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Himari Nakamura was not a very good diplomat. Nor was she a particularly smart woman. She followed her bosses’ directions, she helped them negotiate as best she could, but she would be useless by herself.
Himari Nakamura was now by herself. It wasn’t her fault, really. Those famously loyal guards hadn’t thought to make sure everyone was on board the helicopter before fleeing the Kuzuryu estate. No, they were happy to leave once they got their precious Ultimate Diplomat back - attachés were replaceable. Himari didn’t blame them, not truly. When talks break down and bullets fly, the only thing left to do is grab who you can and run. If they’re in the bathroom, it doesn’t matter if you want to save them. They’re practically dead already. Still, she found it hard to internalize such a cold and rational truth as she cowered inside that same godforsaken bathroom, praying that nobody would check it.
Himari knew it was just bad luck and bad decisions made by men much further up the chain than she would ever climb. Sending an envoy to negotiate a ceasefire would have been pointless - the Foundation is winning, for Christ’s sake! Sending their best and brightest just to needlessly hand Despair breathing room was a blunder so bad she was sure someone was already in handcuffs over it.
She couldn’t hear anything happening outside. That injured Yakuza must have either died or been dragged somewhere else to be treated, and Pekoyama hadn’t let any Foundation survivors live after the helicopter took away anyone that would’ve been worth interrogating. Either it was safe, she reasoned, or they knew she was there and were trying to trick her. But if they were there, they would surely have just kicked the door in and snuffed her out half an hour ago.
Someone would use this bathroom eventually, she knew. She was running out of time. Still, it was a shit choice to make. Run and almost certainly die, or stay and still almost certainly die. At least running would be defiant, or let her die with some dignity.
As the bathroom door creaked open, she could see that yes, they had just let their own man bleed out in the makeshift conference room. He had been young - just a kid, stuffed in an ill-fitting suit and made to hold a pistol. His teenage face, still bearing youthful pimples and the awkward beginnings of a mustache, was eternally locked in a look of sheer agony and terror. The bullet had hit his left arm, and seemingly severed an artery there. It had been painful, unlucky, yet presumably short.
The kid’s face was stained with tears, which formed several distinct lines in the spattering of blood on his cheek. It was clear he had realized they weren’t coming back for him, that he was simply left to die.
Swallowing thickly, she made herself look away from his body. Still processing that her comrades had seemingly killed a boy no older than fifteen, she let out a shaky breath and looked around.
Only a few feet away lay a corpse she recognized. The body was hard to identify beyond the presence of muscles and Foundation combat armor, but the severed head next to it had clearly once belonged to Akira. She hadn’t known the man well, but the last time they’d spoken, he had mostly been excited and bragging about his wife’s pregnancy. Twins, he’d told the group. Two little girls.
Sighing, she willed herself to crouch down in a poor imitation of stealth and make her way to the door she remembered entering from. That would lead to a hallway, and turning left would lead to… the helipad. From which the helicopter had already left - at least, she assumed it had. She could only she would have heard if it got shot down, and they would probably would’ve kept Akira to ransom with the others if there was anyone alive worth selling back to the Foundation.
She didn’t even know where the actual exits were.
Her thoughts were interrupted by approaching footsteps. In a blind panic, she did the only thing that she could think to do. She ran back to the kid’s corpse, smeared his blood on her neck, then fell limp next to him and played dead.
The man who entered, having been present for the initial shootout, immediately noticed the presence of a new, still-breathing “corpse” in the room he had been in just minutes ago. He jumped slightly and called out to his fellow Yakuza in a brief panic.
“HEY! Hey, there’s someone here!”
Shit. Fuck. Himari was fucked, she knew it, she fucking knew it. She tried to launch herself forward towards a random door, but the man was quicker. One firm hand around her ankle and a properly timed tug later, her last hope of escape was quashed before it had truly manifested.
“No! No, no, please, no!”
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“NO! No, please, I’m sorry, I-”
“Sorry? You think I give a flying fuck if you’re sorry? Honey, I see a Foundation uniform, I take you to the boss. Ain’t no ‘sorry’ about it.”
Himari did all she could. She protested, she begged, she cried, she offered to defect. In the end all she could do was go limp in the hopes of slightly slowing the man down as he dragged her by the ankle through the unusually quiet halls of the Kuzuryu Estate. By the time she saw Pekoyama in her stark white coat, standing guard outside one of an ornate door, Himari had already accepted that hers would be the last face she’d ever see.
Pekoyama didn’t say a word. She simply knocked four times - some sort of code? - before stepping aside and allowing the Yakuza to drag Himari into what she quickly learned was Kuzuryu’s office.
“What? Who the fuck is this?”
Himari almost couldn’t see the man. She knew it must be Fuyuhiko - the voice alone was more than enough to go off - but the absurd height of his desk and the his lack thereof meant she had to crane her neck to get the right angle. Even then, she could only really see his head and chest.
He looked like hell. All the Remnants did, from what she knew. His clothes, at least, seemed relatively fresh. He was wearing an all-black suit accented with a blue tie. As he stepped out from behind the desk, she could see his long overcoat, also black, which extended down past his knees. Draped loosely around his neck was a scarf, and on his head sat perhaps the most boring part of his outfit - a simple fedora. Not that it mattered how plain it was. The eye-patch, with its golden dragon pattern, drew so much attention that it rendered anything else on his face nearly irrelevant. That would be true even if one didn’t know what laid beneath it. Unfortunately for Himari’s nerves, she did.
“Fuck is this? Some kinda… intern? She injured?”
“Lemme check…”
She flinched, being snapped out of her thoughts by her initial captor roughly running his hand around her throat. She let more tears fall, but her sobs were too scared to exit her mouth and meet Kuzuryu’s ears.
“Nah, it’s just smeared. Dumbass tried to play dead.”
“Fuck’s your name, doll?”
It took Himari a moment to realize she was even being spoken to. Fortunately, Fuyuhiko’s patience seemingly lasted longer than nine seconds.
“H-himari…”
“Himari…?” He trailed off, clearly wanting her to continue.
“Himari Naka- Nakamura.” She cast her eyes to the floor. Hard cedar, cut in a rough pattern. It must be part of the estate’s original structure, predating the more modern expansions of contemporary Kuzuryus.
“Himari Nakamura. Who the fuck are you? One of the diplomats?”
“N-no… just an attaché… so kinda…”
“Heh. Bosses leave you behind?”
“…I assume so.”
“You pissed?”
“What?” She looked up at him again, blinking twice to clear her eyes of the last remaining tears.
“I said, are you pissed you got left behind?”
It took a while for Himari to answer. Yes, she was upset, but pissed? Angry? Not particularly. It was a miracle she was still alive, and the Foundation can’t be held accountable for failing to predict a miracle.
“N-no… I was in the bathroom anyway…”
“The bathroom? Hah! Guess that explains how ya lived.” Fuyuhiko turned to the Yakuza. “Go on, get the fuck outta here. And send Peko in.”
As the man walked out, Himari looked down at the floor. This was it. It was all over. She supposed she had had a good run. Nineteen years was far less than she’d hoped for, but it was more than most of her friends had gotten.
“Fucking… are you crying again? Seriously?! I haven’t even fucking done anything to you. Dumbass.”
“S-sorry…”
“Fucking stop it you little coward. Look at me. Goddammit, look at me!”
She jumped slightly at his harsh tone. Try as she might, Himari couldn’t bring herself to move beyond that. She felt a hand wrap around her hair and yank her head into position - Peko must have walked in already.
“There’s that pretty little face. I bet there’s nothing even happening behind those eyes, is there? Is that why they left you behind for me, eh? ‘Cuz you’re too fucking stupid to even bother coming back for?”
“Please stop-”
“Hah! You really are a dumb whore. Doe eyes and tears ‘cuz I hurt your little feelings.”
Himari’s vision of Fuyuhiko was indeed blurred by tears, and her perception of him was further clouded by the fear of impending harm. Still, Peko’s firm grip on her hair forced her to watch as he knelt down and got right in her face.
“Clothes.” His tone was firm and commanding.
“What?”
Before the word had fully left her lips, Peko’s sword had already sliced through her Foundation jacket and shirt, exposing her bra, which was quickly destroyed by placing the sword between it and her flesh and yanking it back. Himari had barely processed these losses before Peko ripped off the remains of her freshest kills, leaving Himari to shriek and try to cover her breasts with her arms as her skirt and leggings met the same gruesome end as their brethren.
Himari backed away flat on her ass, pushing back with her feet and hands before desperately bringing the latter up to cover her exposed breasts and slowly dampening panties. Himari was no genius, but she was smart enough to figure out what it was Fuyuhiko was about to try. She wasn’t sure if fighting back would even be worth it - what if he just killed her? On the other hand, he might just kill her after having his fun with her. Either option was a loss, and running hadn’t saved her before. To Himari, her best bet was to hope he was too rough and somehow knocked her out.
Fuyuhiko let out an amused huff as he made his way over to his captive.
“Peko, look at this. I haven’t even fucking touched her, yet here she is. Soaking through her panties. Fucking whore.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“N-no, no, I’m not, I’m n-”
“Shut up you worthless slut.”
“Please!”
“Please? Please what, whore? Please touch you? Please stop? Do you even know what you want, you dumb bitch? No wonder they left you to die, you’re a shit fucking negotiator. Can’t even beg properly.”
Himari didn’t even try to hide how badly that stung. She just curled into the fetal position, keeping her back to the wall and crying into her hands as they covered her face. Fuyuhiko just let her cry for a while, staring through his eye as she broke down at even the lightest degradation.
Fuyuhiko let out a deep, pleased chuckle at her terror, enjoying the way she seemed to cave without a fight.
“She’s fuckin’ perfect, Peko.”
“Yes, Young Master.”
“You know what to do?”
Peko hesitated, a weakness she immediately chastised herself for. While she repeated it and worked to correct it with her actions, her tone shook a little with the worst of all the shameful errors a tool could make; a hint of emotion.
Himari let out a soft little “no…” as she felt Peko’s hands grab her wrists, yanking her hands away from her face and using them as leverage to pull Himari away from the wall. Himari tried to pull further away towards the door, but all that accomplished was giving Peko the room she needed to slide into the gap between Himari and the wall.
She then proceeded to, despite more whiny protests from Himari, wrap both her arms around those of the helpless girl and pull them (and her) back. She forced Himari’s body to be flush with hers, looping her arms under and through Himari’s shoulders and using her legs to wedge apart those of her master’s toy and keep them still. Himari tried her best to struggle, but it was no use. Her tears were free to fall, but her arms remained trapped behind Peko, and her legs were still pinned. The way they were spread ensured she couldn’t even hide her unbidden arousal from Fuyuhiko.
“Is this satisfactory, Young Master?”
Fuyuhiko just nodded, a cocky grin adorning his face as he got on his knees and right in Himari’s face.
“Yeah, she’s fuckin’ satisfactory.”
“W-wait, please, I don’t like this!”
“Who the fuck asked you?”
He chuckled to himself as he ran a single finger along her crotch, tracing the thin outlines of her Foundation-issued panties. They even had the fucking Future Foundation logo on them, almost branding her as belonging to them. Fuyuhiko felt that was fitting. She’d been theirs, they left her, now she’s his. Himari was litter, trash, a discarded toy left behind after a play-date went horribly wrong. And goddamn, did he want to play.
“S-stop it, stop! Please!”
“Peko, shut her up.”
“How, Young Master? My limbs-”
“Your mouth’s not pinning her down, fucking kiss her or something!”
“No, wai- MFF!”
Himari sobbed into the kiss as Peko obediently forced her lips onto Himari’s, even going so far as to force her tongue in her mouth. It wasn’t a good kiss. It had no love, no affection. Peko’s tongue wasn’t there to give pleasure, to excite or show devotion. It was there to control, to silence and gag her. Even the horniest, most inept teenager could have done better. It was utterly dispassionate.
Seconds later, the sobs entering Peko’s mouth were replaced by an unwanted moan as Fuyuhiko ran a single finger up and along her covered slit, taking extra care to bump it against her clitoris before sliding the hand under and into those cheap panties.
“There you go, come on.”
Himari responded by hiccuping into Peko’s mouth. Fuyuhiko kept his cocky grin, but it was all show. Inside, he was frustrated - why hadn’t this bitch relented yet?
“Peko, warm her up. Now.”
Peko pulled out of the chaste kiss with an affirmative nod, immediately moving her lips down to Himari’s neck.
“Wait, wait, st- ahn!~ - stooop!”
Himari hated the feeling of Peko kissing her neck. How the hell could somebody so dispassionate and seemingly inexperienced find and target her weakest spots like this? She let out a tiny whimper of disapproval, cheeks flushed and body hot. She felt her panties being torn off by Kuzuryu, the biting rush of cold air doing nothing to soothe the growing heat between her legs.
“Heh. Ignore her mouth, her pussy says keep kissing there.” He took off his shirt, exposing his chest. His hat, coat, and scarf lay on the floor next to it. Peko briefly paused, eyes following Himari’s as they both stared at his muscles. Shaking her head to regain focus, she broke her gaze and turned her gaze back to the frightened lamb beneath her.
“Y-yes, Young Master.”
Peko held back the growing, too-passionate fire within her as she resumed her most recent assault on Foundation property. Himari was facing a similar (if less intense) problem. As much as her mind hated it, her body fucking loved the combined wet kisses on her neck and the firm finger that ran itself up and down her slit. It was enough to stimulate, to make it hard to bite back those shameful moans, but not intense enough to actually provide any pleasure.
“Had enough, Princess?”
“Yes! O-or no! No! Stop!”
Fuyuhiko chuckled as he ignored her plea, taking pride in the mess he and his tool had made of her mind. Himari whined as Peko began to leave a hickey on her neck, her already weak composure bending under the pressure. Himari gasped as she felt her skin being tugged, hating the feeling of pins-and-needles that accompanied it.
Fuyuhiko, never one to be overshadowed, reclaimed Himari’s focus by pushing a single finger into her and placing his other hand on her left breast. He pinched her nipple between two fingers, delicately threading the needle between pain and pleasure to ensure maximal arousal.
Himari cried out at the fresh assault, overwhelmed and ashamed by her body’s reactions. She knew deep down it wasn’t her fault - it was just basic biology, it didn’t mean anything. But the fact that it felt good made her feel disgusting, even if her foggy brain remained firm in its refusal to give in. That wall of resistance cracked with a low whine as he began to pump it in and out, tortuously slow.
“Aw, that got ya goin’. Dripping so much you’re giving my hand a fucking shower down here.”
Fuyuhiko’s grin became genuine once again as he studied her reaction, savoring the way she began to alternate between choked sobs, whimpers, and even the occasional moan. While she made no request for him to stop, it was clear she was still having a very, very bad time. Fuyuhiko could work with that.
“Warn me, Peko.”
Peko had to abort the giving of a second hickey to utter a quick “Yes, young master.” She quickly picked up where she left off, completely absorbed in her work with a passion unbecoming her station. Fuyuhiko forgave that - she looked damn hot right now.
Himari’s breathing got more and more ragged, and her sobs had mostly given way to pathetic whimpers and the occasional escaped moan her captors cherished. She could feel those same tears well in her eyes yet again. The humiliation and pain of being violated like this clashed with pleasure felt by her sinful body left her in a state of disgusted helplessness. She couldn’t take it anymore, she hated every second of it. She just wanted to go home. She just wanted it to be over. She-
“She’s close, Young Master!”
Peko’s warning caught Himari deeply off guard; she’d been too overwhelmed by the sheer depravity of her situation to even keep track of her own feelings. It came to her first in her stomach; a tingly hotness that built and built. Kuzuryu wasn’t helping, choosing to press a finger on her clitoris and grind it, granting her an overwhelming ecstasy that drowned out any pain the action might bring.
Himari cried out as she felt an explosion within her, the feeling in her stomach ripping and tearing its way through her body, forcing its pleasure onto her and maintaining it as Fuyuhiko kept up his work. She didn’t hear his chuckle, she barely felt Peko leave one final hickey on the left side of her neck. For those few seconds, Himari was gone.
When she returned, she was panting. All movement had ceased, and all she could hear was the mix of labored breathing coming from all three of them. The air was thick, and the sweat that clung to her skin only further enhanced the unbearable heat borne of shame and unwanted lust.
A slight feeling of relief briefly overcame her distress as she felt his fingers finally leave her; the feeling of emptiness was a welcome reprieve, even if it had come far too late. She did her best to catch her breath and ignore that tiny, masochistic part of her that was disappointed as any potential for overstimulation faded away into thin air.
Her eyes were closed as she simply focused on her breathing. Her captors were being mercifully quiet as she allowed herself to fall back from the edge and indulge a fantasy. She was back home, in her little apartment provided by the first division, watering that cactus her boss had thrown in the trash. The lights were dim, her radio softly announcing the results of the newest interdivisional baseball game - Aprons versus Macarons. She was so lost in her mind’s eye that she didn’t see the look shared between Peko and Fuyuhiko; rather, she felt Peko’s body move slightly as his curt nod was returned.
As she felt a hand slide up her thigh again, Himari let out something approximating a mix of a gasp and sob as her brain finally caught up with itself and remembered these people were incapable of mercy. She barely even had time to yell out “No, no, no!!” before Peko was back to marking her neck and Fuyuhiko’s fingers were right back in her.
“Has anyone ever told you how fucking beautiful you look when you cum?” His tone was gentle, but not vulnerable. It was akin to the how one might speak when comforting a scared animal.
Himari squirmed and whimpered in dual attempts to avoid both Fuyuhiko’s fingers and his question. Not that it mattered - Peko simply tightened her grip, further restricting all four limbs and keeping Himari’s back firmly against the softness of her breasts and the silky smoothness of her suit.
“No, I guess not. You dressed all slutty, but this has gotta be your first time. No fuckin’ way a pathetic little thing like you got any attention before this. You should be grateful I even bother.”
The words were harsh, but his tone remained unwavering. Himari wasn’t sure if he was trying to get her to stop crying, or to humiliate her. Despite her best efforts, both seemed to be working.
“No! No, no, don’t bother! Please!”
He chuckled, slowly pushing his fingers in and out in that same teasing way. It was just a matter of time before she gave in, all he had to do was…
Himari cried out as she felt his fingers curl inside her still-sensitive body, the tears streaming down her cheeks finally matching the volume of her body’s arousal down below.
“You feeling good yet, princess?” His voice took on a teasing lilt as he started to pump his fingers again, curling them in just the right spot every single time. He’d learned how to pleasure her, he’d mapped out her body and charted her arousal. She hated knowing that he knew that.
“I DON’T LIKE FEELING GOOD!”
“You little liar. I can feel you clenching my fingers down there. Poor sensitive little creature. You gonna cum on my fingers again, huh? You gonna moan like a whore? You gonna be my little slut again?”
He was begging to get downright condescending - he know he was getting her exactly where he wanted, it was just a matter of persistence and endurance. He had the stubborn energy to beat her, he just had to keep going until she eventually blinks first.
Deep down, she knew it too.
“I’m not your slut~!” She moaned it, unable to hide what her body was feeling anymore. She took in a shaky gasp as she realized, internally chastising herself for showing weakness.
“C’mon, don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Only sluts get this wet. You probably wanted this, didn’t you? You didn’t get left behind, you didn’t get abandoned. You stayed behind. You wanted me. You abandoned those sentimental fucks at the Foundation, left them holding the bag so you could feel the pleasures of despair. Don’t you lie to my face, you goddamn bimbo!”
She was fully crying now, his words chipping away at her soul as his actions chipped away at her resolve. She was so close to blinking, and she hated it just as much as she did at the start. Being his wasn’t what she wanted! It couldn’t be! Right?
She began to picture it; Himari Kuzuryu, Ultimate Despairing Wife. She’d be stuck, trapped, eternally his. But there’d be power in that position, right? Security? He might hurt her, yes, but anyone else who even dared to lay a finger on her would find themselves facing his wrath before they could blink. She’d be safe, she’d be comfortable. She’d have a home, a purpose, maybe even a family! She- no! No, she didn’t want it, she couldn’t want it, wanting it would be treason , “I don’t want it, I don’t, I’m not like this, I- I- I~ I~ I~ I~ GYEEAAAAHH!!~~~~”
Once again, the tsunami of pleasure overtook her without warning and flung her ever closer to his control, ever closer to submitting to his dominance and despair. As the waters slowly receded, leaving her stuck in reality, she found herself crying yet again.
Himari gasped for air between her sobs, feeling like the most disgusting whore to ever walk this earth. She closed her eyes and simply wallowed in her mental anguish. She heard Fuyuhiko take off his belt, and physically tensed in Peko’s arms - who, Himari realized, had not stopped working at her most recent hickey. She could feel a bit of dampness on her rear, where it was pressed firmly between the taller woman’s legs.
“You didn’t warn me, Peko.” His tone was sharp and critical as he delivered the reprimand. She froze, letting Himari’s skin fall from between her lips as she delivered a sheepish “Sorry, Young Master.”
He paused for a moment, before letting out a brief scoff and turning his attention back to Himari.
“You fuckin’ want it. Let’s be real.”
“I don’t, stop it, you can’t make… me… want it?”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she saw him slide out of his blue-and-gold underwear, revealing his already fully erect member. It made sense, of course - he’d been assaulting her this entire time, of course he’d be aroused. But knowing it and seeing it were two entirely different things, and the sight of it took her breath away. It wasn’t like he was massive in size, but he certainly wasn’t small either. Not to mention the fact that she’d never actually seen one up close before.
“Like what you see, eh? Yeah, that’s ‘cause of you. You and your whorish moans.”
Himari let out a whimper as Peko slowly began to kiss her again, eschewing hickeys for simple pecks to the left side of her neck. She still felt sensitive, raw, and tender. Vulnerable to his attacks, malleable to his whims.
“Please! Jus’ do something else! Anything! I hate this!” Himari wasn’t sobbing for once, though a bit of snot did escape her nose and leak onto her upper lip. Her loud, pleading tone conveyed the most miserable, delicious despair. Fuyuhiko’s hand froze right where it was, still buried in her as he looked down with a dubious hint of compassion in his eye.
“Yeah? Something else?” His tone was strangely gentle, his eye narrowing slightly in thought. He took his fingers out of her again, grabbing a tissue and cleaning them off. He swiped away the snot on her lip before tossing it in the vague direction of the trash can.
“Yes! Oh my god, yes, thank you!”
“Heh. You asked for it, princess.”
With a dark chuckle, he reached down to his erection and stroked it a couple times before lining it up at her entrance.
“Wait, wait, no, please, not that, wait-”
With a cocky grin, he pushed the tip in.
“Nhooooo!”
Himari thrashed her upper body wildly, though not nearly with enough force to overpower Peko’s grip on her limbs. Her head shot right, landing on Peko’s shoulder as she scream-moaned at the ceiling.
“What? You asked for something different, honey. I’m just giving you what you want.”
He pushed further, then began to thrust.
“I DON’T WA- ahh, ahn!~ ahnnnNO! DON’T WANT THIS! STOOP!~ I’M NOT YOUR HONEY!”
Himari was having difficulty getting the words out, desperately stifling moans as her body truly began to betray her. It simply wasn’t listening to her, favoring his commands to hers. She was a prisoner within her own skin just as much as she was a captive of the Kuzuryu Clan.
That, perhaps, was the worst part. She was being violated, reduced to a whimpering mess as he pushed deeper and deeper, groaning as he experienced his own sadistically genuine and genuinely sadistic pleasure. To experience that is among the worst things a human can - to feel her body respond despite her own shame and horror, to lose control over her own feelings - was terrifying. But the worst part of all, the thing she hated most, was that a small part of her was starting to believe him when he said she wanted it. She wasn’t even sure if it was true anymore.
Thus, as he grabbed her hips and utilized Peko’s imprisoning grip on her to thrust even deeper, fuck even harder, her mind slowly started to slip away. Whether dissociation or a simple embrace of lust and pleasure, she wasn’t sure. What she did know is that she couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard she was trying to. She wanted to keep it in, to kill it and bury it somewhere deep within her psyche. But as he bottomed out over and over, she could only focus on his pants and grunts as it flew out of her mouth.
“Fuyuhikooo!~”
The moan was unfiltered and genuine. She’d blinked. As the realization of his victory washed over him, he relished it by going harder, faster.
“You like it, huh? You’re ready to love me?”
“Just don’t fucking- fuck- just fuck me! Goddamn it! Shit! No! Fuck!”
She babbled semi-coherently, her mind still locked in a futile war with itself. But the faster he went - and he was going fast now, nearing his climax - and the more Peko licked and kissed her neck, the more she lost.
“Cum!”
She was gone. Himari Nakamura was no more. She was reduced to a mere memory within the mind of both Kuzuryus, a shared joke of a woman that would soon be mocked by both husband and wife. Hearing it finally happen brought even more pleasure than a thousand whores, or a million dispassionate nights spent thrusting into the onehole that Peko insisted on making herself into when he had his way.
She wanted him. In that specific moment in time, she wanted him. She was having fun, even! He could see it in her semi-manic eyes, and it was the most euphoric feeling he’d ever experienced.
“You wanna feel my cum, huh? You’re fffucking precious! I’ll give you it, baby, just a second!”
“Y-yes! I want it, give it! Please!”
Fuyuhiko slowed his thrusts as he felt the pleasure build in his crotch, before spilling all he had deep within her as he delivered one long groan of pleasure. He slowed even further before finally coming to a stop, panting slightly as he watched her face. The pleasure visibly faded, going from ecstacy to revulsion to horror with a speed that hurt him in a way he never could have predicted.
“I-I… oh god, I didn’t- I didn’t say that!”
“Yes, you did!” He sounded frustrated - angry, even.
“NO! No, I didn’t, it didn’t happen! I don’t love you!”
“Goddamn it, you do! You loved me just now! YOU DID!”
She went silent, and neither he nor Peko could discern why. Was she scared of his angry tone and threatening posture? Was she seeing a threat looming over her? Or, perhaps, was she still processing? She could be giving in, after all. She could very well be coming to terms with loving the man above her. He closed his eyes, looking away as he silently waited for his answer.
Himari’s breathing slowed, her expression still neutral. Every single question he was now asking himself, she shared. Every possibility racing through his mind was crossing hers as well. She was faced with an impossible choice, stuck between losing her identity and potentially angering a man with the power to order her death with a simple snap of his fingers. Would she die a Nakamura, throwing away her life for the organization that had abandoned her without a second thought? Or would she live a Kuzuryu, throwing away her life for the man who had hurt and scared her? Who had put her in this predicament in the first place?
After several minutes, she made her choice. Ever the follower, Himari Kuzuryu looked up at him with frightened acceptance.
“…I don’t know why I love you.”
Fuyuhiko visibly perked up at that, blinking in surprise. He then smiled, softly and genuinely.
“Heh. Butcha do, don’t you? You can’t help it.”
“I don’t know what you did to me…” Her voice trailed off, confused by and almost scared of her own obedience.
“It’s simple, my little slut. I took you, claimed you, and made you mine. So while you were busy letting out those whorish moans, I was rewiring your little brain.”
The truth was that he didn’t know either. He was lying through his teeth, equally as intimidated at his newfound grip on her psyche. But she clearly needed a simple answer, an explanation that would let her sleep tonight. The vulnerable look in her eyes made that obvious.
“So… you broke me?”
“Yeah, honey. I broke ya. My bad. But you’re gonna be an amazing little wife for me now. So let’s get you cleaned up so you can rest.”
Fuyuhiko then turned his attention to Peko, noticing her labored breathing and flushed cheeks. Despite having waited in silence for over five minutes after he had finished inside Himari, she was still visibly turned on.
“You’re gonna be like that all day, aren’t you?”
His tone was still vaguely warm, but it lacked the softness and gentle care he had shown Himari moments ago.
“I-I’m sorry, Young Master.”
“Don’t apologize. Are you even going to be able to work with a straight face?”
“I-i’ll manage, Young Master.” Her voice was as soft as Himari’s had been just a moment ago, eyes downcast to avoid the critical words of her would-be beau.
“No the fuck you won’t.” His tone was still unusually warm, a hint of affection lingering in his eyes. He quickly played it off with a scoff and feigned roll of his eyes.
“Whatever. Just finish yourself off with her. Then get her cleaned up and take her to her new room.”
“Y-yes, young master!”
Peko immediately descended on her boss’ future wife, tone unprofessionally eager as she cherished the lack of resistance. He forced a chuckle at his the eagerness of his supposed tool as he finished sliding back into his clothes. Ignoring the slight ache in his heart, he donned his hat and abandoned his true love as she began to force the head of their shared proxy between her legs.