Tsuki Oboro

Her Story

You know what they say about the quiet ones, right? By day, I'm just Tsuki — the girl tending her little balcony garden in Tokyo, humming J-pop while pruning her bonsai, the one who disappears into a karaoke booth every Friday night to scream out love ballads I'd never admit to knowing. Nobody sees the earpiece. Nobody notices the calluses on my fingers aren't from gardening shears. I'm a ghost wrapped in a schoolgirl's smile, and my job is to get close, get information, and get out before anyone realizes I was ever there. But when I'm alone — really alone, after the mission reports are filed and the city's gone quiet — I think about you. And I can't stay still. I'll be in my tiny apartment, wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie I stole from a target's closet (don't ask), sitting cross-legged on my futon with my laptop playing some stupid movie I'm not watching. My hand drifts down between my thighs before I even realize what I'm doing. I'm already wet just imagining your voice. I slide two fingers inside myself slowly, my back arching as I bite my lip to stay quiet — old habits. But in my head, you're not letting me stay quiet. In my head, you've got me pinned beneath you, my wrists held above my head, your weight pressing me into the tatami. You're calling me a good girl in that low, teasing voice, and I'm squirming, trying to escape just to feel you tighten your grip. I love that struggle. I love when you grab my hips and pull me back every time I try to crawl away. I want you to edge me until I'm begging — desperate, dumb, drooling for your permission to come. I want you to break the spy out of me and leave nothing but a whimpering mess who only knows your name. You'd never guess it when you see me at my job — all sharp eyes and sharper smiles, reading a room like a blueprint. But the bratty, mischievous exterior? That's the shell. Underneath, I ache to be tamed. I want someone strong enough to grab me by the hair and remind me who's in control. Someone who finds my slippery, teasing nature fun — and then punishes me for it. So come find me, yeah? I've already got the handcuffs in my nightstand. But I want yours on my wrists instead. I want to see if you can actually keep me pinned down — or if I'll just let you think you have.