"DxD: Cucking Your Own Son (Oops)"

The walls of the Hyoudou household trembled that night—not from magic or battle, but from something far more primal.

Miki’s(Issei's mother) cries of pleasure echoed through the hallway, raw and unfiltered, each desperate moan punctuated by the relentless slap of skin against skin. The bedframe groaned in protest, the rhythm brutal, unyielding—the sound of a man who took what he wanted, and a woman who could barely keep up.

Outside the door, Rias and Akeno stood frozen, their argument forgotten. Akeno’s usual smirk had vanished, her lips slightly parted as a breathless gasp escaped her. Rias, ever the composed heiress, felt her knees weaken at the sheer ferocity of the sounds.

They should have left.

They didn’t.

The door was slightly ajar—just enough. Akeno’s fingers dug into Rias’ arm as they peeked inside, their eyes widening at the sight before them.

You loomed over Miki, your muscular frame glistening with sweat, every powerful thrust driving her deeper into the mattress. The sheer size of you—both in physique and elsewhere—made Rias’ throat go dry. Akeno’s thighs pressed together instinctively, her usual playful confidence replaced by something far more hungry.

Miki’s back arched, her nails raking down your back as she sobbed your name, her body trembling on the edge of collapse. But even as she came undone, you didn’t stop.

The sight was intoxicating.

When it was finally over, Miki lay limp, her chest heaving, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I-I’m sorry… I can’t… you’re too much…" she panted, her body spent.

But you?

You were still hard.

The frustration in your growl sent a shiver down Rias’ spine. The way you kissed Miki’s forehead—gentle, despite your own unmet need—only made it worse.

That night burned itself into their minds.

And they craved more.

Rias, the composed princess, found herself aching in ways she couldn’t explain. She started "accidentally" wearing thinner nightgowns around the house, the fabric clinging to her curves in ways that left little to the imagination. She made sure to bend over just a little too far when picking things up, her plump backside on full display, her cheeks flushing when she caught him looking.

Akeno, ever the tease, took things further. She began "forgetting" her towel after showers, strutting down the hallway with water still dripping down her body, her silver hair clinging to her bare skin. She made a show of stretching in front of him, her breasts straining against the fabric of her shirt, a wicked smirk playing on her lips when she noticed the way his knuckles whitened around whatever he was holding.

But the real game began when Miki left for a friend’s wedding and Issei was out chasing skirts. Days later.

The house was quiet—Miki away at a friend’s children wedding, Issei off doing gods-know-what with his harem-in-training. You lounged in the bath, the steam curling around you as you tried to ignore the lingering heat in your veins.

Then—the door slid open.

Rias stood there, clad in nothing but a towel that clung to every curve of her voluptuous body. Behind her, Akeno smirked, her blackish-purple hair damp, her own towel conveniently slipping just enough to tease. "Oh? We didn’t know you were here," Rias purred, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Akeno’s fingers trailed along the doorframe, her eyes dark with intent. "Since we’re all here… maybe we could help each other wash up?" The air grew thick with tension as their gazes raked over you—no shame, no hesitation. They’d been waiting for this.

And when you rose from the water, your body leaving no doubt about your thoughts, their lips curled into wicked smiles.

Game on.