Inspiration: Requested by @krisbee-scheme – “Hello! May I request an Okita Souji from Yakuza Ishin x Fem Reader who is an Oiran? Nsfw if possible 👉👈” ; “Sayuri’s Theme” by John Williams ; “The Chairman’s Waltz” by John Williams
A/N: I’m not overly familiar with oirans, so apologies for any details I get wrong. <3 Sorry it’s so short, too.
The brothel you worked in was nestled in the center of the yukaku that you and worked in. The lowest ranking oiran in the brothel was a sancha, the highest a tayu. You, however, ranked at koshi, only three other members of your brothel outranked you, but dozens were below you. It wasn’t a difficult job, in fact you rather enjoyed it, but it was difficult to gain rank. Promotion and demotion was determined by the madam that ran your brothel, and the only reason you had reached koshi was the undeniable amount of revenue you brought in. Many of the clients you entertained were always shocked to discover that were only a koshi, but you would always laugh it off and change the subject.
The clients who came to purchase your services always varied from merchants to samurai to shogunate members. Many were men you could barely tolerate, and if you were tayu you would send them away and refuse them service. Unfortunately, you were one rank below and your services were given to anyone willing to pay the price.
Your favorite client was a samurai named Okita Souji. He always insisted that you refer to him as Souji, but you never did. Not in public anyways. He always treated you with respect, allowing you to reject him if you wanted. It was rare you took him up on that, but he offered it everytime. He would often come with other captains from the shinsengumi, watching you and your coworker perform for them. The parties normally ended with some of your coworkers selling their sex to the captains, and Okita almost always ended the night thrusting into you.
This visit was no different.
You’d just finished playing the shamisen for your coworker to dance to, while everyone watched, drinking tea and sake and enjoying the sight. The second you had the shamisen down, Okita grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap, his lips on your neck, and hands trying to get places they shouldn’t be. You laughed, playfully pushing his hands away. Laughter and drinking songs filled the air around you, and Okita never let you off his lap, though he did adjust you so he could keep drinking. The sake was warm as you sipped it, just as it should be.
One by one, your coworkers and the samurai disappeared into another room, giggling and laughing and enjoying themselves. It wouldn’t be long until it was just you and Okita, just the way you liked it.
“It’s just us now,” Okita muttered, his lips still grazing the sweet spot in the crook of your neck. “You choose what happens next.”
“I choose you,” you answered, leaning your head to the side so he had better access.
“That’s what I was hopin’ to hear,” he said as he slipped a hand inside the top of your underkimono. His other arm resting across your lower abdomen to keep you in place as he started to knead your breast with his hand.
“Okita-san, we should—”
“Whaddo I keep tellin’ ya about callin’ me that?” He asked, biting your neck, causing you to moan softly as he started to suckle. He was kneading your breast more forcefully now, and you could feel a familiar need rising inside you.
He was the only client you would be willing to fuck for free, and he knew it. Each time he paid you for his services he made sure he left with you satisfied, and he was the only one that ever bothered. You enjoyed sex with him; he always knew how to play your body like a fine-tuned instrument. You enjoyed spending time with him; his company was always delightful, and he could pull you out of the worst moods with very little effort. You enjoyed his presence; the energy he brought with him was chaotic and tumultuous, yet familiar enough to feel safe and at home with him.
If you could allow yourself to feel anything for clients, you would have fallen in love with this man.
“Okita-san, you know I can’t—”
“But I’m telling you, too,” Okita reminded, his free hand gently wrapping around your throat as his lips grazed your ear. You melted a little at the feeling of his hand around your neck and melted a little more at the little bit of pressure he provided. “We’re too close for those formalities, aren’t we?” He sighed, letting his hand fall from your throat, and the other pulled out from your kimono. “I want you,” he said, looking into your eyes.
“I want you, too,” you breathed, a familiar wetness was growing between your thighs.
The next thing you knew was his lips crashed against yours. Quickly, he maneuvered you to your feet, following behind you. You shrugged off your outer kimono and let it fall to the ground. He made fast work of your obi, quickly tossing it away before his hands held your face to place and keep your lips on his. Your hands rested on his chest before trying to remove his haori, but he refused to lower his hands from your head, so you let your hands roam his chest and feeling the abs that lay below.
After a moment more of kissing, he removed his hands from your head, and made quick work of his belt, dropping his swords to the ground without a second thought before his lips were against yours again. He pulled your kimono layers open, now that the obi was no longer tying them closed.
“Lay down,” he growled, kicking off his pants.
You did as instructed, and in seconds he was on top of you, kneeling between your legs. His eye was fixed on you with a look of something more than just lust. You watched him curiously, wondering what he was doing. He shook his head just a little, as if clearing thoughts from his mind.
He was back to kissing your neck, and your hand was palming his erection, causing his breath to hitch at touch. It felt like he was devouring you, sloppily suckling your neck and kissing your lips like he hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks and now a buffet was before him. You could feel the bruises on your neck start to form, and his kisses ventured south, taking a nipple in his mouth to suckle on, flicking his tongue against the tip as your breath started to quicken.
A finger slid inside you, and you gasped at the feeling. His lips moved to your neck again, and he inserted another finger, pumping inside you generously before slipping a third. You were a moaning mess beneath him yet again. He knew how to work you, and he didn’t want to wait tonight. Everything he did had purpose, and that purpose was to get you ready for him as quick and as efficiently as possible. It had only taken moments, and you were a mess under him, incoherently begging him for more. You knew how to play the position of courtesan well, but you weren’t playing the part now.
When he pulled his fingers out of you, you whined, looking at him and pouting. He took no time getting himself lined up, his eye staring into yours as he entered. You were soaking, and it took no time at all before he was thrusting into you, burying his face in your neck, panting and growling into your ear.
“Souji,” you whined as he thrust into you. He bit your neck, his thrusts becoming more intense as you had said the name he’d been longing to hear.
“I love you,” he growled, his pace relentless. He braced himself with one elbow, using his other hand to start playing with your clit. His mouth crashed into yours, trying to consume whatever part of you he could have.
“I love you, too,” you moaned when you could manage to break free of his kiss, “Souji, I think I’m—”
He pulled back from your mouth, and took your breast in his mouth again, flicking your nipple with his tongue for a moment before suckling again. It was a rinse and repeat process, but he knew how much you liked it.
“Fuck—” you looked at the ceiling as your vision became fuzzy, a warm sensation flowing into your legs radiated all the way up your chest.
Okita didn’t stop, and your rhythmic clenching around him was just what he needed. His mouth left your breast, and he rested his head in the crook of your neck, grunting as he emptied himself inside of you, panting and trembling as he gave a last couple thrusts before he had to stop, laying his body on yours enough to feel you under him but not enough to crush you under his weight.
“I meant it, Y/n,” he breathed, nuzzling his cheek against your skin, “I love you.”
“I meant it, too, Souji,” you admitted, gently moving his face so you could look into his eye. The shock and happiness and love inside him converging into what could only be described as puppy dog eyes. It made your heart flutter as you lifted your head to gently kiss him.
This was the only relationship you could have at this point; the relationship shared between a samurai and his courtesan.
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