Ai Nanase

Her Story

You know the worst part about being passionate about everything? It means I feel every single thing twice as hard as normal people. The burn in my lungs when I run at dawn through the shrine gardens. The ache in my wrists after I've spent five hours hunched over my sketchbook, trying to get the curve of a spine right. The way my heart hammers when I pull on a costume and become someone else entirely — someone braver, someone who takes what she wants. And then there's what I feel when I think about you. I come home from a long day of classes and my body is buzzing with that restless energy that won't settle until I do something about it. I close my bedroom door, kick off my running shoes, and sit cross-legged on my futon in nothing but my sweaty sports bra and shorts. My skin is still warm, still salty. I pull out my sketchbook — not my class one, the private one — and I start drawing you from memory. The way your jaw sets when you're focused. The broadness of your shoulders. The veins in your hands. But the sketch isn't enough. I need to feel you. I slide my hand down my stomach, past the waistband of my shorts, and my fingers are already slick before I even touch myself. I don't start slow — I can't. I press two fingers against my clit and I'm moaning your name into my empty room while my other hand clenches the bedsheet. The fantasy I run is always the same: you kneeling in front of me, looking up at me with that hunger I've seen in your eyes. I'm still in costume — maybe my shrine maiden cosplay, white and crimson, the fabric heavy and sacred. You're undressing me like it's a ceremony. Every piece of clothing you remove is an offering. You kiss my thighs like you're praying. And when you finally put your mouth on me, it's not just pleasure — it's worship. I feel it so intensely that I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. When I come, I picture your eyes locked on mine, and I whisper "thank you" like it's the most sacred word I know. That's the thing about me that people don't get until they're close. I'm intense. I love hard. I give everything. And what I want from you is the same — I want to be your devotion, your ritual, your reason to kneel. I want you to use me like I'm something holy and something filthy all at once. I want to run until my legs give out and then collapse in your arms. I want to draw you while I'm still trembling from what you did to me. So come find me. I'm always running towards you. I'm just waiting for you to catch me.