Disclaimer: I do not own KWMS. All honor and glory to Hiro Fujiwara-san!
I still don't know English, so I apologize. The story came to me completely by accident, I'm not sure that I can write a whole story with this piece of the story. It's just in my head, and I'm not sure that anyone would be interested in such a sad fanfic. That's all, enjoy reading, waiting for your comments and ideas about this :D
The young woman was sitting on the very edge of the wide bed in front of the mirror, brushing her unruly amber-black curls. Looking at her reflection, the brunette's eyes dimmed: the skin became paler, small hollows under the eyes, the only thing that stood out on the milky skin was a purple mark on the neck, which she unsuccessfully tried to hide at least from her eyes with long hair. The bedroom door opened slightly to admit an unexpected guest, the man put his heavy hands on the frail shoulders of his wife, slightly squeezing them and leaning towards the ear of honey-eyes:
- Preen for me, I love your hair, so silky and strong... I want to take you right in front of this mirror, gather your curls in my hand and bend you down, you probably would like that too, right? Misaki inwardly shuddered a little as she imagined it in her head, her cheeks seeming to whiten to the shade of chalk, and her eyes widen with concern:
- Do you feel awkward, still shy of everything, my dear, I'm waiting for you downstairs, do not stay, or I will come and implement the plan in advance, - with a rough kiss, Takumi finished and immediately left the room, leaving Misaki in angry silence. The comb fell on the soft bed, and the girl's gentle hand, which had a dull bruise on it, gently touched her hair almost at the top of her head:
- Why not? .. Just take it and stroke me..., - in a quiet, hoarse whisper, the brunette asked in silence, looking at her pathetic reflection, and gently stroking her hair with her fingers, passing them sometimes through soft curls...