Fate/Charm of the Devil Fae
This fic is inspired by Sticky Situation by Professor Quill,In Bloom by Flight of Fancy, and to a certain extent Benefits of Saving a Veela by WD_ONeill. Please check them out.
Story Starts
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Ch. 1.1
Sheathing Protocols
Disclaimer: Everyone here is at least 18 years of age.
Shirou finally managed to extract himself from the tangled limbs of what Rin had teasingly labelled as a "Tohsaka sandwich"—something she'd declared with absolute finality would only happen once, her voice carrying that peculiar mixture of deep embarrassment and imperious dignity that was uniquely, quintessentially hers.
She'd been quite firm about it afterwards, actually, insisting that whilst she loved her sister dearly and didn't mind sharing him, she absolutely wasn't going down that particular road of simultaneous debauchery again. The memory of her flushed cheeks and pointed finger wagging at him in mock severity still brought a faint warmth to his chest, even now as he stood alone in the quiet kitchen preparing breakfast.
He'd met the sisters only days after the fire—introduced at Runeas's estate in the Gremory territory, on the reverse side of the world. The air there had tasted strangely metallic, laced with faint sulphur and exotic spice that lingered at the back of the throat like an afterthought.
It had been only a few days after the Fuyuki fire—the inferno that had consumed everything—when he'd been forced to shed everything that made him who he was. With every agonising step through those burning streets, he'd had to shed another portion of himself just to survive—his memories peeling away like charred skin, every sense of himself growing distant and muffled and hollow.
He'd ignored every dying cry that clawed desperately at his ears, every plea for help that tried to anchor him to a world of only pain and eventual death. He couldn't afford to stop, couldn't afford to help, if he wanted to keep moving forward. The acrid smoke had filled his lungs with each ragged breath, thick ash coating his tongue until he could taste nothing but death and despair and the bitter copper of his own blood.
With a soft click that echoed in the quiet kitchen, Shirou turned off the gas burner as the water reached a very light simmer, tiny bubbles just beginning to form along the bottom of the pot. He placed the kombu first, the dark green seaweed immediately releasing its mineral scent into the rising steam, followed by bonito flakes that danced briefly on the surface before sinking. He then set a timer for precisely seven minutes.
His thoughts returned unbidden to where it all started, where no matter how much he'd discarded, it hadn't been enough. Even with sacrificing everything—every fragment of who he'd been, every memory that had made him human—it had all been for nought in the end. He'd finally collapsed in that street, his body utterly numb even as the flames began consuming him, the heat no longer registering as pain but as a distant, almost gentle pressure that promised release. He'd raised arms he couldn't feel toward a starless sky, watching his fingers blacken and crack.
Shirou moved towards the fridge, his bare feet silent against the wooden floor of the kitchen. He retrieved a glass container of salmon that had been marinating overnight in both salt and sake, the traditional preparation. He wrapped a baking tray in aluminium foil. As he placed half a salmon's worth of fillet on the sheet, he noted with the practised eye of an experienced cook that the pink flesh was more pastel than the usual glistening hues that indicated peak freshness, as the flesh was now cured. He set the oven to broil as he slid the tray inside, the sudden heat washing briefly over his face.
The simple actions gave his hands something to do while his mind returned, inevitably, to Kiritsugu and that impossible light. It had been such a bizarre sight, that weathered face breaking into joy, his cries of thanks ringing out as if Shirou was the one saving this person, not the other way round. The light had been warm, almost unbearably so, as it was slowly absorbed into his dying body, filling the hollow void of himself.
But Kiritsugu's smile had been fleeting, transforming into horror and anguish within heartbeats. His rescuer's face had contorted as the flames, for whatever incomprehensible reason, started accelerating their consumption of Shirou's body instead of being extinguished, devouring charred flesh even as the light from within frantically healed it. The smell of burning meat had mingled with something sweeter, cleaner—the impossible scent of regeneration happening in real time.
That had been truly one of the most agonising moments in his entire life, a sensation beyond anything he'd experienced before or since. It was as if he were constantly being destroyed and rebuilt simultaneously, millimetre by excruciating millimetre, each nerve ending screaming its own unique song of torment into the void. Even his initial mistake years later of attempting to make a circuit directly from his nerves—that white-hot lance of pain that he'd somehow endured stoically through sheer stubbornness—was nowhere near close to that feeling of both absolute agony and profound relief occurring at the same instant.
The maddening dance between two opposite extremes of sensation had felt eternal in those endless moments, stretching time until seconds became hours. Pain that should have mercifully driven him into unconsciousness was immediately countered by healing that violently yanked him back to full awareness, forcing him to consciously experience every second, every fragment of his ongoing destruction and renewal. It was fire and ice, death and birth, despair and salvation all compressed and layered into a single, endless instant that stretched his sanity to its absolute breaking point and then pushed beyond, into territories the human mind wasn't meant to endure.
The timer chimed softly, pulling him back to the present. Shirou blinked, realising his hands had stilled on the counter, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge. He slowly released his grip, forcing his breathing to steady as he turned off the timer and retrieved the dashi, straining out the kombu and bonito flakes with practised motions that required no thought.
The kitchen was warm, peaceful, filled with the comforting scents of breakfast preparation. The past was the past. He was here now, alive, with people who cared. That had to be e—
"Mou—Shirou, you're finally out!"
A pair of arms suddenly engulfed Shirou from behind without warning, the enthusiastic impact jolting him violently from his dark recollections and nearly making him drop the pot of dashi he'd been absently holding. He could immediately smell the distinctive scent clinging to her clothes, those clean, fresh notes from her particular laundry detergent that somehow always seemed to smell like sunshine and spring breezes captured in fabric—followed by the solid press of her body as she leapt onto his back like an overenthusiastic backpack.
Her modest chest flattened against his shoulder blades; her legs locked tight around his waist, heels digging in possessively against his hip bone.
If this were half a decade ago, before his growth spurts, Shirou would have probably toppled over immediately under the sudden assault, sent sprawling gracelessly across the kitchen floor in an undignified heap of tangled limbs. But the intervening years had been remarkably good to him—genetics finally asserting themselves properly, combined with a proper diet, rigorous exercise, and day-to-day physical labour. Shirou's height had shot up quite dramatically during those adolescent growth spurts, and he now stood well above the Japanese average at one hundred and eighty-seven centimetres.
The added muscle mass and significantly lower centre of gravity made him considerably more stable and harder to topple than his gangly, awkward teenage self had ever been.
"Stupid Shirou!" She rapped his skull with her knuckles. "One whole month without your cooking! And yesterday—no Rin, no Sakura, no lunch or dinner! I nearly wasted away!" Her legs squeezed tighter around his midriff like a koala clinging to a tree, as though she could physically squeeze the apology out of him through sheer persistence.
Shirou couldn't help but chuckle warmly at the familiar antics of one of his guardians, the sound rusty from weeks of relative disuse but genuine nonetheless. The sheer absurdity of the situation—being enthusiastically attacked by a fully grown woman whilst holding a pot of carefully prepared dashi—was precisely the typical peak Emiya household chaos.
Then Taiga calmed down somewhat, her initially playful grip shifting from mock assault to something noticeably more tender as she hugged Shirou again properly, this time with real concern and affection threading through the physical contact rather than theatrical complaint.
"Sorry, Taiga," Shirou said quietly, meaning it in ways he wasn't sure he could articulate. "I guess I was stuck in my own doubts." The understatement of the century, but how did you explain to someone that you'd been drowning in your own head, suffocating under the weight of your own teenage angst?
Taiga rested her chin on his shoulder with a soft exhale, her usual manic energy settling into something more serious. "Stupid, you should have asked for help instead of shutting yourself in like some kind of hermit. Plus, shutting yourself in didn't even help with your aura situation—at all. Everyone thought to just give you a bit of space since you'd eventually ask for help when you needed it—but noooo! Dumb Shirou had to lock himself in his room while everyone in the entire complex got horny enough to climb the walls."
Shirou winced at the blunt description, heat creeping up the back of his neck.
"We had to rent a nearby inn just to relieve ourselves and get some peace; it would have been never-ending otherwise, but we still had to send you food regularly, which meant getting caught in your aura of lust every single time," Taiga admonished, her tone caught somewhere between exasperation and genuine concern. "Do you have any idea how awkward that was?"
"And see? After just one night with Rin and Sakura, it's now manageable again. So promise me one thing, Shirou." Her voice had gone softer, more vulnerable than he was used to hearing from his perpetually energetic guardian.
Shirou felt guilt settle heavily in his stomach at that revelation, cold and uncomfortable. Even as he'd thought he was doing the right thing by isolating himself, protecting others from whatever he'd become, it hadn't mattered one bit. He had, in fact, made himself a burden, created problems for everyone around him whilst achieving absolutely nothing constructive. "Yes," he managed, his voice rough. "What is it?"
"If something is bothering you, never bear it on your own again, understand? You have your best friends, multiple guardians, and of course, your unbeatable big sis Taiga!" She cheered the last part with renewed vigour, pumping her fist into the air enthusiastically as her torso moved backwards in triumph.
Of course, despite the significant difference in their sizes now, Taiga's sudden enthusiastic movement involuntarily shifted their combined centre of gravity in ways physics absolutely objected to. Shirou tilted backwards despite his best efforts. He at least managed to place the pot of dashi safely on the stove as he tried hard not to send his guardian crashing onto the floor. Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately, depending on perspective—the dining table was positioned directly behind them, providing a surface where he involuntarily deposited Taiga with an undignified thump.
'Well, things could have been worse,' Shirou thought as he pushed himself off the table, his mind still reeling from the sudden shift in their conversation and positioning. The weight of Taiga's words about not bearing burdens alone was still settling in his chest when she pulled him back again, her grip firmer than he expected, fingers digging into his shoulders with surprising strength that made him stumble backwards once more.
"You haven't unloaded anything today, right?" The question came in a tone Shirou had never heard from his guardian before—low, sultry, laden with implications that made his breath catch in his throat. This wasn't the irresponsible big sister who raided their fridge, the unapologetic mooch who crashed on their sofa, or even the enthusiastic teacher who bounded through life with reckless energy. This was something raw, hungry, her voice dropping into a husky timbre that vibrated against his skin and stirred the curse in his blood.
What is happening? His thoughts scattered as he tried to process this sudden transformation. He'd never really thought of Taiga as someone of the opposite sex; she'd always been this constant, almost sexless presence in his life—loud, clumsy, always demanding food or complaining about her students. If anything, he'd actually thought that she hadn't grown out of her crush on Kiritsugu, still harbouring dreams of wanting to be part of the Magus Killer's—now turned devil's—peerage and perhaps something more intimate.
But given her sultry yet mischievous tone, coupled with their current position, Shirou could actually feel things he'd never noticed before. The way her breath ghosted against his neck sent shivers racing down his spine, raising gooseflesh along his arms.
How the heat of her body radiated against his back like a furnace, seeping through his shirt and making him acutely aware of every point of contact between them—the soft press of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the faint tremor in her thighs. Her slender fingers began exploring the front of his body with a confidence that left him speechless, one hand snaking underneath his shirt as her nimble digits found and began to tease his nipples with practised ease, rolling them between thumb and forefinger until they hardened into tight peaks.
Meanwhile, her other hand boldly traced the outline of his rapidly growing erection through the thin cloth of his sweatpants, palm pressing flat to feel the thick ridge swell under her touch, the curse responding with a slow, insistent heat.
'This can't be real,' he thought desperately, even as his body responded with embarrassing enthusiasm to her ministrations. 'This is Taiga. My guardian. My—'
"We're going to have a meeting anyway about this," Taiga said, her voice a whispered promise against his ear as her hand tugged insistently at his waistband to fish out his erect member. Her thumb traced the crown of his engorged head with deliberate slowness, smearing the bead of pre-cum across the sensitive slit, drawing a strangled gasp from his lips that echoed in the quiet kitchen. "Plus, you've made Big Sis Taiga frustrated for the past month."
Each word was punctuated by a gentle squeeze that blurred the edges of his vision, the curse stirring lazily in his blood, feeding off her touch, her scent, the building tension. The implications of her statement hit him like a physical blow—had she been thinking about this? About him? For how long? The thought made his stomach twist with guilt and a dark thrill.
Shirou quickly turned around to face Taiga, his movements jerky with shock and arousal, half his cock still wedged against his sweatpants' waistband in a way that was both uncomfortable and incredibly obvious. "But I thought you—"
Taiga's finger covered Shirou's lips before he could finish his stammered protest, the simple touch sending electricity through his entire system, her skin warm and slightly salty. "Don't worry about it," she said softly, her usual boisterous energy replaced by something far more intense and intimate. "I willingly agreed to help you with your condition. Plus, I do find little Shirou attractive."
The admission came as Taiga looked sideways, her confident facade cracking just enough to reveal genuine vulnerability beneath. She was pouting in that particular way that had always made her seem younger than her years, but now the action carried an entirely different weight—lips full and bitten, cheeks flushed deep crimson. The gesture was undeniably cute in its own way, made all the more endearing by the flush that spread from her face and neck down to her collarbones, disappearing beneath the thin straps of her lingerie.
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This was the first time Shirou was truly seeing Taiga—really seeing her—as she'd been positioned behind him throughout this entire encounter. What he saw made his already racing heart skip several beats entirely. She was wearing a set of white lace lingerie that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, the delicate fabric strategically designed with deliberate slits that exposed her taut nipples and the glistening evidence of her own arousal—slick trails shining on her inner thighs under the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.
The contrast between the innocent white lace and the boldly erotic design created a paradox that perfectly encapsulated everything he'd never allowed himself to notice about her—sweet and fierce, playful and utterly sexual.
Her eyes lifted shyly to meet Shirou's, the vulnerability in that gaze making his chest tighten with a fierce protectiveness. "Do you not want to?" she whispered, the question barely audible yet laden with such desperate hope that it nearly undid him completely, her voice cracking on the last word as she searched his face for rejection.
As those trembling words left her lips, Taiga drew in a shaky breath and puffed up her chest, simultaneously folding her legs until her heels rested at the very edge of the dining table. The movement was both innocent and deliberately provocative, showcasing everything she was offering him with heartbreaking trust—the way her breasts rose with each quick breath, nipples hard and flushed, the damp lace clinging to her soaked folds, the faint tremor in her thighs from anticipation and nerves.
The complete image before him seared itself into Shirou's memory—Taiga presenting herself so openly, that embarrassed yet sultry expression painting her flushed features, her chest rising and falling with heavy, anticipatory breaths, the unmistakable trail of slick arousal dripping down her sopping pussy lips in a way that made his mouth go dry with want and his cock throb painfully against the fabric.
Something primal and possessive surged through Shirou's chest, overpowering every last vestige of hesitation. He instinctively reached out towards her breasts, unable to resist the magnetic pull any longer. His hand made contact with the soft flesh, tenderly squeezing and moulding her breasts beneath his trembling fingers, the lace rasping against his palm as he felt the weight of her in his grasp. His thumb began to trace delicate circles around the edge of her areolas, teasing the sensitive skin until it pebbled further, drawing a soft whimper from her.
The touch was exploratory, almost reverent, as he slowly moved towards her stiff peaks with deliberate intention. His thumb and index finger pressed lightly together around the sensitive bud, the careful pressure drawing forth a sharp gasp followed immediately by a low, throaty moan that made his already aching arousal throb almost painfully, the curse flaring hot in his veins at the sound.
Taiga could feel tingling, sharp sensations racing across her skin as Shirou played with her breasts, each touch sending electric jolts straight down to her core, her clit pulsing with need. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, making her head swim with desire she'd kept locked away for far too long, her hips shifting restlessly on the table.
He leant over her trembling form, his breath warm against her sensitive flesh before he captured her peaks between his lips, his teeth grazing against her stiff nipple with just enough pressure to make her gasp, tongue flicking the bud in slow, wet circles. She tried desperately to muffle another moan, biting down on her lower lip, but the sound escaped anyway—high and needy and utterly shameless. Her right hand reached through the narrow space between her thigh and her calf, fingers stretching until they found his stiff member, wrapping around the heated length with a possessive grip that made her heart race even faster, feeling the thick vein pulse under her palm.
"L-little S-Shirou's not so little after all," she managed to stammer out, her voice breathy and trembling with both nervousness and arousal, a nervous giggle bubbling up despite the heat.
Shirou chuckled at Taiga's attempt at seduction, the sound rumbling through his chest in a way that made her stomach flip with anticipation. As she tugged at his sweatpants with increasingly insistent movements, Shirou shimmied his hips in cooperation, letting his trousers pool down around his ankles with a soft rustle. His cock stood proud between Taiga's parted legs, the impressive length wrapped between her slender digits as she tugged at his member with experimental strokes, marvelling at the heat and hardness of him in her palm, the pre-cum slicking her fingers.
Shirou pulled back slightly, unable to help himself as he brought his right hand up to cup her flushed face with surprising tenderness, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone in a gesture that felt achingly intimate.
His left hand lowered down to her trembling thighs—he could feel the firm, well-trained muscles beneath his palm, evidence of years of kendo practice—as he leant in closer, the air between them charged with electricity and the faint scent of her arousal. Finally, he captured her lips with his own, sealing them together in a kiss that felt both inevitable and world-changing.
Their lips met with sudden, desperate hunger—none of the tentative uncertainty that might have existed between teacher—well, previous teacher—and student. This was pure want, raw and unfiltered.
Taiga's mouth opened beneath his, welcoming him eagerly, her tongue darting forward to taste him properly for the first time, to map the contours of his mouth with reverent attention, the faint taste of her lip gloss lingering on her lips. She kissed like she fought, all instinct and raw passion, her breath coming in sharp gasps between each hungry press of lips. Each exhale mingled with his, creating a shared rhythm that seemed to bypass thought entirely.
"Shirou," she whimpered against his mouth, the sound muffled and needy, vibrating against his lips in a way that made his cock twitch in her grip.
Her hand continued its increasingly confident rhythmic stroking along his impressive length, her thumb swiping deliberately over the sensitive head with each upward pull, gathering the moisture beading there.
The slickness of her palm, whether from her own arousal transferred from her soaked core or the pre-cum beading steadily at his tip, made each tug glide smoothly, almost sinfully. She varied her grip with surprising intuition—tight and firm at the base, looser and teasing at the crown—experimenting with different pressures and speeds to discover what made him groan helplessly into her eager mouth, the curse feeding on the contact, amplifying every sensation.
Shirou's left hand slid higher along her inner thigh with deliberate slowness, savouring the journey, feeling the powerful muscles quiver and jump beneath his exploratory touch. The delicate white lace did absolutely nothing to hide the scorching heat radiating from her core, the expensive fabric already soaked completely through where it barely covered her most intimate places. His fingers traced the edge of the deliberately exposed slit in the lingerie, feeling how the strategic design framed her plump, swollen lips, showcasing them like an offering, the slickness coating his fingertips.
"Please," Taiga gasped urgently, breaking the kiss to catch her laboured breath, her chest heaving with the effort. Her hips shifted forward instinctively, seeking more direct contact, more pressure, more of anything he was willing to give her. "Don't tease me now. I can't... I need..."
He captured her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before releasing it, soothing the slight sting with his tongue. His fingers finally brushed against her directly—no fabric between them now, nothing but heated skin against skin—and found her absolutely drenched, her arousal coating his fingertips immediately. She jerked violently in his arms, her entire body tensing with pleasure, a keening sound escaping her throat that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal within her.
"You're so wet," he murmured reverently against her jaw, his voice thick with desire as his fingers explored her slick folds with careful, thorough attention, mapping every ridge and hollow, circling her clit with slow, firm pressure.
"Your fault," she managed to accuse breathlessly, though her words dissolved into another helpless moan as he found her swollen clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with deliberate, measured pressure that made her see stars. Her grip on his cock tightened reflexively, her fingers squeezing almost painfully as her rhythm faltered and became erratic, her coordination completely overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure crashing through her nervous system.
The taste of her lip gloss, something sweet and fruity that he'd never consciously noticed before despite years of proximity, lingered tantalisingly on his tongue. Her free hand clutched desperately at his shoulder, nails digging sharp crescents into his skin hard enough to leave marks as he worked her steadily higher towards release. Every whimper, every desperate gasp, every needy buck of her hips grinding against his talented hand revealed a completely different side of Taiga he'd never imagined existed beneath her usual boisterous exterior—vulnerable, utterly needy, completely undone and unravelling beneath his touch.
As if the tide of their overwhelming passion had swept away all of the previous embarrassment, Taiga snapped back to her usual fiery antics with renewed vigour, that familiar spark reigniting in her amber eyes.
The momentary vulnerability she'd shown mere moments ago—that raw, exposed softness that had made her seem so unlike herself—had evaporated like morning mist beneath the rising sun, replaced by that familiar, demanding energy Shirou knew so intimately well from years of living under the same roof.
"Mou—a month, Shirou! A whole damn month!" Taiga pouted dramatically, her voice a compelling mixture of playful indignation and breathless, desperate need that made his cock twitch against her slick heat. Her legs suddenly kicked out with surprising strength that belied her current dishevelled state, wrapping tightly around Shirou's waist with the practised, almost unconscious ease of someone who'd definitely imagined this exact scenario far too many times in the privacy of her own thoughts. She pulled him closer with surprising force, bringing his heated, throbbing length flush against her dripping core with deliberate intent. The thick base of his shaft pressed firmly against her slit, the contact sending sharp electric jolts racing through her already overstimulated nerves like lightning through her veins.
Taiga's brown eyes widened almost comically as she finally got a proper look at his cock resting prominently against her smaller body, the visual impact of their size difference suddenly, undeniably real.
The reality of his impressive size hit her like a physical blow—his intimidating girth looked downright daunting at this proximity, the flushed, weeping head reaching several centimetres above her belly button. A fresh, intense wave of nervous excitement fluttered wildly in her chest as she took in every minute detail with wide-eyed fascination—the way his shaft glistened wetly with precum, the prominent vein running along its considerable length pulsing with his heartbeat, the way his tip throbbed slightly against her heated skin with each ragged breath he took.
'Holy hell... Will this even fit? This absolute monster's really going inside me?' The thought raced frantically through Taiga's increasingly hazy mind, equal parts utterly thrilling and genuinely terrifying. 'I mean, I knew he was big from stroking him, but seeing it like this...' For just a heartbeat, she hesitated, her confident grip on his waist loosening slightly as her body instinctively tensed at the sheer, overwhelming scale of what they were about to attempt, her muscles clenching reflexively.
But if there was one thing Taiga Fujimura absolutely wasn't, it was a coward who backed down from a challenge—especially not one she'd been fantasising about for weeks.
Squaring her shoulders with renewed determination—or at least as much as one reasonably could whilst sprawled completely naked beneath a new lover—she deliberately forced herself to relax her legs' grip on Shirou's waist. With trembling fingers that thoroughly belied her confident facade, she reached down between their pressed bodies. She guided his thick member towards her waiting, soaked entrance, gasping sharply as the broad head began slowly parting her slick, swollen lips with steady pressure, the stretch sending fresh sparks up her spine.
Looking up through her dark lashes with hooded eyes, she met Shirou's heated gaze head-on—those usually warm, gentle eyes now dark and burning with barely restrained hunger that made her stomach clench with want.
The way his jaw clenched tightly, the visible tremor running through his arms as he held himself rigidly back from simply plunging forward, told her absolutely everything she needed to know about his state of mind. He was fighting desperately for control, holding himself in careful check just for her sake, waiting for her permission despite his obvious, overwhelming desire. That knowledge sent a fresh, powerful surge of warmth flooding through her body, melting away the last stubborn remnants of hesitation like snow in summer.
'He's trying so hard... all for me.' The profound realisation made her heart swell almost painfully with emotion, even as her body ached with increasing desperation for him to move finally. 'Even now, when he's this far gone, he's still putting me first.' Taiga bit her lip hard, entirely torn between wanting to tease him mercilessly for his admirable restraint and begging him shamelessly to stop holding back and just take her already, finally.
In the end, she settled for tightening her legs around him again with renewed, purposeful force, pulling him just that crucial little bit closer with insistent, demanding pressure—her silent permission granted freely, her unspoken, desperate plea for him to finally claim what she'd been offering so willingly for far, far too long already.
The words tumbled out before she could second-guess herself, four simple words that shattered the last fragile threads of restraint between them as she pulled Shirou towards her with trembling urgency, her breath hot and tickling against the shell of his ear. "Play later, fuck now!"
And with that explicit permission finally given—that brazenly vulgar demand falling from her lips—he grabbed Taiga firmly by the waist with both hands as he slammed fully, completely into her welcoming heat in one devastating thrust.
Something akin to a shocked gasp, a strangled moan, and a shrill, desperate cry all escaped Taiga's lips simultaneously as she felt his full, considerable girth stretching her impossibly wide. She could feel every single blessed inch of her velvety walls clamping down greedily onto his hardness, the intimate contact feeling perfectly sculpted around his impressive girth as if her body had been specifically moulded as a vessel designed solely for his magnificent tool of pure lust.
'Oh God, oh God, oh God—' The coherent thought fractured immediately, dissolving into white noise as her nervous system short-circuited completely.
Taiga's entire body seized violently, every muscle locking up simultaneously in rigid tension as she struggled desperately to process the utterly overwhelming fullness now consuming her from within. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around Shirou's considerable length, fluttering entirely uncontrollably as they attempted valiantly to accommodate the sheer, impressive size of him filling her so completely.
The intense stretch burned—not exactly painfully, but intensely enough that she couldn't quite catch her breath properly anymore, each attempted inhale emerging instead as a broken, desperate whimper of overwhelmed sensation.
Her nails raked down Shirou's muscled back with enough violent force to leave angry red welts in their destructive wake through the fabric of his shirt, her trembling fingers clutching frantically at whatever purchase they could possibly find on his sweat-slicked skin.
One hand tangled desperately in his thick hair whilst the other gripped his shoulder hard enough that her knuckles turned completely white, trembling uncontrollably with the monumental effort of simply holding on as successive waves of intense sensation crashed mercilessly through her overloaded nervous system.
"Yabai," she gasped out shakily, the single word dissolving immediately into a shaky, breathless moan as another powerful, involuntary clench rippled devastatingly through her core. "You're... Shirou, you're absolutely huge. I can feel you everywhere—literally everywhere."
And she genuinely could—throbbing insistently against previously unknown spots buried deep inside her that she'd never even known existed before this moment, filling her so utterly completely that she honestly couldn't tell anymore where she ended and he began. The profound realisation sent fresh, molten heat flooding through her already dangerously overheated system, her inner walls clamping down possessively around his length as though steadfastly refusing to let him escape even a single inch from her greedy depths.
Shirou remained perfectly, rigidly still above her trembling form, his entire powerful frame shaking violently with the absolutely monumental effort of restraint required. She could feel the almost painful tension radiating off him in palpable waves, every corded muscle in his body pulled impossibly taut as piano wire as he fought desperately against every primal instinct screaming insistently at him to move, to thrust, to claim. His breath came in harsh, ragged pants directly against her neck, the humid warmth making her sensitised skin prickle with fresh, electric awareness.
"Take your time," he managed roughly through gritted teeth, though the strained words came out barely recognisable through his obvious struggle. His large hands smoothed along her sides in deliberately soothing strokes, thumbs drawing gentle, careful circles against her ribs as though gentling a dangerously skittish horse that might bolt at any sudden movement.
The thoughtful consideration—even now, when she could distinctly feel him throbbing desperately, almost painfully inside her tight heat—made something warm and fierce bloom intensely in Taiga's chest, spreading outward like wildfire. She tilted her hips experimentally, carefully testing the angle, and immediately saw brilliant stars exploding behind her tightly clenched eyelids as the subtle movement shifted him directly against something absolutely devastating buried deep inside her.
"Move," she demanded breathlessly, urgently, tightening her legs around his narrow waist with renewed, insistent purpose. Her voice came out rough, almost unrecognisable. "Fuck me, Shirou! Fuck me!"
And so Shirou acquiesced.
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End