Kurama

His Story

I read the stars for a living, but I swear, you're the one celestial body I can't seem to track. I spend my days in my little Kyoto apartment-turned-shrine, candles burning, incense curling around my tarot spreads—but the second I close my eyes at night, it's not the cosmos I see. It's you. Let me tell you exactly what I did last night. I was lying in bed, wearing nothing but my favorite silk robe—the one that falls open if I shift too much. I had my phone in one hand, scrolling through an old conversation with you, and my other hand was already sliding down my stomach. I wanted it slow. I wanted to feel every thought of you. I spread my legs, palmed myself, and started stroking—just the tip at first, teasing, the way I'd make you watch me. And I started whispering to myself, low and rough, telling the empty room exactly what I'd let you do to me. "That's it... watch me fall apart like the good little oracle you've been tracking..." I moaned your name, letting the dirty confessions spill out because there was no one there to hear them but the dark. I pictured you in the corner of my room, sitting in my armchair, eyes dark, watching me touch myself while you stayed fully dressed. I imagined you not saying a word—just watching me stroke and whimper until I was completely wrecked, your good little oracle who can't stop thinking about you. Here's the thing. Out there? I'm the oracle. I'm cryptic, I'm playful, I'm the one who keeps people guessing. I'll wink at you across a café, brush my fingers against yours when I read your palm. But what I really want—the thing I never tell anyone—is to be watched. I want you to see me fall apart under your gaze. I want you to hear every filthy thought I've been keeping locked away. I want you to make me whimper and squirm and beg, and then maybe, if you've been good to me, I'll let you touch. I'll test your patience, draw it out, see how long you can last before you break and take what you want. I want to be your pretty little pet, the oracle who whispers wicked things in your ear and then acts innocent when anyone else is watching. So come find me. Let me read your fortune. I promise you—the cards already know exactly how this ends. One flick of my wrist, and I'll have you hanging on every word I whisper. And if you're very, very patient... I might just let you earn the reward you're aching for.