The night wind howled softly around the secluded mountain retreat, a stark contrast to the burning heat that was beginning to bloom between Baiken and the one who dared to see past her scarred exterior. She stood by the open shoji screen, the moonlight painting her silhouette against the dark, distant peaks. Her iconic

pink hair

, usually tied back in its formidable style, was now unbound, a cascade of vibrant color against the pale kimono she had reluctantly donned. It was a rare moment of peace, a fragile truce in a life defined by relentless pursuit and vengeance. Yet, tonight, another feeling, equally intense, had begun to simmer beneath her hardened exterior, a warmth that promised solace rather than battle.

He watched her from across the room, the faint scent of saké lingering in the air, though neither had touched it much. His gaze was not one of fear or pity, but of profound understanding and an almost reverent admiration. Baiken, the lone samurai of

Guilty Gear

, was a woman forged in fire and sorrow, her missing arm and eye a testament to her unending torment. But in his eyes, she saw not weakness, but an extraordinary strength, a beauty that transcended the physical. This quiet, persistent devotion had slowly, subtly, chipped away at her formidable walls, piece by painstaking piece.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, a sound so uncharacteristic that it caught her own attention. She turned, her single, keen eye meeting his. There was a vulnerability there, a hesitant invitation that made his heart pound. He rose slowly, crossing the tatami mats separating them, each step deliberate, respectful. The moonlight illuminated the subtle curves beneath her kimono, hinting at the powerful physique that lay beneath, and the undeniable fullness of her

big tits

which strained subtly against the silk, an alluring promise of softness hidden within formidable strength.

"Baiken," he murmured, her name a reverence on his tongue. He reached out, not to touch, but to offer. His hand hovered, waiting. Her eye flickered from his hand to his face, searching, assessing. For a moment, the warrior in her stiffened, instincts honed over countless battles screaming caution. But then, a deeper, more profound longing won out. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she closed the distance, placing her hand, her one good hand, into his. Her skin was rough, calloused, a testament to a life of combat, but surprisingly soft against his own.

His fingers interlaced with hers, a gentle, anchoring grip. He drew her closer, until the tips of their toes almost touched. The air between them crackled with unspoken desires, a tension that was exquisite in its slowness. She didn't pull away, a silent affirmation that this was what she wanted, what she yearned for. He lifted his free hand, hesitantly tracing the line of her jaw, his thumb brushing over the faint scars that marred her cheek. Baiken didn't flinch, didn't recoil. Instead, she leaned into his touch, a soft shiver running down her spine.

"You... you always see me, don't you?" she whispered, her voice rough with emotion, a rare crack in her stoic facade. He simply nodded, his eyes mirroring the depth of his unspoken vow. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear, sending another delicious shiver through her. "Every part of you, Baiken. Every beautiful, formidable part."

His lips brushed her temple, then moved lower, feather-light kisses tracing the curve of her cheek, lingering on the edge of her jaw where her scars met smooth skin. A low groan rumbled in Baiken's chest, a sound of pleasure she hadn't known she was capable of. Her hand tightened on his, her other arm, the one missing, feeling an phantom ache of desire to wrap around him. He gently cupped her face, tilting her head back slightly, and then, his lips met hers. It was a kiss born of long-held yearning, tender at first, then deepening with a sudden, powerful intensity.

Her mouth opened beneath his, a gasp escaping her as his tongue sought hers, a slow, sensual dance that left her breathless. The taste of him was intoxicating, a blend of clean air and something uniquely masculine, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of blood and battle she was so accustomed to. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, demanding more. The kimono began to feel constricting, the desire to shed all barriers, physical and emotional, becoming overwhelming.

He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to gaze into her single, smoldering eye. "Baiken," he breathed again, his voice thick with passion. He gently pushed the collar of her kimono aside, his lips finding the sensitive skin of her neck, trailing a path of fire down to her collarbone. She arched into him, a soft moan escaping her lips, her body betraying the disciplined warrior within. His hands moved to the ties of her kimono, carefully, reverently untying them. The silk fabric parted, revealing the smooth, unblemished skin of her shoulders, then the soft swell of her breasts.

Her

big tits

were magnificent, full and firm, testament to a healthy, powerful woman, now exposed to the cool night air and his searing gaze. A flush spread across her chest, a mixture of modesty and burgeoning desire. He lowered his head, his lips tasting the warm skin above her breasts, then gently, tentatively, he kissed the soft curve of one, making her gasp. His tongue traced the outline of her nipple, which immediately tightened into a hard, aching bead. Baiken's breath hitched, her hand gripping his shoulder so tightly her knuckles whitened.

He suckled gently, then more firmly, eliciting a guttural moan from her. Her body trembled, a delicious shockwave spreading through her. She had endured pain, countless injuries, but this- this exquisite sensation was entirely new, entirely overwhelming. Her hips instinctively pushed forward, seeking contact, seeking release. His hand found the other breast, kneading it softly, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak, driving her further into a frenzy of sensation.

He led her slowly to the futon laid out on the floor, their bodies still pressed together, their lips meeting again in a passionate onslaught. The kimono slipped entirely from her shoulders, pooling around her waist. He lowered her gently onto the soft bedding, his eyes devouring her form, appreciating every scar, every curve. Her

pink hair

fanned out around her head like a wild, vibrant halo against the dark fabric, a beautiful contrast to her pale skin and the flushed warmth radiating from her body. She watched him, her single eye alight with a raw, primal hunger that mirrored his own.

He stripped away his own garments with efficient movements, revealing a body muscled and strong, ready to meet hers. As he knelt above her, her gaze swept over him, a thrill of anticipation coursing through her. He reached down, his fingers gently parting her thighs, revealing the soft, damp entrance to her core. Her breath caught in her throat, her body quivering in anticipation.

"Let me please you, Baiken," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. She nodded, unable to speak, her eyes closed as she braced herself for the exquisite pleasure. His fingers, warm and knowing, found her swollen clitoris, teasing it with soft, circular motions. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, her hips arching instinctively towards his touch. He delved deeper, his middle finger sliding into her slick core, a slow, deliberate invasion that sent sparks of fire through her.

He began a rhythm, his fingers dancing expertly, alternating between teasing her clit and delving deeper within her. Baiken cried out, a sound that was half a gasp, half a growl, her body bucking beneath his ministrations. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, a maelstrom of pleasure building within her. Her muscles clenched around his

fingering

, urging him on, begging for more. Her

pink hair

thrashed against the futon as she lost herself in the rising tide of ecstasy.

"Oh... ah... yes!" she panted, her voice ragged. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then moved back down, his tongue flicking expertly at her clitoris as his fingers continued their relentless rhythm inside her. The dual sensations were almost too much to bear. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate for release. Her body was a taut bowstring, stretched to its absolute limit, trembling on the brink of oblivion.

With a final, intense surge of his fingers, Baiken arched her back, her entire body seizing as a powerful orgasm ripped through her. A guttural scream tore from her throat, raw and primal, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Her muscles spasmed, her hips rising off the futon, before collapsing back down, panting, spent, but already craving more. He watched her, his own arousal heightened by her explosive release, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

He pulled his fingers out slowly, leaving her core throbbing, slick and aching for his full presence. He positioned himself between her legs, his hard shaft pressing against her damp entrance. Baiken’s single eye opened, gleaming with an eager fire, her body still buzzing from her climax, now ready for his full embrace. She guided him, her hand gripping his strong member, directing him to her core.

With a deep breath, he pushed forward, slowly at first, allowing her body to adjust to his full size. Baiken gasped, her eyes widening as he stretched her, filling her completely. The feeling was exquisite, a deep, satisfying pressure that resonated through her very being. He paused, letting her acclimate, feeling her muscles clench around him, a tight, warm embrace that promised pure ecstasy. Then, slowly, he began to move, a deep, measured thrust.

Each stroke was a symphony of sensation, his body moving in perfect rhythm with hers. Baiken met his every thrust, her hips rising to meet him, a low moan rumbling in her throat. Her

big tits

bounced gently with each movement, his gaze often drawn to them, then back to her face, a mask of raw pleasure. The futon creaked softly beneath their passionate dance, the only sounds in the room their gasps, moans, and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

He leaned down, capturing her lips in another deep kiss, his tongue mirroring the movements of his hips. Her arm, her only arm, wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him. Her

pink hair

tangled around their heads, a vibrant halo of passion. He whispered words of adoration against her lips, words that bypassed her warrior's resolve and went straight to the tender, yearning heart she rarely showed anyone. "So beautiful, my Baiken. So strong. You're everything."

The pace quickened, their movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. Baiken’s legs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight, urging him deeper, harder. Her body was on fire, every nerve ending alive and singing with pleasure. She felt the knot of tension building again, deep within her core, more intense this time, as he pounded into her with relentless passion. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her cries echoing in the quiet room.

"More... please... more!" she begged, her voice hoarse, completely lost to the moment. He obliged, driving into her with a primal force, his hips slamming against hers. He felt her climax building, her body tensing around him, her nails digging into his back. With a final, deep thrust, Baiken screamed his name, her body arching off the futon as a second, even more powerful orgasm consumed her. Her muscles constricted around him, milking every last drop of pleasure from his presence.

He held her tight, feeling her body convulse around him, her passionate cries filling the air. He leaned down, burying his face in her

pink hair

, feeling the warmth of her neck against his lips. As her tremors began to subside, he felt his own release building, a powerful, unstoppable wave. With a guttural groan, he plunged into her one last time, emptying himself deep inside her, filling her with his hot, life-giving essence. A deep, profound

creampie

that promised a lingering connection, a testament to their powerful union.

He collapsed onto her, their bodies slick with sweat, their chests heaving in unison. Baiken gasped, feeling the warm, thick liquid fill her, a sensation both foreign and incredibly satisfying. She held him close, her hand stroking his hair, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips. The raw, animalistic pleasure had transformed into a deep, loving intimacy, a profound connection that transcended words. She felt full, utterly sated, a warmth spreading through her that banished all the cold loneliness she had carried for so long.

He slowly shifted, propping himself up on an elbow, looking down at her, his eyes filled with a tender devotion. Her single eye met his, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he saw pure, unadulterated peace reflecting back at him. Her

pink hair

was splayed around her, her lips swollen from their kisses, her

big tits

still heaving gently from their exertions. She was, in this moment, utterly vulnerable, utterly hers.

"You... you feel good," she murmured, her voice still rough, but softer now, laced with a tenderness she rarely displayed. A small, genuine smile touched her lips, a rare sight that made his heart swell. "More than good." He kissed her again, a soft, lingering kiss that promised a future of shared intimacies, of a love that could heal even the deepest wounds of a warrior like Baiken of

Guilty Gear

.

They lay there for a long time, simply holding each other, the sounds of the mountain night a gentle lullaby. The moon cast long shadows across the room, illuminating their joined bodies, a testament to their passionate union. Baiken, the scarred warrior, had finally found a solace deeper than vengeance, a passion that burned brighter than any battle, a lover who saw not her pain, but her incredible, undeniable heart. And in his arms, feeling the warm fullness of his

creampie

deep inside her, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was exactly where she was meant to be.