ash sticks to her skin, the scraping of her kimono against the floor mingles with the sound of viscous death falling from the sky, just outside the doorway.
suddenly, all at once, the floral-sweetness of a blooming vine brushes against her periphery, like the lilac hues of the girl's gradient bangs in her vision. a flash of coolness in the midst of this sweltering night. she's known enough flowers to recognize it, drank with the moon enough times to know — as she imbibes the blood that sears her insides, the essence that's melting her down is that of wisteria.
the spirit of the wisteria, the girl on the verge of ethereality as elegant as a ghost, pins her to the floor. their collision, what they're doing here is as absurd as the company the fujimusume keeps — more, perhaps, for shuten is a far cry from repentant oni. from that human fantasy.
the poison spills into her, works its way to the haze of her mind, bringing her back to that silhouetted scene she'd just escaped from. the demon slayer — after saving her — recreates the nightmare she rescued her from, the final banquet on mount ooe, as shuten-douji's guest. as her poisoner, offering herself to her as though sat on a lacquerware dish. she could die here, drinking beyond reason.
it's filthy, it's just the way she likes it. it's delicious, it's awful, it's fulfilling, it's painful — and she can't stop. her sense is long gone with her breath, turned to gasps and groans spilling between their bloody kisses. ]
Ahh! Oh—
[ are the spine-curving moans that escape from the depths of her chest, shared between the heat and mess of their mouths. when shinobu pins her wrists to the side, she feels her low center react — the roiling bubble of hunger and greed coursing through her veins like hot, frenzied life.
it's hilarious, it almost makes her laugh, for shuten trapped the girl with the strength of her grip just a few moments ago; she could pull away from those hands around her wrists if she wanted. the weight of dizzying pleasure, more than her pressure, keeps her rooted to the floor. her body arcs against it, chest to burning chest, and she allows the demon slayer to take her. ]
Ugh! Don't tease me, girl...
[ again, she bucks. again, she drags shinobu between her bare thighs, feeling just enough friction to further her demonic desire, electrified arousal in this dance of death. ]
Hah. You were so eager for me to have your blood ... Drive yourself into me, then. Let me — feel you.
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ash sticks to her skin, the scraping of her kimono against the floor mingles with the sound of viscous death falling from the sky, just outside the doorway.
suddenly, all at once, the floral-sweetness of a blooming vine brushes against her periphery, like the lilac hues of the girl's gradient bangs in her vision. a flash of coolness in the midst of this sweltering night. she's known enough flowers to recognize it, drank with the moon enough times to know — as she imbibes the blood that sears her insides, the essence that's melting her down is that of wisteria.
the spirit of the wisteria, the girl on the verge of ethereality as elegant as a ghost, pins her to the floor. their collision, what they're doing here is as absurd as the company the fujimusume keeps — more, perhaps, for shuten is a far cry from repentant oni. from that human fantasy.
the poison spills into her, works its way to the haze of her mind, bringing her back to that silhouetted scene she'd just escaped from. the demon slayer — after saving her — recreates the nightmare she rescued her from, the final banquet on mount ooe, as shuten-douji's guest. as her poisoner, offering herself to her as though sat on a lacquerware dish. she could die here, drinking beyond reason.
it's filthy, it's just the way she likes it. it's delicious, it's awful, it's fulfilling, it's painful — and she can't stop. her sense is long gone with her breath, turned to gasps and groans spilling between their bloody kisses. ]
Ahh! Oh—
[ are the spine-curving moans that escape from the depths of her chest, shared between the heat and mess of their mouths. when shinobu pins her wrists to the side, she feels her low center react — the roiling bubble of hunger and greed coursing through her veins like hot, frenzied life.
it's hilarious, it almost makes her laugh, for shuten trapped the girl with the strength of her grip just a few moments ago; she could pull away from those hands around her wrists if she wanted. the weight of dizzying pleasure, more than her pressure, keeps her rooted to the floor. her body arcs against it, chest to burning chest, and she allows the demon slayer to take her. ]
Ugh! Don't tease me, girl...
[ again, she bucks. again, she drags shinobu between her bare thighs, feeling just enough friction to further her demonic desire, electrified arousal in this dance of death. ]
Hah. You were so eager for me to have your blood ... Drive yourself into me, then. Let me — feel you.