#also their mutual panicking is so entertaining to me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crystlizabeth · 9 months

Text

Manager Contract

Ushijima Wakatoshi x Blackfem! Reader

Warnings: suggestive moments, secret relationship, cursing, reader and Ushijima are 18! Ocs are in this (Aniyah Iwazumi aoba johsi manager, Kiomi Takashi & Siyori Sato nekoma manager)

Summary: camp week means meeting with other schools for a big ass vollyball camp. Being Shiratoriazawa’s lil manager meant going on the 2 week trip but Its not all that easy you and your boyfriend have to be more discreet about yours relationship so others don’t find out or your ass is in deep shit.

You and Shiratoriazawa’s captain have always been close, but within the last year you had gotten closer to the ace. There was nothing wrong with dating Ushijima but there happened to be a slight problem, the manager contract. A contract for student managers, a contract you had to sign to pretty much say you wouldn’t get into a relationship when one of the player so that there wouldn’t be any bad blood if there happen to be a break up and to not be a distraction for the players. As stupid as it was you thought why not it would be fun to help out keep your self busy. And it did it also let you know why not many students took up the chance to do this though most of them where just there for the guys. Managing one of the top teams was one hell of a job.

Now you found yourself breaking the contract over the small winter break getting into a relationship with the team’s captain. Though it wasn’t hard to keep the relationship a secret, it helped that what you two did now as boyfriend and girlfriend was what you did as friends besides the sneaky kisses in the storage closet, how his hand rested on you back from time to time quickly removing it, or the extra acts of service and gift giving, and how you spent most days after practice at his house. His hands wandering your body more freely as he kissed your glossy lips, how he felt more relaxed laying with you.

Now you sat on the bus not by your boyfriend but buy the first year Goshki who happened to reach the seat before you boyfriend could. The small glare goshki got was unnoticeable to the first year but you could help but laugh quietly trading spots with the first year to the outside seat so you could sit some what close to him.

The ride was long longer than you would have liked, motion sickness was your worst enemy making you fell sick not being able to lay your head on Toshis arm. You threw you head back looking up slightly your eyes shutting tight.

“L/n, you okay?” You heard a voice say. Looking over Goshkis brows frowned him worried noticing you’ve been off for the past few minutes.

You nodded lightly “yeah just get sick on long car rides.” You spoke.

The first year slightly panicked asking if there was anything you could do his worried questions not helping the pounding in your temples. “Y/n trade spots with me real quick.” Tendo spoke from the other side of your boyfriend, him getting up offering the seat by the window with a smirk.

Your eyes glared at him slightly know what he was up to, he was up to no good knowing the mutual feelings between you and Toshi but not knowing the fact of the relationship. You took a deep breath walking across the isle quickly just to flop down in the seat. Ushijima looking over to you giving you a knowing look, he reached down to his bag pulling out some water offering the bottle to you. You thanked him quitely soon closing your eyes again.

Sleep talking over your body tendo couldn’t help but be pleased with the situation next to him you dead asleep on his best friends arm your mouth slightly open, Wakatoshi looked over that the red head giving him a questionable look “whats so funny?” He asked.

“Just please with my work didn’t think you would mind sitting next to her huh waka~” tendo teased a fat grin on his face. Ushijima blinked looking away to not entertain the red head.

The bus finally came to a stop the felling of ushijimas hand shaking your leg slightly waking you up. “Lets go we have to check in and find the rooms.” He spoke softly his hand lingering up you thigh before removing it.

With checking in the boys soon found there sleeping arrangements they all shared one big room while managers would be in groups of two to share, you got paired up with an older friend Aniyah Iwazumi who was Aoba Johsais manager. Her face lighting up as she saw you. “Ahhh! Bitch its good to see your face!” She squealed her arms wrapping around you, yalls teams might have been rivals but all the managers where pretty close.

The end of the day finally hit the coaches told you guys curfew was 10:30, you received a text at 11 from your boyfriend. ‘Meet me in the second floor family bathroom.’ The text was straight to the point, ‘its past curfew thought you followed the rules like a good boy?’ You sent back teasing him while getting up out off your bed. ‘Well we seem to never properly follow them see you there.’ He text knowing damn well you were gonna go not really giving a shit if rules were being broken.

Pushing the door in you saw Tosh on the long bench across the wall, locking the bathroom door you gave him a smile walking up to him his arms taking in your body, he pulled you to sit on top of him. “Hi baby” you said kissing his cheek.

He kissed your lips, his hands resting on your hips. “How are you feeling?” He asked from the crook of your neck, the feeling of soft kisses being placed on your throat.

You groaned at the feeling, “better just forget to take something before.” You said the feeling of Tosh suckling at your neck making you squirm.

“I’ll remember to grab something for you just incase.” He muttered continuing to kiss your neck moving your shirt over slightly to kiss on your shoulder. His hands started to wonder and conversation continued, this was normal him getting you to talk as he kissed up on you wanting to hear the noises from you.

“You know Tendo is on to us.” You mentioned your words coming out wobbly.

He only hummed against your neck his large hands cupping your breast, “Is it a problem you think?” He asked his hands squeezing your boobs causing you to moan lightly.

You nodded slightly feeling Tosh reaching to the bottom of your shirt pulling it up over your tits, the cold air hardening your dark nips. His eyes looked up at you wanting a verbal answer before he continued. “It could be.. love ten but he has a loud ass mouth ahh..” you voice cut off mid sentence the feeling of Wakatoshis tongue licking over you bud taking it into his mouth the piercing on your tit leaving an taste in his mouth he didnt mind.

Your nails dug into his clothed shoulder as he continued fondling you. “Common you seem to have more to say im listening.” His words low, knowing that his tone meant keep talking or hes stoping and is he has to stop theres gonna be attitude.

“W.. fuck.. if he finds out.. It could get out and the means im in big fucking trouble as you are to..” you spoke your voice shaky.

He detached from you a quiet pop could be heard. His hands continued to massage your breast, “true but i dont think he would be to loud about us, the guys like you around so i don’t expect them to tell on you.” He said his head tilting looking up at you.

Amused with the look displayed on your face, he pushed his groin against you causing a whimper out of you. “ we cant here plus i didn’t bring a condom.” You whimpered out your head falling into his broad shoulder.

“Wasn’t planning on it, I apologize for getting you so worked up.” He said kissing the side of your face.

You pushed of him sitting back up looking at him seeing the amused smirk on his face. Your face dropped smacking his chest, “you’re a fuckin’ lier.” You spoke irritated knowing he was doing it on purpose.

He lifted you off his lap sitting up straight his chin resting oh the valley of your boobs looking up at you. “You’re gorgeous you know that.” He said his large hands rubbing circles on your hips.

You smirk letting your acrylics scratch his scalp as you ran your fingers through his hair hearing a pleasant groan as you did so, “I know.” You spoke kissing his forehead. You laughed lightly feeling him smile against your neck.

You tilted your chin down so your lips could connect, the kiss long and slow turning in to more and your lips moved in sync soon the kiss escalating to the point you where back in his lap. His tongue gliding over your bottom lip asking for access which you granted, your fingers tangled up in his hair pulling it’s slightly as you both made out. His arms wrapping around you pulling you as close as you two could be your back arching, the bathroom started to heat up as you both continued both of your body’s grinding against eachother.

You felt his erection through his joggers, press against you. Your hips moving to create friction soft moans escaped your mouth. The sound of the door handle rattling causing you both to freeze. His hand covered your mouth quickly.

The person gave up you both listened for the foot steps disappearing into the distance. You let out a soft nervous laugh into his hand.

“I think its time to head back upstairs.” Your boyfriend spoke. You nodded getting up straightening yourself up. Shaking your curls back, looking up you saw Wakatoshi looking at you through the mirror his hair messy.

You both made it back to your rooms safely without being caught. Him giving a quick kiss as he left to his room.

The morning came faster than wanted, the managers were told to wake up a bit earlier to set out breakfast for the guys, you met the girls downstairs you in your purple joggers that sat on you like flair sweats and your team jacket. The girls said good morning, Kiyoko telling you they needed help getting out trays and silverware which you did. The boys from the teams soon flooding in as you girls finished setting stuff out.

You and the girls started talking to eachother behind the counter watching the guys move through, them saying good morning as you responded back a smile on your face. The gentleman quietly gawking over you girls, “Yo L/n its been a minute!” You heard your name, looking over you saw Kuroo and Bokuto grins plastered on their face.

“Hi boys, how y’all been!” You spoke. They continued conversation till the got to the end saying goodbye and heading to a table. Soon after that you saw him.

His look giving you attitude, “oh its you.” You said putting your hand on your hip dramatically.

“Dont even y/n.” He spoke putting his hand up.

“Says you Oikawa, why are you here.” You sassed.

He laughed lightly “Im here because im the best ovii.” Oikawa said flipping his hair.

“Oh? Delusion doesn’t look that good in you hun, but do you girl.” You said.

He gave you an offended look his hand touching his chest “ how dare you, you know what dont look at me.” He said turning around as he got the the end of the line quickly turning around giving you a quick smile.

You shook your head laughing, “Put a leash back on him Aniyah.” You said.

She laughed. “I didnt know yall where friends.”

You nodded “been friends with the boy kisser for a while.” The nickname causing the girls to laugh.

Finally you saw Tosh and Tendo come through the line. “Oh my Y/nn, good morning pookie.” Tendo said giving you a wave.

“Morning Ten, how did you sleep?” You asked giving Tosh a quick smile before tuning to the red head.

“Actually pretty good, though it was hot as shit in the room.” You let out a chuckle.

“What about you Wakatoshi?” You asked.

He gave you a small nod “just fine, how about you Y/n?”

You told him fine conversating with tendo as the went through the line, Ushijima looking at you the whole time taking in the way you looked this morning, your edges laid nicely, your hair parted to the right side of your face, your lashes long and curled, you had a different spider bit studs this morning they were hot pink instead of the silver ones you had in last night, your nose rings the same.

“I’ll see you boys later, eat good.” You said waving them off.

Turning back around you saw Kiyoko and Aniyah looking at you, “what?”

The two girls shared a look looking back at you giggling. “Did you see the way he was looking at you?” They whispered pulling you closer to them.

“What, who?” You asked playing stupid.

“Beefcake” they both said. You rolled your eyes at the nick name.

“You two are crazy he just has a staring problem.” You said excusing the matter.

“Bullshit, Girl you’ve had the hots for him for how long and he looking at you like that these days.” Kiyoko spoke pushing your shoulder lightly.

“Shut the fuck up oh my god, even so it not like i could do anything ‘bout it.” You said your head turning to the side.

“Okay and?” Aniyah said.

“Hes not a rule breaker and knows his ass is grass if he tries anything with me and i could get kicked off the team.” You said smacking niyahs forehead.

The two girls groaned, “Boooo, so boringg..”

Breakfast finish up the managers started preparing the water bottles and coolers for the teams after a small pick up, you and Aniyah entered the gym that was being shared by your teams. The days after that seem like a normal practice days just with the exception of setting up lunch, cleanup, and dinner.

With the week finishing up tension between you and Tosh was building up. While you where able to keep your hands to yourself and behave, close calls happened a few to many times, for example. During clean up while you were putting some chairs away with a few of the guy’s helping Ushi being one of them he started walking out with you giving your ass a quick slap and walking away, you let out a yelp having a few people look at you. Another time was when you we’re having dinner with them his hand resting on your thigh no big deal but he decided to get ballsy letting his hand travel up, you gave him a warning glance he gave you a tight squeeze causing a noticeable wince, the first year next you noticed asking if you where okay.

It was now about the middle of the second week, and it was time for your after curfew meet with your boyfriend. Walking down the stairs you quickly notice two voices one of them being Ushijima and the other his Coach. ‘Shit..’ you thought pressing you back against the wall wait for their conversation to be over.

“Well Goodnight dont let the other coaches catch you.” You heard Coach Washijo say, his foot steps getting further till you hear the door open and close.

You quickly peek your head out see Ushijima looking out the door to make sure he was gone before looking over to where you came from. He saw you waving you over, quickly running over you pushed him into the bathroom locking the door behind you.

“What is he doing!” You quietly yelled.

“He know somethings up but wont say it straight up.” He said his hands going up to your face holding it.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, he closed his eyes taking a deep breath composing himself. “Dont look at me like that.” he said sharply.

You tilted your head up smiling at him, “Just dont get us caught, I say you’re a pretty good lier.” You spoke your hands running down his chest stopping at his waist band.

“You think..?” He whispered bending down his lips grazing over yours.

“Mmhm, you’re not so good with words though..” you said.

“Im good at talking you through touching yourself.” He said bluntly kissing your lips tenderly.

You laughed into the kiss, matching his slower pace. The kiss was intimate the kind of kiss he needed. He led your body with his back to the bench pulling you on him the kiss continuing. Your hands trailing into his hair playing with it, his hands massaging your hips moving them against himself. You moaned the friction hitting the right spot.

“Baby don’t get to riled up.” You spoke through the kiss, noticing his body language being more aggressive.

He hummed into the kiss not really caring, his day was hot, tiring and stressful. May have not been the best setting but he needed this, he needed you, you made him into a touchy person who craved your touch and yours only. Soon you found yourself grinning on him with out him guiding your hips, soft moans came from both of you he wanted to be closer to you closer than he was. His hands found themselves at the bottom of your shirt pulling it over your head, letting him with no debate. He lifted you up your bodies finding the cold tile floor your bare back against it as he was on top of you, he adjusted your legs to lay over his hip’s giving him access between your legs.

His lips trailed down your body kissing around your breast and down to your stomach, he leaned up pulling his shirt over his head quickly returning to you his bare skin touching yours. He let a pleasant groan out feeling your skin against him, your body was so soft and warm you had always smelled of a fresh fragrance yet it was so sweet. God it drove him crazy. How your nails that he had gone with you to get done would scratch his back or how good it felt when you would scratch his head as well of the pleasure it brought him when you did.

He loved your body jewelry, the gold how it sat with your dark complexion to fucking well, and how your navel piercing would dangle when he took you from behind. He wanted you so bad, he craved you every part of you and not being able to get a single moment of you to himself without the stress of being caught.

What if he just told his coach, would it be selfish of him? You loved working with the guys, loved helping him and the guys liked you, respected you. Maybe it was selfish of him but if he could love on you freely he would do it, face the few consequences that came with it put the blame on himself. This thoughts continue over and over as he loved on you, watching your body react to his touch.

The next morning hit the day the same as any other same damn cycle, but when going to grab a few more towels at the end of the day the boys stoped you before going in.

“Ushiwaka is havin’ a serious convo with coach so we just grabbed the stuff for ya!” Tendo said handing you the last few towels before walking off.

You just stood there thinking about last night ‘oh shit..’ you forced your body to follow Tendo and Semi. You where internally panicking wait to be called to talk to the coaches. 30-45 minutes later Reon said the coach need to speak to you, you quickly stood up racing out the door to the gym turning the corner you saw, Washijo and Saito standing outside the gym. Collecting yourself ready for a stern conversation, they never yelled at you at least.

“Coach Washijo, Coach Saito you wanted to speak to me.” You said your voice audibly shaky.

Washijo sighed crossing his arms looking at you as Saito turned back looking in the gym. “How long have you been breaking the contract.” He spoke.

You heart dropped, “I- its.” You fumbled over words.

“L/n..”

“Almost a year.” You said quietly your eyes avoiding his gaze.

“Coach Washijo, I am so so sorry.. I know of the consequences i will face for breaking the contract, i-i just dont have a ride home from here so i cant leave yet or now but when we get back to school.” You ramble on holding back your tears your voice breaking. “Just please don’t punish him, its all my fault..” you sobbed lightly. You put him first right now even if you had to call to get somebody to picked you up but you wanted to make sure he wasn’t in trouble that you didn’t fuck with his spot on the team or the mutual respect him and Washijo shared. You looked down wiping your eyes quickly as you continued to apologize frantically.

“L/n, L/n.” He said cutting you off, his hand falling on the side of your arm.

You looked up, “He came to me.”

“What…” your voice barely above a whisper.

“Ushijima came to me earlier to day explaining the situation, that if you where to get caught face more hurtful consequences. The consequence of you having to be let go of the manager position. Ushijima had a 20 minute conversation with me to make sure I wouldn’t have done that, so he insisted on the punishment being laid fully on to him.” Washijo explained he turned his head to the gym.

“He’ll be running suicides for the rest of the week and so on for 25-30 minutes every day after training. Got to give it to him, he may be one of the most hardworking players ive seen on my court for a long damn time and he is willing to sprint along with multiple workouts for 30 minutes straight to make sure you dont get into any trouble, and to make sure his teammates dont lose their manager.” He said looking into the gym, “He’s head over heels for you L/n. None of those boy would do that for a girl, maybe.. But he made it very clear that hes stupid for you, i hope you never take that for granted L/n. I’ll leave him to you there is his water bottle, cool rag and a clean towel.” Washijo said walking past you.

You heard Satio telling ushijima to stop but not to sit down yet, walking into the gym Ushijima had his hands on his head his breathing heavy. You walked up to him upon hearing you he turned around, “Hi baby..” you said holding out his water bottle. He grabbed it as well as your arm pulling you into a hug, his sweat drenched shirt touching your face making you cringe slightly.

“Hope he wasn’t to harsh on you..” he spoke his breathing still heavy, you felt him place a kiss on top of your head.

“He wasn’t love..” you spoke in a whisper rubbing his back but quickly detaching yourself to him, “But i think we should get this shirt of and you in a dry one, drink your water.” You said pulling his shirt over his head walking over to his bag to grab another one.

Turning back around with the gray t-shirt, he was sitting on the floor now his legs crisscrossed. You laughed lightly as he watched you fix his shirt. “Youre so beautiful.” He said his hand rubbing the back of your thigh. “Your just saying that to distract me from the fact you ratted us out and not your running suicides for at least 2 weeks.” You said putting the shirt over his head letting him do the rest.

“But now i get to love on you, and touch you without the stress of getting caught” he said standing up.

Pressing your lips together giving him a upside down smile, he looked down at you his hands pulling you close by the hips. “You look like your about to cry.” He said.

“What if i did.” You said burying yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“You look pretty with your mascara running down your face.” His blunt words causing you to smack his back.

You two stayed like that his head resting on top of yours, his hand rubbing soft circles on your back.

“ I love you, Wakatoshi.”

He pulled your face back cupping it, “say that again..”

“I love you, Wakatoshi.” You said again he pulled you in kissing your lips.

“I love you too, Y/n.”

I KNOW ITS LONGER AND KINDA EVERY WHERE BUT IVE HAD THIS IDEA STUCK IN MY HEAD FOR DAYS SO I HAD TO WRITE IT!

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagine #ushijima x reader #haikyuu ushijima #ushijima x black reader #hq headcanons #hq ushijima #hq x reader #haikyuu x black reader #x black reader #shiratorizawa #hq captins #ushijima fluff #ushijima x you

130 notes · View notes

your-lovely-rose · 4 months

Text

“They’re cute” Part 2/2 (Nakime || Request by @cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme)

Rating: Explicit

General genre and genre for this part: Romance || Dark fic

Word count and reading time: ±15.8k (1h)

Pairing: (Biwa Demon) Nakime x Human!Reader

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba

⚠ Warnings for this part of the request: Minor death, Dead bodies, Desecration of a human corpse, Larvae and flies, Blood, Falling into madness, Jealousy and possessive behavior, Mental problems, Presented the character's past (from "Kimetsu no Yaiba Official Fanbook: Kisatsutai Kenbunroku 2"), Forbidden Love/Mutual Pining, || NOT EDITED

Autor’s Note: Okay, so before you read this, listen to me, my reader. The reason why this Request is divided into two parts is that with Nakime I immediately filled the limit of 1k text panels. And also the previous part with Daki and Mukago was light, but here it will be very heavy and dark - I don't even know how it happened because it was supposed to be another fluff. All of them were supposed to be fluffy and light, and each of them with a maximum length of 3k words, of which Daki would be the longest (I expected 9k from the start)! I really have no idea what happened here... I swear! All of a sudden, I felt like it was boring, and I panicked a little bit, and then it got wild. After that I felt like it was boring again, and I kind of forgot the exact request that was... And this was created. I hope the characters aren't too OOC here. I will humbly accept any harsh criticism for this.

➵ “They’re cute” Part 1/2 (Daki & Mukago)

> Nakime Masterlist

➻ Little dictionary:

Zataku (座卓) - is the generic term for this kind of low table.

Hadajuban (肌襦袢, はだじゅばん) - are a type of kimono undergarment traditionally worn underneath the nagajuban. Hadajuban are even further removed from resembling a kimono in construction than the nagajuban; the hadajuban comes in two pieces (a wrap-front top and a skirt), features no collar, and either has tube sleeves or is sleeveless.

Kimono (着物, きもの, lit. "thing to wear") - is a traditional Japanese garment. The kimono is a wrapped-front garment with square sleeves and a rectangular body, and is worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased.

Jitō (地頭) - were medieval territory stewards in Japan. Appointed by the shōgun, jitō managed manors, including national holdings governed by the kokushi or provincial governor.

Okyia (置き屋) - residence maiko or geisha and may be inhabited by several of them. The first step of a woman, who wants to become a geisha is to accept in the okiya. The owner of the geisha house, okāsan (Japanese: "mother"), pays for the upkeep and training of their wards. In return, they give part of their earnings to support the house and other non-geisha residents. Okiya isn't a geisha workplace, they work in teahouses called ochaya.

Geisha (芸者) - in Japan, a woman with artistic skills, entertaining guests with conversation, dancing, singing and playing traditional instruments (e.g. shamisen, koto or shakuhachi). She can also conduct a tea ceremony (chadō) and she's as well-read as oiran. They dressed very modestly, but with taste and boasted sugao, i.e. face without makeup. In the opinion of the Japanese, they were considered the ideal of bijin ("beautiful woman"). Before a woman becomes a geisha, she must pass a six-year maiko period. If a geisha has a permanent partner, she must move out of okiya and okāsan can adopt a geisha. She then gains the privilege of a permanent resident of the house. Her debts to okiya are cancelled, but at the same time all of her income goes to upkeep of the house.

Knock, knock, knock.

A loud knocking sounded in Nakime's head. She knew everything that was going on at Infinity Castle.

She could hear the whistling of air as Kokushibo swings his sword when he practiced, the cries of Douma's victims from his Eternal Paradise as he fed and and where its dangerous snares also reached or the hundreds of footsteps of stray, weak demons wandering through her dimension.

It was her domain, her territory, her kingdom. Her world. She was in charge here, and nothing could surprise her.

And yet she didn't expect it.

She knew it was wrong and also that he knew it too. After all, she had His blood in her and could not hide anything from Him.

If he noticed something, he didn't pay attention to it. He was too busy with his tubes and the reactions going on in the glass vessels. For several hours he worked relentlessly mixing his blood with various substances and despite many failures he still managed to remain calm.

'Still' is the keyword here.

Because even he, after millennia of unsuccessful attempts, could finally lose his patience.

Before the knocking could irritate him, she tugged the strings of biwa and moved to another place, the old washitsu room, where her domain merged with the outside world.

So where?

Here, where the smell of blood and stale liquor still hovered. Here, where everything is familiar, though strangely different from what she has created herself with her art and sound.

And where she didn't like to be. This place confused her - filled her with many emotions that she thought she had buried deep and long time ago in her forgotten past, when she was still human.

Sitting straight on tatami mats, she looked around the traditional Japanese room as if it was her first time. There was not much in it: only a low table, at which still stood a clay glass for sake, and a pitcher lying next to it, the contents of which had spilled on the floor long ago.

The zabuton pillow, which she used to use while sitting and practicing on her beloved instrument, began to rot from spilled rice wine and large blood stains staining the floor around her.

The mats were completely ruined by it and had to be replaced, but this was no longer her problem. It belonged to her old life. Just like this house and the emotions it aroused in her.

Anger, grief and sadness all combine into one, giving her both headache and a tightening of abdomen. The smells irritated her nostrils and burning her esophagus.

She wanted to raze this house to the ground to cut herself off from her pathetic, weak, human self once and for all.

It was not her place now.

That woman was dead. She died in an alley by getting carried away in a sea of endorphins, blinded by pride and overestimated her abilities.

Did she really think she could hurt Him? Stupid, pathetic thinking of a weak human.

She lifted up her slender hand holding the wooden batchi pick tighter, ready to give a full show of her power until another knock pulled her out of trance again.

A quick "knock, knock, knock" sounded in the room this time, and it wasn't so loud when it was not only thundering in her head and had to overcome the distance to her in the air. Through the thin shōji door, she could see the shadow of the figure standing behind them in the rays of the rising sun.

She was about to pull the strings again to snagged the person standing at her door, but she heard how familiar voice called her by a name she no longer recognised, adding the honorary title '-sama'.

This voice... evoked a pleasant feeling in her chest, and before the eye of her mind appeared the image of a human. She could not remember the face, because it was shrouded in a thick mist of forgotten like so many elements of her past, but she knew where she remembered this person from.

This human used to come to her shows. Before she was transformed by Him, she made a living entertaining people with her music.

Although many people (traders, craftsmen) came to relax with the sounds of her instrument, she could not afford much at home. Most of her paycheck was taken by her husband...

He was a gambling addict.

And he lost. Time after time. One loss after another. Until finally he finally went too far, took something precious from her and lost it. That was the last straw.

A black-haired woman grabbed her head trying to interrupt the flow of memories. She plunged her sharp, blue nails into her long hair and unconsciously began pulling on them to distract her from them. Wanting to turn the bitter pain of past wrongs into physical.

She couldn't stand it and... What did she do?

Ah, yes.

She killed him.

Now she remembers it exactly. She used a hammer and smashed his head for losing her only kimono in which she could perform, and then she went on stage as usual.

In her head were the voices of people who began to mock her, and their howl hurt her ears. She felt their malicious, unfavorable gazes judging her poor, useless, holey clothes.

The only other kimono she found in the closet that could replace her previous one.

Although she was frightened and humiliated, she tried not to show it and humbly looked down to somehow escape, to separate herself from them, when her legs were heavy as lead, her feet were planted in the ground.

Then her eyes met the only friendly look. Its owner sat the closest to the wooden stage and did not show her the pity, that you feel for a pathetic dying animal. It would only humiliate her even more. He really felt sorry for her. Those eyes were so sweet and gentle. Looking at them from behind her dark bangs, she began to play.

The slender fingers, on which, despite the long friction and washing, she still felt warm blood, moved themselves along the long neck of the instrument, pressing the appropriate chords and getting out of it as much as she could.

The other hand was not left behind, pulling the strings and creating together an unusual composition, although inside her body she was trembling.

She was afraid they would know. That they might already figure out what she did. The tension in her rose and could be felt in her music. Her hands were shaking and sweat was all over her body, but she never stopped playing.

The sounds were as clear as a calm surface of water in a lake and spread throughout the room hypnotizing everyone.

Despite the loud tones of her biwe, she could hear the audience holding their breath at more tense moments or whispering quietly to each other, covering their mouths with their hands or paper fans.

She had nothing left - no kimono, no means of subsistence, no talent...

When she finished playing the first tune, she felt mentally exhausted. She waited for the first signs of discontent among the crowd, but they remained silent. Uncertainly, she looked up from the floor and saw everyone staring at her like enchanted.

A moment later, someone from the end of the room called for an encore, and the rest of the gathered people follow up him, and then everyone chanted for more and more.

Before anyone had time to notice, the night passed them all like a dream. It was... Her best performance so far.

Tired, but drunk with many applause and praise, panting heavily, she returned to her house. Where the smell of alcohol and blood still hovered.

Her hands were all numb and aching from squeezing strings, when the customers was still called for more. Even the owner asked her after the show if she would come the next night and paid her handsomely for her work. She's never made this much money for one show before.

She was planning on buying herself a new, better kimono tomorrow. Maybe even two.

However, when she got home, all her good mood with blush disappear, when she remembered her problems. Actually, the one that was still lying there like she left him all night.

She had no idea how to dispose of the body. Where would she possibly hide them? How long would it take to find them?

Without more thought, she undressed her last kimono and dragged the inert corpse to the other room, which had previously been her bedroom. There she covered them with a sheet and left them.

She was aware of the stench they were about to emit and what might happen to her in return, but she didn't think about it then.

She resisted them and tried to live as before. With an old rag she tried to wipe away the already dried dark stains of blood with tatami, but no matter how much and how hard she rubbed, they remained.

After bathing in the bowl - wiping herself with a damp piece of fabric, she pulled out another futon and lay down in the living room so she not to have to lie next to the corpse and as soon as her head touched the pillow she fell asleep. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon.

She had no dreams that night.

Still hoping for a better day, she got up late in the afternoon and, as she had planned, went out to buy a new outfit.

However, already on the threshold of the house she saw a parcel left at her door. The paper, in which the package was wrapped, rustled when she took it in her hands and after tearing a hole in it she saw inside a beautiful dark material.

It was kimono with silver thread embroidered patterns and multicolored flowers. Among them, she recognized red tsubaki, light pink sakura, purple sakurasou and white ume.

It was beautiful and certainly expensive. She thought it might have cost even more than her paycheck yesterday.

Who could have given it to her?

She'd been offered a patron or danna-san, but she wasn't a geisha. She never went to special schools and was never a maiko. And she's already married, which is unacceptable to a geisha.

Nor was she weak or pathetic enough to accept alms. She could take care of herself and earn money.

But unfortunately, when she returned to the venue in the evening full of energy, her performances were not as unusual as before...

Even though the place was full of people, even though she was wearing a new kimono - a simple, dark brown kimono that she bought the same day from an older woman who ran her own store - and she was calmer than last time, she didn't do so well.

No matter how hard she tried and how much her fingers hurt from the strings after all, she couldn't repeat the success of the night before.

When she finished the first song she looked at the crowd and saw people whispering to each other with disgruntled faces, and the owner looked at her with doubt. Among those closest to her, she even saw a few looking at her with worry written on their faces.

Hoping to improve the situation, she tried again and again, but it was... mediocre. And that was until she started getting nervous and making amateur mistakes.

Anxiety and cold sweat overwhelmed her more and more as she confused the chords or made unclean sounds by improperly pressing the strings. She didn't know what was going on.

Feeling like she was fooling herself, she finished her show earlier than the night before and left. Or rather, she ran away.

She had to get out, she just had to get as far away from them as she could. She felt small under the weight of their eyes and that she was suffocating from the tension.

On the way home, she heard someone calling her. She pretended not to hear the voice, but the pushy person stopped suddenly in front of her, consciously or not, blocking her way back home.

She recognized the person as a client from the place closest to the stage. This was the same customer, who was the only one who looked at her with compassion during her performance last night and today looked worried about her condition.

"May I have a moment?" You asked kindly, bowing and introducing yourself. You was still breathing heavily from running after her.

She think that you have to even fall in the mud, which could be indicated by your dirty clothes on the right side and your wet sleeve.

She didn't want to talk to stranger, but out of courtesy she decided to see what do you wanted from her.

"I saw your performance, and I'd like to ask... Is everything all right?"

"In what sense?"

"During the first performance, you came in a ruined clothes, and today..." You stopped, not knowing how to define today's fiasco.

"Everything is fine, please do not make any more insinuations."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to offend you," you said, trying to defend and not upset the woman even more. It wasn't your intention at all.

"So leave me alone now."

Nakime walked around you and was about to left you behind her back, but you showed up right next to her.

"Could I at least walk you home? It's dangerous to walk alone at night," you said, fall into step with her.

She only answered you with a short, sharp "no" and sped up her step even more. You did the same thing, getting on her nerves.

"Then may I at least ask why you did not wear that kimono?"

"Excuse me?" She asked, but she didn't slow down. She frowned in anger. "So it was you. I do not need anyone's pity or charity."

She said through clenched teeth and her fists until her fingernails left crescent moon prints inside her hand.

"Oh, no! No, that was never my intention! I would never dare!" You defended yourself by raising your hands to your chest as a gesture of submission.

"I do not need this. I can take care of myself."

"I just wanted to help..."

"It is not necessary."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was worried to see you like that. You've never performed like this before..."

Sweating from nerves and feeling the anger of a dark-haired woman, you slowed down until you finally came to a complete stop. She didn't do the same and didn't even notice your confusion. Your last words were echoing in her head.

Does that mean you've been coming to her shows for a long time? How much could you know about her?

After a moment of hesitation, you followed her a few steps after her. The night could be dangerous even for a single man, let alone a woman.

She heard rustling of your shoes on the ground, but she didn't stop to look at you again. She didn't want to pay attention to you, hoping you'd get bored soon.

In the end, you escorted her all the way home.

- - -

On the third night, when she again failed to reach the previous level with her performance, she started lost her mind again.

Everyone seemed to look at her with contempt or regret or as if they knew what she had done. In a hurry, she fled to her home, wanting to hide in the safe four walls as soon as possible, but even they did not give her comfort.

You walked her home quietly again. You haven't said a word to each other, and that's fine. Otherwise, she felt like she'd scratch your eyes out or pull your tongue.

She didn't understand what she had done wrong, why she couldn't play like she did then. Is there something wrong with her instrument? Or is it with her?

In desperation and to get rid of the excess of overwhelming emotions, she began throwing clay, decorative jugs and screaming. She did not know how much time she had spent demolishing the room, but when she finished, she was kneeling sweaty on the mats, breathless and on the verge of collapse.

She's been so busy she hasn't heard your quiet knock. She only noticed you after you asked her through the door if she was okay.

She told you to leave, and despite the silence, she wasn't sure if you'd listened to her.

- - -

The next day, she didn't go on stage. Nor the next one, or even the day after that.

She lay apathetic in the middle of the room among broken glass, her long hair looked like a big pool of black blood and listening to the sound of flies buzzing behind a thin wall. The body must have started to rot and give off that characteristic insipid sweet smell that had not yet reached her.

She didn't feel up to anything, even to eat or drink water. When she heard the silent knock, she thought it was just a dream.

Sleep was no longer her salvation and escape from reality. She felt threatened all the time during it and was even more tired after waking up, until she stopped sleeping. Time slipped her slowly as she saw changes in the light coming through the window under the very roof.

Soon after, she was no longer sure she was still trapped in her sleep. An endless nightmare she can't escape from.

Only after long hours, when finally the thirst began to overwhelm her, she get up to drink from the nearby well.

With a slight trembling on her limp and weak legs, she moved to the door and almost fell over the pitcher standing next to it. The vessel tipped over pouring water around. There was also a bowl with a clay lid on it.

Nakime barely sit on the ground. She got dizzy and feel foggy for a while, but she managed to come to her senses.

She lifted a warm lid, and the strong smell of spices and hot steam from her shoulder struck her face. Then she felt a pain in her stomach, reminding her that she hadn't had anything in her mouth for a long time.

The bowl had ordinary ramen in it. The black-haired woman swallowed the saliva that flowed into her mouth and lifted the overturned jug with some water left in it. Unlike food, it was pleasantly cool moisturizing her dry throat.

She was about to start crying while she was eating. Food has never tasted so good.

Feeling better, she went home leaving empty dishes on the doorstep. She knew who brought it, and she expected you to come back.

The food was warm, which would indicate you were here recently. Did you come earlier to check on her, too? Were there any more meals? How did it feel to see that she didn't touch the food you brought?

She went to sleep again when she was full. She felt tired, but this time her sleep was peaceful. When she woke up, she felt better, so she decided to do something (although she was still weak).

She carefully collected the glass from the tatami mat and ate the scraps of food she found at home. With the money from the show a few days ago, she bought a big bag of rice and some meat in addition to a kimono, so she still had something to eat.

She hasn't touched any more of the dishes you left her. She was grateful for the meal earlier, but when she didn't need it, she wasn't planning on taking any help from you.

But she didn't spend the day just cleaning room and herself up. All this time, she was thinking too.

Why?

Why aren't her performances so good anymore? Why can't he play like that a second time? How was that show different from the others?

And when someone knocked on the door again, she came to the most frightening conclusions.

- - -

Fuku Ogawa stood at the shōji door of one of the houses. He picked up the dishes earlier that day, before it started to get dark. He was a butcher by profession and a friend of yours privately, so after you asked him to deliver the food here, how could he refuse?

Exceptionally, you couldn't do it in person right now. Well, these things happen sometimes - you have plans, but something came up, something happened, and you have to get out of the routine once or twice.

Fuku knocked on the door again. He heard a murmur behind them and the sound of silent footsteps. For a moment he felt a cramp in the abdomen - the discomfort that occurs when something is wrong. A slight anxiety gently fills our mind and body like poison.

Before he could do anything, the door opened and he saw in it a young, beautiful, but also tired woman. She had long, black, damp hair and pale skin. He saw a slight bruise under her eyes pointing to heavy nights and a black kimono with floral embroidery on it - he recognized them because you bought them a few days ago.

She looks surprised. It was certainly not him she expected to see outside the door, but there was nothing he could do about it. He introduced himself briefly and drew a bowl of food and jug of water towards her.

"Who are you?" she asked, ignoring the dishes in front of her. Instead, she grabbed the kimono with one hand and covered herself tightly. The other hand hung loosely, completely tucked into the sleeve.

"A friend," he said again short, hoping to get out of here as soon as possible. There was a slight, insipid smell coming out of the house, which he did not like and this woman make his hair stand on end.

"Could you take this inside?"

She asked and took a step back to let him come in. He didn't want to do it, he was uncomfortable with that woman, but he also didn't want her to accuse him of being rude.

He carefully entered without taking off his shoes and looked around the dark room. He didn't like the fact that there were no candles burning here and the only light that brightened a few meters in came from the full moon behind him.

"Put the dishes on the table."

He heard next to him. In the dim light on the other side of the room, he saw the outline of a low table and moved towards it, still holding the dishes in front of him.

But with every step he smelled a stronger scent in the house and heard the quiet buzz of insects. He knew it from somewhere, but couldn't tell from where.

Tap, tap, tap - her bare feet made on mats until she stood behind him. He could almost feel her heavier breathing on his neck and the smell of the perfume oils she used for her bath.

He was about to turn around and ask whether to bring some candles for her, if she didn’t have any (he just really wanted to get away from here as soon as possible, he wouldn’t come back here again for all the world) when a heavy object fell on his head.

In contrast, all turned white in front of his eyes from pain and he fell with a bang on a wooden piece of furniture, almost breaking it. The wood crackled silently in protest under his weight. The impact was so strong that he passed out almost immediately, but he was still barely conscious.

Then there was another and another. All he knew was what he got before he lost feeling and awareness of what was happening to him. With the remnants of consciousness, he finally knew what was the odor he smelled at home.

It was the smell of rotting meat.

- - -

Nakime kept hitting the man's head with a hammer until she got tired and left a bloody pulp. The remains of the man's hair and gray brain clung to her murder weapon, hand and also splashed on the zataku underneath.

She was trembling. Her breathing became heavier. She did it. Again.

She looked at the biwa standing on the other side of the room, illuminated by the light coming through the folded door. The strings in the cold light looked like silver thread of a spider. They lured her and summoned with their mute voices.

Now she has to go.

She must be in a hurry.

- - -

At night, you couldn't force yourself to show up at any place to have fun and relax a little. You didn't feel like it, even though some of your friends asked you to come.

They wanted to celebrate with you another big order to some remote place in the mountains. The locals were practically cut off from everyone else, which was perfect for you. Every month you were to send them three wagons with basic food and items - vegetables, flour, rice, spices, pasta, meat, materials and much more. You didn't ask where they got the money, it wasn't your part. What mattered was that they paid.

You liked to talk with them about a lot of things and eat with good music, but... you didn't want to. Why? You had your suspicions, even though you weren't entirely sure.

You've been up all night lying in your futon and flipping from side to side. Your head was still playing the tune of the biwa from a few days ago.

You felt thirsty in the desert. Like a drug addict in rehab. Like a believer who's starting to miss the presence of his God.

But what could you do when your only cure was gone?

Hours went by and you couldn't sleep. You couldn't think either, because your thoughts were filled with one person and their music.

You could've tried to run away until those feelings died off. Stop showing up in pubs, but how could you escape your own thoughts?

How could you hide from the part of you that loves her?

Loves her?

Yes, you could admit you admired her, but loves?

Surprised, you sat on the mattress and ran your hand over your face. You felt stupid. How old were you to fall in love like a naive teenager?

And yet the pleasant warmth inside you and the butterflies in your belly spoke for themselves. Even your friends noticed that you were different after that woman's performance. They teasing you for it, and you couldn't hide your red face or look them in the eye when you denied it.

Everyone thought she was new in town, but that wasn't true. You've noticed her long time before, because you liked her music, even if it wasn't outstanding.

You liked how she kept calm on stage and was always very restrained and elegant. If it weren't for her modest kimono, you'd think she belonged to the aristocracy.

You suppose that's when the feeling began to sprout inside you like a cherry blossom.

But when she showed up that night - terrified, haggard and wearing an old, torn kimono - all you wanted to do was go up to her and comfort her. Take her away from those eyes that surround her.

But then your eyes met and she started playing. She tugged the strings and as if at the touch of a magic wand all the stress and anxiety went away from her.

Then everyone else ceased to exist for you. You thought you and her were the only one in the room... No, in the whole Empire of Japan, or even in the whole world. It's just you and her.

Time stopped, and you could feel your heart beating with hers heavily breathe. Nothing else existed at that time - just you and her, and her music.

When she was done, the spell burst like a soap bubble. Suddenly other people appeared around you again and time went on its normal course.

Yes, it was then that the seed sown in your heart fully blossomed during that one song and gave birth to ripe fruit.

You listened to the rest of her performance breathless and with red cheeks, like she was playing just for you.

It was stupid to think so - she probably had no idea you existed, but there was nothing you could do about it. Everyone likes to dream and think they are special to someone.

So why should you be the exception? Besides, no one will know, it's just your thoughts anyway. Your own private place where you can hide when reality is too hard.

You opened the wooden shutters on a dark night. The moon was hidden far behind the clouds, and you couldn't even see the stars from here. In the background you could hear the quiet life of the insects and the sound of the wind running through the tall grasses.

She doesn't show up for some reason and she doesn't accept your presents.

When you gave her a kimono, you didn't mean to be rude or make it look like you felt pity for her. Same as when you brought her food. You really wanted to help her, but she was too proud.

You were worried about her.

You went out on the wooden engawa at the back of the house and sat down looking out over the meadows and the dark forest towers over the town.

If you wanted to, you could move to a bigger city. Maybe Osaka or Kobe? You could try your luck there. Open a new business of your own. Then maybe you could even afford an apartment in Tokyo? Or not, you don't think downtown would be a good place, it would be crowded. Maybe in one of its neighborhoods? Asakusa? Or Yoshiwara? You could meet a real Geisha or Oiran–...

"No, that's stupid." You scolded yourself in your thoughts. You'll act like a coward, and running away won't bring you anything, but a stain of pride and honor.

You'll keep thinking back here to her. Even if you leave, your heart will stay with her bleeding, because she won't even look at you.

The night was peaceful and quiet. The noise and singing of the wind dancing among tall grasses and branches of trees suppressed other sounds.

Your night passed slowly, looking at the full silver moon as it came out from behind the thick clouds.

Smelled like before the rain. Fuku would say, looking at a scene like this, it's going to be a tragedy. He's always been very superstitious.

But you were here alone.

The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?

You thought you heard her music from afar, but it was too quiet to be considered real.

- - -

The next morning, your friend find you in front of the house. Initially, you expected to see drunk Fuku, who liked to visit you at any time and was sometimes in a state of intoxication before noon.

Did he have some work today? He was a hedonist, but he was also responsible enough not to drink before job.

But no, it was Kiyoshi Hirano. A clerk. You invited him in and offered to make some tea.

"I just came to tell you that your friend with the biwa is back. You've been a little sad because of her lately..."

"What?" you turned to him with a clay jug. The movement was so fast that the right water poured out of the spout of the dish.

"Last night," he began slowly watching your face. "I was waiting for Fuku, where we used to meet to have a drink when she appeared on stage and started her performance again. She was... good. Looks like her lucky streak's back."

"Really? Do you think she will play tonight?"

You put the teapot in the cupboard where it was before, completely forgetting about the tea, and walked up to Kiyoshi again. You didn't notice his serious look and how closely he watched your brightened face.

"I don't know, I guess so. After all, it's what she does for a living." He interrupted your next question with a hand gesture. "I'm not going there today."

"Why?"

You were surprised by his cold reaction. He seemed angry or concerned about something.

"I'm going to check on Ogawa-san. I didn't see him yesterday and he still didn't show up today. From what I see, he's not here either."

"No, he's not here," you repeated deafly. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Did he say something? What he was planning or where he was going?"

"No, I don't remember anything like that."

"Yhm. So nothing here for me. If you remember anything or see him, let me know."

"Something happened?"

"No, nothing. It's just my stupid hunch. But if I don't find him, I'll go to jitō."

Jitō was the deputy owner of the land on which your town was located. He was supposed to watch over his goods and peace, if a problem arose he had to solve it.

You just nodded at that. You didn't understand his concern about Fuku, you saw him yesterday, and he was fine.

"Okay, so be it. I hope to see you both at the show tonight."

"I hope so too."

He said grimly unconvinced and turned his back on you.

- - -

The orange sun had not yet hidden behind the horizon and you were already sitting in a local restaurant, at one of the tables closer to the stage.

People were elegantly dressed, some even more than was required stepping inside and taking their seats. It wasn’t a real okiya, so you didn’t quite understand their efforts to pretend to be better than they were, but you had no intention of pointing it out to them.

It was quiet. Conversations were conducted in a whisper. Glasses were not brought in toast. You could feel the tension in the air. Everyone seemed to be waiting for something. Or someone.

Finally, after a time that seemed to last an eternity. After the sun and its last rays resembling the hands of a drowning man reaching out for help disappeared from the sky, covered by the deep black of the great scape filled with millions of stars, she appeared.

She wasn't looking at anyone. She did not wander around the room with her eyes like a frightened doe. She just took her seat and started playing.

And the music itself was flowing from under her fingers. The sharp notes flooded their all minds.They could not think of anything else, everything outside was in the background. It was just her and them. Her audience.

After the performance was over, there was thunderous applause. Everyone wanted more and more. As we can see, she returned in grand style.

You also listened enchanted. You didn't care that Kiyoshi didn't join you all night. You didn't even notice it. The world outside this room no longer existed.

- - -

"I'm going to the jitō," Kiyoshi told you when you met him buying rice and asked him why he was dressed solemnly.

"Business?"

The man looked at you in surprise, tilting his head as if he wanted to ask if you were kidding.

"I told you I'd go there if I didn't find Ogawa-san anywhere. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Oh, no. Maybe a little. I'm sorry."

"Yes, I can see it," he squinted, looking at you critically.

"Have you been at his place to see him?"

"It was the first place I visited. I asked his neighbors if they had seen him, but no one has seen him since he left for work two days ago."

"Then I guess he's not at the slaughterhouse either."

"Exactly."

"Listen, why don't you wait one more day? We'll go to the jitō together if he's still gone. Perhaps he's lost his way back, because he is drunk again."

Although improbable, such situations have happened. One time he took the wrong directions and tried to get into someone's house. The landlord of the house beat him hard, and for a week he walked around with a swollen face and purple bruises all over his body. Another time, he fell asleep in a truck loaded with bags of rice and was driven kilometers from here.

Although Hirano was unconvinced, he accepted your offer and you spent the rest of the day together.

In the evening, you went to your favorite place to eat with music. You only managed to get in because you came earlier - soon after sunset there was such a crowd that no one else could enter.

You saw Kiyoshi looking for your friend, but he didn't even see anyone even remotely resembling him.

When your food were served, she went out on stage. As always, she moved gracefully and without unnecessary movements, as if she knew that part by heart.

The long black hair fell before her face like a funeral veil. She was still wearing a simple brown kimono, and you were a little disappointed that she dismissed your present with contempt.

She raised a pale hand with well-groomed nails holding a wooden bachi pick. The sleeve of the kimono slid down her arm, revealing more of her slender body and silky skin.

You almost fell back into that stunning trance hypnotized by her music when something discreetly pinched your thigh. It was Kiyoshi. He seemed worried.

Surprised at his behaviour, you raised your eyebrows didn't understand.

"Blood," he whispered. His mouth tightened into a line after he repeated it. "She's got blood on her clothes."

And when you looked at the musician you could see how under the kimono, where the collar around her neck covered part of the white hadajuban was a small red spot. If you had sat further away you would never have seen it.

"It could be anything. Maybe she got dirty?"

"Maybe," he admitted grinding his teeth and not taking his eyes off her. Focusing on a small, meaningless speck. "Or maybe not. It will be revealed. Remember, we still haven't found Fuku."

For the rest of the evening, he didn't speak to you, looking for your friend. You too could no longer focus on the music and let yourself be carried away by the pleasant atmosphere - the stain on her collar was bothering you.

What if someone attacked her? What if there's a dangerous animal in the area? Or a madman? What if something could happen to her?

Your restless thoughts rushed more and more as wild mounts were let loose into the increasingly unpleasant, dark recesses of your mind where irrational fear and unlikely scenarios ruled.

But you still haven't found Ogawa-san, have you?

True, but maybe he just got lost again. Maybe he's tired and sleeping at home now. Maybe it's all one big misunderstanding. Maybe the stain on her collar isn't blood.

Maybe.

- - -

The next day, as soon as the sun rose, you set off with Kiyoshi to Fuku's house. You wanted to be absolutely certain, and according to your comrade's supposition, he wasn't there.

Everything looked as usual. There was a bit of a mess inside, but it was nothing disturbing or new. Ogawa was not one of those who paid attention to where he lived.

The futon, instead of being tucked into a closet, lay on the side of the large room with a blanket rolled up into a ball, as if it had just wake up. Around the room stood many pots of sake, which he did not want to throw away, and other things that he probably used lately.

Yeah, it was a mess, but it wasn't unusual.

"Let's go ask the neighbors," you said quickly leaving the house and not looking at Kioshi.

He managed to stop you by grabbing you tightly by the shoulder.

"I already told you, I did it."

"So what now?"

"We can only go to the jitō and he will hire samurai to guard the security. I think that's all we can do."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, for now."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I want to know what happened to Fuku. They won't be looking for the missing." He paused for a moment, feeling his anger rising. "They'll just try to prevent more disappearances. They don't care abo–"

Suddenly he stopped before his voice broke completely and then you noticed how tightly he clenched his fists. As he tries to stop the tears in his eyes and not let them flow down his cheeks.

You... You didn't know he was in such pain. That he feels that way.

You felt guilty that you didn't care more about your friend's disappearance, that you didn't start looking for him right away. That the first person you were worried about when you heard about his disappearance wasn't him, but was someone else.

"Listen Kiyoshi," you started insecure. "I want to hel–"

"No." He cut you of. "You would only be in my way, I prefer to work alone."

"Oh... okey."

You agreed, but you were hurt that your friend wouldn't let you join his investigation and also didn't want to argue with him. He was smart, so you knew he could handle it.

"Ah, and one more thing."

He added before you left the house. That was the last time you saw him, but none of you knew it yet.

"Stay away from that woman. Please."

• • •

The man decided not to involve you knowing how distracted you've been lately. Because of that musician, you couldn't concentrate, and you missed a lot of obvious things.

He was no longer just talking about a bloodstain or a lack of concern about Ogawa.

Yesterday, following the woman from a safe distance (so she could not hear you), he noticed that she was not afraid to travel alone through a dark town or wooded area.

It turned out that she did not live in even on the outskirts of the city, but in a village about an hour away on foot.

She never turned around to see if anyone was following her, and that should be a natural reaction for anyone traveling alone in areas where disappearances occur. Especially women, who are inherently weaker than men.

Almost everyone is talking about the disappearance of Fuku - together with a local vet, he had to help assess whether the animal is suitable for curing or going for slaughter.

Local traders and meat farmers ask about him because he was the cheapest specialist in his trade.

If there were any rivers nearby they could be turned to fish, but within a radius of many kilometers there was none and the delivery could cost them a lot.

Sometimes local doctors needed his help when the only way to save their patients was to amputate a limb.

Did Fuku practice on dead animals for fun, or is the profession of butcher and doctor so similar? He didn't know, and he never wanted to ask.

So what could have happened before he disappeared? And how could a musician you love have anything to do with this?

Unlike Ogawa-san, he was not superstitious or relying on mere hunch, but when he looked at the dark-haired woman he saw cold sophistication in her eyes.

Why a woman traveling alone in the dark didn't fear an attack?

Did she have any weapons on her? Or did she know something that others don't? Maybe she knew she had nothing to fear.

Another thing that caught Kiyoshi's attention was the strange smell around her house.

After "walking" her home safely, he ordered to come closer. Kiyoshi wanted to investigate the source of the scent. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he was already determined to solve the mystery.

He knew that the more days passed, the chance of finding a friend alive dropped drastically. His mind said he was probably dead, but deep down he still hoped of finding him alive.

It's silly how emotions can affect a person's logical thinking and behavior, but there's nothing he can do about it.

After all, he was only human.

Standing in front of her door, he listened to all kinds of sounds from inside, but there was complete silence. The only thing disturbing it was the sound of buzzing wings of flying insects.

Something sat on his hand and automatically killed the bug. He couldn't see what it was, it was too dark for that, but the next one sat on his forehead and another flew past his ear.

Flies?

You tried, slightly confused by his prying behavior, to pull him away, but he just went to the back of the building where the smell intensified.

"Kiyoshi, please sto–"

"Shhhh, be quiet and help me."

"Wha–?"

"Don't talk, just stand against the wall."

He cut off the conversation quickly so the woman couldn't hear you two and showed you where to stand.

In the dim moonlight, he saw a triangular window under the roof. Because the houses in the village were not tall, he could look through them, but he still needed help to reach it.

"Look, I don't think–"

"Shhhh."

You stood straddle and folded your hands, so he could put his foot on it. Then, with a slight swaying, he jumped on your shoulders.

"But listen, I don't–"

"Shhh, ladders don't talk!"

Holding on to the old boards, he tried to find something he could hold on to. Any holes or roughness.

"Stop fidgeting!"

He rebuked you in a whisper almost falling.

"Then don't stand on my head!"

When he stopped wobbling, you grabbed his ankles harder and at his signal, you slowly began to straighten up. Unfortunately, he still didn't reach the window.

He couldn't even pull himself up because he was still missing quite a bit with his hands stretched forth.

"And what? Do you see anything?"

You asked, in disbelief. Did you just help your friend 'peep at' spy on a woman?

"I really don't like what we're doing. Are you listening?"

But Kiyoshi didn't listen. He was mentally preparing for what he was about to do.

He took a deep breath. Then another one, and curled his knees trying not to fall. If he fails, he'll break his leg or arm.

The moment he jumped up, you walked away from the building. He grabbed the edge of the window and the old wood under his weight crackled in protest - they sounded like they were about to break.

At first he wanted to curse you for it, but suddenly he heard footsteps coming from the other side.

You were too loud.

"Is anyone there?"

A harsh female voice spoke up and he froze. He heard you burst through the bushes surrounding the house, rushing to the nearby trees and she stopped just below him.

Time stopped for a man then. Seconds turned into centuries. Flies flying around him sat on his hands and face, tickling him by thier little legs as they walked on him and bit his bare skin.

To keep them from getting up to his nose, he hid his face in a long sleeve, praying that the wood would stand up and that she would not look up.

The black-haired, looking like a yokai in front of her house, stood there for a moment watching the backyard. Long grass could reach her hips - her husband didn't care much about anything but gambling and alcohol, and none of her neighbors ever had the idea of trying to cut down the plants before they became miniature version of the wilderness for rodents and other small animals.

She was sure she heard the conversation, and the tread in the grass clearly indicated someone was here.

Or was it just her imagination? Maybe she's going crazy? Is it possible the smell of carcass lured the predators?

Still, she should be more careful and dispose of the bodies.

When she finally got back inside, Kiyoshi's arms couldn't hold him longer and he let go. He managed to land on his feet, but he leaned back and fell out of the engava into the sticky mud, which with the thick and long grass cushioned the impact like a pillow.

Scared, that she might come back, he quickly hid under wooden porch to wouldn't get caught, but this time he probably didn't make so much noise, because she never showed up again that night.

Unfortunately, he couldn't pull himself up to look inside nad he wasn't even sure if the moonlight allowed him to see anything.

He liked to think of himself as a rational person and more intelligent than the common man based on his intuition, but the smell was too suspicious.

Maybe it's feelings, but he believed that if anyone could know anything about Ogawa's disappearance, it would be her.

He couldn't ask her directly. He'd just freak her out and she'd do something unpredictable. After all, a trapped animal is ready to do anything to survive.

• • •

The next afternoon, Kiyoshi left the house and instead of going to work, he went straight to the jitō that controlled the surrounding area.

He was a clerk, so his request might have meant more to him than to an ordinary farmer.

Personally, he didn't like Hiroto Sasaki.

He got this job only by acquaintance with the landowner and did the necessary minimum of his work - all the money from taxes (which he did not pay to the landowner) was spent on alcohol and courtesans. He often hosted parties for friends in his home and did not care about the problems of the inhabitants.

People often asked him to stand up for them because otherwise he wouldn't even let them in or send them back home.

Kioshi did not have time to take three steps from the gate when an older, stooped woman approached him (as fast as her rheumatism allowed).

She had grey hair tucked into a low bun and a face full of wrinkles showing how her life was filled with both, happiness and worry. Her hands were resting on a long stick that must have helped her on her way here.

"Hirano-sama?" She asked in a quiet voice full of sadness and her half-blind eyes were even sadder. She bowed slightly to him. The man bowed and asked what she had to do with him.

"You see... My son, Kai, went missing yesterday. I can't find him and he's my only support after my husband's death."

"I see, so what can I do?"

Although he asked, he already knew the answer and with even greater determination went to the jitō headquarters to solve the problem.

One of the servants, whom he had managed to meet during his few visits, led him to the back of the mansion.

There, a fat man dressed in gold and surrounded by comfort women, was eating sweets and fruits.

In the background on biwa played them a geisha, sitting under a cherry tree - delicate petals of flowers swirling around her added her femininity and grace.

Kiyoshi, however, shuddered when he saw her resemblance to Nakime from afar. He probably would never have thought that she looked like her up close, but he still hadn't snap out of after yesterday's close encounter with her.

He did not want to look at her, but the sounds constantly emitted by the instrument remind him, that she is there, not allowing to gather thoughts and relax tense muscles ready to fight or escape.

"What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Sasaki hated Hirano. He thought the clerk always poked his nose into his business and added jobs to him. He hated his visits, but his uncle (and the owner of the land he managed) ordered him to let him in because he had already met Kiyoshi by himself.

He said his remarks were accurate and he was able to listen to people. He thought he'd be a good right-hand man for Hiroto, but he knew he was doing better on his own.

The clerk refrained from roll his eyes hearing him and immediately told about the disappearances and pointed out, if the situation doesn't change, they could suspect either a wild dog attack or a serial killer in the area.

"And what do you think I can do about it?"

"Bring the samurai."

He answered without hesitation, instantly enraging the jitō. The fat man blushed so much with anger, he looked like a tomato.

The glass of saki he threw at Hirano luckily passed above his head and crashed somewhere on the rocks behind his back. All he felt was a few drops of alcohol drenching his clothes.

"What do you think you're proposing? Whose money?! Do you think I have no expenses?!"

"Maybe from the taxes we pay you?"

Only the quiet sound of the wind in the branches of the old trees answered him in their own language and the birds singing in them.

The geisha stopped playing as soon as the clay vessel was broken, but even the man, sitting on a chair resembling the emperor’s throne, fell silent.

The clerk, bent all the time, raised his head slightly to see how Hiroto calmed down and turned pale.

As he suspected - all the money went to his and his friends debauchery.

"If you don't think it's appropriate or unnecessary, I can always write a letter to–"

He couldn't finish because Sasaki came to his senses.

"No. There is no need for that. Starting tomorrow, I'll bring in someone to keep an eye on things."

Several times in the past, Kiyoshi threatened to write to his uncle, but it had to be a complete last resort, because he knew Hiroto would be willing to hire an assassin for him.

Not feeling completely satisfied, he had to agree and let go.

He would rather Sasaki did it today (since many samurai looking for new masters to serve recently), but he also knew that after spending all the money that idiot had to somehow get them now.

He could only hope that by tomorrow there would be some samurai in the area.

• • •

As the sun went down, Hirano was already watching the musician's house from afar. He waited for her to come out, so he could sneak in.

She went out to the perform practically every night, so Kiyoshi knew he should soon see her leaving the building and walking along the sandy road.

And an hour after sunset, a woman appears at the door and stands on a wooden engave looking around the neighborhood. Her eyes were scouring the yard like she was looking for something or waiting for someone.

With loose hair and a black kimono, she looked like a yokai demon.

But he didn't understand why she hadn't left yet. Did she know she was there?

No, it's not possible. He made sure he couldn't be seen by her.

So why?

Suddenly, incredibly brisk for a woman of her small stature, she took a large package wrapped in fabric and ran to the back of the house.

What could be in the package, which she was secretly trying to get rid of? She hid letters from her admirers from her jealous husband? She gave birth to an unwanted baby? Or maybe the murder weapon?

The clerk planned to approach there, but also preferred to wait until she went to work. He didn't want to get caught again, and he was afraid it might be a trap.

That she could watch the backyard from the window, and when she saw him, she'd attack him with something. Although Nakime was a woman, he preferred not to underestimate her, especially since their last meeting had completely frightened him.

So he waited.

And he waited all night.

However, she did not go out again and after sunrise - when farmers began to go out to look after animals and crops - he left.

• • •

During the day, Kiyoshi could no longer watch her - as an clerk he had his duties and had to be careful not to fall asleep.

But it wasn't an easy day for him.

Once he poured black ink from the inkpot, staining the sleeve of a silk kimono, and flooded the papers lying next to it. Or he also had to re-read documents a few times because he couldn't concentrate.

He felt completely exhausted, although he didn't feel that way coming here. Tiredness began to catch up with him.

He looked forward to the sunset indicates the end of his work. The steady sound of rain hitting wooden walls or ceramic tiles made him even more sleepy, and he hoped it would clear up by then.

And as soon as it changed from a sad, grey sky to a blood-red color, he immediately went out. There were large puddles everywhere and it still smelled of rain after a few hours, so he took one of the umbrellas with him.

He hoped that someone hired by the jitō would show up during the day to get a map of the area, but no one showed up.

Neither samurai nor any local villagers he would hire to save money.

As he walked, he could hear Fuku's disapproving voice in his head, who, looking at the sky, would say, "Someone good will die today, the sky and the gods are in mourning."

Many times then he looked at him with a sly smile trying not to taunt him after by quoting his grandmother, but now he misses his superstitions.

How much he would give to be able to sit with him and you on an engava and look up at the sky, drinking sake after work and celebrating the start of the day off.

He came to his home first. He wanted to change into darker clothes, so she couldn't see him.

He was hoping she'd leave the house tonight to perform. If not, he's gonna try to look around the back of the building to see what she's hiding.

Kiyosji looked at the unfolded futon, which he didn't hide. It looked so appealing that he lay down on it for a while - after all, she didn't come out with the sunset anyway. He still had time.

And with that thought - he fell asleep.

- - -

He woke up when it was completely dark. Afraid he was running late, he ran towards her house. If he showed up too late, he wouldn't know if she left.

The run didn't last long, he didn't like to practice. If it weren't for his limp stature, you probably never would have been able to hold him on your shoulders.

Intermittently, he switched once from running to marching and his wooden shoes loudly let the surrounding residents know that he was in a hurry. He was panting heavily, like a wounded animal and he could feel that he had fire in his lungs, but he would not stop.

At least until a black-dressed figure stood in his way.

Nakime walked slowly, holding her precious instrument in her hands. One of the sleeves completely concealed her hand, which surrounded the body of the instrument like a mother hugging a child.

Unbelieving (and feeling goose bumps on his sweaty body) he stopped to catch his breath.

The woman passing him did not even look at him.

He looked at her for a moment - she, as if feeling it, stopped and turned completely to face him. A distance of 20 meters separated them, but for him it was still too small.

They stood in silence waiting for any movement of the other person until they were interrupted by a man in armor.

Samurai.

"So this useless pig did something useful at least once." Thought kiyoshi

The man approached the musician and asked if everything was all right, looking suspiciously at Kiyoshi. He was not surprised, but he was still outraged.

She was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

She calmly replied him. Her voice was serious, but pleasing to the ear.

There was also an aversion to the samurai, who had to put on heavy armor just for the show - it was impractical if he came to chase someone lighter and would only slow him down.

After a while, each of them went their way - Nakime to the restaurant, he headed towards her house, and the man watched them.

He was probably making sure Kiyoshi didn't hurt her.

But that's good, because now he's sure he won't get attacked from behind and the house is empty.

Suddenly he realized he was more and more convinced of her guilt, although he had never approved of hasty judgments. He believed everyone was innocent until proven guilty in a court of law or evidence was found to point to the culprit.

Meanwhile, what did he have? Terrible smell coming out of her house and strange behavior. In the past, it wouldn't have been enough for him to pass judgment, but since Fuku's disappearance, his thinking has changed completely.

Standing in front of her house, Hirano stopped and began to listen. The only thing that could be heard from inside was the noise of a flock of flying flies on which the sound he trembled. He hated all kinds of insects, but he forced himself not to vomit or run away.

The odor's gotten worse since the last time he was here, and he had to put a long sleeve on his nose and mouth. He must have blocked it somehow.

It didn't help much.

He planned to get in and out quickly. The building wasn't big, so it couldn't have taken him long.

The door was not locked - probably the smell itself discouraged entering.

Inside, he left them open so the faint moonlight would illuminate this room. He saw the outline of a low table and two seat cushions. In the corner of the wall with the door, there was something white that he thought was bedding.

But in the current light, he couldn't recognize the huge stains on the tatami mats. He needed a candle.

Holding his breath from time to time, he searched the few cabinets inside and found some hidden next to a bag of rice along with a flint.

Satisfied that he managed so well, he started hitting stones against against each other and watched as the sparks light up the room for a moment until he managed to ignite the wick.

What he saw next made his heart stop and all the color drained from his face, making him look like a ghost. At the moment, although he was alone, he felt threatened and wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. He felt like a deer on a hunt.

Blood was everywhere. Dark stains covered the floor at the table, one pillow and led into the other room behind the shōji door.

On the table he saw overturned white sake glass, also stained with blood, and nearby there was a jug in which there was still some alcohol.

Feeling his body getting heavy he moved into the other room and when he reached out to open the door, he saw that he was trembling. There, the smell and the sound intensified like a warning not to go in.

He was afraid of what he'd see, but he had to...

With one quick move, he opened the door. It slammed and the smell hit him in the face with double force, pinching his eyes. Flies immediately sat on him, looking for something to eat, biting his exposed skin and drinking sweat.

There, in the middle of a small room, were two bodies. He saw the white larvae moving in what used to be the heads of the wretchs, and how far the rotten process had gone.

He couldn't hold out and threw up. It was too much for him. He had to get out. Now. Immediately.

But he didn't even have time to take a step because as soon as he turned around, the hammer hit him in the face, smashing his completely nose and knocking out his teeth.

Through the black spots appeared before his eyes, Kiyoshi saw a figure in front of him and then fell, when she hit him a second time, falling into the death chamber. He managed to block the blow with his hand and heard a loud crack of a broken branch.

He didn't think about it then, but that was the sound of his broken fingers. Because of the adrenaline, he couldn't feel it now.

Unfortunately, he didn't see anything else. The candle fell out of his hand and went out.

He felt a weight on his stomach as the woman sat on him and tried to hit him on the head again. He was still covering himself by his wounded arm and trying to get it off her somehow, but she was too heavy for him.

He hoped that someone would hear his scream and come to help him, because at every moment he weaken.

But no one came, and another body was found in Nakime's room. Now she's done her ritual and she is ready to perform.

- - -

The venue was buzzing of impatient voices. All the gathered people were looking forward to the arrival of their favorite musician, who rarely made herself time off. The long-haired woman hypnotized with her music, causing clients to come back for more.

Her fame quickly spread around the area and it became harder and harder to find a place inside. You had to come a few hours earlier to listen to her melody.

Because of this, some (those who never heard it and just wanted to eat) thought it was stupid. They didn't understand and called her audience fools.

And you were one of those fools. You're in front of the stage again, waiting for her to perform like a dog for a treat. Despite your most sincere attempts to stop or listen to your friend, you could not stop coming. She was like a drug.

Every time you've seen her, you've felt the butterflies in your belly start to dance inside and your mind becomes incredibly light, like when you're drunk with alcohol. But you didn't drink sake so you wouldn't be distracted and fully enjoy the performance.

But today she still hasn't shown up. People began to get impatient and the owner of the premises upset - thanks to her his income increased significantly and if she decided to change workplace meant problems for him.

Some of the guests left mad, and some started wondering out loud where she was. At some point, they started chanting her name, thinking it would make her suddenly show up.

You'd probably be the last person to leave this place and still wait a few more hours for her.

You missed her and her music during the day, waiting for the night to see her again.

But you didn't have to because she finally showed up.

She was wearing a black kimono that you once gave her, but something that caught your eye and prevented you from fully enjoying the performance was the numerous tearing of the material that you seemed to be the only one to see.

• • •

Nakime came home in the morning at her regular time. She was fine, both physically and emotionally, despite the scratches on her forearms and the bruises on her abdomen caused by that burglar. Even a not-so-pleasant meeting with a neighbor did not dampen her spirits.

An old woman called her attention to yesterday's noise and said she already thought her husband was dead. Until recently, quarrels and shouts in their home were standard fare.

It was supposed to be a joke, but she didn't even know how much of it was true. She also told musician to take care of the horrible smell coming out of her house.

She didn't care much about her as she was about yesterday's guest.

She did the right thing coming home. Meeting the samurai made her feel a little insecure and afraid of detection - killing someone outside meant more risk.

She wanted to go back and keep trying to dispose of the bodies. Although they made her nauseous, she found the willpower to cut them into pieces and wrapped in her previous kimono.

She finally appreciated the clothes you gave her because you can't see the blood stains on them. But she felt that if she came out on stage all covered in blood, no one would even notice - everyone was mesmerized by her music.

Sighing, she undressed and went to bed. Then maybe she'll try to get rid of the body parts again.

It was a tedious and difficult task. She had to do it in such a way that the origin of the meat could not be determined immediately.

But she was glad she took care of it because otherwise she wouldn't have found the footprints and other tracks behind her house suggesting an unwanted presence.

She was sure it was her night visitor, but who was the other person? Why didn't they come together?

A normal person would feel scared in a situation like this, but after tonight, Nakime felt invincible. The power she had and the impunity with each subsequent murder made her as drunk as alcohol. She became more and more confident and less cautious.

But she now fell asleep without fear.

- - -

Her work was interrupted by a knock on the door. Her fingers and wrist hurt from cutting hardened cartilage, and her knees from long kneeling.

She got up unstably and washed her hands in a bucket of cold water before she opened the door.

Is it that crazy old lady again? Anybody else in the neighborhood who's bothered by the smell? Maybe it's a samurai?

But it wasn't any of them.

That was you.

You stood insecurely, holding a package wrapped in brown paper in your hands. You didn't look her in the eye. Instead, you focused on the floor.

You took small, short breaths to somehow bear the stench from inside, but you did not make a face. You asked if you could come in and talk.

Nakime moved away from the door to let you in. She tried not to show it, but she was glad you came - she was shaking all over her body at the thought of smashing your head and going to perform again in the evening.

You stood in the middle of the room, and the setting sun lit the room for a moment until she quickly closed the door and darkness set in. She didn't have any open windows here.

"I know everything," you started before she had a chance to come up to you. She quietly took the hammer lying on the cabinet near the door.

"And on the one hand, I didn't want to believe it, I've been denying it all the time... But I can't do this anymore. It rips my heart between what I should do and..."

"What do you mean?" She asked, but she wasn't interested in your answer. She just want you to didn't turn around for a second.

Nakime was standing right behind you with a hammer ready to strike.

"You are the murderer, aren't you? You killed Fuku and Kiyoshi..."

Suddenly you turned around when she had her tool raised and made her hesitate. It gave you the precious second to grab her wrist and lowered it, asking her to talk for one more minute longer.

"I should turn you in, but I can't," you confessed. "I'm hurt by what you did and it will never stop, but for some reason I can't do anything against you."

Your voice broke. She was so close now, she saw you were on the verge of mental breakdowns.

"Please tell me what I should do. If you think it's best to kill me, do it and put an end to my torment."

For a moment she didn't know what to say. She felt she should end it with one punch, but instead she told you to leave.

She didn't like the new kind of arousal caused by your confession, the fluttering of her heart or how the blood came up to her cheeks. She felt she was getting a fever because of you. Her legs are even weaker than they were before.

"Then you'd better kill me," you said firmly, surprising her. "Because I can't live without you–your music."

You were too embarrassed by what you said, so you quickly added the first thing that came to your mind. You were hoping it was too dark to see your blush.

But she couldn't bring herself to lift the hammer anymore. When was the last time she felt that way? If ever it must have been a long time ago.

"Get as far away from here as you can," she began in an imperiously tone. "And come back exactly ten years from now, if you still feel the way you feel, you will come back here and I will play only for you."

And you left her with a bleeding heart after an indescribable loss. Nakime thought she was merciful to you, she condemned you to an even worse fate than if she had killed you - from now on you will carry her sins on your back, the betrayal of your friends and miss her for each of the 3 652 days.

Awareness of all this will not allow you to sleep peacefully. Her absence prevents you from eating and function normally. Losing your friends isolated you.

You never stayed anywhere longer after that, looking for your place and running away from that house at the same time.

She was both, your cure and curse.

- - -

You went to her show last one time and left the next morning with the first rays of sunshine.

Nakime put on another kimono, that you brought her - simple, black, because you noticed she doesn't like glamour and extravagance.

In the full light of the room, she could see how the events of the last few days had affected you. You were pale, lost weight and had big bags of sleeplessness under your eyes.

You looked like a shell of your former self.

It gave her the thought that now you belong to her - she will never leave your mind or heart and will be your only one. For the rest of your days, even though you're not together, she will haunt you in your life as a ghost of the past, when you awake and in your dream.

For some reason, she liked the power she had over you.

The melody of that day was very sentimental and passionate. The performance was definitely different and even better than usual. Some felt goosebumps and coldness during climax moments, and wiped away tears at the slower ones.

It wasn't just music meant to show her talent and entertain the audience - it had a message behind it. And everyone felt it.

It was her goodbye to you.

People talked about it for a long time after you left, hoping she'd do it again, but she never did. Her fame came as far as you ran away, haunting you and never letting you forget your sin of silence.

You pretended not to hear and didn't speak up when the subject of a genius musician was raised. All the venues, where the music played you avoided like the plague.

After you left, she felt like she lost something, looking at the table you used to always occupy. She also became even more ruthless in her actions, which led to her demise.

This one time she chose the wrong person, because he could not be called a human, and gave her a new life as a demon.

You, looking for relief after a few years, ended up with one of your clients. A platinum blonde with rainbow eyes greeted you with open arms after seeing your condition.

His closed community was located in a remote area in the mountains. People there like you were broken and destroyed by life or loved ones.

And what it meant to you, they've never heard of her or her music.

Honestly, it didn't surprise you that most of them were women, inherently weaker physically than men. They couldn't defend themselves, so they always had to run away and hope they'd be better off somewhere else.

Every time the Founder called you a "poor thing", you felt like you were getting goosebumps and when he looked at you with those sad eyes, you thought something was wrong. Like he's faking it.

But it used to be, because with your current state, you didn't care.

You felt a slight discomfort associated with the honor of eating in his private chamber, but he did not seem to care.

You didn't notice when you were talking that he doesn't eat anything from a table full of food prepared by his followers. All he did was push plates towards you to make sure you tried everything. And with his elbows on the table, he listened to you like you were telling a fairy tale. You didn't want to talk about her or your problems, so you told him where you were and what you saw.

With his chin resting on his hand with blue long claws nails and sleepy eyes, he listened to everything like enchanted and curious about you.

He, in order for you to stay, persuaded you to hand over your business to someone else and join the cult.

He argued that by your constant fatigue and lack of strength to handle it. He promised to improve your condition after you moved here - he praised the brisk mountain air, pure waters full of minerals and his connection with the gods, giving comfort to his followers.

You weren't convinced by the idea of being one of his followers, who loved his every move, so you got the role of his guest.

You lived with the rest of them in a big common room - the men and women (with children) had their own separate wings in the large building.

You had there your own responsibilities that weren't too heavy, because the Founder of the cult told you to focus on recovery.

And just like anyone else, you could leave whenever you wanted (in theory).

Many times during the talks he offered you the attainment of your own eternal paradise - explaining that it means a state of eternal peace and happiness, without any worry and pain. His ultimate mercy toward broken people.

The offer sound tempting, you had to admit it, but you had a promise to keep, and sinners like you have no place in paradise.

And now, you found yourself again in front of the same door as ten years ago.

Douma was slightly opposed to your departure, saying you were still unhealed and tried to convince you to stay, but you were adamant about it. He gave up after you promised you'd come back and maybe you'd finally accept his offer.

You had to find out if the last ten years of your life were in vain.

To meet her, you left Douma's cult five days earlier and spent the night at the inn, because you arrived a day too early (than you assumed) and you sold your house a long time ago.

The wood on the door started to splinter, but it was strong enough to withstand your knock.

For a moment you wondered if she was still there or had not been caught, until the door with the loud squeak of the old hinges opened itself.

Inside, you thought nothing had changed - only the smell had left. Where there used to be a second room (with the bodies) she was sitting with her biwa. Behind her was an impenetrable darkness as if there were no walls behind her.

After called her by her old surname (which you didn't even notice slipping out of your mouth) you didn't speak to each other anymore.

You were surprised she still had the same kimono you gave her. You know this, it was made especially for your order, because you could not find anything in her type.

As soon as you took your seat on the only pillow (like it's specially set up in front of her for you), she started playing, and you thought the last decade was just a bad dream.

You've both fallen into a trance by hypnotizing each other. So much has happened that she's forgotten your promise, and if you hadn't come, you'd be a relic of her past.

In the morning, before the sun had time to rise, you left with the feeling that you belonged to each other. She was the musician, and you were her audience.

But before you left for the next 29 days, she spoke to you only once to telling you to call her Nakime.

And with every full moon, you'd come back for more. She didn't invite you but you knew she'd be waiting for you and she knew you'd be back.

She never spoke to you, but you didn't mind. You both understood each other without words and your roles in the relationship.

Sometimes after her performance you felt happy, sometimes more depressed than usual which Douma noticed and always asked about. He seemed to care very much about his followers, so you believed it was a real concern.

As history has shown, you are sometimes very naive and blind.

After a long and tiring series of questions from him, you finally revealed the reason for your sudden departures and current changes in mood.

Once Nakime was ordered to bring in all 12 moons, but she had a problem. Douma, as always, had company in his audience chamber and could not move him, when people were close.

She waited patiently to bring him, when she heard you come in to inform him of your another trip. You wanted to do it when he had an audience so you could get out sooner, but unfortunately he was willing to discuss it with you.

"Oh, you're leaving so soon again? Ahh, I was about to call you. I'm soooo bored here alone. Are you sure I couldn't go with you? Please, I'm begging you."

The blonde asked you with a smile and folding his hands as his followers do in prayer, excited as if you'd already agreed. For some reason, you felt like he was putting more and more pressure on you as this time of the month came.

"Douma-sama, you have responsibilities, and I'll see you in a few days."

Sitting cross-legged on a big pillow, a man puffed up his cheeks like a baby. Sometimes you wonder how old he really is.

You refrained from sighing and running your hand over your face. To stop him from pleading further, you drew your last card against him.

"Besides, I thought you couldn't leave the building during the day. And I couldn't just travel at night, you know that, right?"

"Yes, but it'll take so long and you'll be sad again because of that woman."

He closed his eyes and leaning slightly forward started whining in the tone of a child stating the sad obvious.

Untli he suddenly straightened up as if a new energy had entered him and, clapping his hands, said pleased with his new idea.

"I know! It will be better if you stay here this month! Then you will not take a step backward in your treatment."

But you instantly frowned and clenched your fists. His insistence was slowly starting to get on your nerves.

The blonde, feeling as if he were on thin ice, became sad again and rested his chin on his hand. In the second, he was holding a golden fan.

You once had a chance to get a close look at it, during the affiliation of new members in his this same chamber. He covered half of his face with it after hearing another sad story.

After several times spent with him during this meetings (at his request) you noticed that although all the stories were always tragic, they also sound very similar.

You're surprised they didn't affect his psyche after all these years of listening to other people's problems and expecting them to solve them.

Although perhaps that was the reason for his sometimes childish behavior? When he needed to, he was able to remain serious, although most of the time he acted like an actor on stage - sometimes all too exaggeratedly.

Normally, he'd keep pushing you to stay until you escaped into the sunlight, but he's noticed you've become distant and inaccessible to him lately. This prompted him to rethink and change his tactics.

"I'd better go."

"Will you come back?"

"As always," you said, turning your back to him.

You were getting more and more tired of his personality. And it wasn't just you, Nakime listening to it was also running out of patience.

"My, my. You're really quickly trying to get away from me. Wait a minute longer. I have one more question."

You sighed.

After Nakime performances, you discovered that you are finally managed to sleep peacefully all night without the corpses of your friends blaming you for their deaths, and you waited impatiently for her. On the one hand, it gave you relief, and on the other, a sense of guilt.

You wish you were on your way already, but as a courtesy, you always came to let him know you were leaving and then you had to regret it.

"Yes, Douma-sama? What do you want to ask?"

You asked dryly, wanting just to get out. For some time, Douma seemed too interested in your travels and invited you to spend time together much more often. Even when you were too mentally exhausted and didn't accept the offer, he would come to you. He was literally like a little kid, who didn't understand the word "no."

The black-haired woman clenched her fingernails on the instrument until the wood crumbled a little. If she'd used a little more force, she'd have broken her biwa like a stick. The blue fingernails pierced the neck of the instrument, creating holes, but she didn't care about it now.

"What is she like? You never told me much about her."

"Is that all you want to know? After that, can I leave?"

"Of course," Douma said straightening up and putting his hand on his massive chest dressed in a red turtleneck with a black top. "I always keep my promises."

A man was looking at you with those peculiar rainbow eyes waiting for an answer. They were simultaneously alluring and dreadful. Everyone said they were his gift from the gods.

But like you, he also had his curse and it was those beautiful eyes. Maybe that's why blonde demon thought he was the only one, who understood you and what it was like, in his own twisted way, remembering his beginnings from time when he was human.

Knowing that it would be better to answer him (because you may later regret it by his insistence upon your return), you pondered for a moment.

What is Nakime like?

She was elegant, cold and cruel. Merciless. Yes, but you can't deny that you've noticed the silent acts of courtesy she made to you during your meetings. She was too proud to admit them out loud.

The interior of the house has somehow changed, the blood has disappeared and it is definitely warmer for you on cold nights.

Sometimes you seemed to sense a delicate scent of flowers, completely different from Douma - a strong, suffocating smell of lilies. And sometimes you seemed to sense something else underneath it on him.

She was above it all, but she was also...

"She's cute."

You said with such confidence, that the woman's face instantly turned red. Her heart beat faster and in her belly the long-sleeping butterflies woke up.

What did you do to her?

Douma unexpectedly laughed behind his hand. The joyful, spontaneous sound echoes through the walls of the spacious room making it even louder.

When he finished and did nothing more, you raised your eyebrows in silent question.

"Hm? Did something happen? You decided to stay?"

"No, I'm just wondering if that's it."

Douma smiled at you as if you were telling a joke.

"Just like I promised, you're free now." But before you disappearing completely from his sight, he added:

"And remember I can always give you eternal paradise if you ever decide. Then you'll never have to suffer again."

As soon as the shōji door with the painted lily on canvas closed behind you, he was moved to Infinite Castle.

Muzan asked them about their progress in the search for the Blue Spider Lily and their success in eliminating the Ubuyashiki clan, at the same time strongly criticizing and calling them useless. Sometimes he had to relieved his anger on them and somehow get them to work so they wouldn't get too lazy.

Some of the blood of the lower moons was spilled and some of the upper moons were reminded of their place in the hierarchy. Nothing new.

And when the meeting was over in a few strokes of the strings, she sent everyone back where they were. Except for one person.

Douma looked around in surprise wondering why he was not yet in Eternal Paradise in his chamber. As soon as he saw Nakime sitting in the distance, he stood up and waved to her.

"Oh, Biwa Lady, what's wrong? Are you bored too?"

Nakime ignored him and, squeezing the plectra tighter, said imperatively.

"Stay away from that human."

"Hmm?" He muttered, putting his finger to his cheek and tilting his head slightly, thinking for a moment. After that, the man asked carelessly.

"Which one? I have a bit too many of them to guess which one exactly you mean, hahaha."

Douma laughed innocently, pretending not to know what she meant, irritating her even more. If the bangs hadn't covered her face, he could have seen her veins pulsing furiously across her forehead.

As a final warning to him, she repeated this to him through clenched teeth.

"Leave. That. Human. Alone. And. Never. Bother. Again."

"Oh, you mean my friend?"

He tilted his head slightly and with a satisfied smile added.

"But your chosen one lives with me, how could I ever leave my dear friend alone in need?"

Blonde bowed his head slightly, wrinkled in fake worry thick eyebrows and crossed his arms. "Oh, my, my. You're putting me in a difficult position. Friends should help each other and besides..."

He looked at her half-closed, with a predatory smile, and said in a lowered voice. "I don't usually share with my food."

Suddenly Douma was crushed by a wall falling on him from above. When she released him, he looked like a moving mass of flesh and meat.

He recovered quickly as a upper second moon befits, laughing at the woman's reaction. If he wanted to, he could easily avoid it with his speed.

"Oh, my, my, hahaha, you really need it, you're a quite strong, but still too weak and little too slow, my dear."

Seeing that he raised his hand again, he added quickly.

"I'm sorry, sorry, I just bait you. I didn't know you cared so much about this one. If you'd explained it before, I'd understand."

"There is nothing to understand here. Don't elaborate. You're just supposed to stop."

The cult leader giggled again and with a friendly smile refused.

"You see, this is my friend, who came to me for help. Who would I be if I didn't help him get rid of the pain? After all, it's my job."

Before Nakime could pull the strings and hurt him again, he said:

"You're cute."

Imitating your voice and tone. He wasn't the best at it, but it worked well enough that she hesitated for a moment and almost dropped the instrument. Grasping the neck of the biwa again, she changed the acrod, and instead of cutting him vertically with a shōji door, she sent him back to his audience chamber.

It took less than a second, but Douma noticed it, and he was complacent. Although he did not consider himself a master of deduction, as demonstrated by his least fruitful search for the Blue Spider Lily of all the moons.

Who would have expected Biwa Lady to have feelings for human?

But she must have forgotten one thing, when she was ordering and trying to intimidate him, is that demons are very territorial and jealous of their food - especially the upper moons.

Nakime still had over 72 hours left until you arrived, and she started wondered during that time whether it would be better to just lock you up at Infinity Castle after all.

#request #nakime #kny demons #demon slayer characters #demon #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer kimetsu no yaiba #kny nakime #nakime x reader #tw insects #tw blood #tw eating people #tw possession

13 notes · View notes

jungkookslipring · 1 year

Text

“Because of Me”

AN: THIS IS PURELY FICTION (with some nonfiction moments). While the performance, interview, hiatus, and IN crying when they got back to the dorms was true (according to Changbin in 2 kids 1 room) what happened after the kingdom scene is fiction. Of course I don’t know how it went down completely, but like I said this is purely for entertainment purposes. Also f*ck kingdom.

Kingdom was a joke. Everyone knew it. The artists, the fandoms, even the fandoms that didn’t get along came to a mutual agreement that Kingdom was a joke. The one good thing that came out of the program were the interactions between groups and the friendships that were made. When it came to one of the last performances, the pressure was on. They did their best, gave it their all, but there was one artist in particular who felt he could’ve done better. I.N. The sweet maknae felt his heart sink when his voice cracked during his solo in the last 10 seconds of the song. Unfortunately, right after the performance, he was pulled for an interview, and of course, the interviewer asked about his performance. He sat there for a few seconds before he answered.

“I practiced really hard on singing live, but it was worse than what I thought”, he answered looking down.

“Maybe it was because I was so nervous. My whole body tensed up before I knew it. I wanted to show 120 percent, but I feel like I only got to show 40 percent”, he said sadly. I.N could feel his throat closing up and the familiar stinging behind his eyes.

“I feel sorry. Because of me…” he paused.

“The performance…” he tried to clear his throat. He didn’t want to cry, he really didn’t. Not in front of these people he didn’t know. He bit his lips in an attempt to stop the tears but it didn’t work. His breath hitched before he continued. He just wanted the interview to be over already.

“It little…no, alot…” he looked away. He was so tired, he just wanted one if not all of his hyungs to save him. His interview concluded and he was allowed to go back to the waiting room. Everyone else had an interview before they had their team interview. Chan was in the room waiting for him. When the door opened, he looked up with a smile that immediately turned into a frown when he saw the state I.N was in. He quickly got up from his spot on the couch and walked over to the youngest.

“Innie?? What’s wrong? What happened?” Chan asked as he rushed to the maknae. I.N Shook his head as his lip wobbled. Chan stood there silently with his hand on I.N’s shoulder waiting for him to respond. I.N quickly realized that there were still cameras in the room, and he looked at Chan with a panicked expression, scared that his reaction would end up on the show. Chan looked around and then pulled him into the closet out of sight from the cameras.

“I’m sorry, I messed up tonight…” I.N whispered. Chan cocked an eyebrow.

“What? I.N you did good! Which part?” Chan was genuinely confused. He didn’t know about I.N’s super minor slip up.

“As a whole… I did terrible.” he answered thickly as more tears formed in his eyes.

“No, that’s not true,” Chan said as he pulled his baby into another hug.

“It’s okay, man.” Chan said in English as I.N let out a choked sob. Chan continued to hold I.N as the youngest cried into his shoulder.

“When did you get so big? I can’t even hug you now,” Chan exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood. Once I.N’s crying reduced to sniffles, Chan kept a hold on him. He rubbed his back as he started to speak.

“Just think of it as a phase, you can do better next time,” Chan said soothingly. He knew I.N beat himself over the littlest things in fear that he isn’t holding his end as a member. His hyungs never scolded him for it, never saw less of him, never loved him less, but he always tried to give it his all.

“Yes,” I.N. nodded into Chan’s shoulder. Chan held him a little tighter.

“Besides, I also made quite a few mistakes,” Chan whispered. He giggled while I.N. let out a wet chuckle. Chan patted I.N.’s hair being mindful of how it was styled since they still had a group interview to do. I.N. didn’t want to be in front of the cameras for the rest of the night, but they still had the interview and they still had to sit through the ranking, and a group picture. Everyone grouped up before their interview, and once everyone saw I.N, they went into protective hyung mode.

“I.N-ah what's wrong?” Felix asked as he put a shoulder on his dongsaeng. I.N shook his head and looked to the ground. He didn’t want to cry again, they were going to get called into that room any minute for the interview. He closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling before he looked up at Felix.

“I’m sorry for tonight’s performance…” he said as he bit his lip. Felix had no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t notice anything. None of them did. Chan explained to the group why I.N was so shaken up by the performance, and not a second later they all started speaking at once.

“Honey, it's not your fault!”

“We all make mistakes I.N.”

“I didn’t even notice!”

“You did amazing I.N, you always do!”

“Nooo, baby don’t cry!”

I.N quickly dabbed away at his eyes trying not to smudge the stage makeup. He really didn’t want to do the group interview now. He just wanted to go home already, but they had another few hours. They were finally called for the group interview. As they all sat down, each member kept an eye on I.N. The interviewer asked about the performance. Each of them kept a professional face on even though on the inside they were pissed. They knew what the interviewer meant when they were asked that question. They weren’t being asked about their group performance, they were asking about I.N’s. Lee Know started responding first.

“I.N worked harder than anybody else. We all know how much effort he has put in.” He exclaimed with no hesitation.

“I.N really rocked. He was so much cooler and way more awesome than when he practiced or rehearsed,” Han said with confidence. I.N looked away as Chan stared at him with admiration.

“All our Stray Kids members, including our youngest I.N did a great job,” Chan said as he began to clap. Everyone else, including I.N followed suit. He felt a little bit better hearing his hyungs stick up for him, but he still felt so much guilt. When it came to their picture, no one smiled. Everyone was so mad that mnet made I.N cry, no one bothered to raise the corner of their mouth in the slightest. I.N felt much worse when it came to the ranking. Their rankings had dropped. I.N felt a surge of even more guilt. He held it together for the rest of the taping, and their ride back to the dorms. Once they were home, everyone finally got to unwind and chill in the living room. Everyone except for I.N were in the living room watching TV. I.N sat at the dining room table reflecting on today’s events. He believed there was no other reason as to why their rankings had dropped if it weren’t for his mistake. Tears welled up in his eyes and this time he didn’t even try to suppress them. His head dropped into his hands as sniffles turned into little whimpers and whimpers turned into full on crying.

“I.N-ah?” asked Changbin as he looked away from the TV, realizing his youngest was missing. He heard the sniffles and immediately jumped up from the couch. Everyone else quickly followed suit. As they rushed into the kitchen, their hearts broke. They saw their maknae sitting alone with tears flowing down his face, and his eyes already getting puffy.

“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” they all asked frantically. I.N let out a sob.

“Because of me…because of me,” he sobbed into his hands.

“What are you talking about, baby?” Changbin asked as he laid a hand on I.N’s. The maknae gripped onto his hand tightly and started apologizing profusely.

“I’m so s-sorry h-hyungs,” I.N cried out. “Its all m-my fault…p-please don’t h-hate me,” he hiccuped and cried even harder. Felix sighed sadly as he walked up behind the youngest to hug him.

“Baby we could never hate you, you know that,” he whispered before dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

“Are you talking about your performance? Sweetheart, we talked about this, we didn’t even notice it,” Chan said softly as he knelt in front of his distressed maknae. He put a hand on his thigh and started rubbing it gently.

“Our r-rankings went down b-because of me, h-hyung”, I.N whispered. “We lost b-because I couldn’t…” I.N couldn’t finish as he let out another sob. Felix started rocking I.N gently as Changbin continued to hold his hand while Chan rubbed his leg.

“Baby, you know thats not true,” Chan said. I.N shook his head. He wanted to interject, but everytime he tried to talk he’d dissolve into another sob. This performance really shook him up. Chan felt bad for all of them. This entire competition was stupid and it was making all of his kids question their talent. Changbin gently squeezed I.N’s hand before he began to speak.

“This show is nothing but for entertainment purposes. Kingdom has nothing to do with who you are or how talented you are. No matter which team wins, it won’t change who we are as a group. This show doesn’t define you, or me, or the rest of us, yeah?” Changbin said ever so softly so I.N wouldn’t get even more stressed out. I.N nodded softly. It was Bang Chan’s turn to speak.

“Is there anything else besides this performance, love? I’ve never seen you this shaken up before…” Chan tried to say as gently as possible. They’ve all made mistakes before. Whether it was during practice or on stage, for award shows or on tour, they’ve all had their fair share of minor mistakes and for the most part they’ve all been able to shake it off. Sure there have been tears in the past but they’ve all been able to let it go after a while. I.N was absolutely devastated, and Chan was sure there was another reason.

“Is it because of all thats going on right now?” Han asked. Felix felt I.N tense under his arms, and then begin to shake again. Just from the movement, they all knew. I.N scrunched his eyes and hid in his hand that wasn’t accompanied by Changbin’s. He let out a gut wrenching sob that immediately sprung tears in some of the members' eyes. I.N missed Hyunjin. They all did; doing a stupid show without their Hyunjinnie- who wasn’t even on hiatus by choice- took a toll on all of them. It was hard to stay focused on work knowing a piece of them was missing. They didn’t know when he would come back, and they were scared whether or not he would even come back. I.N has always been super close to Hyunjin, and Hyunjin saw I.N as the little brother that he never had. It had been 2 months since he was suspended, and I.N was taking it especially hard.

“Oh baby, come here.” Lee Know said as he reached out to I.N. He and Felix helped stand I.N on his feet and walk him over to the couch. Lee Know plopped down on the couch as he and Felix set I.N. on Lee Know’s lap. I.N hid his face into his hyungs neck and gripped onto his shirt as his tears made his way down his face. He was exhausted. Nothing was going right, everything was messed up, and this damn performance was the final straw that broke the camel's back. Felix sat next to Lee Know and side hugged the both of them. Han sat on the opposite side and rubbed I.N’s knee. Changbin and Seungmin sat on the floor near the pair whispering words of encouragement. Chan had run off to grab water for his kid. Seungmin had noticed that Chan had been gone for a hot minute, so he slipped out. When he walked into the kitchen he saw his leader with his back to him, looking up at the ceiling. Seungmin followed his line of sight to whatever was so intriguing to Chan, but when he saw nothing, he slowly walked over and put a hand on Chan’s shoulder.

“Hyung? Are you okay?” he whispered. Chan hesitantly turned around. His eyes were glossy.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Chan laughed a little but Seungmin wasn’t stupid. They all get emotional when one of theirs is upset, Chan especially. Seungmin shook his head.

“Channie-hyung, I love you, but I know you don’t mean that.” Seungmin could visibly see more tears filling up in Chan’s eyes as he tried to blink them away. Chan hated seeing his kids upset. It was a hard situation for Seungmin because he wanted to take care of his brothers so bad, but with I.N crying about Hyunjin, and Chan crying about I.N crying, he didn’t know what to do.That shattered his heart. Chan’s lip wobbled for a sec before he cleared his throat.

“I just wanted to pull myself together before going back in there.” Chan said as he tried to blink back the damned tears that kept trying to make their way out. Seungmin gave a half smile and patted his shoulder.

“Don’t hide your feelings from us hyung, we’re all in the same boat,” Seungmin said as he pulled Chan into a hug. Chan chuckled as he returned the hug. He had managed to swallow the tears and even though his eyes might be a tad bit pink still, he let Seungmin lead him back into the living room where everyone else was. I.N still had tears flowing but his hyungs had managed to get him to just sniffles and the occasional whimper, which is no better but it was a start.

“I miss Hyunjinnie hyung,” I.N whispered thickly. Lee Know kissed his forehead and continued to scratch at his scalp.

“We know you do bubs, we do too,” Lee Know said trying to contain his emotions.

“It’s not fair…the show, Hyunjin Hyung, nothing is fair…” I.N whispered as we wiped his eyes. Lee Know rubbed his shoulder as a stray tear fell from the youngest’s eyes.

“Let’s get you to bed Innie, we could all get some rest yeah?” Chan asked the group. Everyone murmered in agreement as they all slowly got up from where they were seated. They all went to their respective rooms, not without saying a quick goodnight to each other in the form of hugs, kisses, or both. I.N walked into his and Han’s room and plopped down on the bed. Han was not far behind when he closed the door.

“How are you doing, aegi?” He asked as he sat on I.N’s bed. I.N kinda laughed at the question as he went to pat Han’s leg.

“I’m sorry for everything tonight. Not just the performance, but for, you know,” he said as he made a hand Gesture showing his red and puffy eyes. Han shook his head.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for that kind of thing Innie. Everyone has bad days. And it’s completely valid. There’s a lot happening right now,” Han said as he went to hold I.N’s hand. The youngest of the two looked up at the ceiling, contemplating the thoughts going on in his head right now. Of course his roommate noticed.

“I can hear the gears turning Innie, what’s on your mind?” He asked while rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. I.N wanted to say nothing, but his hyungs are too good at reading his mind.

“Can you sleep with me tonight?” I.N asked hesitantly. Han smiled at that question and ruffled his fox’s hair.

“My cute I.N-ah of course I will,” he said as he went to turn off the lights. They both climbed into I.N’s bed and threw the covers over themselves. Han offered an arm as I.N snuggled into his side. Han wrapped both arms around I.N and kissed the top of his head.

“We got you I.N, everything is going to be okay, yeah?” Han whispered. I.N nodded and snuggled even further into Han’s grip. The next morning, the guys found I.N and Han snuggled up together, cooing at the fact that I.N has 7 brothers to look after him no matter what.

#hurt/comfort #skz fanfic #stray kids #stray kids x stay #bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #jeongin #kingdom legendary war #skz hurt/comfort

53 notes · View notes

madness-in-the-flesh · 2 years

Note

Prompt 6 with Sanford please

Of courseee!! +D

Also included a lil hc for yandere Sanford. I feel like he's picked up his yandere tenancies from his mother and is like, probably yandere for her in a family sense and vise versa. So don't talk shit cause that's when he'll fucking lose it.

Sanford Prompt #6 Drabble

GENRE - Romantic

PROMPT - “Please don’t ever leave me!” [ From this prompt list ]

TRIGGER WARNINGS - Physical Violence, Domestic abuse, Suffocation, Manipulation, Implied Intimidation

One thing stood between the door and you. Sanford.

Only recently had you found out what he had been doing. For the longest time, You thought you were the problem. You thought you were the one driving other people away - The reason that no one would ever talk or even look your way. That was far from the truth though, Because the real problem was the person you thought was your partner. You had loved him with your whole being and expected him to do the same and he did. He did it like it would kill him and it killed your relationship. You had caught him threatening a new friend of yours, A mutual friends you'd come to know too. You were finally happy to have someone outside of the small tightknit group Sanford was allies with. As you weren't much of a killing machine, only doing it if it was the only option possible.

When you saw him, On the phone, talking in that deep voice. You knew your perception of him had been shattered. You loved Sanford, You really did but that was the tone he used to threaten the agents that tried to harm him. That tried to hurt you. Then you started to think of everything over time and it just clicked. Hell, you had only gotten together recently. Maybe 2 or 3 months ago and this happened. You had been friends for longer and the feelings that had sprouted from that friendship, at first, gave you hope that Nevada was a better place. That maybe in all the madness, Peace could really thrive. Sanford, as a bit derided out as you were, would talk about a possible future - settling down somewhere quiet and living out the rest of your days together. You had to admit it sounded nice at the time and you entertained those thoughts. Now you were happily tearing away any hope he had of that, Not after the shit he had pulled behind your back for so long.

" Fuck off, you manipulative bastard. " You hissed back, glaring daggers at the larger male. He looked taken aback, almost flinching at your yelling but he still stood his ground. Arms folded as he tried to figure out how to calm the situation. Not that there was much he could do to calm you down. All you felt was the absolute rage and shame for letting him manipulate you like this. Hurt your friends, people who you held close and wanted to protect.

" Baby, please I-" he spoke, in a soft tone. The one he used to use in those intimate moments you shared. Him holding you, Giving you small kisses and loving stares. It made you want to vomit now, He who had held you so close was nothing short of a contriving. You didn't know love could turn to sickening hate so quickly. Not until now.

" No. I don't trust a fucking word that comes out of your mouth. " You interrupted, beginning to walk down the hallway. Every step was with intent. You were leaving and you were never coming back. You didn't want anything to do with him. You knew or at least, hoped the Sanford you knew was real to some degree as then you were sure he wouldn't hurt you. He started to look around, almost as if he was praying someone would come to help him. Panicking at the thought of losing you? It's what he deserved. Actions have consequences.

You strode down the hallway with purpose, The closer you got, the more nervous the grunt got. Pressing himself against the door to stop you from getting it open. You didn't care, trying to push past him but it was obvious he was physically stronger. You were reasonably shorter than him and he had always used this to his advantage to tease you before, The memory only making you grit your teeth.

" We can talk about this " He whined pathetically, praying you'd just go sit down but you didn't, turning to face him. Looking into the sunglasses that hid his eyes. You hated eye contact, But you refused to stand down. Not when newfound animosity filled you. Maybe it was for the best you couldn't see his eyes, you wondered what emotion they'd mirror. Would they show you this was an act, perhaps that's why he had been wearing them all along.

" NO, I DON'T WANT TO TALK WITH YOU. " You screamed beginning to push against him and grip at the door. You did everything you could to claw at the door. Putting your everything into getting out of this situation. You needed to get out now, You wanted to get as far from this place as possible. As far away from him as you could.

" Please don't make me do this " He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, Swallowing back sobbing but you didn't stop. You continued. He was just trying to fuck with you, Obviously. He just wants to keep you here and play some sick little game with you. He'd already broken you heart and trust. Had it not been enough for him? Apparently not. You now took to pounding on the door as loudly as you could. Maybe someone would hear you and come help you out.

" YOU SON OF A BITCH, LET ME-" That set him off. Smacking you across the face. A loud slap rung out as you fell to the floor. Not only did he have the brawn. your ears rang and you stood there for a moment. Stumbling back. You opened your mouth to talk but you couldn't. The words stuck on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes furrowed in horror, gawking at the larger man who had promised to never lay a finger on you. If you had any semblance for love left for him, it was gone now. Flooded out as soon as his hand made contact with your cheek. The stinging of a hand was still there, massaging you cheek with pain.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, But do not talk about my mum like that. " He spoke, In a upset tone. Biting his lip as he now began to follow you as you backed up. You didn't stop, Almost tripping over your own feet as you stumbled into the main room, crawling over the sofa in hopes of putting distance between the two of you but it was no use. He just reached out and gripped you ankle, Dragging you towards him.

Your nails dug into the head of the sofa but it was no use. You were pulled into his arms without effort. You hands pounded against his chest, pushing and wriggling as he stood there. Holding you. He looked like he was staring at your cheek, face twisting into one of regret. What a fucking joke. He hits you and then tries to act all sad about it. You just wanted out and would be taking the first one you got. However for now, you were still stuck between Sanford and the door as he held you in a tightening grip. Now to the point you started to realize you were struggling with breathing.

" I can't Breathe " You spoke out, beginning to try gasp out for air, Wriggling more as no oxygen entered your lungs. The crushing around your ribcage got tighter and tighter. You began to tear up, now out of plain fear.

" I can't... Sanford, stop I-" You began to chock on your own words, Trying desperately to fight against him but it only made you use up more of your limited oxygen.

" I know... I know... I'm sorry but I can't let you leave... " He interrupted as he trailed off, now looking away as if to shield himself from the image of you slowly suffocating by his hands. He held you tighter, trying to ignore your pleas for him to let go. The world became blurry, Your throat burned as you struggled to keep consciousness. You fully believed this was your end. You had no idea that the man you had been with was such a fucking psychopath. You should have listened to the posters scattered around Nevada and reported him at the first glance.

“Please don’t ever leave me!” He blubbered apparently now letting tears drain from his eyes. He hated to see you like this but you forced his hand. If he didn't do this now then you'd be out of his life forever. He couldn't take that risk. Listening to your chocked sobs killed him on the inside but he tried to tell himself it was necessary. His mother would be so proud of him for finding such a wonderful partner like yourself. So he would not be letting you go.

The world faded with your consciousness, barely hearing Sanford's word as you departed. Now limp in his arms as he let go and moved you down to the sofa. Fresh air filling your lungs with a harsh breathing pattern - inspecting you gently to make sure he hadn't done any bad damage. Guilt ate away at him as he stroked your cheek he had slapped a moment before. He'd make it up to you, He promised himself as he once again repeated the sentence to himself. Nothing above a whisper.

" Please.... just don't ever leave me. "

#yandere madness combat #madness combat #yandere madness combat x reader #madness combat x reader #cw yandere #cw abuse #cw domestic abuse #cw violence #cw physical abuse #cw suffocation #cw injury #cw manipulation #cw implied intimidation

63 notes · View notes

cantalooprat · 8 months

Text

devoured a couple of manhwa over the last few days

whispers through the willows

i was desperate for more omegaverse

the alpha is So Green Flag holy shit it was to the point where i was thinking ???? i thought kr tops were toxic????? he's so so so good, he's smart n he loves his omega dearly but he's not brainless!

omega is the cute n obedient but traumatized type, he's brave for trying to open up and saving the alpha who saved him!

mutual salvation!!!

plot is also interesting there's a lot of politicking and the protags aren't super op, so the tension is v v real

papapa scenes r hot af. alpha's thing is HUGE in general this author's tops r all HUGE

the new recruit

same author as above

finally an office romance involving a boss n his subordinate that doesn't seem icky or reeks of power harassment

ml is actually so... not op lmao he's strong in his own way but he's also just another corpo slave who has to work around the rules instead of solving everything with One Phone Call

also hot af papapa scenes. esp the extra. that was so. mmm.

you get me going

also same author as above

i rly like this author's stuff it's all super god-tier couples

has a toxic ex that's just so??? why r u here... go away

Real enemies to lovers

love how respectful the top is. love when he panicked when the bottom was abt to go on another blind date. love the rescue scene

omega complex

real mutual pining childhood friends

second ml sorry u nvr had a chance

heat period papapa? kisses n cuddles? more pls...

they're both kinda. silly n at fault. it's like it's neither of their fault but at the same time it is n the beginning chapters rly make me nghrhghhgh but it's worth it!!! they're so cute... they're adorable.

again

p standard regression entertainment setting. feels strangely familiar and danmei-like

cute ig? has change the gong trope which is always fun.

#cantalooprat reads

2 notes · View notes

absentcaryatid · 1 year

Text

Exclusively Mingi's

An ATEEZ fanfic by AbsentCaryatid

You are Mingi's partner, but some of his members see you apparently dating others and have to decide if they should inform their friend.

1.3K words, Content note: all tumblr using ages, gender neutral reader referred to by they/them pronouns, cheating, unrelated therapy, and sex work are brought up, innuendo

The trouble started when you were unknowingly spotted at a restaurant by two of Mingi's teammates. Seonghwa had decided to try a place you recommended a while back and to his surprise, there you were. It wasn't just the timing that got his attention, but that your dining companion was a woman and your hand was on hers. Fiddling with the tablecloth, Seonghwa glanced back to your table again and tried to rationalize why Mingi's partner was having what looked like a romantic dinner. “Maybe they are old friends, holding hands is something friends can do.”

In a whisper Yunho agreed. “True, they could just be close friends. Wait, now they are leaving arm in arm. That feels a little more suspicious.” The men wondered if this was something Mingi should be aware of, but decided not to worry him, for now at least.

Another time you had been recognized with an unfamiliar man at an entertainment industry party by a different pair. Hongjoong watched at a distance as the stranger snaked an arm around your waist to apparent approval. Gesturing with his drink, Hongjoong asked, “Isn't that Mingi's partner?”

“Mmm,' San murmured in assent. “Mingi is very trusting, it would be easy for someone to cheat on him if they were so inclined.”

You had no idea you were the talk of the ATEEZ dorm the next day as the group shared concerns for their member who was spending the afternoon in the recording studio. Hongjoong explained the situation to the assembled friends. “Mingi is so inexperienced, I worry he has been taken advantage of and we should inform him of his partner's activities.”

Jongho was cautious. “Maybe they are not exclusive yet. It is possible Mingi already knows and we should stay out of it. I don’t want to mind his business.”

Another perspective was offered by Yeosang. “Mingi could also be in an open relationship. He does not seem like the kind of guy who believes his partner belongs to him. Remember how much he worked on his jealousy issues in therapy after feeling like Yunho was disloyal to have a V Live with Wooyoung?”

The guys recalled that strained discussion which had made it into Logbook 73. They had all done some maturing in the year since, but none as much as Mingi.

Wooyoung thought it was best to tell so Mingi could be sure to use a condom for STI risk reduction if he had not been aware of your other partners. “Seonghwa, you are the oldest, I think this is a job for your diplomatic skills.”

Seonghwa gulped and hesitated with a panicked look.

That is when Yunho stepped up. “He's my closest friend on the team and I owe him this honesty. I'll do it.” The others breathed a sigh of relief, particularly Seonghwa.

Soon after, Yunho found Mingi alone in the kitchen after getting home so he sat down, joining Mingi at the dining table. “Good time for a serious topic?”

Finishing up his snack, Mingi wiped his mouth on a napkin then answered Yunho. “Sure. I'll always have time for you, unless I am with my partner of course.” His face took on a fond look. “You know, I am ready to ask for their hand in marriage the next time we see each other. Nobody has ever made me as happy as they do, and I think it is mutual.”

“That's pretty serious, Mingi, and actually why I came to talk with you.” Yunho looked down and carefully thought through what he was going to say next. “Perhaps you have heard the phrase, 'The harder the truth, the truer the friend who tells you?' I came to ask if you and your partner are exclusive.” Without waiting for an answer, Yunho plowed on to get it over with. “I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, but multiple members, including myself, have seen them apparently on dates with others.”

While Mingi's face was unreadable, his voice was calm. “I can see why you were concerned, thank you for bringing it up. It must have been a difficult choice. You don’t have to worry though, they are an escort, a sex worker. You saw them at their job.”

Yunho was stunned because that possibility had not occurred to any of the members. Perhaps Mingi did not need as much coddling as they thought and could even teach them a thing or two with his nonjudgmental nature. “Isn’t that a bit weird for you? They're not really yours.”

Mingi responded gently despite his friend's ignorance. “I don’t see it that way at all. Though truly, they belong to themself, and any experience from their work certainly benefits me in the long run, though we have not gotten to that point in our relationship yet. Frankly, I am wary of anyone who thinks their partner belongs to them outside roleplay. They made it very clear to me early on that they are always exclusive in a romantic relationship. Work is work, but I am their only love.”

Seeing Yunho's confusion, Mingi chose to explain how you two had gotten together. “Their job is actually how we met when they were recommended by another idol. After some negotiation by text when we first started talking, they ended up turning me down as a client because they would rather date me for real. That worked out well, actually. Even with songwriting royalties I could not have afforded much of their time. Knowing they meet a lot of people, I took their interest for the great compliment it was and we have been seeing each other ever since.”

Unconvinced, Yunho asked, “Aren’t you worried they are taking advantage of your innocence and using you for gifts?”

Mingi was touched by Yunho's care, but he could not help but laugh. “Actually, I am concerned it is the other way around. I feel as spoiled as a sugar baby with the designer clothes and bags they sometimes give me as presents. And, they are very discreet, not only because of their work, but they want my reputation safe. Both our careers benefit from the lack of a publicized relationship so that works out well. I am only in their phone by an alias and they never use my name except in person.”

Curious, Yunho asked his friend how his lover had him labeled in their phone.

“Oh, I’m MILF.”

Yunho exchanged a quizzical look with Wooyoung who had popped in to see if Mingi needed support after the supposed revelation. Never one to censor his thoughts, Wooyoung plainly asked what was on both their minds. “So why MILF?”

“It is an unusual choice, Mingi,” Yunho added. “If anything, I think they are a little older than you, and then there is the gender issue. Though I guess once you are a princess, being called mother is not much of a step farther.”

“That’s true,” Mingi comfortably agreed.

It was at this point you walked in to the kitchen having arrived to pick Mingi up for tonight's casual date. Jongho had let you in and chosen not to stick around in case things had not gone well with Yunho's disclosure. Having heard Wooyoung's question from the hall, you grinned at your boyfriend and asked, “Shall I tell them?”

Beaming his trademark smile, Mingi nodded. “I don't mind.”

“The ending is the same as you probably suspect, but the M stands for my beloved Mingi.” You looked at your partner adoringly. “Shall we go, sweetie?”

Yunho and Wooyoung smirked until they could not hold in the laughter in anymore. The rest of the team would hear of it by Mingi's return, but he did not seem to mind, not with the pair of matching engagement rings he had in his pocket for tonight.

End note: While I try to stay true to the idol persona, this one is far more aspirational than on character for Mr. 'You abandoned my moral loyalty' when Yunho was just working with another member.

Mingi Masterlist

General Masterlist

#ATEEZ Fanfic #Mingi x Reader #Mingi x you #Mingi #Song Mingi #gender neutral reader #diverseinsertknet #they/them pronouns used for reader #cross posted on ao3 #it was a rare day off

8 notes · View notes

scarlet-abyss · 14 days

Text

appreciation post

i love my class. i appreciate my classmates so much. the vibes are comfy and vibrant.

everyone's so chill it's unreal. we all laugh super hard at the stupidest of shit. we have a designated class clown who says the dumbest stuff, and takes the L for us. we have another guy who pretends to be dumb for fun, and also always takes the L for us (esp during econs). these people do stupid shit. idk if it's with the express purpose of laughing but they certainly make my day less shitty.

we all bond over our mutual hatred for our econs teacher, who is a bitch most of the time. we get scolded in solidarity for not doing our econs hw. it just makes me feel i'm not alone, you know?

every recess, there's always a ball flying around, ready to hit a chair or table or water bottle at moment's notice. some find it irritating, but the chaos makes my blood sing after being in a girls' school for four years with subpar entertainment in the form of gossip.

my male classmates make racist (with humorous intents only). they aren't malicious, just light hearted. and they always bring a smile to my face.

sure, i don't talk to that many people but even when we commiserate over unstudied stuff or undone hw, it feels right. we yell out roasts about our teachers like it's second nature, and then we laugh. and during pw, my groupmates sort of adopted me and are starting to teach me how to play brawlstars instead of us doing work. the boys offer to bring us snacks from the snack corner. and i have this friend, and she's really amazing and funny. she looks innocent, but talk to her and you'll realise she's the most devious person out there.

our form teachers don't give a shit about anything. attire check? i was panicked and taking off my earrings quickly, but my teacher didn't even check our attires. late for school? it's fine, just be there before 8:05 and i'll mark you as punctual. didn't watch lectures? my physics teacher is cool with that. just book a consultation and he'll give you a detailed summary of the topic.

sure some of our teachers suck, but we've got each other's backs. and im happy. no one's out to backstab anyone, we're just chill.

but seriously, guys out there, cut out the pda. it's gross. i don't need to see you straddling your guy friends or giving them piggy back rides. it's concerning. if you're gay, that's great no homo but please don't do this shit in the middle of class. i have no money. i can't afford bleach. please, and thank you.

#appreciation post #fun

0 notes

chimielie · 2 years

Note

ohh, fantasy! somehow i feel like that fits your vibe, though i have to admit i didn't expect that from you since most of your fics are grounded in real life. still, that is so cool!! i could never read horror, that stuff scares me, but it's such a solid genre i mourn my terrible "panicking at even just someone tapping me on the shoulder" lack of courage... :"( blegh i wanna read stephen king TOOOO!!

i honestly really like those books that have nice, half-melancholy prose like murakami & fitzgerald tho i am trying to read more nonfic!! it's a little ironic because in fanfic, though i do love seeing that winding intricate writing style, i also love reading those clever, concise pieces that convey so much with fewer words and a distinctive bite of wit. like yours! i really like the way you use humour both to entertain but also to create a nice nostalgic tint that's so characteristic of the way we often think of youth - that often hits even harder when the scene is relegated to a character's reminiscing. in particular, i think you do that fantastically in "sour"!

but ofc i need 2 keep it real bcos this is bordering on pretension lol so i will also say i will read anything that's abt a character i'm down bad for / whatever gives me stomach flutters so fake dating, mutual pining, etc etc just shove it all down my throat

aw i love you too lia!! take care! do you have any plans for the upcoming week?

love, sora

hahahah i didn’t think of that connection! i don’t think i could write anything i read about, tbh, worldbuilding is my worst writing skill lolol. i wasn’t a horror fan for a while but a few years ago i started to meet ppl who really loved the genre and i think i was able to approach it a lot more analytically! but i’m still up at night thinking about the last book i read bc The Real Monster Was Misogyny and that’s scary af 😭😭

ooh i think that reflects a lot in ur fic!! ur prose is gorgeous and ur writing always has like... the vibe of cool, muted tones, blue and green and stuff. and omg thank you!! 😳😳 i will try very very hard not to scream but i am so flattered rn ahdjsjdjdjaidjjd

“just shove it all down my throat” SOOOO true lmao i was cleaning out my likes the other day and omfg i can really track my phases thru the random fics in there 😭😭 god bless hqblr for feeding the hopeless romantics

hmm not much! just a vigorous reading schedule and a lot of sleep and i have to put in my two weeks so i can be free from retail hell for the summer but i’m scared bc the act of quitting is scary. hdjfjjfngjfnfjdj what about u?? or fun things u did this weekend?

💘 from lia

#i wish i had braincells left so i wouldn’t just be like ahahah ur writing is colors. soon i swear 😭#ask n answer #sora!

0 notes

lustbile · 3 years

Text

Can I Help You?

Spider-man!Mark x Graffiti Artist! Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Mark goes down, thats about it. Also destruction of private property if your a stickler for the rules. And why of course this is because of their weird little sitcom thing omg how did you know

Part Two

—

You like to consider yourself someone who’s pretty aware of your own surroundings.

The fact that you started your “career” of graffiti a handful of years ago, alongside your interest in tagging high risk spots, you had thought you had developed a good sense to pick up on if someone was approaching you, or even just spying on you from afar.

And maybe you let the height of the billboard you stand on now give you a false sense of security, and maybe the fumes of the spray paint and the hissing sound of it exiting the can clogged and fogged up your brain, but you were completely unaware of your new company until it was too late.

It was a bit embarrassing how you jumped at the gentle tapping he laid on your shoulder, the small ball that lived inside the metal can rattling loudly at the shake of your hand, and all of can do is thank whatever higher force that you had just let up on the valve and you hadn’t messed up the masterpiece you had been crafting for the past hour and a half.

You spin around fast enough to get a slight revenge, and a head rush, the form that stood behind you jumping higher than you did before stumbling a few feet away.

Your eyebrows furrow tight enough that it starts to build a full ache in your skull, and with a huff loud enough that it bleeds into a full annoyed groan, you stare at the figure clad in bright reds and blues in front of you.

“What the hell do you want?” you ask as your lip curls up below the mask you wear to filter the fumes that dance around you. The words escape your mouth without any thought, and once your brain catches up with your new surroundings, you begin to panickedly shake at the person you swore at and contemplate apologizing before he responds.

“That uh,” he stutters, and you're sure the face below the skin tight mask he wears is twisting as he, to your shock, stumbles over his words, “you’re defacing private property.”

There’s an awkward moment of dead air, his breathing still audible and labored as you try to wrap your mind around his surprising lack of confidence and the words he left hanging in the air, and you take this moment to contemplate whether or not the handful of trees below you would break your fall if you took a leap of faith to avoid any further conversation with the hero.

“And?”

“That’s illegal,” he speaks so matter of factly it makes your stomach twist.

“I’m aware.”

Dead air returns, and you’re sure if you listen hard enough, you’d be able to hear the gears turning in his head in time with the rhythm of his breath.

You stand there, mutually existing in the rumble of the cars passing below you and the airplane that flies overhead. It’s clear he’s taking the moment just as much as you are to size one another up, the fact both of you both wear some form of mask to cover so much of your features you feel like you’re on equal playing fields, but his insanely skin tight suit that shows off his lean but strong figure is distracting in a way that’s embarrassing to admit, but at the same time makes you sneer and wonder why these heroes feel the need to be so flashy.

There's a loud honking from below you as someone lays on the horn fitted into their steering wheel, and the noise jerks you out of your stupor, and you sputter out, “is that all you wanted to tell me?” you slowly start to turn away, the panicked energy you have from being caught by someone your city considers a celebrity of some type making you feel on edge and short tempered, “because I have very important things to do that don’t include entertaining a wannabe Avenger.”

“Yeah, looks really important. All the vulgarity and devil horns show that,” he says in a sarcastic tone that tells you what you said would be considered a ‘low blow' and it stops your movements and confuses you for a moment, “How’d you even get up here?”

“What do you mean? Same way you did right?” you jump slightly in the air while pulling a mocking face, hoping it, and your mask, covers the rise in your heartbeat you get from the metal below you rattling, “just jumped right up.”

“Ha ha,” he emotionlessly responds as he crosses his arms over his chest, “but seriously you just seem like too much of a chicken to climb a ladder that tall.”

He tilts his head towards the ladder that rises from the ground up to the landing of the billboard, and unfortunately for you, he’s not totally wrong. He’s wrong on the front that you did in fact climb that exact ladder to get where you are now, but he didn’t need to know you had to chain smoked two or three old cigarettes to get a head rush strong enough to cloud your nerves. So you feel very justified in being annoyed at such an accusation from someone you don’t know, but you suppose the attitude is warranted to at least some extent.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be spider boy?” you ask with an eyeroll, before lifting your hand to point at the man’s face that’s plastered beside you that you so lovingly destroyed, “you know like, stopping real criminals like that blood sucker.”

“I’m not much for politics,” he says in a tone that doesn’t fully fit in his throat, “I just want to do what’s right.”

“Do you think anything he, or any of his goons, is doing is right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” your other hand tightens harshly around the can, “all you ‘heroes’ are the same. Just washed up losers trying to play good guys so you can get some desperate recognition that you can’t get with your real face. If you really wanted to do what's right you wouldn’t be bothering me.”

He scoffs and it’s like the straw that broke the camel's back. You don’t know where the rush of irritation came from, or why such a small noise set it off so badly, but it was like it cut the cord that connected your brain and your hand and before you can review the consequences, you're chucking the half empty can directly at his head.

If you had a face to put to the name and presence of the man in front of you, you might have found the way his arm darts out to catch the object midair incredibly hot. You’re not sure why such quick reflexes were something you found attractive, but as he lifts the can to inspect as he slowly stalks closer to where you stand, you feel a heat building in the pit of your stomach. The percentage of it that was fear or horniness was unclear, but you could unpack that later.

“That was a little rude and unexpected,” he says in a voice so suddenly calm you can’t help but want to hide under a rock, and as he hands you the can you avert your eyes, “but understandable I suppose.”

“So you’re not going to turn me in for attempted assault on top of the damage to property charges?”

“I wasn’t going to turn you in for anything,” he admits as he takes a small step back to glance up at the harsh words and drawings you decorated the space with, before turning his face towards you with a sigh, “would you believe me if I said I just thought your art was cool and I wanted to talk to you?”

“Then what was all the legality crap you were going on about?” you step to the side, getting between him and the billboard, feeling suddenly and weirdly protective of what you had done but also getting your attitude and confidence back now that he doesn’t seem interested in using his weird web stuff to cuff you.

“Can I call it being bad at small talk?” he shrugs with a quiet chuckle as he reaches back to scratch at the back of his neck, and you mentally kick yourself and force your eyes up as they try to linger on the shifting lean muscle below his clothes.

“Making me think you were going to get me in trouble isn’t something you can excuse,” you push, only ounces of self control away from demanding he do something degrading as an apology.

“Okay you’re right,” he admits defeat and shrugs, “but you have to admit you’re a bit intimidating.”

“Me?” your chin pushes out in your confusion and you sputter for a moment, “you do know you’re literally Spider-Man right?”

“That doesn’t mean as much as you think,” he mutters under his breath, “and I mean look at what you were doing. Your art is crazy and then I get up here and you’re smart and sassy. You’d be a match for heroes a lot better than me.”

“You started it,” you grumble, pulling a confused hum from him and an embarrassed flush from your chest at how casually he compliments you, “you know, I wouldn’t have been so short if you didn’t come out of the gate the way you did.”

“I have a problem with provoking more than I intend to,” he says like he’s in a confession, before clearing his throat, “I’ve had one or two people call me on it, but I can’t help it when it makes the bad guys hit harder y’know? I just like a challenge I guess. Didn’t need to do it to you though.”

“So you can take a fight?”

He looks back at you now from that question and your dismissal of the rest of his words, the white of his mask that covers his eyes shifting smaller as if they’re his actual eyes and he coughs awkwardly before puffing out his chest.

“I mean,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his hip pushing out as his hands lift up with a new wash of arrogance, “you’ve seen me on the news right? Taking down these things like twenty times my size?”

“So you’re saying I wouldn’t be a problem?”

“Do you want to fight me or something?” he puffs up even more with a laugh, putting his hands behind his back and leaning towards you until you stumble back and press against the flat surface you’re grateful that’s already dried.

“I mean…” you trail off trying to collect your thoughts, now enjoying the shift in banter from genuine annoyance to playfulness, “I’m just warning, if you want to switch up and get me in trouble, I won't go quietly.”

“Oh I’m sure as hell you won’t,” his voice is different now, and even though you can’t see his face, you can see the down tilt of his chin that tells you he’s taking a fully scan of your body to the best of his ability as you’re clad in dark and loose clothes, “you don’t seem like you do anything quietly.”

“What can I say,” you move before you can lose the confidence that zips through you, trailing your finger down the raised ridges of the fabric that wraps around his bicep, “I like to make a statement.”

He shivers and turns his head away for a moment before staring at you again through his mask and whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “I think the Avengers might have some rule against flirting with civilians while on duty.”

“Oh is that what we’re doing right now,” you keep your voice teasing, hoping the words don’t deter him in the slightest, but instead encourages him further because you’d be a liar to say you weren’t curious to see where this could go.

“I definitely think so,” he nods earnestly, his arm purposefully flexing below your fingers as they slowly flatten your hand on the side of his arm and slide it closer to his shoulder, “would be a shame if I went back on my promise and got us both in trouble wouldn’t it.”

“Well,” you start with a tilt to your head as your other hand not so quietly drops the can as you reach it up to mirror your other one on his other arm, “is there maybe a rule against you kissing me, you know just to stop us from flirting so much.”

You can admit you didn’t fully think through the actions that followed the words, hell you didn’t even think through the words, but when your hands slide past his shoulders and begin to tease and tug at the edge of his mask, you think you maybe took it a step too far.

You didn’t actually plan on lifting the mask up, you were just teasing and you know his identity was probably not something to play with, but your internal intentions do nothing to stop the way his muscles tense nor the flash of movement that has your head spinning.

You go to apologize, trying to wave your hands in front of you as you try to explain you were just kidding, but when you can’t lift them away from the flat surface behind you that they had knocked into from his rapid movements, you sputter in confusion.

You think your neck might snap from how quickly you look to the sides of you to see the white webbing that locks your wrists to the billboard, and when it clicks in your mind that you are in fact stuck, you gawk at him in shock.

“Hey man I was just playing,” your face warms in embarrassment, at you shake your head at your stupid actions. “I’m sorry I didn’t think it was such a touchy subject.”

“No, no, no,” he panickedly stutters, and reaches to free you before he rethinks and shrinks back, “I just panicked I um…. look I- fuck.”

You stare at him expectantly, shifting your shoulders and wiggling your fingers to try to be comfortable and make sure the web isn't cutting off your circulation, and once he deeply sighs and gives you a soft smile, you assume he’s collected his thoughts.

“Look, I want to take it off, I want to kiss you so bad I just,” he huffs as he reaches behind him to loosen the mask as start to pull it up and away, “just if you’re not interested after it comes off I get it.”

“I’m not that shallow,” you mutter, assuming regardless of being such a strong hero, he too must have his insecurities, but once the fabric is pulled from his face, dropped at your feet, and the man below it is revealed, you choke slightly on your saliva.

“Mark!?” you gasp out, the shock lapsing your memory as you try to move to remove your mask as well, but when you can’t move an inch you instead shake your head to try to knock it off, and the familiar face in front of you grins in endearment.

“What’s up dude?” he speaks so casually it has you reeling as he gently reaches up to pull the bands away from where they rested behind your ears, and as he lets you stew in your shock he gently folds the mask in half and sticks it under the spray paint can so it doesn’t blow away in the cold night air.

“What the fuck man, you’re Spider-Man?” you ask with a thrilled laugh at his familiar grin, totally forgetting for a moment you wanted to kiss him until he passed out.

He nods shyly in a way that cuts deep and reminds you of the last time you saw him.

You can’t lie and say you didn’t stare at him longingly on the last day of classes. He was just so cute and sweet you couldn't help but develop a silly crush on the quiet boy that sat beside you in class, but regardless of your weak heart, that didn’t stop your friends from teasing you every time you talked about him for just a minute too long or whenever they caught you from making gooey eyes at him from across the cafeteria. That teasing, and his shy demeanor, were probably the biggest reasons you never made a move on the guy.

You just always felt like you were too much for his nice clean image, and regardless of the way he’d smile ear to ear when you’d whisper to him for an answer to class work, you thought he could never feel for you the way you did for him. So he just became an image of admiration, and more embarrassingly an image of desire when you were alone with just your hand and your thoughts. Never in a million years did you think the wide eyed and soft toned boy you’d fallen so hard for would end up being a superhero known for amazing and unmatched strength.

“Yeah I probably should have said something when I first got up here huh?” he cringes slightly at the verbal realization and adverts his eyes from your amazed glare, “but you know I kept hearing about this new graffiti artist running around the city, and once I saw some of it for myself I immediately remembered the little doodles you’d leave on my notes when you’d borrow them. I knew it was you and I needed to find you.”

“Well you sure as hell found me,” you tug at the restraints around your wrists to drive your words home, and the bubbling laughter that rises between you makes your heart feel warm.

“Yeah sorry,” he hums, “I’m sorry for everything actually, but when we started bickering I just felt gross because I always really liked you, I thought I fucked it all up. But then it got flirty and, again I had such a huge crush on you I just got carried away.”

“You had a crush on me?” you ask in disbelief, feeling a weight of guilt on your heart when you realize you brushed past his apology.

“Yeah, really bad,” he admits and his ears start to burn a bright red that makes you smile, until he moves to try to unwind his web from your wrists, “sorry I get if this is all weird and ruined the moment.”

“Hey, hey,” you stop him from getting any closer by lifting up your foot and pushing it into the dip below his ribs gently, “it was shocking, and maybe a little weird yeah, but I don’t think it ruined any mood. Not for me at least.”

“It didn’t?” his head jerks forward and you smile when he reaches up and wraps both hands around your ankle to keep the sole of your shoe pressed tightly against him.

“Not at all,” you shake your head as your heart starts to hammer against your chest, “I mean considering I also had an immensely huge crush on you, I thought it was going to be the obligatory reveal before the dramatic kiss. I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“That you have,” he breaths out in disbelief, moving your foot to the side as he gets closer and making your leg hitch around his hip, “I can’t believe you liked me too.”

“I can’t believe we both liked each other and nothing came from it,” you shake your head as much as you can from the way his forehead now presses gently against your own, and you think your heart might leap from your throat from how his nose brushes against your own as he crowds your personal space.

“I think we might be idiots,” he grins at you and you can feel you body leaning into him as much as I can, and before you can respond in agreement, he presses his mouth softly against yours.

Kissing Mark is almost exactly the way you imagined it so many times before. He’s gentle and a bit apprehensive, but the slight chapped skin that lines the seam of his mouth pulls a rolling groan from your chest and even when your eyes flutter shut, the dancing lights of the city around you bleed through your eyelids and you feel warm regardless of the cool air.

His free hand travels down momentarily, wrapping around the bend of your leg and lifting it up until it mirrors the one curled around his hip.

Once you’re wrapped around him tightly, he lets the flat of his palms slide carefully up your thighs and his tongue prods at your lips and teeth until your jaw drops and you finally get a taste of him.

You don’t mean to jerk your hips towards him as roughly as you do, but when his arms wind around your waist and his hips press into you, you can feel the warmth in your belly grow.

He seems hesitant to pull away from your mouth. It takes a few tries for his lips to trail down, he takes a second about three times to get one last taste, but once he finally gains some self control, he starts to softly nip at the skin of your cheek, jaw, and jugular until finally sinking his teeth harshly into the soft skin at the side of your neck.

It takes you a second to realize the soft moan you hear is crawling from your throat, especially with the way he covers it with his own rumbling growl. You can’t imagine the damage he’s doing to your neck, but when one of his hands slips from behind you to push under the fabric of your shirt and up until it’s crawling under the fabric that covers your chest, your mind is cleared of concern for that and you're begging for some acknowledgment.

“You want to do this? Up here?” you ask and your voice shakes more than you’ve ever heard it before. The syllables come out as pants and huffs of warm breath and you squirm against him and your hand clench open and closed and you await his response.

He reluctantly pulls away, and you can feel the thin string of saliva that connects your skin to his eager tongue before he breaks it to speak, “what? Is the badass graffiti artist scared or something?”

“So much for the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” you say as sarcastically as you can before he pressed his mouth back onto yours. He chuckles quietly as his tongue licks into your mouth, your muffled grumbling entertaining him entirely too much.

You get a more solid answer than his teasing gave when his thumb brushes over the peak of your nipple, playing as gently as he can with the rough fabric of his suit covering his hands, before he turns to pinching it and tugging with his thumb and index finger. And the squeak you let out in response to the friction is rewarded with a bite to your bottom lip and him softly grinding his bulge into you and making your underwear stick slightly to your dampening skin.

“Mark,” you whine between the short breaks he gives you to breathe, “please, something.”

You don’t think you make sense, and how could you with the way he’s stirring around your brain, but he must have his senses turned up a few notches enough to realize your dangling on the edge of insanity.

He doesn’t take his lips and tongue away from you, but his hands move down together to tug roughly at the band of the dark sweatpants you wear. The elastic that keeps the fabric on your hips is tight enough that as his shifts them down your thighs, they pull your ruined underwear along with them.

It feels weird, and a little degrading, with the cold air licking at your skin. You’ve never been so out in the open in the way you are now, and when the fabric pools around your ankles, you can’t help but want to hide.

Your legs squirm around as they no longer have the job of being locked around his hips, and your heart starts to thud against your sternum when his fingers start to dance around the expanse of your trembling thighs. You think you might make a muscle cramp up from the way you tense everytime he dips to your inner thighs, and especially when they start to travel closer and closer to where you drop desperately for some form of attention, but when he shows a moment of hesitation, and pulls his hands away to inspect the texture of the part of the suit that stretches across his palms, you want to cry out.

“Don’t know,” he mutters to himself, and you can’t stop the way your chest deflates slightly at the thought of him having second thoughts, “probably might not be the most gentle thing I could use right now.”

He spreads his fingers out as he shows you his palm, expelling your worries as he admits to not wanting the texture of the suit to make you uncomfortable. He shrugs slightly once he drops his hand, but you still can’t help but feel like he might be backing out.

“There’s always another way right?” he asks rhetorically, the slight mischievous spark to his voice letting you know he’s glad to offer you his plan b, “it’s not like I haven’t wanted to do this for years anyways.”

You can’t question him before he’s dropping unceremoniously to his knees, his body just a whip of red as he uses his shoulders to nudge his way between your thighs. And regardless of the excited nerves that bounce through you at what he’s planning to do to you, you widen your stance as much as your restricted ankles will allow to give him more space to work.

“This is kind of a dream come true,” he says playfully as he looks up at you with wide eyes. You find it a little hard to believe how cute he looks staring up at you considering what he’s moments away from doing and how he kneads at your thighs with a strong grip. But if anyone could manage it would be him.

“What, going down on me or being Spider-man?” you try to hit back just as playfully, but your voice simply doesn’t have the same strength, and the fact he took the moment after he spoke to lick at the arousal that had smeared across your inner thigh, you feel any resolve you had dissolving before your eyes.

“Both,” he nods with a sureness and a glitter in his eyes, “at the same time. The universe must love me.”

You would have continued the banter, tried to give him a nice back and forth he could really chew on, but your mind goes completely blank as he shows he’s tired of waiting by laying his tongue flat against your skin.

The muscle is probably as strong as the rest of him, competing almost perfectly with the strength of his arms as they wind tightly around your legs. And he combines these amazing feats of strength to lap wildly at your arousal while pulling you tightly against his face.

You don’t know why you hesitate to cry out, it’s not like anyone can hear you from how high you two are in the air, but the sounds get stuck in your throat and your back arches painfully as he wiggles the muscle until it’s dipping inside of you and allowing him to taste all of you.

You can only offer whimpers and crackled whines as he soils his pretty face with the mess of you, your thighs tightening around the sides of his head and your nails digging into the thin skin of your palms as he all but smothers himself and maps your skin with his hands.

It’s when he wraps his lips tightly around your neglected clit and sucks strong enough to make you see stars that you finally break and let a whining Yelp of his name.

The image of the sweet boy who would let you cheat off him daily in class is demolished by the man that has you in his hold now. His quick tongue licking harsh and long swipes against you before pulling the bundle of nerves back between his lips so he can roll circles and shapes around it makes your mind turn to mush, and your thankful for the insanely strong webbing that holds you up, because otherwise you would have collapsed at the first taste of pleasure.

Your hips begin to rock against his face against your will, and your mind isn’t present enough to even consider offering an apology. But his heated breath against you, the deep groans he lets stimulate your body, and the way he moves fluidly with every move you make, shows that he’s enjoying himself just as much as you.

The tense knot in your stomach winds tighter and tighter the more he devours you, and from the sounds that spill off your tongue he must know better than you how close to the edge you teeter.

Your eyes lock onto his as you chance a glance down, and he smiles as much as he can against you with how relentless he is to your nerves. And as your bottom lip starts to quiver and your thighs start to shake in his grip, he quirks his eyebrows up quickly to encourage you to let go.

You take a shuttering intake of the cold city air into your lungs when he pushes you off the edge. The sounds of the city below you are so much clearer as pleasure zips up your spine and even through your clouded mind you think you feel a biting sting from your nails breaking skin on your palms.

Your head knocks back against the flat space behind you as he laps at you as shiver through your orgasm, your eyes rolling back painfully as he doesn’t let up even when the feelings that encapsulate you become overwhelming. It’s not until you start to whine and kick your legs does he pull away as agonizingly slow as possible.

He strokes gently at the skin of your lower belly, staring at the space between your legs and making you very aware of every atom around you as he looks at you with a fascinated tilt to his head. His fingers dimple your skin as they press and move across your flesh, and you can’t help for just a moment but to feel like he’s studying you like a newly discovered species.

“Mark,” you whisper down at him, a rattling cough coming out along with the word as your throat feels dried out from the gasping breaths you had to take. and his head tilts up so quickly, almost as if he forgot you were almost there.

He mumbles a quiet ‘sorry’ as he begins to stand, and to your confusion, he pulls your underwear and pants up and back around your hips along with him.

“Does the super suit cut off circulation down there or something?” you ask in a joking tone, but it doesn’t fully cover the confusion that lays over you from his seeming lack of interest in taking anything further. And when he looks sheepish but equally confused, you explain, “I mean do you not want me to return the favor or anything?”

He only smiles in response for a moment, instead reaching up to start to pick at the webbing that’s just now started to loosen around your wrists.

“Don’t worry about it,” he starts as his eyebrows scrunch together and his tongue pokes out from his lips in concentration, “I only have underwear on under this thing, and I can’t really, y’know, pull anything to the side.”

He shrugs and takes a break from picking at the webbing to look you in the eyes, and you think your heart might escape through your throat when he rests his forehead against yours.

There’s another moment of silence between you, but this time it lacks the awkwardness of earlier. It’s a silence of acknowledgment, of letting your minds catch up with what exactly just happened and the time that it took for something like this to happen between you two. But it only lingers for maybe a handful of seconds before he’s locking his lips onto your and happily humming into your mouth.

The taste of you is so prominent on his tongue it’s slightly jarring, and it would be a lie to say it doesn’t make something in your core stir up again. You wish desperately that the web would just finally fall away, because you can’t think of anything else you’d love to do more than run your fingers through his hair and pull him into you until you possibly formed into one being.

“You can still return the favor though,” he reassures as he gives you a moment to breathe and begins to softly brush his thumbs against the sides of your face as he cradles your jaw.

His smile grows even bigger when your face brightens, and he mutters something under his breath that you can’t fully make out, but you’d be too embarrassed to admit you knew it was something endearing about you being cute.

“Let me see you again,” he bumps his nose against your again, pecking you lips as gently as humanly possible, “you’re not someone you’re stupid enough to let go of twice, so give me your number and we’ll call it even.”

“How about you give me your number,” you retort, tugging on the slowly dissolving web when he has the audacity to look confused, “my phone should be in my pocket. I’ll give you my password and everything to put it in yourself. Because I’m not interested in letting go of you again either Spider-man.”

#mark smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #kpop smut #nct imagine #mark imagine #nct 127 imagines #nct dream imagines #nct oneshot #mark oneshot

489 notes · View notes

delu-jean · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐬 𝐇𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞? (𝐏𝐭 𝟐)

(Akaashi x fem!/reader) -> Angst/Fluff? -> 3.2k

Synopsis: Akaashi is strolling through Tokyo, and on that day, meets a boy who looks all too familiar. One whose eyes remind him of you.

Part One: Is He Mine?

Part Three: Is Her Mine? (Part. 3)

Notes: Part two as promised! Maybe I’ll make a part three (haha >:)). Be sure to comment if you would liked to be tagged for the next part, and reblogs are always appreciated.

-> Also, for those tagged in this post, I’ll tag you in the next as well ^^

“Y/n...please tell me.”

“T-tell you what?” you asked nervously, as he felt just the same. Inhaling his breath, hoping he could keep calm.

“Is...is he mine?”

---

“Is he who’s?”

“Mine Y/n...is he mine?”

You stared at the gentleman. Though his question was reasonable (?), that was the first thing he was going to ask you?...after all of those years?...years of torment, resentment, and whatever else. Maybe you were overreacting, but yet again, you were a woman who stood by her morals. And that being the case, your instincts had said your reaction was as reasonable as his question.

Some part of you wanted to snap. To holler at Akaashi for asking such a ridiculous question, yet the other part...was scared. You felt anxious when thinking of a proper answer. Was Ryu his?.... If taken out of context, he could’ve been asking if Ryu belonged to him, and of course he didn’t. Ryu wasn’t an object that could be owned by merely anyone. He was his own person, and that being the case, wasn’t something that could’ve been held down. Yet even though you could’ve interpreted it that way, you knew what Akaashi really meant. Yet you didn’t exactly have an answer.

“Ryu?”

“Yeah...”

Akaashi seemed suspicious. He could tell you were hiding something, and even though very obvious, he didn’t want to assume. Hoping that you would confirm things so that you both could talk it out. Yet here you were, not giving him a response. He was confused to say the least, shouldn’t the answer have been easy? Ryu looked exactly like him, and plus, him not having a father was another takeaway. Using those facts should’ve given him enough confirmation.

But then again, maybe the answer wasn’t as easy as it should’ve been. What if Ryu wasn’t his?...what if Akaashi had made an assumption out of impulse, because of a lingering feeling he had. One of which you sparked for him to feel.

Maybe he was being delusional, and instead, was trying to make an excuse. An excuse to spend another minute, even a second with you there. Ryu was important to him as well. His or not, he respected that you had started a family, and was glad Ryu was a part of it. He adored Ryu, but he also admired you. Speaking of Ryu, the boy then clung onto you. He seemed confused about the interaction, and tried asking for clarification.

“His? *GASP* Am I Akaashi’s brother!? Momma, you never told me!” he smiled happily, ecstatic at the news.

“Eh-no dear, he’s not your brother,” you chuckled, for him to ask:

“Then what did he mean? What did you mean, Akaashi?” you then stared at Akaashi. You knew he was smart enough to play things through, and even so, you still panicked the slightest bit.

“I was wondering if you would be mine for the night, along with your mother. We could go grab dinner, or ice cream even,” you looked at him in shock as his eyes seemed determined. Needing an answer, and willing to get it in whatever scenario possible.

“But what about Kuroo?”

“Oh my, I forgot about that,” you then glanced at your watch.

“Kuroo?...but how-oh….” Akaashi then thought about how you and Kuroo were very close friends. So close that sometimes, he would even find you hanging out with Kuroo, over himself. Though it wasn’t because you liked him (in that way), rather, you were both very good friends. Akaashi let it be since you both had mutual trust, and Kuroo was someone he was also friends with. Besides, Akaashi also respected your personal life with others, and so did you for him.

They still talked till this day, and not once had Kuroo mentioned you having a child. But to be fair, Kuroo never mentioned you. That being because both you and Akaashi had broken up, and it would’ve been an uncomfortable topic. Still, Akaashi found it strange. If Kuroo knew, wouldn’t Bokuto have as well?...meaning that Akaashi would’ve known by now? His thoughts continued to trail as you looked at him in disbelief.

You did have plans with Kuroo, but then, you also had a couple hours until he’d come around. Even so, you didn’t want to spend that time with Akaashi. He was one of the last people you needed to talk to. The grudge which still stood in your heart, clenched with each second he stood there. The anger which he had gifted you, was something that was eager to return. As you had thought this, you then stared at your son. He seemed thrilled to be with such a man, as he gripped onto Akaashi’s hand in excitement, saying:

“Yay! We get to eat together!”

“We’re going to have so much fun!”

“Let’s try some bubble waffles!”

You then remembered that even if you had felt that, your son instead felt joy being with Akaashi. And that being the case, you didn’t have the right to take that happiness away. After all, Ryu was not yours either. He wasn’t someone you could drag away from events, just because you had conflicts with a person. Though there were times where doing so was appropriate, was now really such an event?...not even you could answer that. But even though you couldn’t, his smile which brightened the mood, had answered for you.

“Okay buddy, slow down. Fine, we can go with brother...Akaashi. We’ll meet Kuroo sometime later, just let me text him.”

“Okay mom! Akaashi, Up!” you then eyed the boy, for him to insist regardless.

“Please mom! He’s so tall, and I can see everything-”

“Ryu no-”

“Sure, what not?” Akaashi then grabbed the boy, placed him on his shoulders, and secured his legs with his hands. You then sighed. If Akaashi had agreed, what could you do? You then texted Kuroo, grabbing your bag firmly as Akaashi spoke:

“I know a place where we could grab ramen. If not, we could instead-”

“No, ramen is fine,” you said in a stoic tone.

“Okay...then let’s get going.”

---

The walk to the outdoor stand was awkward. Well...for you and Akaashi at least. The last time you two spoke, was the day he broke things off. He never reached out to you during that time, and now...here you both were. Expected to have a lengthy conversation, and to enjoy yourselves. Key word, “expected.” Though it would’ve been nice if you both could have talked care free, it wasn’t going to happen. That event occurred when both parties have mutually moved on. From Akaashi’s perspective, he still had lingering thoughts, yet kept them to the side. Going on with his life as he expected you did yours. Though he thought you had moved on, you had thought differently for different reasons.

Even though you both had your differences, Ryu was there. Entertaining the both of you separately. He complimented you one second, and played with Akaashi the next. You had never seen Akaashi so enthusiastic with a child before. Though he wasn’t going all crazy, and acting like a kid himself, he was being a lot more open. Talking back and forth with Ryu, giving nice remarks, and also rewarding him...with that beautiful smile he bestowed.

Even so, you tried to ignore it. Remembering that this entire ordeal was for Ryu, and not for your observations.

“We’re here. What do you want Ryu?”

“Hm, could I get the one with Tonkatsu? I’ve been craving it all day!”

“Haha, sure buddy. And...you, Y/n?”

“I’m not hungry, you guys go ahead,” Akaashi then sighed, obviously not believing you.

“We’ll get two Tonkatsu ramens, along with Fukuoka ramen.”

“Sure, that’ll be $18.35 please.”

“Debit-”

“Um...I can pay for both Ryu and I,” you said, as you tried scrambling for your wallet. Akaashi then tapped the machine, placing his hand on your own (the hand in your purse).

“It’s fine. Afterall, I already paid,” you shook your head, but let it go as Ryu pointed to a table.

“Come on! Let’s sit!”

---

“Akaashiii~!”

“What is Ryu?”

“How do you know mommy? Mommy would never talk to a stranger, so that means you both know each other.”

“Oh...well, um,” Ryu was truly a bright child. One who caught on a little too quickly. He really did remind you of his father. Quick witted, yet wise with his tongue. Being certain to use specific words or sentences, to ensure/secure his curiosities.

“Well...mommy and Akaashi were very good friends,” you replied.

“Ahhh. So if that’s the case, why have I never met him before?”

“Well you see-”

“It’s because I live further away from you guys,” Akaashi answered.

“But so does Kuroo,” Akaashi then pondered, and placed his hands together.

“Hm, I guess you’re right. Well, maybe your mother has an answer,” the two black haired boys, then stared at you. Both were awaiting for an answer, and yet both had different intentions. One wondering out of pure curiosity, while the other...was waiting for an explanation. One which could clear up any, if not every misconception.

“Well sweetie, sometimes good friends have to part ways. Everyone has their reasons, but most of the time…” you then looked at Akaashi.

“It’s because it’s for the better,” his gaze was locked onto yours. The stare was unreadable. It didn’t feel tense, yet it was. Was it cold, hurtful?...you wouldn’t have known. But what you did know was that Akaashi was good, too good at hiding his thoughts. So good that when together, he would let things slip without reaction. Sometimes that was a great thing...and others...not so much.

“Why would it be a good thing? You both were best friends!” you then placed a hand on his head, patting it gently.

“Well...friends have to grow up. That doesn’t mean you can’t see them again, but, what it does mean is that you’ll have some time...alone. And that time...is used for you to grow.”

“Ahh, I see mom! Is that why we don’t see Kuroo often?”

“Haha, no sweetie. That’s actually because we live further away. If Kuroo lived in our city-”

“He would be living with us, right?”

“Hm...I guess so,” Akaashi then looked in the other direction. There was no tint of emotion, just...silence.

“Akaashiiii, the ramen is here!”

“Oh, is it Ryu?”

“Yeah, it is!” your bowls were then slid over. Ryu stared at Akaashi’s hands, and at first, Akaashi wasn’t sure as to why. Ryu didn’t touch his food, and at first, he was worried that the boy didn’t like it, but then noticed he was holding a pair of scissors. Pointing them towards the gentleman. Though confused, he then caught onto Ryu’s gesture.

“Dear I can-” before you could finish your sentence, Akaashi started to cut his noodles. Making them bit size for the boy. It seemed like second hand nature, yet something new to him. Though, you would’ve felt more comfortable doing it yourself, you weren’t complaining as the job was now done.

“Thanks Akaashi!”

“No problem Ryu. Now, let’s eat.”

---

You all then finished your ramen. Though you had said you weren’t hungry, you couldn’t help but eat it. After all of those years, Tonkatsu ramen was still your favourite, and Akaashi still knew. He was glad that he remembered the littlest of details. Ones which may have been overlooked. Ones he made sure to be attentive to. Not only that, but he was glad Ryu had enjoyed the meal as well. He truly was your son as he had the same tastes as you. Akaashi found it quite cute, and found it even more adorable as he ran out of the restaurant, shouting:

“Mom, Akaashi! I want to play at the park!”

“Hm...it’s a little late buddy,” Akaashi said, for you to respond:

“It should be fine. We’ll be over here watching Ryu. No funny business young man!”

“Okay mommy!” the young boy then climbed the slide, as Akaashi sat on the bench. Patting on it, indicating that you sat beside him. And so...you did. Your legs together, hands as well, as your head looked down. He then sighed, asking:

“Do you feel uncomfortable? I can move if-”

“No...it’s fine. We’ll be leaving soon, so no need to worry.”

“Is Kuroo picking you up?” you then nod as he did the same.

“I see...so...how have you been?”

“Oh...um...I’ve been okay. I’ve done better, but...yeah.”

“Hm, I see,” you really didn’t want to be in this situation. Maybe for him, it seemed civil, but to you...it was awkward. Neither of you knew what to say, and neither did you try to hide it (successfully at least). Akaashi then twitteled with his thumbs. A rare sight you would see every once in a while. Akaashi was a well spoken person, and usually had something to say in a well mannered way. But when he didn’t, or didn’t know what to say, he would play with his thumbs. Hoping that something would spring to mind.

“You must be having fun.”

“Fun doing what?” he looked at you.

“Playing with your thumbs,” you smirked, for him to put his hands away.

“Not really.”

“Hm...so...what have you been up to?” you asked, curious and yet not wanting to know.

“Nothing much...just work and well, Bokuto and I still hang out from time to time.”

“Ahh, really? I’m glad. You both were the bestest of friends.”

“And still are,” he smiled, while watching Ryu climb the monkey bars.

“Hm, you have a girlfriend yet?” he then paused for a moment, for him to answer:

“No...not yet. I haven’t found anyone interesting.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate.”

Was it really?...you wouldn’t know how to think after today. If you hadn’t met Akaashi here...you would’ve thought otherwise. Glad that he hadn't found someone else, for his actions sickened you. Such a gentleman, yet someone so cruel. You would feel awful if he had grasped someone, just as tightly as he did to you. Sprinkling you with such intoxicating, yet graceful pleas, and yet he left you there to rot in such doing. Such a passionate man, yet that same person could find passion in such coldness.

For the past years, you had found him to be utterly despicable. After that one event...you couldn’t help but think that. But even so, after seeing him with Ryu today...you couldn’t help but melt. The two were so sweet together, and even though you hated to admit, had a spectacular relationship within just hours. They really acted as the best of friends, and Akaashi seemed to enjoy it. Not only that...but his smile...it was one which was truly admirable.

You then stared at Akaashi, while he watched Ryu. He really hadn’t changed. He was calm, quiet, and reserved. His posture was on parr with the rest of his body. His hair was styled more neatly, and actually, it had grown a bit, along with his height. His figure, a lot larger than what it was in university, and his cologne smelled of lavender, along with a hint of pepper. It was a strange combination, but it worked. He really had grown up to be even more attractive. And that being the case, it surprised you that he didn’t have a partner. Said attractiveness, along with the kindness of his nature...had drawn you in, and yet dragged you out. Leaving you in a confused, and undecided state of mind.

He then took note of your stare, and grinned. Secretly glad that your attention had averted towards him, yet, he was trying to be subtle. You truly looked astonishing tonight. Even after a couple of years, you still looked the same. That same highschooler who he had fallen in love with, the one who had constantly supported both him, and Fukurodani. The only person who truly understood such a stoic man. That same girl he would forever hold a place in his heart for. Although, now you weren’t just a sweet girl, but now, a beautiful lady instead.

Deep down, he would’ve wished for a space to open. Allowing such a lady to make way into his heart. Hoping said lady, would do the same. And maybe, just maybe...a prince could join you both as well. Making his thoughts come true in the utmost blessed way.

He made sure you didn’t catch onto his stare, the one which he had latched onto you. His attempts were taken very seriously, as he didn’t want to make things too obvious. Unfortunately, you did catch him in the act, and turned away, embarrassed.

“Hm,” he smirked, as you fished for your phone.

Kuroo ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ

-> ‘Are you still coming?’

-> ‘Of course. Sorry, traffic delays. I should be there in ten.’

-> ‘Okay...see you soon’

You were about to turn of your phone, to then see Kuroo text:

-> ‘Also...don’t worry too much. You can do this Y/n, good luck, and I’ll be there soon.’

You then smiled, and Akaashi took note, thinking:

‘She’s probably talking to her…ah...’ he sighed at the thought, to then ask:

“Are you talking to your husband?...you seem happy,” he smiled. Even though smiling was a happy gesture, he couldn’t help but make it the opposite. Making his grin, feel ever so agonizing.

“Ah...well...that was Kuroo,” Akaashi then batted a brow, surprised to say the least. He’d only seen that look on you when you were vulnerable. Whether you were scared, or secretly happy. Regardless, that was only around him...not even Kuroo had seen such a stare. But now that he saw you in such a state, it made him question if you, and Kuroo were in a relationship. That being the reason why he never brought it up, and vice versa.

“Oh...I see. So that means,” Akaashi then started to think. Yes, the younger child looked like him, but then, there was also resemblance between both Ryu, and Kuroo. They both had black hair, Ryu had a peckish, yet sweet smile (like Kuroo...minus the sweet-), and the bits of information fit logically. If you and Kuroo had Ryu, it would’ve made sense.

Both childhood friends who had grown together, to then realize what they wanted after he...had left you. Starting a family, and being with each other?.... Ryu looked like he could’ve been Kuroo's, or anyone for that matter. But even if Akaashi would have liked to think that way, the connection was too uncanny to deny.

Even so, Akaashi was still suspicious. Wondering as to why Ryu would be so reluctant towards his father. Why he would call “Kuroo,” well…”Kuroo,” and just as to why you both lived so far away. Maybe you both had a situation?...but then again, wasn’t Kuroo on his way to pick you up? Akaashi was confused, and felt like he was over-thinking things. Maybe Ryu wasn’t his...and Akaashi was instead looking for something...that wasn’t there...nor his to compensate.

“That means what?...” he then locked his eyes, with yours. Though he was someone who was hard to read, you could tell how desperate he was. His stare, piercing right at you, hoping he could get an answer.

“Y/n...could you please tell me...if he’s...mine?” you then saw the sorrowful expression, which struck him. The guilt which seeped in, had dug even further. Not sure how to tell him, nor how to phrase things. Your hands clenched, inhaling slowed, as your body trembled. He seemed just as scared for your response, to then hear:

“He’s-”

“He’s mine, Akaashi...Ryu is mine,” Kuroo said, for silence to then fill.

For Those Who Wanted To Be Tagged/Reblogged/Wanted A Part Two! ^^ :

@bokutojuicyass; @realbugmom; @exactlygreatlove; @instantdinosaurhottub; @suchagoodgirlxoxo; @nomadicadventures; @greenhoodie-mark; @n5koma; @animclarinerd; @personalficarchive; @sabrinakishi; @amecchii; @daffodilpetals; @lerougestvelvet; @notamazinglizzy; @akaashimarryme5; @m00ndust2

->Sorry to those who tags aren’t working qwq

278 notes · View notes

hazelsheartsworn · 3 years

Text

Want You in My Room

“Want You in My Room” by hazelsheartsworn // @jurdannetrevels

Track 1 of Dedicated, a @jurdannet collab fic with @figonas, @lizziebxnnet, @slightlyrebelliouswriter23, and @laequiem. Dedicated Masterpost

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: Explicit (E)

tags: teasing, solo masturbation, mutual masturbation, public masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and there was only one chair.

cw: nsfw, teasing, solo masturbation, mutual masturbation, public masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism

Word Count: 9074

Read it on ao3

“Hell Yes, Poppy, you stab him in the heart, girl!” I shout to the empty room. Vivi lent me this novel while we visit and stay at her apartment claiming that the main character and I have a love for daggers and fighting in common. While it certainly isn’t impressive for its military strategy, it is entertaining for a vacation read.

Cardan and I are visiting Vivi, Oak, and Heather for two weeks before Oak returns to school. This morning, I am stealing a private moment to relax before going on a shopping trip. I lean back against the pillows on the bed on Oak’s bed and continue to read From Blood and Ash.

I follow along with Poppy’s panicked rush out of the keep into the snow and my muscles tense up when Casteel catches up to her. While the Atalantians are fictitious, I can’t help the comparison to the Folk, each with their beyond-human nature and abilities. It is to imagine Poppy’s terror emphatically, intensively, because those feelings are familiar to my own with the denizens of Faerie. I gasp when Casteel bites Poppy’s neck, my own hand pressing the tender skin above my collarbone. Poring through the narrative, I wonder what it would feel like to experience the tug of Cardan’s sharp teeth on my skin. I close my eyes briefly and fully form the image before returning to the unfolding scene. Thankfully I’m alone in this room right now. I won’t admit it to anyone else, but I feast on the story, my own body reacts to the angst and smut as I read. When I squirm and shift, Oak’s bed springs creak in response. I just hope no one else in the apartment notices it.

I am so engrossed in the filthy tale before me that I’m only vaguely aware of two legs slithering between mine, feet first, stopping to hem in hips. I barely have time to register this awkward position before Cardan rotates himself and pitches me over onto my stomach, a maneuver the Ghost must have taught him recently. Cardan hovers over me, hooting with pride at the situation while I huff frustrated.

“You made me lose my place,” I complain. I scowl at the closed book discarded on the bed.

“Is that so?” He grabs my hips, pulling them back off the bed so my ass is in the air and pinned against him like we are animals in the wild. “Because it looks to me like you're in exactly the right place.” I can hear the smile in his growl, feel the tempting rigidity of his hard-on as he presses into me." Wiggling in his grasp, my ass rubs right over him and my core tightens in response. His responding moan gives me an idea.

I take the opportunity to strike back. I lean back, pushing my ass into his hips more, distracting him so that when I quickly turn and flop my back onto the bed, he doesn’t notice that I slip one leg on the outside of his. Using his momentum, I grab his left hand and tug, upsetting his balance enough that it’s an easy thing to have him flipped and pinned under me. He, now supine on the bed, startles at the cold feel of the dagger pressed to his neck. Since I’m straddling his hips, I can feel the twitch of him beneath me. My eyebrows flick as I give a quick smirk.

I'm a bit impressed with myself. While we rolled, I grabbed a dagger hidden in my hi-top chucks. Taryn ordered them custom from an Etsy shop with stiletto knives embroidered on the spine which also covers the hidden sheath attached there. She says it’s so I can “take my hospitality wherever I roam.”

“Well, this seems familiar, my sweet nemesis,” Cardan smiles, slightly surprised, but decidedly less nervous than the night he’s remembering. I try to recreate that manic grin, to churn up those conflicting emotions again, but it’s difficult. So much has changed since we fumbled through that toothy esurient kiss. We are no longer disenfranchised power-hungry enemies, but High Queen and King of Elfame. I’m distracting myself by recollecting our start. My legs are clenching inadvertently and squeezing his torso.

“Ergh, Jude” he poses, “I came to see if you were ready to leave.” He gently presses a finger to the dagger, staring into my eyes as he pushes the tip away from his neck. “Unless--ah,” he rasps as the knife draws a bead of blood from his finger tip, “Unless you desire to change our itinerary, to spar first,” his eyes grow darker at the suggestion.

I pull the dagger away, lean up slowly and watch him as I sheath it in my sneaker. His beauty and pull is almost painful. It makes me want to relent, to take him on the bed right now, to muss up that hair, those clothes, to mess up that beauty a little bit.

“No,” I pause, fetching his hand to suck on his cut finger, lapping at the welled-up blood on his finger pad. He’s watching my mouth, eyes still dark, twitching below me again. He looks ravenous. We won’t make it to the store if we stay like this much longer.

I release his finger and my breath with it. “No, the point is to explore first and play later.”

When I lean forward onto him and press a chaste kiss to his lips, both of his hands grab fistfuls of my backside. I am startled into a quick laugh and use the movement to unseat myself from him and stand up beside the bed. I help him up from the bed and in short order, we climb into the back seat of Heather’s Volkswagen Beetle and set out.

The thirty minute drive doesn’t help my nerves, nor does Cardan’s long fingers tracing circles on my knee as we sit in the backseat. Heather drops us off in Portland on the way to some gallery photo show with Vivi.

While the store stands alone, the parking lot is neither too large nor too small. The shop front is tasteful and not garish like I expect. The sign above the entry says “DEDICATED, to play, to love, to everyone.” The shop title that doesn’t insinuate the lingerie and kink warehouse that it appears to be inside. Still, I’m unsettled.

Though I am the High Queen in Elfhame, here I feel so out of place. Like the woman in that one film I watched during my exile. Where she's taken from the streets and into all the swanky jewelry stores and clothing shops. Only this is a swanky sex shop. I flinch at the door chime, much like that main character flinched at the playful snap of a jewelry case.

Cardan notices my hesitation and rests his hand on the small of my back. It’s such a reassuring gesture, incongruous with our history. I’m still amazed sometimes at how we got to this place of casual intimacy. I turn to him, to acknowledge his touch and I’m met by coal-black eyes crinkled with a sense of laughter and mischief. He knows I’m uncomfortable, but is smart enough not to say anything right now. He’s lucky I agreed to come here, though it had more to do with Heather’s advice than satisfying Cardan’s desire to make me blush.

As soon as Heather found out that Cardan and I were married, and once he was no longer a snake, she cornered me on my last visit. Convinced, rightfully so, that my sexual knowledge was limited and determined as “the only responsible influence in our lives,” Heather forced me and Cardan to review mortal sex-education with her. Apparently she did the same thing with Taryn when I was posing as my twin for her trial in Elfhame. It wasn’t bad, actually, and Heather wasn’t judgmental about my lack of experience and questions. That’s actually why we were here. Part of my “education” entails experimenting and exploring so that I can truly learn what I like.

Vivi recommended this shop in Portland. It has enough, in her words, “variety”, that she can walk around with her ears un-glamored and no one bats an eyelash over it. Of course, as soon as Cardan heard about these plans, he insisted on joining me.

As we look around, I notice there are two floors with the main level and a second one lower. Directly in front of us there’s a straight path to the center of the store where a wide and open stairway leads down away from the doors. The whole first floor has more common merchandise, “vanilla stuff” Vivi calls it. It starts on my right and creates a circuit around the stairs, ending at the cashier’s stand on my left. Heather insists that I also browse the lower level with “kinky” stuff. Thumping music and flashing lights pulsing upwards add to my insecurity.

“Where would you like to start?” Cardan asks with a sly smile. There’s still that look of mischief in his eyes. Before I can think more about what that means...

“Um, over here,” I point, gesturing to the nearest section. Clothing racks take up the largest footprint of this top level. In this section, I’m surrounded by streetwear--t-shirts with crude remarks, an abundance of short plaid skirts, and gaudily colored corsets.

Cardan and I both measure our hands against the length of the shorter skirts. I watch him trace one finger down the length of a skirt, the same finger my tongue soothed this morning. My own mouth waters, at the memory or the image of that clothing failing to cover me, I’m not sure. I turn away before I can see his facial expression and look around.

Honestly, most things in this section don’t appeal to me given the clothing available to me in Faerie. After quickly scanning the racks, I am ready to move on. Cardan turns slowly to follow, still reading some sign about custom screen-printing.

We move on to accessories. Cardan’s gaze snags on the clear cases containing body jewelry. Whether for himself or a prank, I leave him be, especially since I don’t want to debate which silly nipple rings will embarrass my adoptive murderous dad most. Cardan’s rictus is too eager, he must have found something glittering and garish with which to taunt Madoc.

I roll my eyes and drift away, letting my hands graze the multi-colored feather boas and suede vests with fringe. I find it hard to begin, unsure about what I want or need. I’m not embarrassed by sex, certainly not after my upbringing in Faerie, but I am self-conscious of my lack of experience. Perhaps it would be helpful to start with costuming, to put on the clothes and act the part. I am accustomed to wearing a mask at court, or to putting on figurative armor to meet the challenges of palace life. This is but a new arena, and I can wear the clothes to act the part until it feels natural.

Glancing around, I find bins with a variety of stockings. Stockings are commonplace in Faerie clothing, though they’re more practical and plain than the variety here. These are all nylon and decorative. I’ve seen magazine and internet ads of scantily clad women wearing these. It seems as good a start as any. As the bins are, I have to bend at my hips and lean down to sift through what’s available.

There are too many choices and the size charts vary by brand. I always find it difficult to determine my clothing size for mortal clothes. Holding several pairs, I try to figure out which size I need. With personal tailoring, I don’t need to know any measurements. Frustrated, about to give up, bowing my head in exasperation, a familiar heat presses against me. Cardan has lined up directly behind me, his hands on the bin on either side of me. I straighten up at the waist, turning my head and torso slightly to glimpse behind me. I can’t move more, Cardan’s hips are holding mine in place. My body delights at this remembering how close I was to tumbling with him this morning.

Cardan chuckles, “While I contend that a queen should never deign to sift through any bin, I cannot deny that the view is incomparable.” He cups and lightly squeezes each butt cheek quickly before returning his hands to the bin ledge. He leans his chin on my shoulder. The feel of him is distracting and my frustration leaves me flustered. I turn around, creating space between us with my elbows while still holding two handfuls of stocking packages. His long arms can accommodate the space and still cocoon me between the bin and him. He lifts both thumbs to caress my curves that are within reach.

In a valiant effort to ignore every glancing touch and sensation, I decide on Large tights because I know my muscles are larger from constant sword practice. Before I discard the rest, I keep a set of classic thigh-highs with the visible stitch line. I drop the remainder and catch Cardan’s half-lidded stare.

“We should split up and look around independently” I rush. “Heather has urged me to explore for myself and you're…distracting...” I trail off. He smirks back with a knowing look, but doesn’t argue. He presses himself flush to me and tilts his head painstakingly slowly to my ear. When he speaks, his breath tickles.

“Consider carefully,” he pauses to nip at my ear right where the cartilage is pierced. “I hope you share in my depraved tastes.” I shutter my eyes closed as he licks my ear, slowly turning as he peels his body away from mine. The hair on my arms is standing up and I feel small tingles everywhere my body misses his. I stare after him sauntering to the opposite side of the store.

I dive into searching through the store. Toward the back I find nicer lingerie with lace and embroidered edges. I shuffle through rack after rack quickly diverting to the next at a rapid pace. I gain momentum as I go, doubting more and more that I’ll find something that matches the high standards I didn’t realize my brain set up. I check myself breathing in slowly to try and slow the staccato of my thoughts. I refocus and frown at the next rack. A hanger rests haphazardly on the frame, like someone rushed and didn’t take care in replacing the garment. My fingers move before I think to fix it.

I separate the hangers around it and freeze at what I see. I think it’s called a teddy, with a fitted corset and panties combined as one garment. The cut and design are well made, the boning sturdy, but the design ensnares me. On an ivory background, curling and twisting all over are finely embroidered black snakes. I am hypnotized. There is no same or similar pattern here, I was thorough in my search. It feels like a portent, the displaced hanger, the timing, the overlapping stitching that vaguely reminds me of faerie clothing. I look for a tag and see it’s in my size. I clutch my discovery to myself and look around quickly, as if a child caught with contraband. I don’t see my husband near me.

I sweep around the rest of the first floor passing by shoes, athleisure and fitness items, and through a section filled with the short shelving of pharmacy aisles. There’s prophylactics and items for safe and healthy sex practices. Before the checkout lines, I finally turn to the stairs. In order to reach them and head down I have to walk through an aisle of shampoo bottles. It’s one of the most colorful sections of the store and I walk distracted by the shapes, shades, and slogans. At closer inspection, I realize they’re all lubricants. The selection is extensive and as I reach the end of the row, about to descend, I swear some of these seem familiar, like I’ve seen them in Elfame.

Directly down from the stairs is a section dedicated to anal sex practices. The section seems to progress from basics to more advanced play. I guess this from the signs; the one on right says “Anal 101” and looks to have items like anal douches and more lube; on the left “Cheeky Chique” has what appear to be animal tails, long ropes with beads that increase in size, and some items that look more like items from a doctor’s office. In between there are so many shapes, I can’t tell where some of them would be used. There are even kits with toys of various sizes and plugs with decorative jewel motifs. Since I don’t see Cardan here, I turn around to see the rest of the lower level.

Unlike above, this part of the shop seems much more like the fancier department stores at the mall. There are boutiques of various kinks and pleasures. Each section has an attendant trained to help in that specific interest. On the sides of the stairs, there are kiosks with a variety of brands and styles of vibrators. One kiosk has a special on vibrating cock rings. My eyes scan to the farthest parts behind the stairs. There are so many ropes, ties, and whips, wide bars, swings, and wedges. I step toward it, very curious and immediately letting the memory of Cardan in my custody rise. But then, my eyes snag to a familiar silhouette, tall, lithe, curls of black hair that my fingers long to tousle. My husband, the High King of Elfhame, is standing before an entire wall of dildos. Of all manner, shape, and color, they’re stuck to the wall by suction cups and if you look askance, you could mistake them for a rock climbing wall. In fact, between the rigging from the bondage, the dildo wall, and the final section with several dancing poles to test out, this half of the store looks like a kinky obstacle course. TVs in the burlesque dance section blare a music video of a man sliding down a pole singing, “Call me by your name” in the chorus. It’s super catchy and I notice Cardan bopping his head and dancing in place to the beat.

In front of this area are fitting rooms and I head there before Cardan can see me. These rooms are nicer than typical fitting rooms. They fit the boutique vibe down here. There are full size doors and walls for separation, lush carpeting, and a triptych panel mirror at the end of the hallway where customers can model. I choose a door to the left, enter, and close it quietly. The individual rooms are well designed. Near the door is a forest green velvet “wing back” chair. With well-padded cushions, cabriole legs finishing with ball and claw feet, it adds a sense of luxury to the room. The chair’s most impressive feature is the deep flared wings that come almost to the edge of the arm rails. Someone sitting there would have the sense of a private, exclusive show. Two hooks are on each side wall. A flat mirror fills the wall opposite the door, with a small square ottoman flush against it, a match in color and details to the chair.

I hang up the items to try on and begin to undress. First I try on the stockings, pleased that I have estimated my size correctly. With my back to the mirror I turn my torso to look at my legs. These stockings have a stitched line up the back and I like the way it undulates to match the curves of my muscles. It's a pleasure to let my eyes follow the line from my heel to my butt and I like the little smirk I see glancing back at me. This is a good start.

The thigh highs have the same stitch in the back and I decide to keep them on while I try on the teddy I found. I slide the straps off the hanger, and turn it over to figure out how to put it on. It is better that I didn’t see the back of this before getting into the fitting room, there’s little to constitute a back. There are four interlocking hooks, each connected by two black adjustable straps on each side. The whole effect looks like four wide X letters across the back, about four inches of space.. The bottom portion just has two adjustable black straps that taper down into a V like the cut of panties, without any fabric in between the straps.

I gulp audibly, and my anxiety spikes as I unhook everything. I fumble stepping into it feeling foolish that something so skimpy requires such deliberate focus. I turn with my back to the mirror and that helps me guide the hooks together appropriately. When I’m done, I place my hands on my hips and slowly turn around, watching myself in the mirror the whole time. I am reminded of how different my body is, how human it is in Faerie. My breasts are full and they spill from the balconette bra cups. My arms and shoulders seem too large, too muscular from my years of sword training. My legs are similar, with sculpted quadriceps and ridges to my calf muscles. Even though I am High Queen, it is so obvious I am an import to Faerie, my mortality conspicuous. Even now it shames me sometimes. Abruptly I drop my hands, overcome with nerves.

I can calm myself before battle, discern the turn of phrase mid sentence from a politician, but here I am getting anxious about my self-image. This whole time shopping I have been working myself up over intimacy. I catch myself worrying my left ring finger, the missing knuckle. It’s my tell and I stop, pressing on the tip while I shutter my eyes closed and let loose a breath. There is no need to succumb to such worry. My every mortal curve is a fascination to Cardan. Just today he’s focused on my ass, touched it at every opportunity.

I turn said ass to the mirror and grab it with both hands, filling my fists. How pleasing to feel its voluptuousness, to see it set the back straps of the teddy at a full curve. This is good, I am fine, emotionally and aesthetically. . My shift back into an athletic stance is automatic, running through the familiar poses will serve as a balm to my disquieted nerves. I mimic holding a sword and weave myself through guard positions, watching my form in the mirror, just as I used to do as seneschal. I stop at window guard so I can see my legs flex and I appreciate the musculature. I know the work and hours that have created these shapes and I am, genuinely, proud of it. Even with the massive scar on my thigh, my legs show my journey, my survival in Faerie. I’ve earned this body and it looks good.

I face the mirror again and smooth my hands down the tummy panel, appreciating the boning and embroidery. My hand flows down, where the front of the teddy ends like my mall-bought underwear. But unlike my typical panties, when I feel down farther the teddy gives way to nothing except two strategic strips of fabric. Per store policy, I left on my tanga-cut undies, but the teddy straps outline them, like a stencil I once had that marked the shape for a drawing you could then color in. However the fabric filling this stencil colors in exactly what should be exposed. A voice within me that almost purrs with anticipation when I think about how Cardan would react to my ass in this. On a day like today, when he’s touched it, groped it, and pressed an eager hard-on against it, this would undo him.

It’s too alluring to resist tracing the slivers of skin peeking between the fabric on my ass. I stare off for a minute, enjoying the feeling of drawing my knuckles down my ass, enjoying the slight resistance pulling my finger pads up. Without thinking I shift my weight, move a hand to the front, and trace over my panties triggering the most sensitive part of me despite the fabric barrier. I feather light touches all over the fabric, the skin underneath eager for each sensation, eager for more. My hand agrees.

A small pleasant hum bubbles out of me and I pause, cautious, all too aware of where I am. When I glance back at the mirror, I see cheeks growing pink, lips slightly swollen from teeth nipping at them. My eyes look slightly spooked. Part of me knows I should finish trying on clothes and return to shopping with Cardan. But that small voice from earlier is now brazen, invigorated by the thrum of blood charging through my veins, emboldened by the throbbing below my hand.

“No, Queen,” she whispers inside my head. “Move past any shame with your defiance. Satisfy yourself.” My likeness smirks back, lips rolled inward, knowing the voice will win my inner debate.

I falter somewhat as I continue. I think through the different parts I’m touching clinically, like I’m matching up the parts Heather made me diagram during her lessons. I swirl my fingers back over my clitoris, enjoying the teasing sensation, indulging the temptation to repeat myself, the stimulation. After a few times, I ease my hand down, perking up when I realize how wet I am through my underwear, how swollen I already am. I push the fabric aside, my fingertips quickly drenched. I withdraw my hand, bringing it close enough to see the shine from my own arousal. I can smell myself and the heavy scent goes to my head.

I am transported back to when Cardan took me to that small room off the dais. To his too clever hands. I remember his hand slipping between my thighs. I lift my left leg onto the ottoman near the mirror, letting my own hands trace up my thighs. The nylon of the stockings ripples on my skin creating little pulses of sensation. But I delight when my hands move past the texture of the stockings and back to my bare skin, cool compared to their destination. I drag my nails lightly on the inside of my thighs, letting myself invest in this fantasy—one where I am aware that I could be caught at any moment.

The panties are still pushed to the side and the slight air circulation feels cool at the junction of my thighs. I huff slightly through my nose when my hand returns, covering that wet warmth. I drench my fingers with my own wetness and let them roam. I return to my clit, lubricating myself and enjoying the response. I can feel my arousal swell and I press down, swirling my fingers in a slow beat. I enjoy this, noticing the ways I jolt with various manipulations. I become wetter and feel an ache build up lower. I work my hands back down, spreading my inner lips with two fingers and I am very slick. I let my fingers limn the outer edges, teasing the skin. My knee shakes a little with it and I open my eyes to look at myself in the mirror.

My pupils are slightly dilated and I’m flushed. With one leg raised and my hands reaching down, my shoulders curve in on myself. Mesmerized, I observe myself in the mirror while I resume. I stare in awe as my body shifts, clenches, and relaxes. I enjoy seeing myself this way, vulnerable and yet, not. My body is wondrous, a marvel of movement and pleasure. My own eyes reflect the truth in this. I am Jude, High Queen of Elfhame, mighty and magnificent.

I straighten and the movement forces my hips forward, and forces my fingers to touch the opening of myself. My eyes shutter closed as I tip my neck back with the sensation. This, this is where that ache is building. I use my middle finger to trace around it, to tease the skin there. I reach in a little farther, clenching and coaxing myself to relax in quick order, repeatedly. The skin is so sensitive and different from the rest of me. Between my memory of Cardan’s ministrations and some new instinct, I follow that pleasurable ache.

I sink my finger deeper and start to pump it very slowly. I keep my eyes closed and focus on how it all feels, on the drag and thrust of my finger, on the silky texture caressing back, on the ways my body answers to itself, pushing and releasing in turn. I twist my leg on the ottoman, allowing more access. I let out a small mewl of a sound in appreciation and alter my pace, diving deeper with each thrust of my hand. I revel in the sensations, giving in to a full fantasy. I imagine all the moments of Cardan’s touch, the way his fingers caress my skin. I let my own hand roam.

I imagine it’s his hands tracing my curves, cupping the swell of my breasts, swirling over the nipple taut below the fabric cup. As soon as I cusp fingers around and lightly pinch the tight peak, my other fingers flinch inside me.

I gasp with the new sensation and a new inner exploration starts fresh. My hips buck in response to my finger, slowly flexing inside me at its deepest. Breaths come gasping, hot, heavy and involuntary as I curl the fingers inside me, trying to sate and soothe the deep ache building up inside me. I can’t make sense of how my body reacts of its own accord and I have to brace my free hand against the mirror, an anchor to my fevered ministrations.

I am frenetic, I feel wanton, I feel utterly human and powerful. It’s liberating, to learn more about my body, what I can do to tempt, tease, and exhilarate her. I acquiesce to my own needs, thinking less and less about what my hand is doing, what I should try next, and rather just feel. My hand roves freely in and out of me, my soaked fingers moving to coat every fold, flickering quickly over and back where I throb most.

When I’ve returned my fingers inside me, I quiver with need and push on with a reckless fervency. As tension builds up low inside me, I notice a tickle on the back of my legs. Quickly, it rises, following the line of the stockings. I shudder at the sensation and freeze, sure that it’s not the air-conditioning circulating. If my suspicions are correct, someone has improved their slyfooting, and lockpicking, yet again.

I have one leg on the ottoman and the other on the floor, both tense bracing me. I have one hand deep inside of myself and the other pushed against the mirror white knuckled with strain. My back is to the door, but I’m sure I would have heard someone come in. My eyes have been closed this whole time. I’m wincing as I open them slowly, staring into the mirror.

It’s a relief and anxiety to see Cardan sitting in that green wingback chair, moved closer to where I stand. Relief that I haven’t caught the attention of the store, anxiety that Cardan has seen me completely unguarded, unknowingly. I spy a shimmer by the door and recognize it as a glamour that Cardan must have put up to protect me from being discovered. My relief grows, knowing that even this unarmored, I can trust him.

I meet his eyes, ink black and hooded with desire in the mirror. He slouches forward in the seat, legs splayed wide, one elbow is propped on the chair arm, its hand braced against his cheek . I find his other hand carefully draped over a bulge in his pants. I meet his eyes again, a smirk having grown across his face at this silent entente.

“Don’t stop on my account” he drawls while his tail bounces and skims playfully along my ass. “You’ve always been the more industrious of us, I’m not surprised you took Heather’s exhortations as agenda tasks. How diligent you are, my Queen. Though I’ll admit these toils are far less boring—I think I’ll join your efforts. Besides, weary as I am from browsing and eager as I am for a repose, this is the only chair.”

He has frozen me with his words and I can’t find the riddle in his coy flirtations. What does he mean “to join” me? I turn to face him, wariness present on my face. He stands and I watch him stalk toward me, with animalistic grace, his stare predatory. I feel drawn to him, lean my body forward to meet him, but he pulls up just enough to not touch me. Inches from each other he leans around me and I hear a squelch against the mirror.

Behind me, he has affixed one of those dildos to the mirror a little lower than my hips, at a height I can access, OH!

I whip my head back to face him. He is grinning, trying to hold back a laugh. “I examined and searched for something close to my own grandeur, and while not perfection, this will make do. Ever diligent, I want to make sure your classroom studies are as close to the reality. I’m curious to learn as well. May I join by watching you? I’m eager to discover what secrets you unwittingly hide.”

I take everything in with my eyes, the closer chair, the dildo, the earnestness of this request written across his face. “Okay,” I whisper less assertively as my brain sorts through the emotions and urges of my body competing with one another. Lust and pleasure override any reticence. Mighty, magnificent Jude likes the idea he’s proposed, that I continue to pleasure myself while he watches, that I touch myself without his interference.

He watches me, hungry and expectant. He moves the chair closer but still far enough away that we won’t be touching. A shiver that has nothing to do with cold or nerves runs down my spine. I feel powerful rather than defenseless, alluring in my near nudity. I can see the want in his eyes and he is unrepentant. He no longer ties shame to his desire for me. It’s invigorating. I ache all over again with this development.

Cardan sits again, in the same way as before, the High King a ready spectator. His right hand rests on his pants bulge. I turn again, showing off my body as my hands outline my curves. I reach toward the ceiling in a full body stretch, catching my hands in my hair to pull the style loose. I rush my return to the ground, aware of bounce in my breasts and ass. His eyes track the movement and I catch his fingers tracing his length. I crave more from this exchange.

I nod toward his hips as I say, “I wish to amend our arrangement. I yearn for some inspiration. Join me by touching yourself. We can both find pleasure from watching each other, as both exhibitionists and voyeurs.” Remembering some details about the teddy, I unhook the straps at the top of my hips. Jet black eyes watch the panties as I shimmy them down my legs and step out of them. When I reach down to retrieve and re-hook the straps, I sell it by giving Cardan an unobstructed view of my breasts spilling out of the cups. Without any underclothes, I wonder if my earlier bet to see him undone will come to fruition. I play coy, bite the corner of my lip and turn to and fro to show off the lingerie, smoothing my hands all over my body.

My wager pays off as I see him unzip the seat of his pants and his penis springs out, eager to join the fun. Cardan catches himself in one hand, casually draping his fingers around his erection. He moves his hand up and down so slowly it’s immediately sensual and hypnotic. His long fingers suit his girth and I know I’m gaping while I watch each stroke, his fingers wrapped around in a relaxed grip that seems to tighten and loosen with each pump.

“Stop biting your lip like that or I won’t be able to stay in this chair,” He quips. “Resume your performance, I missed the beginning of your foray into public masturbation.”

He’s right, I’ve been chewing the corner of my lip gawking at him rather than holding up my end of the bargain. I roll my lips in, flick at my left fingertip, admonished, and back up closer to the mirror, still facing Cardan in the chair. A thrill zings through me at the thought of driving myself to orgasm in front of Cardan as he does the same. Provoked by his chiding and by my impatient lust, I am keen to make this a challenge for him. I close my eyes again and let my fingers roam everywhere on me. I keep them pointed and aligned with my wrists, as if I were extending the movements to ballet positions. With the backs of my fingers, I skim up my ribs, past my breasts and collar bone, up my neck and along my chin. I lean my cheek in to meet my hand.

Pivoting on my fingertips, I lean my head back and rest my palms along the column of my throat, exposing it for Cardan’s benefit. I can hear him shift in the chair and I delight in it, knowing he is not immune to this show, to my intentions. My teeth peek through my smile as I slowly turn my gaze onto him.

I stare into his depthless eyes feeling them devour my image. I up the ante and start to narrate, “First I touched myself everywhere, imagining it was your hands mapping the paths of my body, the valleys” as I smooth my palms flat against the expanse of my chest below my neck, “and the peaks.” I drag my palms along the sides of my breasts pushing them together, letting him see how the teddy strains to contain them.

I squeeze my chest closer “But I couldn’t replicate everything perfectly,” I pause, slipping each breast from its cup, my taut nipples tightening painfully in the cooler air.

“I had to improvise that clever tongue of yours” I whisper and slip two fingers into my mouth, deliberately mimicking what I would do to him, what I want to do to him. He lifts his head from leaning on his fist as I trail my wet fingers over each nipple. It’s hard not to clench my thighs when the skin pebbles and tightens. Something tightens low in my belly the more I tweak and fondle my breasts. He breathes audibly through his nose and I bite my bottom lip to stifle the moan trying to escape. I remember this feeling of power, the voluptuous satisfaction of it. It’s potent.

My hands keep moving, caressing more intensively than before, responding to my body’s reactions in kind. With each movement, he can see my face, as well as my backside, both confessing to the jolts of pleasure I feel. I glance at him before I let myself get carried away. His gaze roves, stopping for a few seconds everywhere, at my face, my hands, my curves. When he peeks at the mirror, I bend forward so he has a better view of my back and ass, at the negative spaces between the straps. He looks as if he regrets agreeing to sit out and it emboldens me.

“I remember behind the dais, how easily you slipped your hands between my thighs” I remind him as I execute the same actions on myself. My hand is surer, confident in its placement. The stockings pucker and I halt to adjust and smooth out the tops of the nylons before caressing my inner thighs again. How well I tease myself, running my fingers over the teddy over and over again. I pet, pinch, and push with every part of my hand near my clit. I remember the paper covered with my name and use his own words as a cadence to my movements. I drag my fingers up the fabric, barely covering my swollen lips, and flick them back down with increasing force, like his manic writing on that old scribbled page. Imagining his voice gasping my name only boosts how sexy this feels. I let my other hand grasp and squeeze wherever it can, wherever it feels good. In the back of my mind I make a note to remember this for future masturbation, it certainly gets me going.

Cardan is holding his mouth behind one hand, the movements of his other hand more intentional. He is decidedly more angular, more at attention sitting in that chair. His grip on himself looks stronger, as if the anguish from staying in the chair directly correlates to more forceful rubbing. He’s so hard and his cock strains forward, toward me. Cardan’s hand is swift and punishing, matching his strokes to the flick of my fingers. My clit flutters and my breath comes out like a whimper at this, watching him time out his masturbation to mine.

“Back Up,” he growls implying that I should use the dildo now.

I can barely respond with my ragged breathing, “I’m not finished yet. Don’t you want to know what I did next?”

He doesn’t stifle the noise crawling from his throat. It centers me enough to shoot him a saccharine smile, hinting at malice. Twisting slightly, I lift my leg back onto the ottoman, skimming both hands up and down my thighs, ensuring the fit of my stockings, tapping playfully on my knees, leaning a stretch into my bent knee, flashing him from the mirror.

“Even in this dim room, can you see how wet I am?” I lead his eyes there with my hands, fingers trailing the straps along my ass. When I follow the straps down, I switch again, reaching from the front to the same spot, dragging a finger along my slit, dripping wet. I lift it in front of me, letting the slickness catch the light before slipping it into my mouth and licking it clean. With one hand in my mouth I lower the other and plunge a finger into me. I jolt myself with the action, releasing a keening gasp as well. I move my finger quickly, letting the sound travel to him. I brace a hand on the leg supported by the ottoman and he has a full view of me, of my finger rushing in and out, of my legs and ass shivering with urgency in the mirror. I train my gaze on him, watching every twitch and movement, imbibing on his reactions and his restraint, getting drunk on the pleasure radiating from both of us. Then, I add a second finger.

A lazy heat coils low in me. I lean back my shoulders against the mirror to brace myself. As I continue to draw my fingers in my sex I share my final discovery, “Next time your fingers are inside me…”

He makes a strangled sound like he’s imagining doing just that. His hand freezes and grips himself tightly frozen and staring while I continue.

“Make sure they’re deep inside me, and draw your fingertip upward as if curling it back.” I act out my narration.

“I p-promise that I’ll - ah - that I’ll squirm for you” I stammer. I can’t tell if I’m chuckling, or moaning, or letting out plaintive chuffs. I cannot help the way my knees quake, how a heated flush rises up my chest and face. My arousal builds steadily.

He no longer smiles coyly. ““Use the toy,” he commands with a feral rumble. It takes me a moment to stop, my body loath to pause the momentum. When I push my torso from the mirror and glance down, looking at how to use the dildo on the wall. It takes a second to realize I’ll need to bend at the hip so that the geometry will work. I do so, using two fingers spread apart and hold my labia in place.

Despite how wet I am, I go slowly, letting my muscles contract around the dildo, sliding backwards until my ass touches the mirror. My whine at the floor is guttural while it fills me. I have braced my hands on my knees. It’s slow at first, letting my body adjust, using small back and forth movements to make everything slick. I keep looking down as I focus on this task. While it’s a new sensation, the monotony doesn’t halt my arousal. Soon, I’ll reach a balance of slickness and friction.

He interrupts, “Would that it were me inside you right now,” and he groans while he continues to pump with a steady vigor. I slide slowly along the length of the dildo, from tip to wall. I’m warm from exertion, but the mirror is cool against my ass. I’m ready to go faster.

“Watch the mirror, see the dildo as if you were behind me,” I command. When he moves his onyx eyes there, I glide along slowly again, letting him see every bit of me while I make the toy disappear. I rock back and forth a few more times.

“Watch me now. Can you see me in the mirror like you’re behind me? Watch me take every inch of this toy and imagine it’s you fucking me,” I taunt.

“Sweet Villain!” He spits out the endearment like it’s a curse.

“Fuck, Jude! Fine then, thrust as if it were me. Think of me and nothing else,” he barks, but it’s so hoarse it sounds like he’s begging. I increase my tempo, breathing harder as I go. He grunts with exertion, too.

He continues, “Moan. Make it worthy of me.” I keep working, pumping myself on the silicone, but I can’t quite get the right traction to the movement with my hands and weight leaning forward without support.

“Come closer, My King. I just want you to get a little bit closer. Bring the chair right before me,” I suggest. Without protest, he lifts the chair and sets it down. It’s within my reach, but there’s enough space that we don’t touch. He staggers back down in the chair. He waits as I spread my legs a little wider and brace each hand against the arms of the chair. We are inches apart, maybe a foot, each with a much more intimate view of the other.

“We still watch each other. Our hands only tend to our own needs.” I grit out, wiggling my hips to adjust to the new angle.

“Yes, my darling god.” He laughs and starts stroking himself again. “I am ever obedient to your demands.” Seeing him up close makes my mouth water. He is exquisite, painfully so. Even while aroused, even while touching himself, he seems indolent. I do hope this pains him.

With better balance, I can thrust harder and faster. I do so, my knuckles whiten as I grip the armchair. Wisps of hair slip from my braided crown. The loose strands echo my movements. They come so close to Cardan’s face. I don’t hold back from breathing hard, from allowing myself to make noise. This close, it wouldn’t matter if I tried to muffle myself. I am sweating from the exertion and from the stimulation. My breasts, still free from the balconet, sway heavily. As they hang down, nipples erect, they swing so low, so near to Cardan’s manhood. May he be dizzy trying to watch it all. May my scents, my nearness, my brazen display overwhelm him. I don’t think it’s terrible that I want him on his knees before me, literally or figuratively.

I lust for this, my arousal is full-bodied and robust. I commit to my satisfaction, to the thrill of it. I keep my eyes closed as I guide myself along the dildo. I don’t think more than whatever it takes to flex my legs and thrust backward. I gain momentum as I go and soon my ass smashes against the mirror with the force of my lunges. The stockings are slipping on my thighs. I let his noises in, I do imagine that it’s his cock I’m riding. Waves of pleasure are building in me, a tide surging as I continue. My toes and fingers, and ears start to tingle as I near orgasm. My eyebrows furrow as I coil tighter and tighter working toward a release.

“Look at me,” Cardan snarls, but I ignore him, I’m so close.

“Open your eyes, my Queen. Look at me when you come.” and I relent. He leans forward just enough to let our foreheads touch, and when we lock eyes, I feel his tail touch me, right where I’m throbbing.

“CARDAN!” I cry out wildly and instinctively as all the tension crests. Even though I am watching Cardan, my vision blurs at the edges. I can only keep my eyes trained on the abyss of his eyes, unfathomable and yet full of intelligence and hunger. He’s memorizing every bit of me at this moment.

My face scrunches while I keep thrusting, captive to the ripples of pleasure pulsing through me. I can feel my vocal cords strain but are these noises of anguish or bliss? I’m panting loudly as I catalogue sensations all over my body; tingling fingertips, cramping arches, loose hairs clinging to my sweaty face. When I hear the slaps of Cardan’s hand rubbing himself, I lift my eyes to his. His eyes shine with wonder, and they cringe as he also comes close to finishing.

“Jude,” he wails as our eyes meet. He tries to stifle his moans and the noise reveals the struggle. His face contorts while he squirms. Since I am still leaning on the chair arms, over him, he comes shooting directly upwards. I feel the heat of his semen as it hits the belly panels of the lingerie. I smile, relishing that he’s spilling on the fabric, forcing this fantasy into reality. He keeps coming, splashing more of the fabric and me. With better timing, I would have liked to lean down and take him into my mouth. I imagine drawing my tongue up the length of him like his tail trailed up my leg earlier.

I start to move so I can lick him clean, but Cardan catches my mouth with his. It’s playful and loving but possessive, showing me that he has his own fantasies that he’s eager to play out. His second kiss is slow and languid, a promise for later. I pull off the wall, sighing as I do, proud and satisfied.

After standing and settling for a few minutes, I look to the chair where Cardan still sits. Our content smirks grow into genuine smiles. He tilts in the chair and retrieves a handkerchief, offering it to me first. Grateful, I wipe my thighs and everything else still wet, including Cardan’s semen on me.

“Well I guess I have to buy this now.” I joke as I return the hankie.

As he wipes himself dry, he scoffs, “Jude, you could be wearing soiled sackcloth and we would still buy it because what I just witnessed was exquisite,” and he means the image as a compliment. I feel myself blush in response.

“Needless to say,” he continues, “this design is well met and I have designs for further ravishment.”

Already eager for more, I start forward, eyes locked with his. I lean my palms on the chair arms again, mimicking what we just did, reminding him of what we just did. I make sure we’re still not touching each other.

“You broke the rules,” I start.

“Well, you--” He begins and I interrupt,

“--You broke the spirit of the rules” I cut off.

“My sweet nemesis, I think you were intentional in your words. You left open the way around the wording. I have committed no transgression and, I posit, that’s exactly what you wanted me to do” He debates.

I can’t keep a straight face because he’s right. And while I could, the lie is heavy on my tongue. So, I glance away with a small smile, choosing not to give a rejoinder. He already knows the truth.

There’s one final question that surfaces from my sated serenity and I ask, “Why did you hold yourself back? I noticed that you waited.”

“Dearest Jude, I thought it was obvious.” he replies and brings a hand to touch my cheek. “ I want you to really explore and find real ways to pleasure yourself, on your own. Though I have no regrets interrupting for my own benefit. But, truly, it’s you first, always.” He becomes very shy with this admission and looks around with the panic of an animal looking for the quickest escape from a predator. Whether happy from endorphins or trusting the intimacy of our situation, I swoon at his words. My face lights up at his candor, and I initiate our soft kisses, tender and reverent.

We clean up. I try on a few more outfits and model them for Cardan before he sits me in the chair and re-braids my hair into a crown. We wander the rest of the store together, shameless in our affection, constantly pressing light touches to one another.

We are thorough in our sampling of the store, and brimming with ideas as we reach checkout with a full basket. Some toys are for Cardan, some are for me, but all of it fills me with excitement for more exploration and experimentation. Something has shifted in me today. I leave more confident in myself, in what satisfies me, and that Cardan wants me unquestionably. Removing each other’s armor is exhilarating rather than upsetting.

Soon we’ll return to Faerie, taking with us our new purchases, including a certain stained teddy.

344 notes · View notes