#ranbittwrites

im desperateee for a reader rails mizu w strap fic😭😭 all the smut i see are of reader bottoming and that makes me hella dysphoric sigh

so so like reader stretching mizu out, lots of whimpering, mizu being nervous, mizu feeling full and claimed, just messy subby mizu taking big strap for the first time plssss😭😭😭😭 maybe some pussy eating foreplay idk, whatever u find best and fun to write. i just need mizu to be a subby bottom its plaguing my mind😵‍💫

A/N: Your wish is my command, dearest! Hhmmm I can never really tell if you guys want a modern/cannon compliant setting— but I find my words flowing easier for the latter. If this isn’t to your liking, I can always write another one! More modern and fluffy

Tags: Possessive!Reader, GN!Reader, Reader is besties w Madame Kaji, DomTop! Reader, Jealous! Reader, Straps, Tried to be historically accurate but one can only do so much research on ancient japanese dildos, takes place sometime before Mizu hops in the boat, Goodbye Sex, Misery.

About 3.8k word count, so I’ll highlight the beginning of the actual smut in red and a star! *

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Parting Ways— To London You Go

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You despised him.

The Blue Eyed Beast of Japan. The onryo. The bastard half-breed that killed the Four Fangs and cut through the Shindo Dojo. Now that was a man that deserved a dog’s death. A humiliating, painful, wretched thing— so much so that pity would spread like disease among even the most hardened of men. A white man had no business in your country. Much less some impure dog, chasing ghosts of white men who had long since fled the island paradise. You believed this yourself, once. The village gossip and fantasies of his approaching death entertained you, excited you. You’d hear of his dishonorable death one evening and you’d think —‘good riddance’.

But no one told you just how much of a darling he was.

You remembered that night to picture clear, the image of his slumped body in the snow so clear in your eyes and memory. His face was twisted into a pained grimace, eyes screwed shut beneath the colored lenses of his glasses— he reeked of blood even in the snowstorm.

Unbeknownst to your family, you brought him inside, ordered your guards to gently place his body in your quarters. The servants made no protest when they saw your insistence on saving this stranger. The wound was seeping a crimson poison onto your floor, red and hot and stinking of blood.

The two of you were alone when his eyelids fluttered open, pained grunts and whimpered muffled by his own teeth against his bottom lip. And you saw it. Blue eyes— unnatural, wrong, and positively lovely. You’ve seen oceans and ponds and skies with less of a dazzling hue. It disgusted you, initially, as the realization of who he was suddenly and violently appeared in your mind.

You hadn’t expected someone so…normal looking.

He did not have a pig’s nose or clammy, sun-abused skin. He was not a beast, giant and ugly— but a man. An injured man, you recalled once his blood stained your palm. Stained your floor, your bed and his clothes. You distantly realized your hands were moving on their own as they undid the binds of his old kimono, and there, beneath the worn, filthy fabric were binds. Not of injury, not of a warrior— but of shame.

Alone in your chambers on a cold winter night amidst the worst storm you’ve ever seen— you knew. The blue-eyed, vicious animal that had earned all of Kyoto’s scorn was in fact a woman.

You adored her.

Your home grew to be a sanctuary to her of sorts. For a being so well despised by the nation, the comforts you provided were scarce luxuries. A bed. A roof. Some semblance of protection. You cared after her like one would a feral pet, a feat which did not go unnoticed. With a blade to your neck and blood painting her hands, she demanded your silence— a vow to never break. As if you’d risk losing such a treasure to the hands of bounty hunters of white men.

The two of you danced with hate for months.

She was a silent spirit, a brewing storm on the distant horizon. At times, you’d catch her eyes on you, other times, she’d notice you doing the same. At times, you’d reach your hand forward and caress the scars on her skin. At times, she’d allow you to– going so far as to present herself.

At times, you’d make love to her. Your depravity was no secret to anyone with ears and working eyes— but your status and wealth made you untouchable. No one but your servants would hear her cries echo from your chambers, and no one but you would see her in the throes of pleasure, head tossed back, expression screwed into one of hesitant bliss and ecstasy.

Or so you thought.

She often returns to you like a dog would weeks after leaving. Loyal, endearing and silent. Whether it was out of some misplaced desire of courtesy or a genuine attachment, you did not know. You’d tell yourself you did not care, but Man would never be born without sin. Madame Kaji, the wonderful hag, would bewitch you in letters with tales of her ladies in the delights her brothel would offer. She mentioned a certain blue-eyed beast in her company in her most previous message. Her letter was pointed, concise, and utterly enraging. By its contents, you would piece together your Mizu’s night with a princess– of all wretched things. After months of silence, alone in your palace with no one but the one and off prostitutes you’d hire and the servants you paid deftly for their loyalty, and the samurai goes off to bed and abandone a lady princess of the Tokunobu clan.

Mizu would not show her face to you until spring. By then, your anger had solidified and festered into an untamable typhoon. As your servants led her to your chambers, Mizu would be standing dead-center in the eye of your storm. Something in her was different. Stronger, yet weaker. Kinder, yet crueler.

“You show your face here again?” You ask cooly, and at least she had the decency to look ashamed, removing her hat. Like this, you could see her properly. (You’d never admit to your anger cooling, but it did.) She does not harden her voice in your presence, but it is quiet, timid, shameful. Before she could open her mouth to speak, one of your servant men approach, head bowed deeply.

“[Title and Name]”, he’d say. Your eyes glance over to him, humming as you granted permission to speak.

“There is a white man inside, bound and immobilized.” He says quickly, bowing his head deeper.

“I only wished for you to be aware.”

Your cold, steely eyes turn to fix Mizu with a chilling stare. She only looks at you head on, taking the challenge. Oh…

“Leave us.” You say, but not before giving an order to boil water over a fire. The door is smoothly slid shut, and the two of you are under the illusion of solitude once more.

“I am to depart for London soon.” Mizu says bluntly, abruptly. You couldn’t have expected anything less. You give no reaction save for a short sigh and two fingers against your temple.

“I am closer to my mission than ever before. I have an informant, I have a boat, I have names.” She talks as if to explain herself, stepping closer in light footsteps, hesitant. “I may not survive through this. I only wished to say goodbye before I leave.”

For a moment, you say nothing. Your mouth is rendered useless as your mind rushes with curses. To the world, to the white men, to Japan, to Mizu, to the hellsite that was London itself. The poisonous concoction of rage and envy that had been brewing for months was bubbling and prickling beneath your skin– only now with the addition of grief.

“This would have been much more convenient in scripture,” you say, voice like hot iron. Mizu’s surprise is tangible, eyes flickering around your features, searching for answers to her questions.

“I adore letters. You know this.” You begin to say, moving from your initial position and circling the room, retrieving several items and placing them on the large expanse of your sleeping bed. You open a box, massive with weight. Inside is parchment, pounds of it. “I collect them.”

You suddenly and harshly shove the box onto the floor, a flurry of parchment and ink spilling at your feet. Mizu seems to shrink, but refuses to cower. Gingerly, you retrieve one excerpt sent just a few months ago from Madame Kaji. You hand it to Mizu, surrounding her. You wait until you are certain she understands what she is reading before you begin to speak.

“Never took you as the brothel-dwelling type.” You say, watching as those demonic, off-putting, oh-so-lovely eyes scan the characters on paper. Your eyes stick to her lips before you remind yourself why you are angry. You imagined those lips entangled with another, and your blood goes cold.

“Nothing happened between me and the princess.” Mizu says, turning to face you. The genuine confusion in her expression is almost insulting. “She meant to kill me that night. Our duel meant nothing. Madame Kaji knows nothing that is true.”

“Not every conflict between you and a stranger is a duel and Madame Kaji is a dear friend of mine.” You reply easily. The hurt in your voice was becoming clearer with each passing syllable.

“You truly believe sailing the seas will come so easy? Do you know how many men I’ve lost in my trades on those voyages? Do you even know what awaits you in London?” You begin to demand these answers, losing the control you pride yourself in as you continue to speak. As a man and a woman, Mizu was nothing but a stupid, lost soul, wandering the earth without an object to attach to. You then gently cup her face in both hands, watching in delight as she melts into your touch.

*“Do you even know how much I’ve wanted you these past months?”

Mizu cannot answer. Her hands raise over yours, fingers brushing against your warmer ones.

“I meant no harm in my absence.” She concedes, round eyes rising to meet with yours. Just like that, the room had shifted. Your eyes darken as they raked along her face and figure, recalling what lay beneath the layers upon layers of fabric she’d use to protect herself.

“You can’t imagine…” You whine, gently undoing the bandages around her neck to expose the delectable skin that lay beneath. Untouched, unseen by all but few. You bury your nose into the crook of her neck before your tongue darts out just to taste flesh and the blood that pumped beneath. Mizu sighs, noticeably relaxing into you. Her arms move to wrap around your neck in a gentle embrace, a position you’ve grown to love and grieve for.

“Gods, how I’ve missed you…” you say, assisting Mizu’s hands and hurriedly undoing her kimono before your hands run hungrily along her skin. Scars, so many more than you remember. A different rage boiled inside of you, protective and not directed to Mizu in the slightest. The two of you move in sync of tangled limbs and warm breaths against open lips. You push her onto your cot, the rage you had felt previously spilling out in the form of hunger. You attack her neck with the teeth in your mouth, suckling and biting down on her white-man skin until cherry-red marks bloom across her neck. She whimpers, coyly craning her neck and exposing herself further– presenting herself. Begging for it. Gods.

“You were away so long I’d almost forgotten what a whore you are…” you coo, undressing her wholly, spreading her legs around either side of your hips. As a surprise to no one, you noticed the particular shininess to the downy hairs on her wet cunt, groaning softly at the sight. Her smell, her taste, her color– you’d spend innumerable nights recalling these things in exquisite detail, going so far as to seek her in other women and finding not one suitable substitution. Your hunger had been building up for months, and now here she was, just as enticing as you remember her. Her teeth nibble down on her finger as she groans into the air.

“[Reader], I haven’t..” she starts, but you shush her before she can continue. Her loyalty only endeared you to her further, and you wanted to remain somewhat angry.

“I know, puppy. You already know who you belong to, don’t you?” You murmured, practically salivating at the sight of her glistening pussy. A whine catches in her throat, allowing you to see in real time her strength and tenacity fail her beneath you. The demon man was nowhere to be found here. You tamed that spirit and contained her in your chambers. You reduced it from a spirit to a man to a moaning, wanton little tart.

“Keep your legs spread and I’ll give you what you came here for.” You order swiftly, to which she nods and complies, spreading her legs further apart. You eagerly adjust your position so that you are resting on your stomach, Mizu’s thighs on either side of your head and your mouth just above her wet cunt. With only an aroused groan as a warning, your tongue descends onto her slick folds, eagerly lapping up the wetness that coated her lovely skin. It was positively obscene, the color and taste of her, the slurping sounds across the room and her whimpering cries as months of stress and anger fell away under your tongue. The poor thing couldn’t even keep her thighs from squeezing around your head, effectively trapping you against her pussy— but it was no matter. Your tongue swirled and massaged what it could reach while the tip of your nose rutted against her clit. Slowly, surely, readily— her raspy, hoarse voice bloomed into something far sweeter, and you could feel the ice around your heart melting. This was the Mizu you knew, without the clothes and glasses and false identity. This Mizu was the one you owned.

You feel her getting close, as it was always obvious with her. You felt her thighs squeezing around your head, felt them shake and tense while her hips bucked against you and her breathing grew more desperate. You feel it, she feels it— she wants it so bad she sobs into her palm. You both know better.

You pull away with a wet, obscene sound, ignoring Mizu’s frustrated groan into her fist. Your lips and chin are wet with her taste and both of your bodies are shining with sweat.

“What? Were you close?” You ask huskily, readjusting yourself so that your body hovers over hers, your fingers pushing in and out of her gushing warmth. You start with two, massaging her insides into relaxation, molding her to your desires. She impatiently pushes her hips against you, holding you in a desperate embrace. You do not hurry, you don’t even respond as you take her lips in yours, letting her taste herself coating your tongue. It was a messy, depraved display— one that made her noticeably wetter around your fingers. Her nails claw into the fabric over your body, tugging it off.

“Take yours off too…” she says in between breaths, eyes half lidded and watery with want.

“You think you can take it already?” You ask slowly, dead serious. Mizu nods, a slow and deliberate thing. Who are you to argue now?

“It’s bigger than the other one. You sure?” You ask again, making slow, hard motions against her wet clit.

“[Reader]…” she gasps, carrying a note of exasperation, her hands now trembling against you. “Please…!”

You laugh, breathless, exhilarated. Your lips gently press against her forehead, a soft ‘wait here’ and a quick trip to the corner of your bedroom later, you retrieve it.

You commissioned this piece long before you knew Mizu would return. Your very own harigata, hard as a tortoise shell, ribbed and heavy in size and weight. You expressed your desire to be able to attach it to yourself to please your lovers and so the artist complied. You held it up with one hand, allowing Mizu to gauge at the weight and size before stuffing it with warm cotton dipped in the previously boiled water at your side. Mizu hasn’t even noticed the servant come in, far too immersed in watching you align the phallus to her soaking cunt. She feels the heat through the tortoise shell and whimpers, hips trembling before she spreads her legs further apart. The head was already pushing against her hole, oh so ready to slip inside. Just as you mean to push yourself in, Mizu makes a strangled little noise and you cease in your tracks.

“Yes?” You ask, already breathless.

“It’s big…” she says, repeating the words you said earlier. You laugh, endeared.

“Yes. You want it smaller?” You ask again, but she shakes her head no.

She licks her dried lips before she swallows. “Don’t hold back.”

Unable to control yourself, you laugh, head falling beneath your shoulders and against her collarbone. Fuck.

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

You feel her nervousness in the tension of her body. As aroused as she was, it had been some time since she’s seen you. You begin with slow, shallow thrusts to get her accustomed to the feel, not going halfway until you hear her get noticeably impatient.

“Hold on, puppy. I don’t want to hurt you…” you say, but you push yourself in deeper to quiet her whimpers. The ribbed surface rutting in and out of her wet heat had its obvious effects. Her knees shake where they are around your hips and her head arches back as she moans, voice breaking. The harigata was doing everything it was designed to do and more. Mizu was falling apart so beautifully and you weren’t even fully inside.

Slower thrusts, still quick but less shallow, and she moves her arms to wrap around your neck in a tender embrace, holding your back to keep herself present. With you.

Some time passes, and you push yourself in further. You feel some natural resistance, Mizu’s breath hitching. You pause and pull away somewhat to check for her expression, finding her eyes wet with tears dripping down flushed cheeks. Her chest is rising and falling in ragged breaths as she struggles to compose herself long enough to get a sentence out.

“No! No, don’t stop. [Reader], please don’t stop,” she whines, cradling your face. You obliged and continued, though far slower than the pace you were going before. Mizu openly whimpers at this loss before she intertwines her legs around your hips by her ankles, keeping you close.

“Could that princess give you what I can?” You say suddenly, still feeling that burst of envy possess you as you rut your hips forward with a precision that only hours of fantasies and failed attempts to recreate Mizu’s body could give you. A shuddering, wanton moan later, Mizu’s hand flies over her mouth. You take that hand by her wrist and pin it to the floor, still thrusting your hips against hers with purpose and vigor. Not all the way in, not yet. “Well?” You ask. You demand.

“N-no…no she can’t…” Mizu damn near sobs, and possession coils in your gut as you push the harigata to reach new depths. Her moans are pitched and broken, you feel and see her falling apart. The poor thing felt so full, unsure what to even make of the delicious stretch your phallus provided or the hot arousal that being beneath you gave her. To some degree, she was yours, and you both knew it.

Feeling pleased with her state as she answered, you finally and gently push yourself in entirely, making her back arch and moans echo across your chambers like they did so long ago. The harigata’s other end pushes against you, makes you groan at the pressure. You look down at her whorish expression, her inky black hair spread like a halo around her head. You see her flushed skin shining with sweat, you see the tremble in her body and think about how much longer you’ll have to go without it.

“You don’t even know what you do to me…” You begin to ramble without thinking, words flowing like water from your tongue while Mizu moans beneath you.

You can’t help the way your hips begin to plow against hers, you can’t help the strength and ferocity that possesses you when you think of the distance that will be between the two of you. When you think of who she could meet and compare you to. When you think of yourself in the future, in bed, alone, aching for a body that will not be there. You cannot control the desire in your body when your hips move in a way that can only be described as primal, and she takes it all. Mizu has always taken what you give her so well, and it wasn’t long before you were both panting each other’s name against your skins, the room now hot and stuffy and reeking of sex. Her voice reaches a certain pitch, her nails claw into the silken fabric of your kimono, and you can tell she’s closer than ever.

A warm flower of pride bloomed in your chest as you realized that one day, if all went well, you could keep her for yourself. You’d no longer spend the lonely nights in your palace inviting women of the night to give you company. You’d no longer need to bear the crushing loneliness in your bed — not when Mizu’s mission would fail and she’d realize her rightful place at your side. Safe and warm. Protected. Yours.

You imagine fucking her day and night when she returns until she’s sore and trembling, unable to stand without your assistance. The mental image and the emotions it ignites inside of you make you openly and shakily moan in sync with her, and the two of you cum in each other's embrace. She’s damn near bitten through the silk of your kimono by now, drool coating the luxurious fabric. By now, she’s hardly the image of dignified, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pull yourself off of her with nothing but a smooth roll of your hips and a near-violent shudder from the body beneath you. By then, it had all blurred together into a hazy memory of warm candlelight, golden skin, and warm, damp towels running along Mizu’s body and freshly fetched water poured into her waiting mouth. You only remember the rest you won for yourself that night, the two of you wrapped in a tangle of limbs and half torn fabric, warm.

But you wake up cold, and you recall why she came by in the first place.

“Would it be too burdensome to stay?” You implore, voice breaking with sleep and heartache. That worn, raggedy kimono is once again wrapped around her figure, her bandages back on. Her very aura is cold and distanced, and the weight of her decision truly settles into your skin.

“We can be happy, you know.” You say, almost pleading but with far too much pride to let it show. “I am in the mountains, far from the city. No white man could find you here,” You can’t being yourself to stand. You watch as her expression morphs from one of sorrow and pity to one of distrust, distaste, and near-resentment. Whether it is directed to you or her father, you cannot be sure.

With her back to you and her voice in the tone of a man’s, she bids you goodbye.

You find that— more than anyone— you want her quest of revenge to fail.

How you despised her.

Note: Ahhh OP this should NOT have taken as long as it did. It was originally to be a modern au, frankly rather vanilla and sweet— but my interests have been seized by shibari as of late. And, guess what I’ve found? The art of “shibrai”( or Kinbaku) in Japan first originated in the Edo period. The art made itself!

So, do take this as a tribute to Mizu’s titties and also the lovely art of shibari. If it’s not to your liking, I can always write that modern version!

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Speak, Fetch, and…

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Tags: Bottom!Mizu, Submissive!Mizu, Dominant!Reader, Top!Reader, Shibari, Edging (if you squint), Light Degradation, GN! Reader, Bondage, Gag Uses, Breast/Nipple Play

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A/N: Made [Reader] A rich and powerful Shibari enthusiast in this to apply settings and dynamics. Hopefully it adds a layer of kinkiness to this piece! My inbox is always welcoming requests, so feel free to drop some! Regardless, Please enjoy! ^^ <3

“You look so perfect like this.”

The words spill past your lips flowing with the adoration only heard in the prayers of the most devout monks. Mizu, the demon samurai, elusive, raging, and entirely inaccessible to all but you. There she was, the most feared bastard in all of Japan, laying on your bed, bound and panting, drooling with a gag in her mouth as a whore would in any decent brothel. Crimson red, thick and bruising knots were intricately designed to fit snugly around her body, expertly marked by your hands— deft with skill, in loving patterns tracing up and down pale skin. The body that could move like a monster, the body that has taken so many lives and maimed thousands— subdued and helpless, entirely at your mercy.

You see her cheeks redden with embarrassment at the compliment, you see her entire body shudder as goose pimples spike across her scarred skin, you see the glistening quality to her cunt that has your knees buckling with the insatiable desire to run your mouth against her core.

But all things in due time.

No, in the heart of your gaze were the two pert, round, soft mounds of skin that made up the two halves of her buxom, rising and falling as her chest heaved with pleasure. Moving in hypnotic, wave-like movements in sync with her breaths were the two lovely buds that bloomed at the tops of her petite breasts, the color of soft petals, of womanly skin. Your ropes only accentuated the shape of her body, the emphasis on her maidenhood.

“Are you feeling alright, dearest?” You croon, running your fingers along the tight patterns across her body, teasingly tugging at a select few strands that ran the texture of your ropes against her skin in a delicious friction, so much so that her head flew against your mattress as her toes curled and shook with ecstasy. Oh, and to think that this samurai had yet to be defeated in battle. What would his foes think, seeing him as a woman, crying out for pleasure as her voice cracked beneath a gag, face flushed and eyes brimming with tears. You’d barely even touched her.

“I could keep you like this forever, you know…” you begin to contemplate aloud, finally deciding to crawl towards your truest possession on your hands and knees, your warm body hovering over hers as you continued to tease at her desires and fantasies with a malicious tongue.

“You’d fit in beautifully with every display in my palace, every work of art. I could invite the most revered men and women of the nation, I’d let them see you..” Mizu moans at this, writhing with the desire to hide but unable to move. Shy. Finally, your face is aligned with the samurai’s chest. Unable to hold yourself any longer, your mouth falls against the plush skin, hungrily wrapping your wet lips around the hardened bud with a carnal desire, eagerly running the warm, slick muscle of your tongue against the buds of her roses while her entire body contorted with pleasure.

Mmmmph! , she’d say something, anything at all— but your infatuation was unending. With your opposite hand, you grope and massage the delicate, long-abused tissue, milking out the sweetest, most unheard of noises from her pretty mouth. And to think that the display beneath your face would have been mistreated and hidden away all these years behind rough, ugly binds.

You pull away from her breast with a ludicrous pop noise that communicated only filth before you moved your mouth directly over the other half, unleashing the same cruelty of your mouth. The first little bud, now swollen and wet with spit, was pinched in between your thumb and forefinger, the suddenness and crassness of the action making Mizu grunt and buck her hips with want. As a punishment, reward, and reminder, you gently bite down on her breast until she draws in a sharp, stuttering hiss. You groan against the firm, supple skin of her breast before you pull away to take in the sight you created, the ropes binding around and in between her breasts, accentuating their shape— the swollen, reddened bud of her nipples, slick and shining with spit, all because of you.

Your eyes finally move from her chest to her face, soaking in that flushed, almost embarrassed expression she held in her usual sharp features.

“You want it off, fighter?” You ask teasingly before you quickly move to dispose of the gag in her mouth. She’s earned it, after all, being so good beneath you.

By the time it leaves her mouth, the cloth is wet and heavy with drool and Mizu is gasping for air, chest shuddering as she desperately forces her body to catch up with the racing thoughts in her mind. It’s even better like this, you think, seeing Mizu grit her teeth, bite her lips, and grunt in all attempts to keep her dignity and not moan like the whore you knew she was. These thoughts enrich your psyche like opium, and your hands absently find their way to each breast as you straddle her hips. You are comfortable like this, and Mizu is entirely at your mercy.

“Can you imagine your enemies seeing you like this?” You ask lightly, your hands trailing down from her breasts to the smooth dip in her waist, subtle and firm. “The damned, all powerful, blue-eyed half-breed; moaning in my chambers in my palace...”

“(N-Name…)” she tries to grunt, though it escapes her lips as a whimper. She’s embarrassed, humiliated— in any other context you would have backed away and apologized— but you felt her pussy against your skin, you felt the positively soaking quality of her privates against your sheets. She loved this.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” you say knowingly, making those dazzling blue eyes flutter and turn away from you in shame. This calms her, in a way. Words now seem on the verge of leaving her mouth, though shyness, or perhaps embarrassment bids her silent.

“What do you need, dearest? Go ahead, don’t be scared.” You say, encouraging, one hand now abandoning the possessive hold around her waist to gently cradle her cheek. Unable to keep herself from doing so, she leans into the touch, relaxing.

“Water…” she rasps, and your thumb gently runs along her upper cheek.

Easily, you reach over for a chalice filled to the brim with water, gently ushering her head higher before bringing the rim to her lips as you watched her lips drink up the water.

“Just like that, good job…” you hum, making her relax and sigh beneath you. Finally, she’s had enough, almost having drank the cup empty before you put it aside, now facing her seriously.

“If it ever comes to be too much, use the signal. Understand?” You ask as you adjust Mizu’s legs to sit around either side of your hips, bringing yourself closer until your nakedness was flush with her own. She nods affirmative like the good pet she was, going as far as to spread her legs further to grant you better access, an action that made something molten and possessive coil in your chest and gut. No one else in the world would ever see Mizu like this, pliant, shy, and oh so pretty. The sight of those eyes submissive and watery, those cheeks flushed red and those lips bitten to Hell and back were yours and yours alone.

Your hands move down south before you could stop them, swift and eager as one hand pinned Mizu’s left thigh open and against the cushion while your dominant hand pushed two fingers into her gushing warmth, making her grunt and squirm against her bonds. You laugh something genuine as you feel the sheer quality of her arousal on your hands, pulling away just to show her the arousal that has already coating your palm.

“Look at yourself,” you say, eyes blown and voice rushing with warmth. Before Mizu could fix her lips to say anything, you bring your soaked fingers up to your mouth and place them over your tongue, making Mizu gasp in shock at your actions. Mizu’s wetness floods your tastebuds, makes you groan into your hand before you eagerly continue your efforts of working her open and relaxed. To be used, to be worshiped, to be claimed. You shudder at the thought, easily thrusting your fingers in and out of her while she gasps and moans your name like a prayer. A chant, a hymn. [Name! Name! Name!] for all of Japan to hear in answer to the question of who she belonged to.

“K-keep going! Don’t stop! Don’t…s-stop…!” she whined, almost demanding as her cries rise from the depths of her belly in guttural moans— as if she were in battle. Your fingers slow down, caressing her insides in slow, deliberate, cruel swipes of fingers while your thumb circled her clit.

“Is that anyway to ask for anything?” You scold, pushing your thumb against that swollen little bundle of nerves until she hissed and arches her back, leaving her body in a beautiful display of rope, power, and pleasure.

“[N-Name,] please— don’t stop…” she gasps, twitching as her orgasm inches closer and closer the longer you deny her the friction of your touch against her sweet snatch. You only stare expectantly at the near puppy-like gaze she shoots at you, and you begin to understand why people call her a dog. Good dogs listen, good dogs obey. Good dogs get their rewards.

“Beg.” You say, and she sees that your eyes are swarming with a raging storm of lust with her at sail in the dead center. Your hands only slow down to a near stop, and she could’ve sobbed at the loss. She was losing her mind, on the verge of fainting. Despite this, her hands were free, the signal in a moments reach. If she needed to stop, all she had to do was snap her finger and you’d cut her loose, rope be damned. But her hands only shook with desperation as she opened her trembling lips, voice cracking.

“Please, please…please,” she begged, voice breaking as she emphasized the final syllable, to which you easily obliged, attacking her cunt with a ferocity only shown in battle that made her cry out in shock and pleasure. It was an exquisite sight to behold, one that would forever be ingrained in your memory. Here in your bed by your hands, the strongest and bravest swordsman in all of Japan lay moaning like a whore as her orgasm washed over her body and loins in a wave of fire. Yes, she had her blade, her strength, those eyes—But you had your ropes, your tongue, and your wit.

Had this idea for a while - I don’t imagine Mini being the type to go down on his wife, so what about soft!dom reader eating her out for the first time? Just gently talking her through it, taking the time to just make her feel good.

Pussy Eating, a Delicate Art...

A/N: OP you genius you. Not sure if this aligns well enough with your vision, but alas, viola!

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Tags: Pussy Eating, Ambiguously Gendered Reader, Uses of the word c*nt in reference to pussy, Fingering, Dirty Talk if you squint.

Fill my inbox! I have plenty more where this came from.

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“You think I could?”

The idea had been planted in your mind long before you made it known. When exactly, you couldn’t say. Maybe when you and Mizu first showered together and she shied away from spreading her legs. Maybe it was after a long day of work that you watched her come home, silently groaning to herself before she wordlessly nestled into the soft cushions of your bed. However, you could very much pinpoint when this desire evolved into an insatiable, soul-crushing *need.*

Every month, the two of you made it a point to spend time together. Be it inside the house, on a date, movies, park, with friends. You wanted Mizu to know you loved your wife. You crushed every doubt she could have.

The last month, about a week or so ago— the two of you had reserved a ravishing dinner in a wealthier part of town. It was fun to play dress-up with her, to act and look the part just for the night. You expected her to be wearing her usual slacks and blouse when she asked you “What do you think?”, as the answer was so ready to slip past your lips and sing her praises. It was only when you actually turned around and *looked* that you could see she surprised you with a rather short slip-on dress that reached just to the middle of her thighs. Her long, shapely legs were only accentuated by the heels she decided to match that night. You could've dropped the reservation just then and there to take the night entirely for yourself, but it’d be an embarrassing amount of money down the drain. You’d much rather enjoy the sight, let the world see what they couldn’t have. The delight you relished in seeing Mizu’s legs was short-lived, however, as in the middle of dinner, she had asked to borrow your coat and begrudgingly placed it over her lap. Oh, well. As long as she was comfortable.

You’d think back to that night nearly every day that followed. Of course you’d see her nude, that wasn’t the point. The point was that the sweet thing had conspired behind your back and planned to wear a dress to surprise *you*, and you had been rocked to your core. It was impossible not to imagine running your hands up her legs, spreading them apart and pushing her underwear aside. You wanted those thighs wrapped around your neck, you wanted to hear her voice break with want. Soon enough, you offered this— and Mizu only blinked at the ceiling before pinning you with a questioning stare. *Woof.* Her previous husband had only done the minimum, as was obvious by her aversion to anything besides missionary and the standards.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, toying with her hair as she visibly contemplated the thought. “And even then, we can stop whenever you feel like it. No one will get mad.” No, you couldn’t imagine resenting Mizu for anything. She realized this, it seemed, as she had finally relaxed after a tense moment, nervously looking between you and her lap.

“Do I..?” she began to wonder aloud, awkwardly spreading her knees apart before you huffed out a laugh.

“No, no, you gotta ease into it,” you say, leaning in to close the space between the two of you and languidly pressing your lips against hers. This, she knew, and responded back beautifully. Her lips parted, allowing you access into her mouth before her hands made their way over your face— your heart swells. You break the kiss before you decide to descend onto her neck, though not without a parting peck. Your mouth trails up and down her slender neck, delicately marking up the pale skin of her collarbones until you hear her breath hitch. You pull away to look up at, her hand in yours as your thumb caresses a knuckle.

“All good?” You ask, to which she nods in return.

“I’ll let you know…” she says lowly, pupils blown. You grin at this, relieved she wasn’t forcing herself before you continue. You gently raise the hem of her old tee over her chest, gently cupping one of her breasts in your hands before you take the bud in your mouth. She makes a noise at this, the one you're chasing. You can feel her muscles tense beneath you and take it as a sign to descend further down until your hands slide over her waist, holding it firmly as you begin to pepper innocent kisses everywhere your lips could touch skin. She seems embarrassed at this, averting her gaze while her expression grows into that of feigned boredom and irritation. You knew better. You always did— no way could she be mad now.

“Relax, I’ll get to you soon enough. What if I just want to kiss your tummy the whole night?” You tease, though you eagerly begin to adjust your positions now knowing Mizu’s eagerness to continue.

“Then I would’ve stayed in the dojo.” She responds gruffly. You make a feigned noise and motion of being shot in the chest, to which she only rolls her eyes and shoots you an unimpressed stare, though you smirk in response. You see her lips, her eyes— you know she’s fighting a smile with every muscle in her body.

Slowly, you begin to pull her underwear off her hips, pulling them down past her thighs and over her ankles, allowing her to kick them off herself as you take a place between her thighs. You make a noise in the back of your throat as you’re suddenly face to face with the object of your desires and fantasies for the past few days. Your warm breath fans and tickles over her core, but you can’t be bothered to start yet, too enraptured in the lovely quality about her. What pained you is that she didn’t even *realize* this, didn’t even realize how stunning she was.

“If I wanted to be stared at all night I would’ve—nngh-?!”

Her bratty little retort had been cut short by your tongue suddenly pushing its way past her folds and into the fleshy warmth inside. A strained, awkward noise was heard— though it was not discomfort. Far from it, by the way Mizu’s eyes went impossibly wide, hips jutting forward and greedily chasing the pleasure your mouth provided. One hand instinctively flew over her mouth while the other was entangled in your hair. Oh, now this just wouldn’t do.

Heartlessly, you pulled away from her, pinning her down with a quirked brow and a tilt of your head.

“If you want me to keep going, you’ll do me a kindness and take your hand away from your mouth.” You say evenly, squeezing the soft skin of her thighs as you spoke. “I need to hear you.”

Hesitantly, she obeys, her trembling palm now living away from her face and down to the sheets. You hummed in response, muttering a quick “good girl” that made her stomach flutter.

Slowly, you began to work your tongue around her cunt again, languidly rolling the slick, warm muscle against the insides of her folds before you found her clit— obvious by the startled, sexy little noise Mizu made, forced to air it out into your space. *There,* instead of mercilessly attacking the lovely little bundle of nerves and sensitivity, you grace circles in the surrounding area, massaging and pushing, *sucking* on her flesh and drinking up the arousal that began to coat your lips and chin. Mizu’s shy, strained, and awkward noises slowly began to bloom into unabashed, almost *girlish* moans and whimpers. Rarely did she ever sound this way, being so accustomed to lowering her voice and acting as an intimidator for most of her life. You soaked up these noises like the demon you were, taking it as a sign to continue to relentlessly flick your tongue over and inside of her. Mizu took this all beautifully, arching her back and moaning out your name in a way that awakened something primal in you.

“Mmf…fuck…” you groan into her pussy, enjoying the way she twitched against you. “You taste amazing…” you begin to babble, grabbing her by the hips and pushing her further against you in a way that made her openly gasp.

“(Name…!)” she grunts, fighting against every instinct in her body that urged her to hide her face and noises behind her palms.

Wordlessly, you bring one of your hands away from holding her hips and down to where your mouth met skin, easily pumping your digits inside of her thanks to the gushing quality of her pussy.

“God, Mizu, you’re soaking up the sheets..” you scold teasingly, making her face grow hotter than it was. You look up, noticing her eyes glazed with unshed tears as her body trembles. You coo at the sight, your fingers still relentless.

“Aw, you’re close, aren’t you?” You say, voice light and adoring. You’ve never seen her in such a wreck, but a cruel, primal side of you adored the sight and hungered for more, hungered to keep her desperate and begging for hours— to tear her apart…

But the saner, better side of you was reminded that Mizu could only take so much for her first time, and there would always be more time.

“I got you, baby..” you mutter before you begin to eat her out with far more conviction than before, now desperate to milk out an orgasm that would blind her with pleasure. Your finger massages her deeper, and Mizu’s breath hitches. *There.* At the same time as your tongue, your finger attacks Mizu’s most sensitive areas before you feel her thighs clench around your head as she arches her back and *cums,* voice breaking in all her desperation as she sobs out your name. Greedily, you drink up the arousal that was dripping out of her pussy like a person deprived of water. By the end, you’re both out of breath, bodies slack and lazy against each other. You made haste in readying a warm, damp towel as you cleaned up your wife, making her sigh in contentment. You’re both eventually back beneath the warm covers of your bed, but you’re staring, unashamed and adoring at Mizu’s giddy expression. It was a subtle thing, but everything with Mizu was subtle. The slight squint beneath her eyes, the upwards curve of her lips, the flush over her cheeks.

“I didn’t go too rough, did I?” You ask, now fidgeting with the cloth of her raggedy tee.

She chuckles at that, adjusting herself so that she could face you until your foreheads touched, a warm flush across her face.

“If that was rough, gentle wouldn’t be enough, now would it?” She says, pinning you down with those eyes that drew. you towards her in the first place.

“So I can go again?”

She pauses for a moment, eyes going wide for the slightest of seconds. You resist the urge to laugh.

Modern Mizu Headcannons! (i type as i think do not expect anything profound)

early childhood:

- Avoids drugs and alcohol in any and all situations. Mama was an addict in early childhood and her obvious neglect lead to bullying as a child

- sword father ran a repair shop/corner store in the neighborhood. mizu would help out in exchange for sanctuary when mama would disappear for weeks at a time.

- mizu knew ‘mama’ wasn’t her real mom, but she stuck with what she had and loved her regardless

- she’d often skip school entirely, much to swordfather’s disapproval and dismay.

- he would not approve of mama

- mama thinks of swordfather as a cheapskate because he wouldn’t pay mizu for her time at his shop. they do not like each other.

- mama eventually overdoses early in Mizu’s life and is taken away in an ambulance. she stays with swordfather but he does not win custody. she is not cared for in the foster system regardless, so she is often in his shop whenever she runs away.

- mama survives, but she does not know this as she does not make an effort to contact mizu in foster care

middle years:

- swordfather puts a large emphasis in education for mizu. he is poor and won’t be around much longer, so he wants her to be able to make it.

- he often forces her to attend despite bullying. he gives her a stern silent treatment if he catches wind of her failing any classes or skipping.

- when she is at home he makes sure she is either studying or working. he cares deeply. they both realize this.

- she does not have friends. the entire school staff knows of her trauma and are uncertain how to approach her or the bullying that erupts.

- she would get in fights more often than not. a ‘troubled youth’. comes across as the scary quiet kid.

- taigen is absolutely in the same boat as mizu, but his father is more well liked and he hides his abuse better. he is a main bully of mizu. they are each other’s punching bag in the school playgrounds.

- the school counselors advise her to join boxing/sports etc, but she is a malnourished, scrawny kid with temper issues and cannot afford lessons.

- she sneaks into the training rooms regardless and weasels her way in once they see her pent up skill and energy.

older (aprox. 18/19)

- senior year of highschool

- has a space in swordfather’s home, though it’s unofficial. the two run the shop together with him as the speaker and mizu the silent do-er. customers find her silent persona and steely demeanor unnerving

- mama reappears. she is skinnier and frailer looking. her teeth are mostly rotted and she looks about ready to break

- mizu is still a mama’s girl .

- she takes care of mama any way she can, much to swordfather’s silent disapproval. mizu is getting ready to attend state uni but mama is a loud and massive distraction from that.

- mizu takes a gap year to fuss over mama’s rehab & medical needs

- through a series of biting remarks and pressure to marry, mama brings home a boyfriend for mizu

- he is older, far older. swordfather is silent for weeks and mizu craves mama’s affection.

- somehow, the two make it work for the course of about a year.

- in the last two months of their relationship, M*kio attempts to gap the bridge in mizu and swordfather’s relationship by helping out around the shop.

- swordfather still disapproves of him and does not speak when he’s around. he is delighted mizu is back, but never says so

- mizu is undoubtedly smart and skilled. she can repair what mikio cannot, write, and solve brilliantly. he is a college drop out and mizu has not yet started.

- he becomes increasingly bitter over time until the two have a massive argument

- by the end, mizu comes home to an empty apartment with all of the money she had saved over the years gone. there is no trace of mama or m*kio.

present day:

- widely regarded as unfairly attractive.

- (those cold ass showers she always takes make her skin and hair flawless)

- secretly has a cute little skincare routine that she hides out of embarrassment from swordfather. she does not use conditioner in the shower.

- is always seen in hand-me-downs. sees no point in luxury items but she somehow always makes grandpa clothes work for her.

- swordfather pesters her to at least own two pairs of smart shoes and a nice shirt for special occasions. she obliges.

- she is smart, but deathly quiet. only nods in understanding and affirmative and only speaks when professors ask her to.

- her voice and demeanor have people thinking she’s a man more often than not. she never bothers to correct anyone.

- she’s actually quite respectful to authority/elders. if an elderly woman stops her on the street she bends down to meet her at eye level and helps her courteously. (carries her groceries, helps her cross the street, etc)

- she is well liked among the elderly.

- taigen is her main academic rival. the only reason he won the scholarship she could’ve got was because of the gap year she took. he often mocks her for this

- while he is part of a fraternity he’s not really a frat boy. a jock? certainly.

- akemi’s father owns the arts and sciences building in a different university. she’s only heard of mizu but hates “him” on taigen’s behalf.

- ringo is a social butterfly. his kind and friendly personality attracts a lot of friends in each class. he’s probably a part of pottery classes or something, artistic and a chef. he makes quick friends with mizu by his persistency, and mizu doesn’t have any friends besides him.

- she is often seen following him around, silent and deadly looking. “ringo’s scary friend”

another version with [Reader]? Maybe, maybe not! (yes but later)