parents told you before leaving you onto the zegen’s hands.

An oiran only serves the higher upper class men, and before that, a furisode shinzou are not expected to take customers. So why..?

"What is this, such a beautiful sweet!"

"Right? It looks just like sakura."

"I heard the Nishimura family is starting to grow in fame because of the delicate sweets they made, and the competition to make sweets for the royal family is growing closer. I'm definitely sure they could win!"

High pitched voices from afar, you couldn't understand a thing of the ladies' conversation, making you look like a turtle isolated in your dark shell.

Yet, somehow, the simplicity of this well made sweet in the form of sakura kind of soothes your heart. The pattern has intricate, careful, pushed in curves that resembles a sakura.

One of the kamuro delivered before your quarters, placing it on your table before going off.

You wonder how it tastes, and so you pick the sweet up between the edges of your fingers and place it onto the tip of your tongue. It's bitterness spike your tongue almost immediately as it touched it, making your eye crinkled and your eyebrows furrowed and yet suddenly the sweetness hits you like a waves of the sea washing over your body on the shore—and the sakuras fleeting away from where they once belong, landing on your form instead.

It tastes so sweet. Like the bitterness of the sun setting away from the glory of the sky, only for you to be hit by the epiphany that it will soon rise tomorrow again—akin to the sweetness.

Somehow, somehow, it felt different—you clutched your chest from where your heart let out a tiny rampant of thuds.

Your dark orbs look down to see the folded paper on the wooden platter and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the eccentric look of it. So you leaned forward, picking it and just as you suspected, it wasn’t a paper used for sweets, almost as if it was a paper used for calligraphy.

Words on paper. Your eyes widened instantly at the realisation.

Fear.

You hesitated for a moment, the fear of being caught shook your core as the sliding door was left slightly open. Slightly enough to see what you are about to do before you can hide away.

But you couldn't resist the curiosity as you eventually flipped open the paper and all you saw was calligraphy; a kanji. You knew what it was, yet obviously you don't know what it means and that's what gives you a mild aching in your heart. That's it.

You don't know what it means. Something you've known better at this age. Something you could read if someone had taught you how to, something you could write if you were given the chance to pick up the brush.

Yet, just how far would it take before they could give you the chance?

It has been awhile.

Approaching footsteps immediately alerted you into hiding away the paper inside your kimono, the sliding door flew open revealing one of the furisode shinzou. She motions her finger inwards, gesturing to you for something you know very well what it was before going off.

You hid the folded paper under the tatami mats, biting your lip at the uneasiness of what weight it would put you once they found out what you were doing. Paper, paint brush, books, talking; nothing was allowed in front of you unless customers were present. But even then, it's not like you'd had a minute to do so.

The sliding door slid open, and you lowered your head, submissive and obedient as you always did.

Piercing orbs observing the enclosed window with bars below the ground, his ears submerged in the murmurs and drum-like voices of the crowd around him, yet that one odd sight before him had his mind in the stillness of a ghost-quiet sea.

“Riki-san, it’s time to return. Just what are you still looking up there?” the middle-aged servant sighs as if he can’t wait to go home.

No answer was returned.

This time, the servant approached him and gently tapped his back before smacking his head much to the young boy’s hiss in pain.

“Riki-san, if you are thinking of meeting one then it’s better for you to scrap the idea. You’re still a child.”

“That’s not what I was thinking!” the boy rubbed the spot on his head, “Seriously, stop hitting me like that.”

“The lord has given me permission to do so.” The servant nonchalantly said, before turning to look at the boy with his hand raised up blending with his comical expression. “For training purposes.”

“That’s certified abuse.” Riki muttered, pouting. “But are we going to return here again?”

“For sure, the royal competition would last for 12 months till next winter. Till then, we’ll have to visit the entire nation-”

“The entire nation?! A year?!” Riki gasped. “What are we? A madman? On a mission? I thought this was just a one-time thing! You scammed me!” the boy raised his clenched fist.

“That was the qualifications needed for the competition, milord. Voting papers are to be distributed after tasting the sweets made by all our competitors including us.” says the servant as he organises the leftover sweets, “Plus, you wouldn’t come to help us if we said so.”

What met the servant’s words was a full blown groan, “I can’t believe this!”

“The sun is about to set, save your rage first for the lady has made your favourite food-”

“Wait, really?!” the young boy exclaimed before chasing after the stall, “Wait for me goddamnit! But seriously, a year? Most competitions we had only lasted for a week or a month!”

Sixth day of the week, another wagashi was presented and it was in the form of red sphere, resembling of that a sun in the midst of winter blaze.

You took a bite, and just like that, it was tasty just like you had thought. Just like the previous week, you found the folded paper under the wagashi having another written calligraphy in it—another letter you couldn't understand what it meant even if you tried to.

Days went on, and the anticipated day of the week came, and another one came and so did the piled up strips under your tatami mats.

Just what is written in these papers, and why only you had it?

It was the season of festival, judging by the flowing fabrics outside the town and the joyous voices of the crowd from afar. It has nearly been a month. First month of the year. Four weeks. Four letters. Writings you couldn’t understand. Feeding the curiosity in your heart of what it meant, along with the growing taste of the wagashi on the tip of your tongue.

However, after that, it stopped coming one day. Only the wagashi came, but the paper was empty—it was a normal type of paper typically used for sweets.

Now that you realise, the sweets and the letter were what gave you happiness for a while.

No more sweets to bring delicacy to the sixth day of the week you’ve had been wholeheartedly anticipating for a month.

Until you've been caught by one of the furisode shinzou, you don’t know she found out but you suspected that she must’ve been infiltrating your quarters and found the folded papers under the tatami mat. That was the only thing you can think of. Thinking of it, had you just jumped out from the window and had yourself killed by cracking your head open—came her annoying screams you’ve heard plenty of times since an hour ago, roaring words you couldn’t have understood much adding to her rage.

“Hiding a paper?! Words even?!” She screamed, veins popping out from her neck. “What?! You’re hiding things from us, what now.. Stop pretending! I know you can understand us!”

“Fuck! I couldn’t hurt you no matter how I wanted to! Hit you even, rip your skin even, not a thing I could do to quench my rage because if even an ounce of your skin getting one fucking tiny scratch, you wouldn’t be any use of us anymore! You’re horrendously lucky that the lord had taken an interest in you, or else I would’ve broken your legs apart and ripped your face to shreds, you slut!”

You wish that the zegen had just beaten you alive due to the fact that you were longing for something to keep you alive, something different, something that wasn’t a man’s touch.

She tugged your jaw with her long manicured fingers, adorned with heavy thick gems. “Those eyes of yours, I very much loathe it now. You probably wouldn’t understand what I said, but.. A better punishment would suit you.”

Submerged in the sea of pitch darkness with your hands bounded in tight fitted rope—the zegen had your eyes wrapped in a white cloth, forbidding you from seeing anything. You didn’t understand how this was counted as punishment but didn’t question, heck you couldn’t even question if you wanted to.

Here you are, in the midst of the crumpled quarters—dust particles floating on the air as the windows were smothered with papers and stuff. The only light source hitting the edges of your face was peeking from those window’s hole that weren’t entirely covered. On the other hand, no more wagashi was given for you to eat. Tatami mats were ripped apart in your room, leaving it cold and hard.

You lose track of time, of when was the last time since you were allowed out of your quarters—you assumed that the zegen could’ve done this to dampen any fighting spirit in you. Yet, that wasn't it.

All of the papers were ripped or burned before you, and no more was left, or so that's what they thought—for you still had one piece left.

However those papers that were destroyed before your very eyes brought an immense pang on your heart, you had wish you could've known what was written on that paper, who wrote it, and why they wrote it.

You breathe out a long sigh, throwing your head against the wall—the cold air puffed right into your nose only to fly back on to the air, forming a rather solemn form.

"I want to read." you let out a low voice in the silence of the room—you were never given a chance to talk either, so this was your first. "I want to write."

"I want to know what it means." another sentence, a little broken in this one. "I want to know what is the meaning, what is the meaning of living." glistening drops streamed down from the edge of the blindfold.

"What's the point of living?" you kept muttering to yourself, "I want to go outside."

With nothing but hours of darkness for the entire winter, you began to imagine yourself out in the woods, in the mountains, in the frozen lake where you could spread your arms to receive the fairy dust-like snow.

The bamboos you've often saw on the painting hanging on the end of the hallway, they were muted green akin to the swaying blades on the vast field—but you would like to imagine them on the spectrum of cherry-red instead.

And the winter snow fluttering down from the sky with pure grace and elegance.

You would like to imagine that someone could move with grace akin to the gleaming beauty of the snow and it's gentle motion.

If such person exist, you could watch them all day all night for as long as you can breathe.

A set of claps emitted as soon as the door slid open behind you, enthusiasm laced in the zegen’s voice as she approached you and caressed your hair like a mother would. “What a joyous day, indeed! The lord is here again, asking for your service.”

“Ladies, come inside.”

They put you in a warm bath, wiping off your worn out skin. You realise what it meant again as the silk kimono enveloped your body, dread washed over your body as they did so—pulling your hair up, braiding it and turning it over your head and then sticking multiple golden hair pins around on the back of your head, hair ornaments were then placed on the top of your bangs, and finally a pair of gems hanging down from your ears. The kamuro damped white powder on your face, applying numerous makeover and the final step was lapping your lips on a red tinted paper.

You observed yourself before the yellow tainted mirror, not a hint of anything but a hollow, hollow sinkhole.

“Oiran, you look absolutely beautiful!!” the two young kamuro both exclaimed before you, happiness and sincerity evident in their innocent faces, those that you were sure you didn’t see recently before you were taken into punishment.

New young kamuros' on stewed cherry kimono, floral patterned obis enveloping their small frame, wisterias hanging down to the right side of their head—who will be train and whose lives, status, dignity will be determined by how beautiful, skilled, talented, smart, and how in demanded they are.

The children were the only one innocence left in this place before they soon scattered away just like the remaining lives residing in here.

Oiran? You? What a joke.

Beautiful…? How you came to understand that one word, you don’t even know. Only a vague face appeared before the misty fog surrounding your mind.

The beaming sun hangs under the white hues of the sky, reflecting against your worn out skin despite all the white powder they damped on your cheeks. So you weren’t entirely sure what the kamuro found so beautiful in you. Was it the kimono you wore? Was it the flashy hair ornaments on your hair? Was it the red tinted lips?

You don’t know. You gestured for the two young kamuro to come closer and they happily obliged, their knees parting sideways, actions giddily and adorable. You took their hands on your palms, caressing it in order to show your gratitude to them, running your fingers along their hair and patting it gently.

The brightness on their face never ceases.

“Oiran, I heard that you can’t understand what we say.” The other child kamuro spoke from behind you, raising your eyebrow—you just gave her a small smile.

The kamuro moved her lips in a pouty kind of way, pulled something inside her kimono—and the sight made your breath hitched; a paper and a thin long piece of charcoal.

The child raises a finger to her lips, gesturing to you to stay silent. She drew something on it. She drew, not wrote. The coal on her small fingers drew against the crumpled paper.

A woman with a big bright smile on her face, her form enveloped in cherry red kimono, the scorching crimson sun hanging on the sky. Behind her, was a wooden house with curvy roof and a field of green blades spread across the horizon. On the other side, bamboos were in a bizarre color and it was snowing.

She raised it before you, her teeth showing from her pulled up lips, repeating the one word. “Oiran! Oiran! This is oiran!”

You blinked twice, only to see that drawing truly had the limits of what can a child do—however why did you see such a vivid vision that grew utterly alive in motion?

"Jeez, why is it so hot today? It's freaking snowing outside!" groaning in utter mess, a middle aged man frantically swayed the hand fan in his hand to his face, trying to get off the heat.

"I know right, I've been sweating like hell since a few hours ago!" another man replied.

"Get some ice tea then." a lady in muted purple floral patterned kimono, serves two cups of tea on the table, ice cube swirling inside the liquid.

The red sun rises high above the sky, blending with the bluish hues and golden veins of clouds fleeting away slowly and slowly with no destination to go to. Muted bamboos toppling over the mountains, ghost-quiet lake with its waters burbling against the tiny rocks, branches hanging low parallel to the rocky ground, some cracks open once the wooden old wheels crossed over it and the dusted boots of an old man sang to the core of his heart to appease the sky’s outcry of white blanket consuming the entire town.

You stepped inside the lord’s quarter, where he waited in silence as he drank from his wine bottle—a scene that is all well too familiar.

Oirans, blurry and vague memories emerged from the back of your mind presented you with the fact that three times of meeting are required before they are to form any intimate relation with the lord and even more so, an oiran chose her customers—not the other way around.

The lord rested his cheeks on his palms, gesturing for you to come forward with the sway of his fingers.

"Come here."

You obliged, head lowered to the point your eyes were fixated on the tatami mat. Such thing was necessary for you to do when the zegen wrapped her hand on the back of your neck, pushing your head down the first time you met the lord back then.

A reminder that you have to be obedient and know your place.

"Raise your eyes, sweetheart." The lord lifted your chin with his fingers, and by that gesture alone, you raise your eyes only for you it to fell on something familiar, that one thing placed on the table.

Your eyes widened at the sight of it, the wagashi on the wooden platter in the form of red sphere—the resemblance of the rising sun.

The imaginary space it submerged you in when you tasted it on the tip of your tongue, the seemingly normal paper under the wagashi that turns out to be letters—those that you were unable to understand yet were dying to do so.

The blazing vivid vision you had when you had your eyes submerged in darkness, and the kamuro's drawing that breathe life in it. All of it.. tastes—

Freedom.

"Huh, seems like your eyes had grown somewhat feisty in it? A flame, huh?" He playfully slapped your cheek, as usual.

He tugged down your kimono, but before he could do so, you dug your nails on his knuckles.

You opened your mouth for the first time, submerged within your soul’s outcry for help. "Right.. I want to live. That's why."

"Huh, what?"

A gut wrenching scream echoes around the district, and what met their eyes when they slid the door open was you holding the tip of the hairpin against the man’s neck, who was now caged inside your frail arms.

Set of screams surged through the entire hallway.

“You- You can’t do that! You can’t do that!”

“Fuck! She won’t understand what we’re saying!”

“Say something!”

“Darling, hush.” The lady brushes her fingers, spreading and extending her visibly shaken arms—desperation evident on her contorted features for you to come forward, shaking her head slowly, sweat trickling down her powdered cheek and forehead, “That’s n-not right.. Darling!”

You were a bit amused by the unusual expressions contorted on her features, she couldn’t have expected this, didn’t she?

A foreboding silence ensues, holding a magnificent pressure down everyone’s head.

A courtesan, no, any person who ever dares to lay a hand on any members of the upper-class are bound to have their neck and head snapped into two, and not only the perpetrator itself would receive the punishment—those who stood behind them—whether family or friends—whether they join during the act or were just a mere bystander, or by even not knowing a single thing of it—all are bound to drop in the bucket of crabs, the blades pulling each other down and not a single life would be spared.

"That's what you d-deserved.” you stuttered as your grip on your hairpin tightened to its core, the vague vision of everyone standing before you, contorted expressions holding evident fear of what was about to come. “But you’re so lucky..”

You pushed your arm upwards, launching the blade and scarred your left cheek almost instantly before anyone could stop you. Your body shook in utter hysteria—falling on the tatami mat in a loud thud, screaming in pain. Following suit were high pitched screams in unison after they realised what you did.

“Y-YOUR FACE- WHY DID YOU RUIN YOUR FACE?!”

Trickles of blood sipped out from your left cheek, instantly consuming your hand and arms in full blown red, staining the tatami mats. You shook in immense pain, clutching your left cheek and rattling on the ground before pushing past the gathered crowd and through the lit up hallway.

But it didn't last long as you were unfortunately caught by the zegen's men in the main quarters, throwing your helpless form back into the dungeon.

“She ruined her face! Now what is her use for us if no man will ever lay their eyes on her disgusting wretched face ever again!" the lady, visibly rage—to the point she set your fingers on flame, leaving severe burn marks on them.

She paused after a second of thought, eyes ogling back at you. "Don't tell me that was your real purpose?! You wanted to leave this place, aren't you? Huh?!

“Okay then, run! Run if you will! I'll grant your wishes! However let’s see how far you could survive in this nation with nothing under your belt, you fool! You couldn't even understand me! No man, no one, do you think a mere woman like you could survive on your own?!” the zegen screamed at you, stomping on your sides.

"I wasted all of my efforts on you! At the end of the day, your ashes will return to the shrine where lowly prostitutes like you are thrown into! But it seems like, you won't even have the privilege for that, brat."

This is the price you had to pay for the freedom you've wanted.

Your left cheek burning in immense pain due to the deep cut of the blade, and the blood burning in flames as it seeps out from your right hand—the once delicate skin now distorted into into bare flesh.

You didn't look back, you kept sprinting to the town street looking for the lit up lanterns gleaming towards the wet brick ground. The folded paper now crumpled in your fists, biting your tongue and licking your dried chapped lips, your crimson silk kimono the only layer hugging you from the freezing snowstorm, your intricate hairstyle now in utter mess and the golden hair ornaments had either been scattered through the entire street.

Your knees had given up by this point, as the bare flesh of your disfigured hands fell on the ground.

"H-help me.." your lips hang apart, your slanted wound cheek—blood seeping out from the previously dried ones stung upon doing so and the cold air hitting the tip of your tongue as you try to form out one more word. “Please.”

Ah, so that was it.

Now that the vague face turns clear and bright after the mist in your mind dissipates, you remembered that you used to have someone with you; a young girl who was around your age, just a bit older, a bit more mature. Both of you spoke the same language, yet she was a lot smarter and has even mastered the language this nation spoke. Just like you, she was set to train as an oiran for her future. She was assigned to be your older sister, to train you how to play instruments, how to please men, how to speak their language and so on—and she did.

You were so close to being so good at their language, yet one day—you observed her growing into madness in her quarters, mumbling phrases you haven’t mastered yet, but ones you were sure hold spite in them judging the way her features contorted.

That day was also the day she decided to release you from the brothel, letting you escape on your own, far far away from the city and to the countryside. It was a rule she herself knew she shouldn't have broken. That was also the day, you’ve been caught back and thrown back into the same old familiar quarter. The only difference was she wasn’t there, and the lessons you often receive were never given to you back again. It was as if they had a change of mind.

It was as if they didn’t treat you like a slave anymore.

High above, in the clouds, birds fly so high till they burn their feathers and fly across the blazing rays—signifying the return of the scorching orbs high above the horizon accompanied with the touch of droplets on your burned hands reaching out for help.

"I still want to know.. what those letters mean."

Intangible syllables rattled through your ear drums, melodic hymns bounce off the snow-stained walls—pit pattering scatters amidst the man-made song.

Your blood-stained fingers tried to reach out for the vague song from afar, the silhouette with the rising sun glowing behind it.

A food stall strolled over at a steady pace across the street as the white blanket of snow covered the entire area.

“Huh.. am I seeing this right?..” the person rubbed their hands filled with calluses on their eyes—slowly narrowing to the spot of where you are, "There's a person over there!"

#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #nishimura niki #enha niki #enhypen niki #niki x reader #niki scenarios #「talesofyuan」 fics #as the red sun blooms

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xleon-hayashix · 2 months

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𝕿𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 ⌞𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚛⌝

https://www.wattpad.com/story/367365778

The echoes of voices roared through the walls of the house, customers chatting with the girls trying to get their attention, the smell of alcohol wrecked out of every attendant in the facility and it was nauseating. The moon atop of the sky signified that the night was still young and full of life, the lights of yoshiwara made it seem like the day reigned over the district.

The smell of sin and lust was like a perfume to everyone who visited the house, looking to spend time with the girls that lived inside, to talk with them and having the slightest opportunity to bed them for the night. The way that man looked at them made Y/n sick to his stomach, they were workers of course but the men saw them as mere products, just like when predators saw prey while hunting in the wild.

He was yet to receive instructions from the master of the house, maybe it would be a peaceful night of attending customers, chatting and playing the koto or taking part in tea ceremonies. While being a kagema was a safe cover for what the business was, it also came with dangers, people trying to see under his robes, men realising that he was indeed not a woman and yelling at the top of their lungs, rival houses trying to discredit him and the house you worked in and many more but, in the 200 hundred years of existence of the Nishimura teahouse not a single person or demon had been aware of its presence.

As an alternative for the demon slayer corps the teahouse took care of demons and other tasks assigned to them by their so called Heika-sama, men and women from a certain family branch that had special abilities, in various ranges from the age of 8 to 20, who commanded their workers in order to reduce demon numbers in various areas or take care of specific people who paid for their services; while the tea house was a mere cover up to not raise eyes at them, since it was a way to explain the loads of money that entered the state and the loads of people who got out.

All the girls and boys raised in the teahouse excelled at swordsmanship, welding weapons and exterminating demons. But the main difference between the 2 was the ways they operated, while both organisations were not recognized by the government, demon slayers were like a rumour spreading throughout the country, legends of swordsmen hunting demons and protecting people (they even had wisteria houses at their services!) Meanwhile the Nishimura swordsmen (or Demon hunters) were like the wind, roaming all of Japan but never leaving any trace of their existence, some people even called them demon slayers if they happened to see one while killing demons.

The way you enter the demon hunters and the demon slayer corps were wildly different, while in the later you pass a "final selection" and get assigned the lowest of the 10 ranks and you climb your way up, in the demon hunters you get recruited in by specialised people who see your talent at a young age, you get taken away from your family and began your training, they send you on missions with experienced demon hunter who test you and they decided if you pass, if you don't you get back with your family; that's why the numbers of the two organisations are so wildly different. There were more demon slayers than petals in a cherry blossom tree during its blooming, but there were less than 30 demon hunters in all of Japan, men and women dedicated solely in carrying tasks and protecting humanity from demons while also keeping appearances in Yoshiwara.

As the croaks of the raven on the window sill told Y/n that the master required his presence he began to chuckle slightly. "seems like it's not a lovely night to chatter away".

The work uniform for demon hunters consisted on a basic hakamashita with the colour of choice with hakama pants, simple tabi socks and geta sandals, some hunters were more bold and made customised uniforms for themselves, the only requirement the hunters obligated for anyone was to use the specialised cloth that prevented accidents while fighting demons (it was similar to the cloth that demon slayers use for their uniforms!). Y/n's uniform was a twist on the basic uniform,it consisted of a hakamashita of red seigaiha cloth, black hakama pants and a untied kimono with flowy sleeves, all in scales of reds, black and golds, with similar colours of his kagema attire; since if he was battling demons he needed to look cool and feel extravagant while doing so!. (to be honest with you, dear reader, it wasn't the smartest choice, but the most FLAMBOYANT one!).

The inners of the teahouse hosted clients on the front and "sponsors" on the back, while the front is a cover up with the appearance of a normal brothel, the back served as a way to get request from clients or requests from people, most of them offering money to kill a specific demon killing in an area or demons scattered in places the demon slayer corps couldn't reach for some reason. At the back of it all there was a grand room decorated to look like an emperor's room, grand decors, weapons of fallen demon hunters decorating the walls as a way to remember them, names of recognized demon hunters (there were less than 10 on the wall, was it that hard to get on there? Yes, it was). And on an elevated platform sat a female, with black hair and the most beautiful magenta eyes, thought her appearance was covered up with a veil, thanks to the curse that ate her away each day.

"You needed me? Heika-sama" Y/n sat in front of the woman, bowing deeply to her while talking and waiting for a response.

"Indeed, Y/n, you see, last night while I prepared myself to sleep for the night, a grand revelation came upon my person, in around a week a train known as the Mugen Train will part from a station near of Tokyo and will have a 6 hour travel time, while the vision was blurry I was able to see some of the events that will take place on the train and later that night" The woman known as Nishimura Masako spoke.

"Heika-sama, you require my presence on this train for a mission, is that right?" Y/n's voice lowered in respect of his master, the woman who had taken care of him when his parents left him to die years ago.

"Yes, your mission will consist on protecting the passenger of the train, by information we recompiled on it, there are about 200 people on board on a normal train ride" that part wasn't that hard, if the train had moved in the past, it meant that there were less demons on it, maybe that's why the client had seeked them and not the demon slayer co-, Y/n got interrupted "The second part of your mission is to protect the hashira that will be boarding the train, along with the slayers that accompany them, you are to devote yourself to this mission, lay your life to protect all humans on that place and maintain the honour of the demon hunters" and there was the catch, there's always a catch with her.

Y/n's face scrunched up with a frown, protecting a hashira? Those with that title are incredible swordsmen and women, why would they need protection? As he began to twist his head around that second part of the mission, Masako resumed her talk.

"The hashira that will board that train is destined to die by the hands of a demon, and this demon is most likely a member of the twelve kizuki, an upper moon at that" she took a small breath and continued.

"The third part of your mission is to get information about the demon or demons, such as appearance and blood demon art, the more information we have, the better we can prepare to move the pieces on the chess board" her voice was calm but rigid, she has always been like that for as long as he can remember, that didn't falter the faith he had in her. "You are to depart tomorrow night, you will most likely meet the hashira there, do not reveal your identity to anyone, the equipment you will need is being prepared on your room"

She stood up from the platform as Y/n kept his head kneeled to her "Do not die on this mission Y/n, the hunters would miss you a lot" she paused and took a breath "I would miss you a lot, little nephew" a soft hand rested on his head and went away soon after.

"I will not let you down Heika-sama" As she left, Y/n got up and made his way to his room, chuckling as he thought of the mission and the hashira that awaited there "Let's see what you are made of, Hashira"

─── ─── ─── ─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ─── ─── ───

Thank you so much for reading! I will try to update as soon as I can

#demon slayer x male reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x male reader #male reader #fanfic #wattpad #demon slayer fanfic

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