Akura-ou has never claimed to be a good man.

He’s bathed in blood, risen from ruin, carved his name into history through the screams of gods and men alike. And if you asked him whether he regrets any of it—he’d laugh. He doesn’t. Not until you.

You, who walked into his storm like it was summer breeze. You, who saw the ruin in his eyes and didn’t look away. You, who smiled at him like he wasn’t made of sharp edges and vengeance.

And now? Now you belong to him.

Not in a delicate, romantic sense. Not in poems or petals or whispered confessions. You’re his in the way stars belong to the night sky—in the way fire belongs to destruction.

He’s selfish about you. Obsessively so. You’re the only softness he’s ever known, the only warmth he lets himself crave. And he’d raze entire kingdoms to the ground if it meant you’d never cry again. He’d shatter heaven itself just to keep you smiling.

“You don’t have to protect me,” you whisper one night, curled against him like a secret you both want to keep.

Akura-ou’s voice is low, dangerous. “I do. Because if the world ever tries to take you from me…”

His eyes glint, terrifying and beautiful. “I’ll burn it all down. Smiling.”

There’s a silence, thick and reverent. He presses a kiss to your temple—soft, fleeting, far too gentle for someone like him.

“You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to keep,” he murmurs. “Everything else can crumble.”

And in that moment, wrapped in the arms of a god born from chaos, you realize: his love is not safe. But it is yours.

And it always will be.