zuko had been eating out your pussy for god knows how long.
your hands claw so hard on his hair that he might get bald spots, but let’s pray not. what would you grab onto whenever he ate your pussy? “fuck, baby… you’re so delicious.” zuko murmurs against your slick folds, his words sending vibrations to your swollen bud.
“mm—! s’too much, zuko!” your legs shake around his head once he pulls another orgasm out of you. zuko pulls back slightly, licking your cum from his lips and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.
“you’re amazing, honey,” he places soft kisses from your spent folds all the way to your face. his lips settle on yours and that tongue slides in so easily, making you taste yourself on his mouth. god— this moment could pull another orgasm out of you.
he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips. “let me be inside you, baby. i know you’ve got some more in you.” he moves to line up against your folds that are covered in your arousal.
you can’t even say anything in response. you’re absolutely spent. but he already knows how much you loved to be fucked up.
you mumble a wobbly ‘mhm’ and he slowly dives in. the mixture of your cum and his pre has him sliding in easily. “shiiitt, baby. you’re so warm. can i try something?”
“mm?” you hum. “can i warm you up from inside? i promise i’ll be careful. you know i’ll never hurt you.” he asks softly, making sure you’re comfortable with everything.
yet, his proposition makes a soft whimper escape your lips. “m—mhm, sounds good.” a small grin forms on his face when you say yes.
“i’ll make you feel so good, baby.” he places his hand over your tummy bulge, the pressure of his hand against your stomach makes you moan.
before you can even mentally prepare yourself, you feel your tummy and guts suddenly feeling much warmer. zuko lets out a soft groan when he feels your walls all warm and covered around his dick.
“fuuuck, so so good, sweetie.” he starts to move, slow and deep at first but his pace quickens. “zuuukoo!” you exclaim, feeling yourself clench around him.
the feeling of your gripping pussy around his cock nearly made him cum. he got closer and closer which made you warmer and warmer.
the closer he got, the warmer you got because of his fire bending. you felt like you were on the beach during a warm, sunny day. “ngh—shit, sweetie. gonna make you mine.”
you’re practically drooling with your eyes rolled back. pure overstimulation. the feeling of his cock, the noise of your hips slapping together, and his balls to your ass.
schlick schlick schlick!
you’re both sweating because of your hot body. your guts feel like they’re on fire once he finally cums inside you. “f—fuuck, s’good.”
you finally finish right after him with an obscene moan like you’re some pornstar.
zuko collapses on top of you once he knows that you’re finally satisfied. he presses soft kisses to your collarbone and neck.
“feel good, honey? i didn’t go too far, right?” zuko always knows how you like to be fucked, but he always needs some reassurance that you’re okay.
you nod, unable to speak from how fucked you are. zuko lifts his head, wiping away your drool from your face. you feel like an absolute mess.
your slick mixed with his cum drips down your ass and thighs. it’s splayed all over his hips and yours. you’re sweaty, your hair’s a mess, and you just feel disgusting overall.
but zuko always thinks you’re beautiful. the feeling of knowing that he was the one to make you like this, fills him up with happiness.
he pulls out with another soft groan, rolling over to settle beside you. “love you, baby. so so much.” he kisses your temple, brushing strands away from your face.
you finally glance at him, the overstimulating feeling calming down. “love you too…” you say with a small and tired smile.
8:32 pm [ ✉️ sms : keiji ] you know a guy who goes by Ikuta…Kamiki?
8:38 pm [ ✉️ sms : keiji ] industry manager. says he worked with you 3 months ago for a mother's day special spot
9:45 pm [ ✉️: sms : keiji ] and THERE is the subtle hotel room proposal. pffft. men never change huh
9:52 pm 📲 MISSED CALL (1) 10:07 pm 📲 MISSED CALL (3) 12:03 am 📲 MISSED CALL (2)
Oh god, oh god . . .
Opening his phone up to a barrage of messages and calls wasn't anything new – filming had carried over late tonight, exhaustion seeping into every fiber of his being. Maintaining the friendly demeanor and the mask he presented for thsoe around him was getting harder by the day. A prolonged bus ride back to the studio after wrapping up filming on the mountain at an inn that was supposedly haunted, only upon stepping off the vehicle did Keiji's phone chirp with notifications missed, the network having reconnected at last.
Ever since he had managed to reconnect with one of his few childhood friends ( yes, he would go so far as to name her as such ) , the chattiness between them had reached a more casual level, the sort between adults who had very few limitations between them. What he had presumed what started as gossip soon dwindled vague amusement.
Ikuta Kamiki wasn't a good man. He was slimy by anyone's standards, charming and manipulative. Even Mogami's intuition, supernatural in a strong sense, said that there was something awry beyond Takane's usual date gone sideways. This felt wrong.
01:12 am 📲 MISSED CALL (1)
01:14 am 📲 MISSED CALL (2)
❝ Pick up, Takane... ❞
Speaking into the world wouldn't make the wish magically happen. Manifestation didn't work like that. No force in the world would change reality, not a natural force at least. Keiji dialed one more time – then paused, frowning and flipping his phone closed.
He knew of Ikuta's haunts. Roppongi, the home of opulence and gilded luxury, all a veneer just like the man's kindness itself. Hailing a cab, the television-famous psychic paid a massive tip just to ensure the driver had a lead foot. Beyond that, the rest of his journey would take him by foot, visiting bar to bar, paying no mind to the entry fee, not tonight. Penny pinching for the sake of his mother would resume later; tonight it was about finding Takane.
❝ Have you seen a woman around my age? Blue hair, a bit shorter, and probably leaving with a man...? ❞
How many times did such a question pass his lips? How many times did he have to sidestep people who knew his face from somewhere on television, or maybe wanting to debate, believing him to be a fraud? Why couldn't they see he was busy?
It wasn't all bad, seeing the dead and those unaware they were dead. A woman, not too far in age from Takane raised her hand towards a particularly dark alleyway, mutely pointing. Away from the glittering lights, the thumping music, the din of the crowds, and the stench of alcohol came a different miasma. Of garbage, of rot, of death. Keiji knew better than to do much else than simply nod in mild gratitude, words wasted as he respectfully stepped over the intestines that spilled from the ghostly woman, and continued down the alleyway.
He wasn't sure what happened. One moment the psychic had glimpsed a familiar silhouette pressed with her back against the cold brick, boxed in by a broad excuse of a man. The next moment he saw the same deathly pale hands. And by the time he blinked back to reality, there was a neck wrung beyond comprehension, gnarled, twisted, and elongated by what could only be surmised as supernatural forces.
It wasn't him, it wasn't him, it wasn't him !
A hand reached down in offering to the woman, his peer, the blood still fresh from the spray of torn arteries. Sternness colored his tone, the same as a frigidity rarely displayed to any others except those who had the misfortune of facing the curses he latched upon them.
❝ Takane... you... you need to be more careful... ❞
❋ and an unspoken apology from a man who never learnt how to speak them.
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒊𝒕, he stands still and silent above the rubble and cracked stones, against the howling of the psyche born storm still raging right behind, unfathomable and unstoppable. His hands throw themselves deep into his pockets, head slightly crooked, eyes uncaring, he would have been the perfect image of calm has it not been for his raising and falling chest, giving away the exhaustion seeping into every fiber of his being, the sweat drops glistening on his forehead vanish as he dries them with a sleeve, air released from his lips in a quick sigh.
Having his energy get completely drained was an entirely new experience, very unpleasant, 0/10, it just completely sucked and he didn't like to think of how small and powerless he felt standing in front of Ritsu's aniiki of all people, even before the energy was gone.
His complete loss of power and ridiculous inferiority complexes aside, there are a lot of other things he didn't like to think about at the moment, like the sounds of helicopter blades whipping to a stop not very far away, or the dread of what will become of the city and Ritsu's aniiki has no one managed to him, or the smell of blood clinging to his own clothes from where he shouldered his father.
They've arrived to take him, a reminder that he was the son of a prisoner.
Pops has managed to stand up on his own despite having been limping just a few minutes ago. Shou experiences a sense of puzzled, unwelcomed amazement of his father's continuous, unintentional display of tremendous power. So robust, the old man. And puzzlement dissipates to an embarrassing moment of gut twisting relief, relief in knowing his father is strong, it came along as he recalled words about where they held the old man captive, he wasn't certain of the details and genuinely preferred not to know, but from what he's heard, what happens in that cell makes death sound like a luxury.
His eyes sting, it's quick and hot, surprising him so much his hand immediately shoots up to wipe away at it. Dust, he decides it has to be dust, because nothing is wrong- everything is going the way it's supposed to be, his father was supposed to go, and Shou was to stay behind, that's how he expected things to go, that's how he knew things would go. And it was fine, he was fine, the world is fine, the world has given him one father, and this isn't the first time the world decides to just take him away, it's what the old deserved for all the things he has ruined. Shou was merely suffering the side effects. He should have grown used to it, truly, should have grabbed that ridiculous unidentifiable aching in his chest by the fucking throat and strangled it until aching turned to dull sadness and dull sadness drastically died to nothing and he would just get over anything. That's what he should have done.
But emotions can't be strangled to death like humans, and humans need one another, it's something he has realized since a while, when his home felt too empty and the same feeling lingered in his chest. A family is not complete without a father, and that desire, to be a family, is so stupid and so base that it makes Shou laugh. It's dry and uncomfortable, too out of place to not be noticeable, and he regrets it quickly, but not as much as he regrets not having his guard up.
Regret is a big word, he realizes as arms slide around him and invite him into peculiar warmth, foreign, encompassing and reckless. Or maybe regret is a small word, smaller than enough to explain the dread he feels at the once cold dusty air now burning up in his lungs, at the stiffness of his limbs and how they fall to his sides, fists tightly forming out of instinct. He didn't like to be surprised, surprises often came with a high price in his life, and tears weren't so different either. But somewhere between subconsciously brawling with raw emotions and getting embraced by his father, Shou marks the differences between old and new arms.
Kaa-chan felt like light, something he's been familiar with all of his life, something he can bend and break but never would he want her to suffer a single scratch, not when he is strong and brave and capable, not when he would protect her. Kaa-chan is small, her slender arms never weighted much on his shoulders, which almost reached hers in height. Kaa-chan was welcoming, but never engulfing, caring, but never strong enough, he never felt small in her arms, he never felt the way he feels right this instant.
Somewhere between being held and feelings the differences, Shou lost the internal brawl and came out with a heart beaten up so much he started crying.
It's not fair, he doesn't even realize when did the tears escape down his stunned open eyes, it's so not fair, he was doing so well, almost won that battle earlier, despite denying to even fight it in the first place- but he almost won, he almost made it, his stupid old man should've just walked on without doing a single thing and simply left Shou to just fucking be with his these stupid emotions, leave him alone to deal with them and murder them and hide the bodies just like he has always done because that's all ever he has ever known, because it's so much easier that way, because he doesn't know if he could handle anything else and it terrifies him.
Pops is different from Kaa-chan, and Shou feels unbearably small, he never liked being small, it was a weakness he couldn't change about himself, being small made him a target, being small made him lose. The air burns in his throat, and the blurry sight becomes too distasteful to take in so he shuts it out, tears cling to trembling eyelashes before falling astray from the tiny rivers of salt across his cheeks. Being small has never felt so safe.
❝ God dammit, old man... ❞ He hisses at the ugly orange suit, his own cheeks a burning red as his face settles against it. He didn't like a single second of this and he loved it so much and he hated that he loved it, breath trips in his useless lungs, childish sobs cutting their way out his defenses with freakish ease. ❝ Why do you always have to ... make everything harder? ❞ He doesn't expect an answer, it's simply an ounce of berating from the plentiful rest that he wants to shout and let out. He wondered if shouting would help, shouting and punching and kicking and bringing pain and blood to his knuckles and throat better than enduring it in his chest and in his heart.
But the only thing that meets his fists is the ugly orange fabric as he holds back with desperate strength and wets his father's chest with pathetic tears, his frame shaking under the weight of violent emotions, because this isn't fine, because Pops is a fucking bastard and so is the world which has given him a fucking bastard for a father, the world has given him one father and the world has decided to take him away and Shou is so sick and tired of it. It's what his father deserves but he can't give two shits about who deserves what beecause he doesn't want to, he doesn't want his father to leave and he doesn't want to be left behind and he doesn't want his shitty Pops to think he can just play hero and put his life on the line like he owns it, like the selfish dumb as hell old man he is, like it wouldn't break Kaa-chan's heart if she found out about it, like Shou wouldn't care and would just continue to live on, orphaned and aching and longing for things he barely had to begin with.
Many words cling to his throat, "you're the worst.", "i hate you.", "stop being so stupid already.", "i hate you i hate you i hate you-", everything clawing and gnawing to get out, mixtures of truths and lies, emotions he could never comprehend in words he never really meant, but there are only the quiet tearful sounds that make it out as the rest gives up, as he completely gives up, slender arms wrapping tighter around his father and he selfishly hides himself away, anger and embarrassment and love and hate all drowned in a sense of sadness that felt so much like the sea, overwhelming but undeniably calming, terrifying and kindly beckoning, so vast and so clear and so blue.
on quiet nights he’s sat with his brother, and in the privacy of their garden (—once Shinjurō has gone, once he cannot hear) Kyojurō has laid out his heart for him to see. It’s vulnerable, it's bare. He’s told him a story, a beginning from many moons ago, so he’s learned about the flower that blooms at night.
there’s secrecy between both rengoku brothers, and after all that’s happened, after all this time, senjurō has made a place in time under moonlight to sit and share a piece of his mind with the other side of his heart.
his hands? small, calloused from his training and work (not to the extent of his brother’s, that’s for sure) and dry from house work. but he still takes kaiya’s tender ones between his own.
senjurō’s smile is one he shares with the sun, and so he speaks, with intent, with his heart on his sleeve:
❛ kaiya…you’re not alone. you never were. ❜ // ajkshkd from that little inbox call! i hope this makes sense? if not lmk ill switch it EEEP!
@xstarlights ft. @szukis/@yasashiiku's kyojuro | unprompted | always accepting!
it's a habit, kaiya's come to realize, to carry burdens as though she were atlas, shoulders aching and lips firmly pressed together in a deceptive smile. she isn't sure which parent she gets this from, or if maybe it's something born from her own experiences -- maybe to lessen her mother's pain, even a little, when she lost her other half.
she hadn't realized, though, that she acted as if she were alone rather than surrounded by loved ones. even as she struggled to support her grieving mother, as she stumbled and denied her own grief, she hadn't reached for the hands of her neighbors. their palms were ready, waiting, yet kaiya kept her fists curled within the safety of her kimono. she believed she was being kind.
even sei and chinatsu aren't often aware of all kaiya keeps to herself. she... she just doesn't want them to worry. they have their own problems to face, and they do more than enough already.
she's being kind, considerate. that's all.
but that isn't it exactly. not since becoming a demon. now she worries how others may view her, how they might hate her if they knew her whole story. so kaiya keeps it all to herself, even the pieces that make it impossible to sleep without waking up in tears.
no one should burden themselves with her heavy heart. to be alone in her guilt and despair only seems fair after what she's done.
still there are those who believe otherwise, like kyojuro whose warmth has always been persistent, never-changing. how delicately he's cradled her heart between his hands, touched the ugly, scarred parts without judgement, without reluctance. kaiya never asked this of him. she didn't have to. his strength, his care, his affection -- he gives them unconditionally for in his eyes, she isn't an unforgiveable monster deserving retribution. she is only kaiya, someone who lost her way once and tries to do what's right now.
she wants to believe him, has begun feeling less like a tragic creature and more like... a human. but old habits die hard, and she can't help but keep her worries to herself as kyojuro recovers from his encounter with upper moon three. she doesn't bother sweet senjuro with the fear she's felt since learning of his brother's wounds, even when the boy gives her the opportunity to lean upon him. she doesn't show the discomfort she feels watching kyojuro struggle with tasks that were once easy ( how frustrated he must feel to be helpless when he was once so strong ), and she certainly doesn't share how hard it was to see him covered in bandages, how it felt like the sun had disappeared and left her cold and alone as she waited for kyojuro to wake up.
if it's been hard on kaiya, how much worse must it be for senjuro? how much worse must it be for kyojuro? she needs to be strong for them, bright and warm so they don't have to be.
the night air is cool as kaiya and senjuro sit on the engawa, though she can't feel the chill like the younger rengoku can. she realizes maybe she's kept him out here too long rambling on about the constellations and their stories -- the cold has turned his nose a cute shade of pink -- so naturally, kaiya apologizes. she gets carried away much too easily. that's alright, senjuro reassures her. there's something he wanted to talk to her about before they retire, though.
he surprises her when he takes her hands in his, smile radiant and soft like the first rays of sunrise. her heart stirs in her chest, thankful for the warmth she's so dearly missed, and tears spring to her eyes as senjuro speaks.
" kaiya... you're not alone. you never were. "
a shaky breath escapes from her quivering lips. " you're more like your brother than you realize, " kaiya muses, gripping senjuro's hands a little tighter and managing a smile. " i'm not a good liar, but i'm decent at pretending. not decent enough to fool you two, though. " then her gaze falls to their joined hands, and her voice comes out quieter, smaller, like she shouldn't speak the words aloud.
" it's just... easier for everyone else if i pretend i'm on my own. you already have so much to worry about without me adding to it. "
@xstarlights ᴀsᴋᴇᴅ: ❛ I don't think you're any of the things you say you are, Genya-kun! Specially not unlovable. I think you're just a little bit angry and sad... how about I make you some soup? ❜ // unprompted
Okay, so... So he didn’t hear a single word she said.
Genya knows he’s supposed to be respectful to the Hashira, he knows this. But Mitsuri... Look. It isn’t his fault he can’t fucking think straight around her, okay? She looks like she’s about to fall out of her uniform and she’s so bouncy and—
He’s looking at the ground and sweating. Heavily.
Gods, help him. Maybe Aniki can fall from the sky and behead him or something. Or Himejima-san can drop a boulder on top of him to carry back to the training grounds. Anything.
@xstarlights asked: Full. The plate before Suk-ja sits full still and Mitsuri worries. What makes such a loving-adorable and young woman like her want to skip a delicious meal? It’s concerning to the point the love pillar has stopped in the task of gulfing down serving after serving of the marinated beef in her plates.
❛ ano…Suk-ja - chan, you haven’t touched your food ❜ eyebrows furrow, there’s concern hidden behind Mitsuri’s curious remark. ❛ i asked it to be specially - wonderfully prepared for you! why don’t you give it a go ?.. Do you- do you not like it ? ❜
// sukja why u no eat da food mitsuri chan had made for u ?
She had been staring at the plate, trying to figure out a way to politely decline and explain things for far too long now ... long enough that Mitsuri had likely gotten the wrong idea. She had been overjoyed to be invited to share a meal with the love hashira, bubbling with excitement upon their greetings, happily being led around the woman’s estate to see everything. There wasn’t a single place on earth that Suk-ja could think of that felt as peaceful as this ...
She envied her for it. But at the same time? She was so so glad Mitsuri had something like this to come home to. She deserved it.
She knew what was being served before she saw it though. The scent of it alone was enough to make Suk-ja’s stomach turn ... and the longer she sat in front of it? The worse she felt. Skin paler than usual, it made the three crescent shaped scars on her cheeks stand out in stark contrast to her color ... or lack thereof. Looking to Mitsuri as she began to speak, dark gaze fell to the hashira’s lips, focusing on her words ...
And felt her heart drop. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her, but ... she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. Just the thought made her mouth water ... and not in a good way. But how could she deny what had been made specifically for her? Kamisama please help her ... she didn’t know what to do.
“S-sorry... I uhm ...” decision time. And just like any other time ... Suk-ja put others before herself. “-I’ll try it ... I’ve just ... been trying to decide where to start” laughing nervously, Suk-ja averted her eyes with the lie, stabbing at a piece... though as she brought it to her lips, her breathing quickened, panic starting to flood her mind...
And the instant the beef touched her lips, she succumbed to it all. Images flooded her mind that she would rather forget, feeling the sensation of blood running down her tongue and skin that mimicked the feeling of the juices from the beef she was trying to eat now. Her body immediately rejected all of it, eyes closing as she retched ... and in an instant, she dropped the utensils she used, the meat falling to the floor as Suk-ja stood with such force it unsettled the table they sat at.
Rushing away, Suk-ja fell to her knees a short distance from where they had been eating, her body heaving with such force her ribs popped, any and all contents of her stomach upheaved with such force that Suk-ja couldn’t take in a breath for several moments. For a minute, she panicked ... wondering if she’d pass out from lack of air, before she suddenly was able to suck in a breath as if she had been submerged for several minutes rather than the few moments she had been unable to breathe. Her whole body shook as she tried to settle herself down, the panic creating a surge of adrenaline so intense that it nearly warped her vision as she remained on her hands and knees, tears streaming down her face...
Okay, how can he say this. What looked as if he was fighting a Grimm earlier while he was Remnant and now taken to some place... in a forested area.. and now guess what he was doing.... He was fighting some Demon that called itself a Lower Moon most specifically Lower Moon Two. Which Blade did not understand what was going on at first... but when he saw the corpses of humans it had killed.. oh yeah, he was genuinely pissed.
Which the two had played a dangerous game of cat and mouse with the tide turning every minute.... and it would seem that one of them was seeking for one thing a killing blow. Blad ehad to close the distance multiple times with Levin but this time when the Demon had started to get serious he had to use Levin outright to speed himself up....
Finally, all he needed was to go for the head....as the Lower Moon boasted, this time using levin to close the distance..... then...
BADUMP... BADUMP...
“Ugh-ack! “ Blade spat up some blood from overusing Levin which took a strain on his heart, then collided with the demons fists who sent him flying through some trees, with his skin getting lacerated and such which he slid across the ground.. holding his weapons......
“Oh my, thats it? You must;ve reached your limit havent you. To be honest you would;ve made a great demon had you met our master......After all...you are human.. and humans should do one thing... and just die!” The Lower moon spoke. preparing a Blood demon art
“This is it I guess..... Louvel, Corona, Kazura, Outsider.... I’ll miss you guys. Same with everybody else...” Blade thought to himself, as he tried to sit himself up....in an attempt to stand....yet, he had no energy left.
