Issei Hyoudou (Highschool DxD)

Rias lingered in the doorway, her crimson hair catching the dim light as she turned to Sona. “See you tomorrow?” she asked, her voice soft but laced with a subtle warmth.

Sona’s gaze barely flickered from the report in her hands, her focus already slipping back into the mundane. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she replied, her tone distracted, almost dismissive.

Rias' hand wrapped around the cool brass handle. She pushed the door open, expecting nothing but the empty hallway beyond.

Instead, she froze.

A boy stood there, his presence unexpected, intrusive. Her breath hitched, her body tensing as she prepared to respond to an ambush. Instinctively, her fingers twitched, the air around her crackling faintly as she readied to call on her Power of Destruction. She could feel the energy pooling in her palm, ready to obliterate whoever dared to surprise her. But then her mind caught up, a sharp reminder slicing through her instincts: This is high school. You can’t just kill a classmate.

She **** her hand to relax, the energy dissipating as quickly as it had gathered. Rias took a moment to study the boy blocking her path, her ice-blue eyes narrowing as recognition dawned. Issei Hyoudou. Of course it was him. The name alone was enough to make her lips curl in exasperation.

"Were you... spying on me?"

The question wasn’t unfounded. Issei, the self-proclaimed leader of the Perverted Trio, had a reputation that preceded him. Just the other day, he’d been caught—and subsequently pummeled—by the Kendo club for trying to take photos of them while they were changing in the locker room. Rias was well aware she was exactly the kind of girl Issei would target. With her hourglass figure—39-inch bust, a narrow 23-inch waist, and flaring 35-inch hips—she was the embodiment of every fantasy he’d ever scribbled in the margins of his notebooks. Her crimson hair, a cascade of fire against her pale skin, and her piercing ice-blue eyes, so uncommon in Japan, only added to her allure. She was Kuoh Academy’s undisputed beauty, one of the Two Great Onee-sama, and she knew it.

"I didn’t even know you were here. I was actually looking to speak to Sona."

Rias arched a brow, hands on her hips. "And what could you possibly need to speak to the Student Council President about?" she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Issei’s eyes flickered to the door behind her, then back to her face. "Why she thought she could use a room that belonged to me without my permission."

Rias laughed, a soft, melodic sound that didn’t quite reach her eyes at the bold lie. The room belonged to the school, and even if it hadn't, it was the Sitri and Gremory families- Sona and Rias' parents- that funded the construction of Kuoh Academy. If anything, the room would belong to them. "This room doesn’t belong to—" Her voice faltered as she followed his gaze to the door. There, scrawled in messy sharpie, was a declaration: ‘Issei Hyoudou's Room. No one is allowed to enter this room without his permission. If someone does enter this room without asking him, they are not allowed to leave until they receive a punishment Issei deems appropriate.’

Her lips parted in surprise, a soft exhale escaping as she stared at the sharpie scrawl on the door. She could have sworn it hadn’t been there when they’d first entered the room, yet the evidence was undeniable, bold and mocking in its messy handwriting. Rias’ mind raced, her sharp instincts picking apart the situation, but she quickly masked her confusion with a practiced smile. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice smooth, and apologetic. "We must have missed it."

"Accidents happen," Issei shrugged, his tone casual, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something daring, almost predatory. "Still, rules are the rules. Sona can understand that, right?"

Sona, drawn by the commotion, had risen from her seat and approached the door. Her sharp purple eyes scanned the writing, her lips curling in irritation. The inflexible Student Council President, always a stickler for rules, now found her own rigid principles parroted back to her in the most absurd of contexts. Her gaze flicked to Issei, her expression unreadable but for the faint tightening of her jaw.

"And what kind of punishment did you have in mind, Issei Hyoudou?" Sona demanded, her voice cool and clipped, though there was a subtle undercurrent of challenge. She wasn’t Rias, but she wasn’t without her own allure. At five foot five, she was shorter than Rias’ statuesque five foot eight, her frame slimmer but still possessing the coveted hourglass proportions. Her 30-inch bust, 22-inch waist, and 33-inch hips were less pronounced than Rias’ curves, but still undeniably striking. Her black hair, common in Japan, framed a face that was both delicate and severe, her rare purple eyes sharp and calculating. She was Rias writ small—less overtly sensual, but still beautiful, still a prize for a boy like Issei.

Rias could see it coming—the glint in Issei’s eyes as they flicked between her and Sona, the way his lips twitched as if holding back a grin. He was going to make a request, something perverted, something that would make her skin crawl. She could already imagine it—some crude, humiliating demand that would leave her stomach churning. Yet, she kept her expression carefully neutral, her face a mask of calm composure. She could feel Sona’s tension radiating beside her, the air between them thick with unspoken dread as they both braced for whatever vulgar words were about to spill from his mouth.

They would have to comply, of course. The rules were clear, scrawled in bold, messy sharpie on the door. This was his room, his domain, and for now, they were at his mercy. But Rias’ mind was already racing ahead, plotting their retaliation. The cruder his demand now, the more severe their payback would be later. She could see Sona thinking the same thing, her sharp purple eyes narrowing as she subtly shifted her stance, her body language screaming a silent warning to Issei. Push too far, and you’ll regret it.

To her surprise, Issei seemed to understand. “I’m going to write a few words on your arms as punishment. Don't read what I am writing until I am done writing on both of you. Afterwards, you’ll be forgiven for trespassing in my room.”

Rias blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected simplicity of his demand. It wasn’t lewd, wasn’t humiliating—just strange. She exchanged a quick glance with Sona, who looked equally perplexed, though her sharp features quickly smoothed into her usual mask of indifference.

“Fine,” Rias said, her voice cool but laced with a hint of curiosity. She extended her arm, the smooth, pale skin catching the light as she held it out to him. Sona followed suit, her movements precise and deliberate, though her eyes never left Issei’s face.

He pulled a sharpie from his pocket, the cap clicking as he removed it. The tip hovered over Rias’ arm for a moment, and she felt a faint shiver run through her as she waited, her breath catching in her throat. Then, he began to write, the marker gliding across her skin in bold, deliberate strokes. The sensation was strange—cool and slightly ticklish. Issei was writing three words, but from sensation alone, Rias couldn't tell what they were. When Issei finished, Rias let her arm fall down to her side. She was curious what he wrote, but the request to not read it until he was done with Sona stayed her hand.

Given how quickly Issei had finished writing on her, she did not anticipate it would take much longer to finish with Sona. She could afford to be patient. Sure enough, ten seconds later, Issei stepped back. His smirk was unmistakable, a satisfied curve of his lips that sent a flicker of unease through Rias. “You can read it now,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

Rias glanced down at her arm, and her breath caught in her throat. The blood drained from her face as she stared at the words written there—Issei Hyoudou's ****. Her heart pounded as the realization hit her, a cold wave of dread washing over her. She looked up at Sona, hoping for some kind of reassurance, some plan to undo this, but what she saw only deepened her despair.

Sona’s face was pale, her usual composure shattered. Her sharp purple eyes were wide, her lips parted in shock as she stared at her own arm, the same words written there. For once, the brilliant, unflappable Sona Sitri was at a loss, her mind clearly racing but finding no answers.

That hope crushed, Rias' attention returned to words written on her skin. Issei Hyoudou’s ****. The letters seemed to burn, searing into her flesh, into her very soul.

Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, her chest rising and falling. She shook her head, her crimson hair whipping around her face as if she could physically shake off the reality of what was happening. “No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “No, no, no, no. This can’t be. I—how—no. I can’t have a master.”

Her mind raced, a whirlwind of denial and desperation. She had come to the human world to escape this very fate—to avoid being shackled to someone else’s will. Her parents had wanted to marry her off to Riser Phenex, a man whose reputation was as gaudy as his golden hair. He was a playboy, a man who collected women like trophies, his harem a testament to his vanity. Rias had refused to be just another ornament in his collection, a broodmare churning out pureblooded devil children to bolster her family’s status. She had dreamed of freedom, of independence, of a life where she could make her own choices.

But now, standing there with those damning words on her arm, she felt the weight of her choices crashing down around her. She had run from one cage only to stumble into another—one far more suffocating. At least as Lady Phenex, she would have had status, respect, a title to shield her from the worst of Riser’s whims. But this? This was worse. So much worse.

Issei wasn’t Riser Phenex, a nobleman bound by the unspoken rules of their society. Riser, for all his flaws, would have been restrained by decorum, by the power of her family, by the fact that she was a Gremory—a name that carried weight. He would have treated her as a possession, yes, but a prized one, a jewel to be displayed and admired.

Issei was different. He was no noble, no devil. He was a human, a commoner, and now—her master. The word sent a shiver down her spine, cold and unrelenting. He owned her, body and soul, and there were no rules to bind him, no expectations to temper his desires. He could do whatever he wanted to her, and no one would stop him. No one could stop him. The thought made her stomach churn, bile rising in her throat as a cold sweat broke out across her skin. Her hands trembled, her fingers twitching as she desperately tried to summon her Power of Destruction, to annihilate him where he stood. If she could just kill him, she would be free. She could erase him from existence, rewrite the memories of everyone at Kuoh Academy—even his family—and make it as though he had never been.

But her power didn’t answer her call. It was as if it had been snuffed out, silenced by the same **** that bound her to him. Her breath hitched, panic clawing at her chest as she realized the truth—every part of her, every ounce of her strength, her magic, her will, belonged to him. She couldn’t harm him. She couldn’t even try.

Desperation surged within her, sharp and frantic. If she couldn’t destroy him, she would have to find another way. Her ice-blue eyes locked onto his, her voice trembling as she **** the words out. “What do I need to do to earn my freedom?”