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lostalienchild · 9 months ago

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Debts Repaid (Miko x Ayaka)

Summary: "Now Ayato, don't you think I deserve a little reward for all my hard effort?"

Warnings: Dub-con, 69, spit play

not proof read

Ageless, men, and minors DNI

A quiet and tranquil evening graced the Kamisato abode. A rare but welcomed site. Rain pounded outside the renji-mado (window)of the office, the room dancing in the dim light of the oil lamps. The combination of the pitter-patter of fallen rain and soft sweeping was so relaxing, that the normally distressed Kamisato elder involuntarily let out a yawn. This did not go unnoticed by the aid nearby who offered a chuckle. The sound of sweeping stopped as the blond aide turned to his master.

"Finally feeling relaxed huh? You should take a break. Both of you have been going at it for a while." Ayato rubbed his eyes before squinting and looking outside the renji-mado. The world was light enough to see, however the heavy cloud cover made smaller details too dim to see with the eye. In the dark blue hue of the fading sun, a dark figure repeatedly raises a katana overhead before slamming it down vertically in front of itself. The smell of petrichor cut into his nose as a small smile spread across his face. If not for the knowledge that his sister was such a headstrong trainer, he would have assumed her a warrior. A strong conviction on a small frame, her cutthroat attitude surpassed even his own.

"I think we should leave her be." The oldest turned back towards his desk before adjusting his montsuki and standing. His sitting bones ached and it took a moment before the pain subsided enough for him to walk without pain. "It's only been a few days since she regained the courage to even leave her room. We're all trying to get back to normal now." It had in fact only been a few months since the near collapse of the clan. The once gleeful and cheerful atmosphere of the estate had fallen into a glum and dim downpour, mirroring the melancholic weather outside, and eventually so too did the smile that once graced his sister's face. Both siblings found themselves fighting for their family name, but after the storm had passed, they were left with only remnants of their childhood home, which now seemed more of a museum for memories rather than an actual home. Ayaka's reignited drive to train in kendo was one of the few things that gave him any motivation. If she could continue on, so too could he. Once comfortable enough he began to head towards the entrance to his office. Once at the threshold, he turned to address the aide. "For now... how ab-"

"Master Kamisato." Another servant came forward interrupting his thoughts. "I apologize for the intrusion, You have a visitor." The employee bowed. Ayato thought that the servant was unusually short with their words, but left the thought at that as they scurried off. The blond aide stepped out of the shoji frame to follow his master into the hall.

"A guest? It's a bit late isn't it," asked Thoma. "Well that depends, let's see who it is," Ayato replied cooly. Upon entering the main foyer there stood a tall and eccentric shrine maiden. A welcomed and not unusual site to see at the estate. Miko often came by to the estate for a myriad of different reasons, so much so that it was more unusual to not see her at least once in a fortnight. "Miko, what a plesant surprise. And impeccable timing might I add. I was just about to suggest to Thomas that we take a tea break. Would you like to join us?" The pink fox continued to brush herself off as she listened to the elder sibling, priming the damp sleeves of her kimono. "Ayato," she sang, "well I'm glad to see that the dreary weather has not affected your mood. As for the tea, dont mind if I do."

Thoma placed the yunomi in front of the maiden before pouring the tea into the reciprocal. Ayato and Miko sat across from one another on their own respective zabutans. Miko smiled as the steam mingled with the smell of rain and danced into her nose. A light scent mixed with a deep, earthy smell. "Well Miko, what brings you to the estate this particular evening? A new light novel need reviewing perhaps?" Miko hummed as she sipped her tea, cupping the bottom of the cup with precision manners, cultivated by years of practice. "Now now, do I always need a reason to see an old friend of mine? It's not like we're strangers after all. I was simply stopping by to check on my favorite siblings. I'm glad to see you're still in good spirits. How's the little one doing?" Ayato returned Miko's smile and looked outside. The sky had grown much darker since the start of their meeting and the figure that was once outside further in the courtyard was now outside the door. The shoji door slid open to reveal a silver-haired maiden. Her Keikogi and Hakama were soaked from the rain. A servant had come forward and offered her a towel. The girl came in dabbing her face before her gaze fell upon the scene of Miko and her brother in front of her. Miko looked her over. Her flushed expression was exacerbated by the fact that she had been training. Her hair clung to her face. Her silver eyes were wide and round with surprise. her clothes clung to her body. Her normally white fluffy hair dangled in silver strands. Quickly gathering the towel in both hands she leaned forward and bowed, water dripping from her bangs scattering on the wood floor. "Ni-san, Miko-san, I was not aware we had guests."

Miko raised her hand and waived it as if waiving away the formalities. "Now now Ayaka-kun, it's just me. No need for the formalities."

"Right, then please allow me to freshen up before joining you."

"Of course, take your time little one." With that, Ayaka bowed once again and hurried off down a hall out of sight. "We'll it's good to see shes getting on well," Miko hummed as she turned her attention back to the elder Kamisato. Thoma, who had sat at the end of the chabudai chimed in. "Shes been training harder than ever. Trying to convince her to take a break every now and then is like pulling teeth."

Ayato chuckled at Thoma's words. "Ayaka has struggled these past few months. She is just now starting to come back into herself. Thoma and I have been giving her some space to come back around. Honestly, seeing her work so hard puts my mind at ease. It feels like I'm getting my younger sibling back."

Miko listened to both of the men's words before responding. "That's wonderful news. I was worried about the poor thing after not seeing or hearing about the poor girl for months on end. Certainly, you wouldn't allow her to lock herself away in her room never to be seen again would you?" "Well of course not, but if Ayaka herself is not ready to make a public appearance I certainly cannot force her." Ayato replied. "We'll that brings me to my next question, how long has it been since the young lady has left the manor?" Thoma glanced at Ayato for confirmation before addressing Miko. "Hmm, maybe around five months?"

"Five months you say? now that just wont do. It's not good for such a young woman to keep herself locked away. She'll become a hikikomori in no time at all." Miko shook her head and crossed her arms. "My original intention was to check in on you two, but now that I'm here don't you think it would be a good idea to let her get dime fresh air? Why don't I bring her back to the shrine with me for a while?"

"The shrine?" Ayato repeated. "Yes. It's quiet, tranquil, and close enough to the estate. A prefect place to take a brief reprieve don't you agree?" "This isn't another one of your ways of getting out of your shrine maiden duties is it," asked thoma, tepid accusation coming off his tongue. "Thoma, surely you wouldn't think so lowly of me that I push my duties to a poor girl do you?"

"Hmm. Fair enough." Ayato stood. Miko's pink lips spread across her face. Those words sealed the deal. When Ayaka returned to the common area she saw the threesome standing as if they were about to see their vistor off. "Oh, Lady Miko. Are you leaving already?" The maiden's visits were brief, but not this brief."

"Don't worry little one, you'll be coming with me.""Oh?" Ayaka looked to her brother in confusion. Ayato responded to Ayaka's request for an explanation."The Head Priestess has offered to take you out for the evening. It has been a while since you left the manor. And Periodic outings may prove beneficial for maintaining a sense of normalcy and eventually a return to regular routines. Besides the shrine is quite close." An approving nod from Thoma followed. Miko took all of this in carefully before maneuvering herself behind the confused girl and placing her hands on her shoulders. She leaned in near the girl's face until their cheeks were touching. "I'll have her back by morning," Ayaka swears her teeth looked sharper than normal.____A fusha wagasa stood lone on the wet trail up to Mt Yogou. Violet fireflies danced in and out of the darkness. The sound of Miko's sing-song voice and sandals on wet stone disturbed some of the foxes on the trail. Despite working alongside Miko for years, it was still quite rare for them to be able to speak one one-on-one. They regularly met at different festivals and planning events, however, the conversations there were kept brief and professional. Miko was a busy woman after all. After all the formal jargon at their meetings together, Ayaka found Miko's more casual form of speech a bit dizzying to keep up with. She barraged her with questions and followed up with her own comments, making it difficult for Ayaka to ask her own questions. "How is that brother of yours? Has he managed to find a lover just yet? That brother of yours and what's his name? Oh right, Thoma. Those two seem awfully close. But you know what they say, you should marry your best friend." While Ayaka didn't particularly mind the casual banter, she felt a tinge of discomfort with the intimacy of the subject matter. Additionally, she found herself somewhat flustered, yearning for a more balanced conversation with Miko, one where she felt engaged rather than merely spoken at."And what about you?" Miko suddenly turned her attention to the young woman as they reached the landing of the shrine. Behind them, Tenshukaku stood proudly. The landscape beneath them dotted with violet atop green and surrounded by the indigo of the ocean. Little toy houses came alight as their residents returned. Truly despite everything, despite the near fall of her clan, she still felt love for her island. With all of this in mind it made her want to stay out longer, a stark contrast to how she'd been feeling as of late. However, she was sure she was not ready to face the public again.Using her adept social skills, Ayaka reacted quickly to change the subject. "Lady Miko, why don't we talk about somethi-""Miko.""Hmm?""Miko will do for tonight."The fox's words hinted at the notion that tonight there would be no need for formalities, that somehow tonight was a particularly special night. It was rather thoughtful of Miko to offer her a night out after all. It was normal to worry about your friends, perhaps that was the reason. That and Miko's natural easy-going nature. The two had entered one of Miko's abodes and The fox was shaking the excess rain of the wagasa before placing it into a nearby holder. "Come now. No need to get so shy. It's just girl talk." Miko put her hand on Ayaka's shoulder gently, but firmly enough to hint to the girl that she wanted her to guide her deeper within the abode.The two women set next to one another on their own respective wagases with a view that overlooked the ocean just behind the Sacred Sakura. The full moon illuminated the room. Miko's abode was simple yet elegant. The room smelled of cherry blossoms and there was even a bouquet of qingxins

that was gifted to her by an old friend from Liyue. Since she had missed out on the tea served at the previous gathering, Miko made her a fresh batch. The beverage warmed her belly. Something she was grateful for since the walk up to the shrine had been a chilly one due to the rain. She was even more grateful when the woman offered her a blanket. The soft fabric caressed her skin. Despite her cryo vision giving her a higher tolerance to cold, she still preferred to be warm. Miko leaned against her catching her attention, she had absent =midnedly noticed a laps in the conversation, but was caught up in her appreciation. "You feel rather chilly, dear. Poor thing." Miko cooed at Ayaka while running a hand through her bangs. They were still damp from her post-training shower that she had taken right after Miko's earlier arrival. "You know, you shouldn't train in the rain. You'll catch a cold." Miko leaned in. The hand that was originally running through white bangs rand down Ayaka's cheek to grip her chin. "Let me warm you up." Miko leaned forward and placed a passionate kiss on the young lady’s lips.

The fox’s lips were soft and warm. Nothing like Ayaka had felt before. She thought of the distant memories of her parents kissing after praying over her sleeping form as a child and found no correlation. The sensation on her lips along with the flood of heat pooling in between her legs were a foreign sensation entirely. Instinctively, Ayaka grasped that there was something deeper in this kiss—primal instinct. Ayaka understood it primally. However, Her role as a leader and the principles ingrained in her upbringing vehemently rejected the notion of engaging in a scandalous encounter, especially within the sacred confines of a shrine! “Lady Miko!” Ayaka pushed her hands against the towering figure, but Miko did not budge. Instead, she held the younger woman’s wrists and pulled her back into her. The fox wrapped her arms around the younger and looked into her eyes. “I told you to call me Miko” Her tone was harsher and demanding, as if correcting an underling’s misbehavior, but just as quickly, her tone softened. “What do you want right now Ayaka?” Her soft hands caressed the younger’s cheek again. “Listen to your body. It’ll do you no good to suffer alone.”

Ayaka weakly countered. Where had all her strength gone? “I-it’s indecent…” Gentle astonishment appeared on the heron’s face when she saw the fox laugh, her fangs sparkling in dim candlelight and cold moon gleam. “My dear,” Miko leaned in closer, Ayaka could see the pools of tears that had collected at the coroner of the fox's eyes from her previous laughing fit. “The shrine’s will encourages one to express their true selves. Besides, you're with me, the guuji, if it were that wrong do you think I would allow for it?” A small gasp of realization from the smaller prompted Miko to slide her hands down her arms, up to her shoulders, then down her sides before resting them on her waist. Ayaka shivered. Small sparks of electricity followed the fox’s palms. “Believe me, I can purge even the most hidden of vices, Miko chided.” And with that Ayaka was swallowed once again in a deep kiss that made her drop all of her inhibitions. It felt good. Warm and tingling. But too hot, suddenly the warm tea in her belly felt like it had come to a boil and despite her cryo nature, she could feel herself starting to sweat again. Her chest was pounding and her head felt light and heavy at the same time. Miko broke the kiss to look into the shorter’s eyes. Ayaka's breaths came out in heaves. Her cool cryo-breath mixed with the warmth of the room causing condensation to form as she huffed. Her cool skin was now tinted in a layer of red as blood rushed to the surface. Her eyelids droopy and her pupils dilated. Suddenly her hakama was pulled open by pink fingers. The cooler air came as a relief despite Ayaka’s now diminished reservations. Her nipples hardened under Miko’s gaze. “Oh my, well look at these. Aren't these just adorable. Miko trail kisses all the way down from her cheeks to the hardened buds, Ayaka squeaking with each spark from the fox; 's lips. A wet tongue swirled around taupe areolas then suddenly flicking across the very tip causing Ayaka to shake and squeal. Miko did not let the girl rest as she switch back and forth between each breast, nibbling and sucking, pinching between sharp teeth in quick succession. Ayaka's fingers tangled between pink locks, all the while the slick continued to gather between her legs.

Ayaka was pushed onto her back. She felt cold claws reach under fabric and yank at her fundoshi, exposing her pink puss to the warm air. Miko rubbed hard and slow circles over the woman’s clit as she continued her previous attack on her breasts. Miko savored the taste of each piece of flesh that entered her mouth. Small purple bite marks swelled around Ayaka’s areolas. She moaned in surprise when Miko continued to nip a trail of love bites down her tummy. Miko’s slender tongue wrapped around her sensitive pearl. She mewled at the sudden contact, electricity forcing her back to arch. The room became cloudy with condensation, steam coming in whisps and coating their bodies in a wet sheen. Miko’s warm, wet tongue continued to flick relentlessly before abruptly slowing down. Ayaka whined at the loss of contact. She bucked her hips forward, desperate to reclaim her high. “M-miko?”

“There it is.” Miko moaned out. “Beg for me.”

The inferno in her chilled body shot up exponentially. All decorum that had been trained into her fled at once. Shame left no trace in her body as she begged. “Miko, please. I need it. Need your mouth.” Miko was more than satisfied with this. She was not expecting the head commissioner to break so quickly. Poor thing must have been so deprived, thought Miko. Without another word, she dipped back in between Ayaka’s folds. Ayaka’s lower body was enveloped in a heat unlike any other. Each flick of Miko’s skilled tongue had her seeing stars, and just when she thinks she's about to reach her climax the next flick of Miko’s tongue only takes her higher. Amidst her moans and convulsions, she is just barely able to mutter out a brief and broken “faster”. Miko, not wanting to frustrate the girl too much since it seemed like she was not too experienced, immediately obliged. She did not want to give the woman a bad impression. She would have plenty of time to tease her later. Only a few flicks at the heightened pace sent Ayaka over the edge. She released in a beautiful broken sob. White knuckles held Miko’s head in place as the younger woman came down from her high. Ayaka collapsed in an exhausted heap, puffs of white condensation leaving with each exhalation. Once released, Miko sat up. Licking her lips post-meal, she crawled up face to face with her prey. Ayaka stared back at the priestess through hooded eyes as puffs of condensation still left her heaving lips. Miko pulled off her haiku, letting her full breasts spill out onto the cooler woman’s chest. Pink hardening to a deeper pink at the cooling temperature. “My turn little mouse. Now stick your tongue out.” Ayaka obliged sticking out her small tongue past her pink lips. Leaning down Miko sucked on the wet muscle, intertwining her tongue with hers. Their saliva intermingled and ran down Ayaka’s chin and pooled in the back of her throat, causing her to sputter.

Once satisfied with the mixture of saliva dripping from their mouths, Miko backed up and turned around so her pink snatch was right above Ayaka’s face. Pulling her fundoshi to the side she placed her clit on Ayakas cool tongue. The cool sensation caused Miko’s clit to pulsate, heightening the sensitivity. Miko wet two of her fingers and teased the outside of Ayaka’s slit, circling her fingers around her entrance. Ayaka moaned in anticipation, an itch that she could not scratch appeared in her center, and she knew Miko could reach it. Miko began to grind on Ayaka’s protruding tongue. She inserted both fingers, pumping them in time with her grinding. The primal satisfaction of being filled sent hot pleasure through the younger's womb. Moans spilled out only to be muffled between the fox's wet core. Miko hit her bundle of nerves so perfectly. The fox’s claws became more and more wet with slick. The air was impossibly thick with condensation. Miko let out a series of short, low-pitched moans amidst Ayaka’s longer and high-pitched ones. Suddenly Ayaka’s legs hitched as she reached her peak. A long moan escaped her lips. Miko continued to pump her fingers in and out from between the woman's trembling legs, liquid squirting out with each pump and coating the tatami mats. ”Oh yeah little mouse, get it all out, all of it,” she coaxed. Miko, having more endurance than her shorter counterpart, continued to grind down her slack-jawed mouth. She sat up and began to grind more quickly, grabbing her breast with one hand and using the other to steady herself. Ayaka’s cool tongue on her clit ignited the nerve endings in her clit. The wet sound of slick, skin slapping against skin, slippery arousal running down Ayaka’s chin mixed with saliva, Miko allowed herself to get lost in all of it. With a small groan, she came quickly, arching her back.

As both of them came down from their high, Miko moved off of Ayaka's face to kneel beside her. She gazed upon Ayaka’s reddened face. Her red mouth glistened with cum. She leaned down and kissed the heron on her swollen lips. “Don’t pass out on me now little one. We’re just getting started.”

#tumblr is not letting me add a cut #ill fix this later #alienwrites #genshin smut #miko smut #ayaka smut #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #miko genshin #ayaka kamisato #genshin wlw #genshin wlw smut #this has been in my drafts since last year #i still have like 4 left #i have no motivation to finish any of them #finally stated tagging my work #no proof read #dub con

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hahnscratch-blog · 7 years ago

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Monastic Cellblocks

This was written in October 2009 while living in a minimum security fire camp in Southern California.

My grandfather passed away a few weeks ago and I recently received a copy of his obituary in the mail. Among those survived by him was, “Matt Hahn of Santa Clarita, CA”. Of course, Santa Clarita is the city in which the facility I live is located. It just struck me as strange because it means that my family, who collectively wrote the obituary, thinks of me as actually living here, as in calling this place my home.

Contrast this with three years ago, when my step-sister died: the obituary read that she was survived by “Matt Hahn of Los Gatos, CA,” which was not where the cell I was living in was located. Rather, Los Gatos was the last city I’d lived in while on the streets. This subtle yet significant change shows me that, after nearly five years of of being locked up, my family has come to see prison as where I call home. Right or wrong, like it or not, this is my home.

I used to get into debates about this very issue with my buddy, Richard, on the yard. He was disturbed by the fact that I referred to my cell as my “house” and Folsom as my “home”. He said it showed a degree of comfort with living in prison that he never wanted to have. Richard hated Folsom and said that he would never dare call it is home. We agreed to disagree, my stance being that home is wherever one chooses to make it. Seeing that I didn’t have much choice in the matter, I thought it worthwhile to make the best of things as they were.

I knew that Richard wouldn’t understand my take on this because he hated Folsom and I didn’t. For a number of seemingly inexplicable reasons, Folsom was and is dear to me. Of the dozen or so places I’ve lived in the past decade, I’ve spent the most time at Folsom and I think of it most fondly.

This probably strikes most of you in the unprison world as odd, maybe even pathological. Perhaps you think that I am institutionalized, that I am like Brooks in The Shawshank Redemption and cannot live without the constant care of the penitentiary. Perhaps you are right, but let me explain myself and then you can judge.

How can I think fondly of a place like Folsom? Didn’t all sorts of awful things happen there? Yes. I was witness to and affected by a whole lot of terrible events that took place in my years there, from suicides to stabbings to riots to murders to you-name-it. It all happened. An environment like that, I’ll admit, would make most any normal person grow to hate it. I definitely see why Richard thought of it as he did, especially after the day he was unfortunate enough to be standing right next to a man who was quite literally hacked to death. Still, as in all aspects of life, a lot of it depends upon what one chooses to focus. 99% of the men who go to and come from prison focus on the mayhem. But it’s not all mayhem.

First of all, Folsom didn’t look like most prisons. Or, perhaps, it is exactly what one expects a prison to look like, depending on how one looks at it. Most prisons in California are of the modern variety with prefabricated cellblocks, electronic door vaults, miles of electrified fence studded with the occasional corrugated steel gun tower. There is nothing modern about Folsom. Built in the late 1800’s, it looks more like a medieval castle than it does a prison, with its thirty foot high granite walls and iron portcullis as a gate. Within the prison there is none of the cold efficiency of a modern lock-up; all of the cell doors are keyed by hand and windows are opened with rusty handcranks. Folsom’s look and history give its inhabitants a certain sort of pride in living (or working) there. Its mystique is such that even visitors are attracted to the Folsom Prison gift shop and museum where they can purchase a “my son went to Cal State Folsom” coffee mug or tee-shirt (yes, my parents have both). But that’s not all.

When it comes to level three (low maximum security) prison yards, Folsom is relatively mellow. Thus, it is a popular destination for the thousands of lifers throughout the state who want to do their time in “peace”. The yard is packed with lifers, most of them men who have been down ten, twenty, thirty years or more. These men have a seen a lot in their decades in prison and a lot of them have grown because of it. Instead of becoming bitter, they became better. Some of them have spent decades reading voraciously in their cells, other have spent the decades meditating, some have learned every trade imaginable, and many have done all of the above. And there is nothing more humbling that being a man with a release date standing next to a man who has accepted the fact that he may never have one at all. Granted, he may have murdered someone to warrant his sentence but that didn’t change the fact that he and I were in the same place at the same time, doing time together.

I found the role models and camaraderie that I previously would’ve never thought imaginable in a place such as Folsom. I made friends that I will probably never see again, no matter how hard I try. I took part in meditation groups and contemplative fellowships and shared ideas on spiritual growth with other men in the same predicament. Imagine sitting in zazen between two convicted murderers and being okay with it! All of the experiences and more contributed to a transformation within myself, a growing up of sorts, a finding of who I am, a glimpse into the future of what I have the potential to be.

I spent many days in my cell studying, reading, writing, and thinking. I sat in half-lotus for hours, gazing out my bars at a world that I was part of of, imagining myself as part of something even greater. When terrible things happened, as they often did, they served as a focus for contemplation, as an opportunity to put things in perspective and be grateful for what life I still had. I didn’t welcome the misery of Folsom, but I welcomed the opportunity to learn from it.

I don’t know when it was that I figured out what it was that a lot of the lifers had figured out before me, but I just started to get it. At some point I thought about the fact that, even though I was in prison, this was still my life and there was no need to waste it any further than I already had. Resenting where I found myself at the moment could only contribute to the process of killing time, and that is not what I wanted to do. Killing time is akin to killing oneself.

Two nights before I was transferred out of Folsom, I went to my usual Monday night meeting of the Contemplative Fellowship. A cold December night outside, Greystone Chapel issued forth a warm and welcoming light, begging the weary to come within its walls. Over thirty men sat in the circle that night, some of them on zafus and zabutans, some on regular chairs, for the twenty minutes of silence we enjoyed before each meeting.

Knowing it was my last night there, I gazed around at the men in the circle just to take it all in. I loved these men and I loved where I was at. Despite the fact that I was going to a lower security prison, I knew that I was going to miss Old Folsom. It dawned on me that evening that I truly knew what was meant by the word “holy”. What we had there at Folsom, what I took part in, the process I went through, was sacred.

Men and women have done it before and they will do it for all time to come, this trial by fire, this forcible dark night of the soul. For the willing, prison can serve as the perfect mechanism by which to transform oneself, or at least get a start on it. It is no coincidence that a monastery, like a penitentiary, has cells. And I suppose it is no coincidence, then, that prison has made monks out of convicts. It is only proper.

Dear Old Folsom! I never want to see you again, but in my heart you shall forever stay.

#folsom #prison #transformation #meditation #spirituality

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