Given Yachiho's confident, bordering on narcissistic personality, she was never going to be a passive woman, let alone one who would submissively bow to a man's whims.
When Naoki first began directing her movements, her knee-jerk instinct was to resist—not because she didn't want him, but because she recoiled at the very idea of a man dictating what she should do with her own body.
She was Yachiho Azuma. She was the one who was supposed to be in control!
However, Naoki insisted that specific positions would maximize the chances of successful insemination.
Those words disarmed her resistance instantly. How could Yachiho argue when the reason provided was the very goal that defined their relationship? Wasn't she the one who craved pregnancy the most? Wasn't she the one who had initiated this physical arrangement for that exact purpose?
With her own logic turned against her, Yachiho had no choice but to swallow her pride and follow Naoki's lead.
The first time Naoki guided her into an unconventional position, Yachiho nearly bolted from the bed and left the room.
The posture was so vulgar—she had to turn away, bending deeply at the waist until her face nearly brushed the mattress, while her rear was thrust high into the air. Her hands had to support her weight in a way that left her arm muscles fully contracted, while her knees were spread wide to make room for Naoki, who loomed directly behind her.
It was a position she had only ever seen in the lewd illustrations she considered uncivilized—acts she felt were only fit for women in the red-light district. And yet, here she was, doing it of her own volition.
A muffled groan escaped her tightly locked lips, but she held the pose. Yachiho couldn't refute the scientific reasoning Naoki presented regarding penetration angles and the role of gravity in helping sperm journey toward the womb.
She hated how rational he sounded; she hated that she couldn't find a single flaw in his argument; and she hated that amidst her burning embarrassment, a part of her actually felt a different kind of thrill from this humiliating display.
The arch of her back created a new kind of tension, an unusual depth of penetration, and a vibration that traveled from her toes to the crown of her head with an intensity that forced her to bite her lower lip to keep from making a sound that would only shame her further.
Not stopping there, Naoki continued to push the boundaries of Yachiho's tolerance by introducing variations inspired by the Kamasutra.
Leveraging her athletic flexibility as a warrior, Yachiho was coerced into the Prasrita position—a posture demanding immense core strength where she had to extend one leg straight to the side while the other hooked around Naoki's waist as they joined while standing at the edge of the bed.
Sweat mingled with the steam of passion, slicking Yachiho's porcelain skin, yet her trained muscles allowed Naoki to explore the deepest reaches of her womb without the slightest physical hindrance.
Naoki then transitioned her into the Dhenuka position, albeit with an extreme variation where her body arched perfectly like a bow pulled to its limit, allowing him to lock her hips from behind with a grip of steel.
Under the dim, amber glow of the bedroom lamp, their silhouettes looked like a living sculpture performing an ancient ritual.
There was no more room for shame; Yachiho had completely surrendered the reins of her athletic body to Naoki, letting him mold her form at will until every inch of her internal space was filled with the seeds she craved for the future of her lineage.
◆━⊰✿✧✿⊱━◆
"I am never doing the Kamasutra again. Every position is too damn demanding."
The complaint rumbled from Naoki in a low voice. His breath was still heavy, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that hadn't quite settled, and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
Beside him, Yachiho lay with her back turned to him. Her hair was a chaotic mess, sprawled across the pillow in a tangle that told the story of the night's intensity. She didn't offer a word in response—not because she was pretending not to hear, but because she was already dead to the world.
Her smooth back rose and fell slowly with the rhythm of deep, steady breathing. At a glance, she looked like a sleeping princess from a childhood fairy tale. However, the lingering tension in her shoulders and the sweat still dampening the strands of hair clinging to her neck were proof that she had just completed a task far more grueling than merely sleeping the day away.
Yachiho had catered to Naoki's sexual hunger, though she would likely insist—to the death—that it was a "collaborative effort toward the goal of conception" if anyone ever asked.
Naoki turned his head slightly, watching her back rise and fall as she drifted into a deeper slumber.
He shifted his body, feeling a distinct lightness in his lower abdomen. The weight that had pooled in his core was gone, transferred into the womb of the girl beside him.
In the silence of the room, punctuated only by the sound of Yachiho's deep breaths, Naoki felt a strange clarity of mind. The day's events played back in his head like a reel—specifically, his battle against Rairen.
"The so-called Eight Thunder Gods... they don't really feel like gods."
The words left his mouth in a near-whisper, as if he were afraid of waking Yachiho, even though he knew she would sleep like a log until morning.
Naoki replayed the memory of the fight in his mind.
"I didn't feel a shred of divinity from them. The Eight Thunder Gods are more like powerful non-human entities, and that's about it."
"Strong in a way that ordinary humans might not be able to match, sure. But in the end, that's all it is—raw power, but nothing more."
Granted, Naoki had never met a true god. But as someone who spent most of his teenage years consuming anime and light novels in his previous life, he had a rough idea of what it would feel like for a mortal to truly stand before a divine being.
He thought back to an anime he loved that never got a second season—Campione!
"In that series, it showed how utterly helpless 99.9% of humanity is in the face of a god. It's not just fear; it's not just trembling. It's something more fundamental, something that defies simple logic."
"Your nerves would scream in terror, and the primitive instincts at the core of your soul would beg for you to run or prostrate yourself unconditionally."
"In short, even the idea of resistance wouldn't cross your mind when standing before a god. Not because you're a coward, not because you're weak, but because there is something in the essence of a being called a 'God' that automatically suppresses a human's instinct to fight. Even if the god in question is a Heretic God."
Naoki stared at the palm of his hand—the same one he had used to end Rairen's life.
"The remaining 0.1% are those who can't be measured by normal common sense—humans who possess luck bordering on a miracle and manage to slay a Heretic God while they are still mortal. They are called Campione, the Devil Kings who reign over mankind."
Naoki let out a long sigh, a flicker of regret crossing his mind.
He lamented the absence of Pandora in this world—the goddess responsible for transforming a god-slayer into a Devil King.
He lamented the absence of the Circle of Usurpation, the Divine Artifact that would allow a human who successfully killed a Heretic God to seize their Divine Authority, being reborn as a Campione with a body that transcends human limits.
If that mechanism existed, his success in beheading Rairen should have allowed him to usurp her power and be reborn.
"Forget it. Compared to a Heretic God, who is considered a walking natural disaster, the power of the Eight Thunder Gods isn't that impressive. They're just big targets waiting to be pruned."
The statement wasn't an insult; it was an assessment formulated by comparing the stories he knew to the reality he had experienced.
If a Heretic God in Campione! was a cataclysm that leveled everything in its path, then the Eight Thunder Gods were more like a massive thunderstorm—frightening, lethal, but still within the bounds of what a human could comprehend.
And with that, Naoki finally allowed drowsiness to claim him, sinking into a deep, dreamless sleep beside the noble girl who had already surrendered to her own exhaustion.
👨🏻💻Support me by reading on my Patreon: Patreon.com/cw/transenden or bit.ly/4uObLvf
☕Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/lovefanfiction
🛍️Benefits:
🎁Access 180+ chapters: [Anime Crossover: Making Money in Classroom of the Elite]
🎁Access Kamikawa Naoki
🎁Access 30 chapters: [Journey to Planar Word]
🎁Access 120+ chapters: [Infinity Reincarnation]
📜Update Schedule:
📨Translated Fanfiction: 3 chapters per day
📨Original Fanfiction: 1-3 chapters per day
👍🏻Thank you so much for your incredible support, everyone!👍🏻