Aurorakingsley - AuroraKingsley

hiiiiii :3

what would drunk consensual sex be like with Gintoki? .///.

ilysm friend

A/N: New phone, who dis? Just kidding, of course it's my beloved senpai. I had to make your request especially big and make you suffer until you'd be able to get what you want, that's what friends are for! I gotta say this was a bit of a struggle and I had to experiment a lot considering it's the first actual time I write about Gin-chan. Still, I had fun writing it even if it took days, can't wait to see what your little dirty deviant mind comes up with in the future for me to write ;-;

Ilyt friend, best senpai ever uwu and all that, hope this doesn't suck!

Drunk Consensual Sex with Gintoki (x Fem Reader)

chose this one gif because I know how much you love his stupid smug xoxo.

Theme: Night sort of date time between Gintoki and reader leading to a drunken one night stand? Something along those lines.

Warnings: S M U T. Literally in the name of the request, shoo away minors, shoo!

Sakata Gintoki, the boss of Yorozuya. Sakata Gintoki, the one who was as infamous for his naturally wavy silver hair as he was for his unconventional ways of handling things. Sakata Gintoki whose eyes looked so dead, yet never ignored others’ cries for help. No matter what he was known for, Sakata Gintoki was a man of many names, a man whose current daily shenanigans directly clashed with the reverberations of his violent past, a past he longed to forget.

Most days went by either in complete idleness or in complete disordinance as he took job after job, leaving no room for such dark thoughts to creep into his brain. However, there would always be these moments when the past would become more vivid than the present, when everything he had tried to suppress would reappear before him, when he’d find himself standing in the very same battlefield he did all these years ago. It was in moments like this that he’d find himself desperate to get away from everything and everyone. Surely there were people he could talk to, Kagura and Shinpachi being the obvious choices, yet when it came to these memories, Gintoki would rather drown them, force them to the depths of his brain until they ceased to exist. And what better way was there for him to do such a thing other than alcohol?

“One more bottle.” Pushing his glass against the hardwood of the bar, Gintoki asked for his third bottle of sake.

Even though he wasn’t known for his high alcohol tolerance, today was one of those days when he wanted to forget about everything and everyone. Having gone as far as to visit one of Yoshiwara’s bars, he had chosen a spot where no one would bother him, where he wouldn’t have to pretend for the sake of anyone. Drinking glass after glass, he only hoped for the thoughts to stop, for the images to disappear, yet he was more sober than he’d ever been. Even when the lights in the room begun to flicker, even when the laughters next to him became more distant, his memories appeared in his head as clear as ever, ghosts that were begging to haunt him

“Do you even have the money to afford more? Last time you were here you tried to sell me one month old Jump for limited edition-”

“Shut up, old hag! It was the one with Hirohiko Araki’s special interview, of course it costs more than your lousy sake!” Gintoki exclaimed as he tried to grab the sake bottle from the hands of the bartender.

“If my sake is bad then why do you still come here? Look around you, out of all of our esteemed guests you are the only one standing out. We shouldn’t even be servicing the likes of you.” Pulling the bottle away, the woman was about to move when Gintoki threw a handful of coins onto the counter. Intrigued, she looked at him over her shoulder, accepting the money with a scoff before handing him the sake bottle.

With a triumphant look on his face, Gintoki popped the bottle open. As he was about to pour another glass for himself, a presence entering the bar caught his eye. Tilting his head, he watched as you went past the door, an evident look of disappointment engraved in your features as you approached the bar. Throwing your handbag onto the seat next to him, you took a seat right next to it.

“One sake bottle, please.” Motioning towards the bartender, you placed your order.

This day had been a disaster in more than one ways imaginable for you; not only had you been stood up by that jerk who insisted on going out with you, but you’d also been stood up on your birthday. You knew that getting involved with him would be a waste of time, yet not once did you consider the possibility of him not even showing up, not even calling you to let you know. Instead you had to spend hours on dolling yourself up, going all the way to Yoshiwara in nothing but a tiny dress, as you waited in the cold for him to show up. All this effort, all this time wasted and for what? To be sitting in a nearly empty red light district bar, all by yourself. Way to celebrate yet another year of being alive.

“I am sorry miss, I am afraid this jer- this gentleman took our last bottle. Is there anything else I can serve you?” The woman asked, gesturing towards the man that was sitting by your side. Considering your distress, you hadn’t even noticed the fact that you weren’t there alone, unaware of the silver haired man’s existence. Turning to face him, you couldn’t help but feel annoyance rise through you. It wasn’t his fault, obviously, that he had taken the last bottle of sake for his own, yet this had to be the icing on top of a horrible day.

Waving towards you in a whimsical way, the man pushed the bottle towards your side, sliding it onto the counter. “You look like you need it more.” He said once the bottle was in your hand. Staring between him and the bottle, you allowed yourself to smirk. “I look that bad huh?”

Returning your smirk, the man got up, making his way to you as you simultaneously pulled your bag from the empty seat, placing it on top of your lap. Taking the seat to your left, he sat down next to you. “Not at all.” Leaning towards you, the man’s hand reached behind your ear. “Interesting Chikorita cosplay though.” Retrieving his hand , you noticed the presence of a rather big leaf between his fingers. Instinctively, you mimicked his previous gesture in an attempt to search for any other remaining leaves residing in your hair.

“That’s what happens when you wait for an hour in the howling wind.” You answered to the man, doing your best to keep yourself as contained as possible. Not that the opinion of a random stranger mattered, but you didn’t want to keep making a fool of yourself in front of others.

Grabbing the bottle he had offered you, you poured some sake into your glass, gulping it down in one go. Feeling guilty that you had quite literally taken the bottle from the man’s hands, you reached another glass from behind the bar, treating him to a drink. The man accepted your offer, following your lead as he took a sip.

“Couldn’t you have chosen a worse day than today to go for a walk and in such a dress? Either you are really brave or really dumb.” He said once had put the glass down.

“That’s so funny.”

“You aren’t laughing.” The man noted, grabbing the bottle and pouring the two of you some more sake.

“I would be if I wasn’t celebrating my birthday at a near empty bar in Yoshiwara, drinking with a man whose name I don’t even know.”

“Sakata Gintoki.” The man, Gintoki, nonchalantly said. Turning to face him, you examined his features as the name Gintoki faintly rung a bell. His naturally wavy silver hair, the deadfish eyes, the wooden sword that was loosely hanging around his waist, could it be?

“Yorozuya?”

“That’s me. Can’t recall you being a client, though.”

“I’m not, you are just infamous, that’s all.” You said, warm liquor going down your throat as you finished your own drink.

“In that case allow me to give you a business card.” Turning his back on you, you watched him work his hands on top of the counter. “We do anything from finding lost pets, to dealing with Mayo freaks, to fighting for the order of the universe or something like that. As long as you pay up, we’ll take on any job. Here.” Shifting around, he turned back to face you once again, this time sliding a piece of paper on the counter. Looking down at it, you could tell that it was a napkin with the name Yorozuya Gintoki and a phone number written on it in a poorly barely readable manner.

“That’s a napkin” You observed.

“A business card.” He countered, pouring you some more alcohol. “All of the budget went onto designing the last panel, you think we have enough to draw proper business cards?”

“Well in that case… I have a job for you.”

Intrigued, he placed the glass back down, flashing you a winsome smile. You weren’t sure if the alcohol was getting to you, but looking at his smiling expression, you couldn’t help but feel attracted to the man. Although his appearance was quite scruffy, far from your usual type, there was a certain charm to him. Maybe today wouldn’t be wasted, you thought as you barely returned the smile.

“Spend the night with me. It is my birthday after all. And don’t worry about the money, I can pay up, let’s just have some fun.”

Considering your offer for a bit, Gintoki grabbed the bottle, this time bringing it to his lips as he finished the remaining sake in one go. With the back of his hand, he wiped his lips clean before banging his fist on the table as he got up.

“Oi granny, I’ll be on my way now. Next time, make sure you stock up on better sake.”

“If you hate it so much then don’t come here again, you punk!” The lady behind the counter raised her voice, obviously irritated by the man’s remarks. Scoffing at her, he readjusted the sword around his waist, making his way towards the exit as he waved his hand at her.

“Are you coming?” This time he spoke to you, beckoning you with his raised hand to follow him. Accepting his offer, you instantly got up, following him outside the bar.

Stepping outside, you could feel goosebumps going up your skin, although to be fair, the howling wind had noticeably calmed down, turning into but a cold autumn breeze. Sure, it still wasn’t mini dress weather, but at least you weren’t shivering as much as before. In fact, your body begun to feel rather warm, courtesy of the alcohol you had previously gobbled up.

“So what do you want to do first?” Gintoki asked, one hand loosely around his belt as he kept on walking. Underneath the neon lights from all the bars and restaurants that were in the area, his hair gleamed through the darkness, silver strands fused with red hues.

“I don’t know, what would you recommend?”

Bringing his other hand onto his hair, you saw him scratching the back of his head as if considering the options. " There are many ways to have fun here. I know a good place for yakitori, then there is that old man who makes great dango. Hmm… perhaps the karaoke place down the street or the arcade next to it. Or else-”

“Let’s just do everything. I’m paying, remember?” Tapping your hand against the purse, you smiled brightly at him as he nodded in agreement.

“Well then, let’s begin!”

The first place the two of you winded up visiting was the karaoke place Gintoki mentioned. Although you had been to a karaoke bar in the past with your colleagues, this was the first time you were going there with a man- a man you barely knew, on top of that. Perhaps this wasn’t the brightest idea, you reckoned, still though, you didn’t want to spend this day all by yourself. And Sakata Gintoki wasn’t a complete stranger either, you had heard stories about Yorozuya and their shenanigans here and there. Plus, he didn’t seem like a bad guy either.

After booking yourselves a room, you ordered some more alcohol, mainly dom perignon, considering how Gintoki insisted that this was the right way to spend one’s birthday. If you didn’t know better, you’d mistake him for a host trying to sell out for bonus commission. Still, you indulged to it, allowing yourself to spend the majority of your income on champagne, a decision you’d come to regret next morning but for now, with each sip of alcohol, your reservations kept diminishing into nothingness. Oh well, that’s a problem for tomorrow you.

Drinking to your hearts contents, the two of you spent at least a couple of hours, singing songs in such an offbeat manner that if anyone heard you, they’d be jeering you. Starting with cheerful pop songs, you danced up and down, doing your best to push all of your worries and sadness away. Even when you didn’t really care about that asshole who stood you up, you could feel yourself getting rather emotional by the time the songs switched to slower ballads. How could he do such a thing to you?

“How could he?” You slurred out loud, falling on top of the couch next to Gintoki as you leaned onto his shoulder. He had stopped singing, keeping his attention on the glass that was between his fingers, twirling it around as he gazed at its content. His entire focus was on the glass, while his previously dead fish eyes were darkened, a hint of sadness tainting him. Although you could tell all the alcohol was getting to you and that you weren’t an excellent judge of character, you could tell there was something in his mind.

“Gintoki. Why were you alone in that bar?” You managed to say, pulling yourself together as best as you could. Shifting his attention from the glass to you, he shrugged his shoulder before leaning back against the couch.

“Kagura is too young to drink and Shinpachi, well… I don’t want to bore him with such trivialities.” You had no idea who these people were, yet you kept listening to him intently, your eyes staring at his lips as he spoke. “Sometimes a man needs to be on his own.” Finally, he brought the glass to his lips, emptying its contents. “Besides, what good is remembering a past you can’t change?”

You couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. Even when his appearance gave out that he was a rather lazy and laid back person, you could tell that there was something more behind those dead fish eyes and nonchalant words of his. Even if your reasons for being at that bar were completely different, the motive was the same; to forget.

“I think I’ve sung enough. If we keep doing that I’ll end up with a sore throat.” You said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Grabbing his hand, you stumbled back onto your feet, beckoning him to get up. “What’s next?”

Gintoki placed the glass back on the table before taking one of the unopened dom peri bottles with him. Following your lead, he let you guide him outside of the room, the faint melody of yet another sad song fading in the background.

The next station for the two of you ended up being the arcade place next door. This was actually the first time in years that you had visited one, the last time being when you were but a mere child. Looking at all the machines brought you nostalgia, as Gintoki made his way towards the pachinko machines in the far back of the shop.

“Have you played before?” He asked as he sat on a free machine, placing the champagne bottle next to him. Truth be told, you had never really tried pachinko before and in your state, you doubted you could pick up on all the rules of the game. Shaking your head, you sat next to him.

Getting up, Gintoki popped the bottle open, bringing it to his lips for a sip once the foam had subdued. He offered it to you, as you mimicked his movements before placing it on the ground in front of you. Once that was out of the way, the man lowered himself behind you, placing his chin against your shoulder while he snaked his arms around yours. Feeling yourself blushing, you stood still as Gintoki went through the details of the game for you, explaining you the basic concept of it and what you needed to do to win. You could barely focus on his words, as you felt his body pressed flat against you, making you quiver. Under different circumstances, you would be protesting; a man whom you knew for only a few hours being this cozy and handsy with you, even if his purpose was to introduce you to the game. Yet, feeling his warmth you found yourself unable to oppose him, perhaps even indulging in the sensation of the stranger’s touch.

“…And then you turn the handle. Oi, are you listening?” Snapping his fingers in front of you, he managed to wake you up from your thoughts. Nodding frantically, you noticed him sigh before leaning against you once again. “I’ll show you how to play but next round you gotta do it on your own. Put the change here.” Instructing you, he pointed to the left side of the machine where there was a slit. Searching through your bag, you managed to find a few coins, quickly shoving them into it until small silver balls spilled from the machine.

Placing his right hand on top of yours, he guided it around the handle of the machine, wrapping your fingers along with his around the round lever. As he moved your hands up and down, left and right, you couldn’t help but blush looking up to him. Although there was a red tint upon his cheeks -namely because of all the alcohol the two of you had been drinking- he looked rather focused as the flickering lights of the machine gleamed in his maroon eyes. His lips were slightly parted while he slowly blinked, his attention still on the machine. You could tell that he was saying something to you, yet the sound was muffled as your entire attention was on his face. He was so close to you, close enough that if you lifted your head a bit then the two of you would-

“What a bummer.” Retrieving his hand from yours, he walked away from you, going back to his own chair. Although you wouldn’t admit it, you kinda wished that he would have stayed there longer. “But you got the basics now, go ahead, try it.” What basics? The ones he showed you while you were busy eyeing him?

Reaching for the champagne bottle, you took a rather large sip, hoping that with it you’d be able to get some sort of epiphany about the game. Gintoki had already started toying with the machine in front of him and so without any further ado, you started experimenting with yours.

Although you weren’t doing that bad, you weren’t exactly doing great either. Before you knew it, you had spent a small fortune on the game without really gaining any profit. That was until you managed to score somewhat of a jackpot, after playing with the machine for over thirty minutes. The loud beeping sound filled the room, while many of the other players turned to face you, Gintoki included.

“Wow, not bad for a newbie! Now press this and you can get your prize.” The silver haired man said as he leaned towards you once again, pressing a button on the machine. Soon enough, an employee approached the two of you, taking your remaining pachinko balls with him as he went to a counter. Ushering you to follow him, Gintoki took the champagne bottle with him, while the two of you made your way towards the front of the store.

“Here’s your reward, visit us again.” The man behind the counter said in the most unappealing voice. Extending your hand to him, he placed something inside your palm before disappearing back inside the arcade shop. Once he was gone, you opened your hand only to stare down at a pair of silver balls. What the-

“These guys are unbelievable, giving such crude things to a woman!” Gintoki said, as he was about to go back in there to search for the employee. Looking down at your hand and then at him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Surely, you could always sell these silver balls so it wasn’t as if they had no value, yet the incident became funnier over time once you realized that the balls were silver just like his hair.

“Here.” Grabbing his hand, you placed the balls inside his palm. “I don’t need these balls, Gintoki, you can keep them.” Gintoki accepted the balls, his gaze shifting between his hand and your face. Letting out a soft chuckle, he stuffed them in his kimono’s pocket.

“It’s really inappropriate for a woman to keep saying balls. But I’ll take them.”

For a while the two of you walked across Yoshiwara, making your way out of the district, towards the river. There wasn’t much to say, so you kept drinking from the same bottle in silence. You were feeling exhausted from all the walking but you didn’t want to go home yet. Even when everything was getting blurry, even then you wanted to spend more time with Gintoki. You hadn’t even realized how much you needed to talk to someone, to have some casual fun without thinking about all the whats and the ifs. This was the first time in quite a while you were able to let your guard down and it felt exhilarating to be doing that with a complete stranger.

After walking for a while, you stopped by a bench near the river.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Following his order, you sat at the bench, looking at the still waters in front of you while waiting. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you tilted your head in order to drink only to find out that there was no alcohol left. Disappointed, you tossed it next to you as it rolled onto the street. Great. Doing your best to reach it, you got up stumbling, nearly falling onto the ground when a hand grabbed you.

“You are more wasted than I am, huh.” Gintoki exclaimed as he helped you up. In his hands, there were two dango sticks, glazed in sweet soy sauce. “Can’t find cake or anything like that this late. Happy birthday. This one is on me, no need to pay extra.” He said, handing you one of them. Reluctantly, you took the stick from his hand, as tears fell down your cheeks. Even though it was the alcohol making you this emotional, you couldn’t help but wonder, how could a stranger like him be this nice?

“Woah, why are you crying? Don’t tell me you don’t like dango-”

“No, it’s just that… thank you.” Accepting the dango, you flashed a genuine smile to him before taking a bite. The tears were still wetting your cheeks but you tried your best to show your gratitude. He was right, this dango was actually quite good.

“You’re welcome.” His mouth was full of the dango as he talked, making his voice sound rather funny and childish, contrasting his otherwise deeper tone.

The two of you sat back down on the bench, eating in silence. Although you didn’t know what time it was, you could see the first rays of the morning light pouring into the night sky. As much as you wanted to extend this night, it was time to go home.

“I think it’s time I get going.” Turning to face him, you could see the streetlights spinning around as you got dizzier and dizzier. His features were turning blurry, the only thing distinguishable being his silver hair that were framing his face. You couldn’t help but repeatedly bump onto him, your head feeling too heavy to keep still. You were so tired while his warmth was so inviting, you just wanted him to wrap his hands around you like he had previously done at the arcade and let you sleep in his embrace.

“Let’s get you home, then.” Gintoki was the first one to get up, stumbling on his way up. He wasn’t in any better shape, you could tell that he was barely standing while his cheeks were flushed red. “What direction is your home?” He asked, pointing with his index to the left and then to the right. Managing to get yourself on both feet, you leaned against his body, grabbing his hand and then turning it to the left.

The way home wasn’t really long thankfully, although walking without falling to the ground turned out to be quite the formidable task. Bumping into one another while walking, you were laughing to your hearts’ content for seemingly no reason. You hadn’t felt so carefree in such a long time, so light, so free. Being with this man was liberating, even if you never got to see him again, you knew this was a night to remember.

Eventually the two of you reached your house just as the moon disappeared from the sky, leaving nothing but a faint shadow where it previously stood. Nearing the front door, you took a step forward in an attempt to open it. Going through your bag, you managed to locate the keys at the very bottom. Triumphantly, you unlocked the door, tripping on the way in while your fingers were still attached to the key. Just when you thought you were about to fall, a hand grabbed you by the waist pulling you back onto your feet. Once you’d managed to regain your balance, you turned around, facing Gintoki, the two of you temporarily snapping out of your drunken state. He had saved you yet again.

“I-uh… I’m sorry, I get really clumsy when I drink.” You admitted, trying your best not to slur the words while chuckling. His hand was still tight around your waist while you were leaning all of your weight against his shoulder and chest. Your laugh begun to fade once you realized how close you were to him, feeling your own heartbeat against his skin. The tension behind you was palpable at this point, even when you were both completely wasted, the way he held you sparked something within you. Looking deep into his eyes, you gulped softly. You shouldn’t…

“Damn it, I promised Kagura I wouldn’t be late.”

Before you could ask him what he meant, Gintoki closed the distance between you, pressing his lips against yours. The sheer force of the kiss made you take a step back, the two of you stumbling against the iron door. Keeping his one hand around your waist, he slammed the other right above your head, towering you with his height. His lips felt warm and inviting against yours, a lovely contrast when compared to the coldness of the iron surface that sent shivers up your spine. Pressing your body against his, you let your hand wander to his arm, wrapping your other arm around his neck while pulling him closer to you.

Forcing your mouth open with his tongue, Gintoki let his tongue roam freely into your mouth, lazily exploring every bit of you. Although his lips were drenched in alcohol, you could also taste something rather sweet while kissing him, something that resembled the faint taste of fresh strawberries.

Breaking the kiss off, a string of saliva fell onto both your chins, as he backed away, leaving your lips puckering up, begging for more. The man blinked slowly while staring into your eyes, realizing what he had just done. Before he could get any second thoughts about this, you pulled him closer, tugging onto the fabric of his sleeve.

“Would you charge extra if I invited you in?” You inquired, biting your lower lip as you waited for an answer.

“What kind of man would receive money from a woman for such things? I’m not that cheap.” Just as you thought he had turned you down, Gintoki took a step in, holding the door open for you.

The next thing you knew, you were being held down against the first flat surface you encountered, namely the kitchen counter. Wasting no time, the man took hold of your face, cusping your cheeks as his lips clashed into yours. The kiss was sloppy and messy as his tongue moved in sync with his lips, peppering your skin with lazy open mouthed kisses. Trailing a path from your lips to your jawline and eventually your neck, he nibbled on your skin, sucking on it softly, making sure you’d be covered in bruises and love bites by the time he was done with you. The sensation was enough to make you moan, arching your back against his touch, feeling his bulge growing. Unable to help it, you bucked your hips into his, your clothed clit throbbing at the friction between your bodies. Gintoki caught on to what you were trying to do, pulling himself away from your neck as he brought his lips to your ear.

“Bend over.” Coming out like a whisper, the sound of his groggy voice ringing through your ear was enough to send chills up your spine. Considering how drunk he was, he was rather demanding, a fact that made your already wet cunt even wetter.

Obeying his order, you turned around, pulling your dress up while sliding your panties down, letting them fall loosely around your ankles. Once you had exposed your ass to him, Gintoki grabbed both your wrists as he pushed you against the counter without a warning. Keeping them pinned together with one hand, he brought them over your head, making you gasp in return. He was so forceful for a guy you’d only just met, a guy who didn’t even know your name.

Having you right where he wanted to, Gintoki used his other hand to unbuckle his belt, not bothering to push his pants past his thighs. You tried your best to look over your shoulder but his grip wasn’t allowing you to see much. Anticipation begun to rise within you the moment you felt his erection springing from his underwear, the tip grazing your needy cunt. You found yourself wondering what it looked like when he grabbed onto your ass, pushing his cock between your folds with a single move. Instantly your lips formed an o, moaning loudly while your nails dug onto his palms. Although you couldn’t see his expression, you heard him grunt as he backed out, only to thrust into you again, reaching as deep as possible.

At first his pace was slow, letting his cock get engulfed by your walls that were clenching around him with his every move. Even though he wasn’t particularly thick, you could tell how long his cock was by how easily he reached your cervix with each pounding. You were feeling so needy, so desperate, so pathetic under the touch of a guy you’d just met, a detail you kept reminding to yourself. The way he touched you made you feel small, vulnerable even, his frame being much larger than yours as he handled your body like this. He treated you as if you were nothing more than a street’s prostitute he’d met at a back alley, a thought that was only getting you more aroused. Your wrists kept wiggling inside his palm as you tried to break free from his grip. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to feel him, you wanted him.

After a while filled with excruciatingly slow movements, he eventually picked up his speed, skin slapping against skin as he begun to thrust into you quickly, eliciting all sorts of lewd sounds from your lips. Perhaps it was something about the alcohol you’d drunk, or maybe it had to do with him fucking your brains out on your kitchen counter. No matter the case, your senses had started to distort, as you were able to see stars, feelings them ring through your ears like soft chimes. Even when your physical body was right there with him, your mind was flying away, too foggy to form any thought, wave after wave of pure pleasure sending you into a state of complete euphoria.

“G-Gintoki, I think I’m going to c-”

“Is that so?” He inquired between thrusts, his voice slightly shaky as he kept on going. “I’m afraid I’m not quite there yet. Be good for me and hold on a while longer, mhm?” You could do nothing to reply to him, faintly nodding against the cold marble of the counter. He was driving you closer and closer to your orgasm when suddenly he stopped, pulling out completely, leaving you hanging. “Damn it, this won’t do. Turn around, I wanna look at your fucked up expression, birthday girl.”

He allowed you to break free from his grip, as you turned your entire body around to face him. Gintoki moved his hands onto the straps of your dress, sliding them off along with the rest of the fabric until you were standing bare naked in front of him. His gaze fell hungrily upon your body; the man didn’t even try to pretend as if he wasn’t looking at your tits, he was beyond shameless. Curling his lips into a half smile, he squeezed them softly before entering you once again. You were having a hard time keeping together, barely managing to wrap your legs around his torso as he moved closer to you, allowing you to prop your chin against his shoulder for balance.

“G-gin-” You tried calling his name out but there was no way for you to do such a thing, not when his cock was hitting all the right spots.

Soon enough, you found yourself returning to the starry ceiling, coming undone underneath him. Soft whimpers escaped your lips while your walls clenched around his cock, sucking him as he kept pounding you. Unable to keep on going when you felt this tight around him, Gintoki’s movements became inconsistent and sloppy. He was barely able to control himself and his own pace. You could feel his cock throbbing in you, a sign that he was close. The man kept on going, cursing under his breath in slurs, until he eventually pulled out of you.

Although you were barely aware of your surroundings, completely lost in your high, you could feel his arms tense while he jerked himself off to your body. Pumping his length a couple of times, he finally allowed himself to spill his seed, covering your stomach and thighs in creamy white lines, while you kept holding onto him. He was just out of breath as you were, his heart beating quickly against yours while his chest kept moving up and down.

Once he was done, Gintoki wrapped his arms loosely around your waist, placing a rather delicate kiss on top of your head as he held your body. You closed your eyes, inhaling his scent, letting go of all the tension, relaxing in his warm embrace. All the disappointment and annoyance you had felt before entering the bar was gone, the only thought that vaguely remained in your mind being the silver haired man. He had managed to make you forget about everything and everyone as intended.

Slowly but surely, the room around you started to get dark, as you let your eyes shut. Void engulfed you, while hands brushed through your hair lazily in a comforting way. You felt so sleepy, you were so exhausted. The final memory of the night ended up being the faint and distant voice of a man whispering sweet nothings in your ear, complimenting you all the while praising you for being such a good girl.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were rather confused. Where were you, what had happened, why did your head feel as if a brick fell onto it and why were you so sore? You tried to answer these questions, squinting your eyes as you tried to get up. Surprisingly enough you were naked, laying underneath the covers of your soft bed while you begun to recollect what had occurred the previous night. The coworker, the bar, the alcohol, the intoxicating flavor of the silver haired man. Instinctively, you looked to your side, searching for him, Gintoki. Much to your disappointment, no one was there. Had you really imagined all that? No, it couldn’t be…

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed, everything was too uncertain, too unclear, too cloudy. Although there was light outside, there was no telling what time it was. Hopefully a cold glass of water would help sober you up, you thought and so, with a sigh, you got up. Tossing a robe over your naked body, you made your way to the kitchen where a small piece of paper that was lying on the counter caught your attention. What was this?

Picking up the paper, you realized it was a napkin, one that you could have sworn you’d seen before. On the napkin was a phone number along with some barely readable words.

“Happy birthday! Contact Yorozuya Gin next time you need a drinking buddy, free of charge. P.S. That guy missed out, forget about him.”

palette

hajime umemiya x graffiti artist!reader only a little snippet, but it might become bigger later, word count: 899

you were at home right here with the collection of paint markers and aerosol cans at your feet. your free hand adjusted the filtration mask on your face as you sprayed a nonsensical pattern onto the wall using a fluorescent green so bright it almost hurt your eyes. as you began to draw on the concrete wall using a black paint marker, you felt the sneaking suspicion that eyes were on you. 

that was odd. 

you did most—hell, all your graffiti work in the dark of night, hidden from sight. you’d been chased off by a few townsfolk when you were tagging signs or walls in broad daylight, which you supposed was fair. you were technically doing something utterly illegal, after all. but you kept at it at night, painting flowers and animals, or just random letters onto whatever surface you could. 

bofurin boys often covered it up—as was their right, too, you supposed, but it always irritated you when you’d come back around and find work you’d slaved on all night be covered up with a fresh layer of white paint. 

but back to the feeling that you were being watched. 

“who’s there?” you call out, pulling off your filtration mask slightly. 

“so you’re the one doin’ all those green tags!” a boisterous voice said, and you felt a sudden presence right behind you. you whirled around, dropping your black paint marker across the floor, wincing as it skittered across the alleyway. “did you know that this taiyaki place has called us every day for a week about the graffiti?” 

fuck. you did know that voice. hajime-fuckin’-umemiya, leader of the bofurin, who had essentially annexed and reformed furin high school by force. not only were they vigilante heroes of justice—they also practically were civil servants that served the community—and now their fucking leader was staring at you with a strange, open look in his eye. 

he wasn’t even dressed in his furin uniform—you think you’ve seen it a few times, the whistling long coat that he wore out on patrols with some of the other furin boys. despite it all, he somehow had that sort of aura of warm authority about him—paired with a brilliant and curious smile on his face.

“so what?” you ask defensively. 

“you do know the graffiti’s illegal, right?” umemiya questioned, raising an eyebrow as he walked over to where your marker had skittered across the floor, picking it up. “you could be put in jail for up to five years, you know!” he flipped the marker around, holding it out to you. 

“like i need someone from furin lecturing me about that,” you say, taking the marker back from him. umemiya seemed to deflate a little, almost like a sad puppy, upon your very subtle furin insult, so you hastily add a, “no offense.” 

“mm. i get it, i get it! i do. all the work i did to rehabilitate bofurin’s image doesn’t mean much when people remember how dangerous it was before,” umemiya says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “but! i figured i’d come around the taiyaki shop at night, see if there was some repeat offender doing the graffiti, and here you are!” 

umemiya spreads his hands magnanimously, and you can see how worn and callused his hands are from years spent brawling against other students. there was no way he was going to start fighting you, right—?

“i just wanted to ask you to stop,” umemiya says. “i mean, i respect your artistic visions! i always thought it was a waste to paint over your works—i remember one time you did this bright yellow rabbit on a blue moon, very cool, by the way—and—“

huh?

“i really like your art! i was wondering, if maybe…”

you held your paint marker, watching umemiya seemingly steeling his nerves for a moment–

“do you want to come to furin and paint? there’s a lot of graffiti already, and most of the time when we patrol we never use the classrooms anyway, so if it was anonymity you were worried about, that’s covered—and plus, at night, you’d still get a lot of time to do whatever you want—”

“… you’re offering me a place at your school to just—paint?” you ask confusedly, raising an eyebrow. 

“well, yeah!” umemiya says. “i mean, it’s a waste to paint over your hard work, right? it’s different than the other tags.”

“... is it?” you ask, staring at your half-finished graffiti, joining other fresh tags on the wall. 

“well, i’m not really sure if i fully believe in the idea that art carries intention–but i’d like to think yours does! and it’s kind. and i think there’s people at furin who might appreciate it.” 

“well…”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair.

“well, okay,” you say. “but if anyone tries to start something–”

“please,” umemiya says. “we’re not animals. it’ll be great to have you.” and then he holds out his hand to shake, and you stare down at it.

are you really doing this?

umemiya’s expression is bright, warm. 

you shake his hand. 

his grip is firm, his thumb squeezing the space between your index and thumb–and you laugh with a hint of exasperation in your voice. here you were, pulled right into umemiya’s thrall–lured in by him like a sweet siren song.

“fine. see you tomorrow, then,” you mutter, your cheeks heating up.

GAY! 🫵🏾

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part eighteen —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Over the next four days, you find yourself panting in exhilaration each morning you spar with Ghost. Every slam of your hand into his ribs feels strangely better than the last. He goes harder on you. He'd been holding back, too, apparently— an unfortunate fact for your ribs. The pain seems to motivate you more, even if he is still beating the shit out of you.

Blue also motivates you. "Hit his nose again!"

Of course, that is the one part of him you purposely avoid.

The sun returns and sweat glides down your face. You knee his stomach. It's less vulnerable than swinging a kick, but still, he attempts to grab you by the waist. You quickly skirt away, the ground firmer beneath your feet, only for his hand to latch onto one of your braids, instead. A sting pulses through your scalp as he tugs hard, wrenching your ear close to his mouth.

"Quicker. Good. But don't get too cocky."

"I thought you wanted me to be more confident," you retort between ragged breaths. 

"Yes, but you can't forget who has the advantage here." There is the slightest bit of arrogance in his voice that makes your teeth grit.

"How could I ever forget?" Your head tilts and he releases the braid. Suddenly, the thought of smacking his nose again doesn’t seem so bad.

His eyebrow quirks. "Get some water, Twix. You need it."

The water caresses your tongue as you gulp it down without abandon. Unsurprisingly, Blue has disappeared somewhere in the treetops. The lack of more broken bones has waned her interest.

When Ghost lifts his mask to drink, you steal a glance at his nose, noticing that the swelling has gone down significantly. The fact he is still wearing that thing with a broken nose upholds your theory that he is at least slightly insane— as if the fact that he once shoved a gun into your fresh wound wasn’t already evidence of that.

Out of nowhere, he materializes beside you and places a hand on your stomach. Your sore muscles spasm under the surprise of his touch, his long fingers stretching from one side of your ribs to the other.

"Your strength starts here,” he explains in a hoarse murmur. “Keep it tight and you will deliver more damage."

You purse your lips to hide a wince and tap your nose. "Don’t I already deliver enough damage?"

"The nose is fragile. You may be landing more hits on me, but I still hardly feel a thing from them."

He allows you to pry his hand off, but the pressure of it seems to linger. Ghost studies you in a way that turns you translucent before demanding, "Lift your shirt, Twix."

Exhaling through your nose, you hesitate before peeling it up, revealing the collection of bruises you have earned from him. A myriad of pink, purple, and yellow skin flares up under his gaze. They have been giving you a hard time lacing your boots and tying your hair in the morning, but once you get moving, the ache becomes easier to ignore.

He has already seen your stomach and more, yet, your skin itches from the exposure. You shove the shirt back down.

His expression shifts. "You should have said something."

"They're just bruises. I'm not bleeding or anything."

"Still."

"Still what?"

He looks irritated. "You need to fucking communicate."

"I don't see why it matters. No coddling, right?"

"That doesn't mean I'm interested in breaking you."

You jerk your chin up to meet his stare. “You won't."

Blue swings down from a tree, plopping between the two of you and unintentionally—thankfully—putting an end to the subject. "I'm glad you two are finally getting along. It's good for the team." She nudges her dad. "But are you done with her yet? You can't just hog Twix all to yourself."

He clears his throat and the air between your bodies breathes wider. "If you're getting bored maybe we need to find something for you to practice."

"Nope!" she says quickly. "Not bored at all." 

He nods to a tree. "Go on. Practice your knives. You haven't done that in a while. Then, you can have her."

With a groan, she trudges away. 

The sparring continues.

Ghost's fists soften by a smidge.

"He annoys the shit out of me sometimes."

Blue rips up a tuft of grass as you inch back to admire the swipe of color on her eyelids. It was her idea to use the bold-colored flowers for makeup— just like the models in her magazines. You did your best to mash the petals and mix them with some creekwater, but the result is kind of patchy and not nearly as smooth as the stuff you used to put on years ago. 

"Hold still. I'm doing your cheeks next."

The sun highlights the splash of freckles on her cheeks and you try to recall if Ghost had them. Her nose is nothing like his. A dainty button. Another trait she must've gotten from her mom. 

"Did you used to wear makeup?" she asks curiously, eyelashes fluttering down. 

"Sometimes. Especially when I went out."

"Went out where?"

Concentration nudges between your brows. "To clubs and stuff. It's where people would... dance."

Her lips spread as she cocks her head to the side in a manner that emulates her dad. You have to remind her again to stop moving. “Oh. Sorry. You danced?"

"I mean, not good dancing. Just dancing for fun,” you murmur, shrugging at the faint memories of being sandwiched between strangers, alcohol flowing through your veins rather than fear and adrenaline. Back then, mornings were spent nursing a hangover before class rather than earning bruises from an ex-lieutenant. 

Humor dances in her eyes when they reopen. "I don't think Ghost ever went to a club. I cannot imagine him dancing."

The images in your mind morph into something utterly laughable— him standing there like an immovable tank as people try to dance around him. "No, probably not."

"He never really tells me about his life before shit happened," she says thoughtfully. 

This piques your curiosity, but you keep your voice light. "No?"

"Well, he tells me the simple stuff. Mostly about his job. But never... never the small things, you know? Like I have no idea what he used to do for fun or what his life was like when he was a kid." She pauses a moment before adding, "He had a brother. That much I know."

You glance up. "Had?"

"He died before the virus. His mom and dad, too. But every time I ask how they died, he just says," she deepens her voice, "'Doesn't matter how, kid. Dead is dead.'"

"Oh, um, yeah, that sounds like something he would say." You tap your fingers under her chin. "I can put some on your lips, too."

Her eyes close again as she puckers her lips out. When you're done, she continues. "He also never talks about my mom." Her face twists. “I think he thinks talking about her will hurt my feelings."

For a few seconds, you struggle to find a response. The rare mention of her mom always makes your heart stutter, but this time, your broken, callused hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to feel hurt, you know."

Blue shrugs and looks up at the cobalt sky. "I don't think I remember her enough to feel that hurt anymore. She feels so... far away. I remember small things, like the sound of her voice and her old apartment where I lived, but sometimes I wonder if I am making up those memories, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." A terrible urge sits on your tongue to ask her more about her mom, about what exactly her relationship was like with Ghost, but Blue changes the subject before you can.

"Does the makeup look good?" A shy blush clouds her cheeks.

You stand up with a faint smile. "I think I did pretty damn good. Come on. I want you to go look in the mirror."

Music.

It pounds so hard you feel it in your chest.

Neon walls enclose you as someone touches your backside, dancing against you. There is a man's voice in your ear that you think you recognize but it's hard to hear him through all the laughing and chatter. Your hair falls in loose curls down your back, free of braids, and you swipe it from your sweaty skin before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

You push through the people. The narrow hall is shrouded with different doors... so many doors. Where is the bathroom? It must be a Friday night on Oxford Street with how fucking crowded and stuffy this place is. Someone knocks into you roughly and your footsteps quicken. A sense of urgency drags you into the next door you come across, a large one made of grey oak.

The smell is horrendous but you feel relieved to see urinals and stalls. Immediately, you press into the granite counter and grip the edge as you catch your breath. The scratched, warped mirror houses a face covered in makeup. Youthful eyes. Flushed cheeks. How much have you had to drink? You need to go home. You will pee and then go home, you tell yourself. Over and over, you repeat this as you relieve yourself in one of the graffiti-doused stalls where condom and tampon wrappers crinkle beneath your heels.

When you're done, you try for the large door you came through, but it doesn't budge. The muffled music outside has faded. Panic sears your chest. You press your back against the door. The bathroom has changed. The stalls are gone. The walls feel like they are closing in, and the smell of piss turns into something even worse. You are alone. Where is the man you came with? You look down. Dead bodies. Strewn limbs. You're standing on a pile of them.

You start screaming. Banging on the door. Digging your fingers into the wood until the flesh rubs down to bone. 

It's not a room anymore, but a box. The fluorescent lights replaced by sheer darkness.

The edges of the door disappear.

A sickening silence replaces your screams.

And then—

"Twix."

You sit up, wild-eyed. You grip onto something—fabric—and a foul taste travels up your throat without warning. You heave several times, your entire body shuddering. 

When awareness settles in, you wipe your mouth and blink up. Ghost. He is... here. Hovering over you. His shirt is tightly bunched between your fingers and you have just vomited into it. The realization smacks you awake and you recoil sharply, staring at his moonlit mask with an expression that must be just short of mortified.

"I... Fuck. I am so sorry. I don't know why— I just..."

When you dare to look at the mess you've left on him, you nearly vomit again. Hands shaking, you rub at your clammy face and begin to ramble unthinkingly as his stare flickers between you and his soiled shirt.

"I've been trying so hard not to hold back like you said, but I think it is fucking me up a little and letting out some things— memories, I guess. I was pretty good about keeping it all in my box because I've been too tired to even think about it, but now I just..." You trail off, realizing your words must make little sense. 

"You've certainly let something out," he rasps.

Your hands drop against the sofa and you cringe. "I'll wash it for you. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

You inhale. "I just fucking threw up on you."

"I'm aware."

Ghost straightens. He pinches the collar of his shirt and carefully hoists it over his head. Then, you're looking at his bare chest. Slivers of moonlight caress rigid brawn and mountainous scars that capture your gaze for a few heartbeats before you tear it away. 

"I'll, um, hang it outside and... wash it in the morning." 

Your legs are unnervingly steady when you stand up and take the shirt from him, carefully grabbing it by a dry spot. You are relieved to get away from him, draping it over the porch and swallowing gulps of fresh air before you go back inside, praying he's gone back to bed.

Luckily, he has. When the empty living room greets you, you sink to the sofa and palm your eyes. Then, you notice something left on the pillow. A cigarette. You pick it up and recall the few times you smoked whenever your friends offered one. The taste never sat well with you. 

You rummage for your lighter. The first inhale burns terribly, but you cough into the pillow and try again. It starts to calm you down after a few times, and only when you've gotten to the butt of it do you go back to sleep.

"No wonder you're not getting stronger if you throw up like that every night."

Not even five minutes into training the next morning he brings it up. The rest of your sleep ended abruptly when he got you up at an unearthly time, probably to avoid having Blue as an audience. You are too winded to even scowl, your fists held tight in front of your face as you try to predict where he will aim next.

"I told you. That was the first night in a while." 

"Right. Something about a box, huh?"

"Can we just forget about it, please?"

"Hard to forget when my shirt still smells."

"I washed it the best I could."

The next dodge has your head flying down fast enough to undo one of your braids. Hair slips over your face and you huff, holding your hand up. "Hold on. Give me a minute."

As you undo the other one and opt for shoving your hair into a tight bun instead, he watches you strangely. The feel of his stare ignites a spark of irritation and you flash him a sideways glance. "Look, thank you for the cigarette and everything else you have ever done for me, but you can stop looking at me like that. Like you... pity me. I'm not going to break, I'm not going to ask you to kill me again. Everyone left in this world has nightmares and mine probably aren't the worst of them."

"I don't pity you," he says. "I am just trying to understand you."

"Why?" You finish the bun and drop your arms awkwardly at your sides. 

"It's important to understand your ally."

"Oh. Is that what we are?"

His eyes narrow. "Obviously. I wouldn't bother wasting my time with this every day if we weren't."

"Good to know you aren't doing it because you owe me."

"You know what I mean, Twix," he growls. 

"No, I don't." You throw your arms up. "I don't know what you mean and I don't know why you never killed me because you had every reason to, and I definitely don't understand you, so I guess we make terrible allies, Ghost."

"What is with you?" He cocks his head to the side, tone mild with curiosity. "So talkative all of the sudden."

"I have no problem talking when the other person isn't blatantly ignoring me."

His brows lift. "Fair enough."

A deep inhale flares your nostrils before you spread your stance. "I'm ready now."

Despite your claim of readiness, he quickly backs you into a defensive position that has you frustrated once again. You don't understand why, but your progress slips. You keep having to adjust your stance and all of your attempts to hit him fail. It's not long before he locks you against a tree with a tattooed forearm against your neck. 

"You aren't focused today," he accuses.

"Damn, you're observant," you breathe out. 

"Jesus fucking Christ. If I wanted to listen to someone mouthing off, I'd get Blue out here." He presses a bit harder and your throat twitches. "I'm not going to threaten you anymore, but clearly, you think straighter when you channel your anger, so whatever you were dreaming about last night— get it out of your head."

He's right. You breathe deep and try sorting through everything in your head, focusing on just the anger, but it's like fishing in murky water. When he releases you, more of the same happens. This time, you end up on your butt. Ghost glares down at you, circling like a vulture.

"You were doing good the past few days. What the hell is this?"

"I told you," you say through your teeth, brushing off the dirt from your jeans. "Letting out my anger means letting everything else in the box out and it is... confusing me. Making my head fuzzy, I guess."

His chest expands with a deep breath and his pointed stare turns meticulous. "Explain this box to me."

You hesitate for a moment. "It's just... where I put away all of the shit that would otherwise make me insane."

"And what is wrong with being a little insane, Twix? This world is insane. Might as well match it."

Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle for an answer and rub your temples. "I don't know. Being insane means losing myself completely. I mean, I have already changed so much in the past five years. Like I said, I was never meant to be this person."

"What person? A person who survives? A person who does what she has to?"

"A person who hurts others," you grit out. "A person who kills." 

"You've killed people, right?" he roughly asks and you nod. "Then you're a killer. You were always meant to be a killer. End of story." His words strike you, and you begin to shake your head defensively, but he continues before you can muster a reply. "The past five years haven't changed you, they have revealed who you are. Now—" he raises his fists, "—open the stupid box and turn everything you feel into anger. All of it. It is valuable fuel that will continue to keep you alive."

He swings.

A kaleidoscope of long-ignored memories flashes through your brain when he hits your sore stomach. Your family. Your friends. The life stolen from you. 

And then— you recover your footing and slam a boot into his knee. It loosens his stance just enough for you to throw yourself at him, effectively knocking him over. The ground welcomes your bodies again, but this time, you grip his shoulders and wind up on top, practically laying all of your weight on him. A few harsh breaths expel from your nose before you become fully aware of the position, the heat from his chest pressing into your breasts.

Quickly, you splay your hands flat against him and sit up straight, thighs spread over his narrow hips. Ghost could easily flip you over and pin you if he wanted. But instead, he crosses his arms behind his head. 

"Comfortable?" you ask him breathlessly, raising a brow.

"Quite. Though, if this were real, I suggest an elbow to the neck once you've got them down."

"So you admit it, then. I got you down."

"I allowed it."

"Sure." Your teeth snag on your lip and you lightly brush a finger over his masked nose, detecting a tick in the hinge of his jaw. "Then I will 'allow' you to keep this for now, but next time, I might do more than just break it."

His eyes widen imperceptibly before he quickly recovers. "Ah. So you are a person who hurts others, then. Someone was trying to tell me otherwise."

Your lips twitch at the corner on their own accord. "Shut the fuck up."

He simply stares at you for a pregnant pause before clearing his throat. "I did allow it, but that was good. You focused on the anger, didn't you?"

You nod. "Yeah, I did. Is that what you do all the time?" you ask curiously. "Just get angry and kill people?"

"Pretty much."

By the tone of his voice, a deep brass that reverberates through all the places your bodies touch, you are certain he's joking. Realizing that you are still on top of him, you push off his chest and swing a leg over, careful not to knee his face or let him see the deep flush that crawls over every inch of your skin.