Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 421 --

He smiled—small, real—then pushed in slow. Inch by inch, stretching her, filling her until she felt him everywhere. Kaya moaned, legs wrapping his waist, heels digging into his back. Cutie groaned deep, head dropping to her shoulder, breath ragged against her neck.

He started moving—deep, steady thrusts, hips rolling like he’d planned this a hundred times. Each one hit just right, building that tight coil inside her. His hand slipped between them, fingers finding her clit, circling firm and fast while he fucked her harder, skin slapping skin, sweat mixing, the bed creaking loud in the quiet cave.

Kaya’s world narrowed to him—his heat inside her, his mouth on her neck biting marks, his fingers relentless. The pressure built fast, too fast, until she shattered, clenching around him, crying out sharp and broken. Cutie followed seconds later, thrusting deep one last time, spilling hot inside her with a low, guttural moan.

They stayed like that, tangled and panting, his weight heavy and perfect on her. Cutie kissed her forehead, soft now, then her lips—gentle, like the fire was out.

For the first time that night, Kaya felt cool.

....

AFTER that first day , Kaya didn’t remember much about those four days. Her body was wrecked, her mind was numb, and she barely knew how she made it through. But one thing was clear—Cutie had taken charge.

He was burning with fever, but that didn’t stop him. He was rough, relentless, and completely in control. He pinned her down, took what he wanted, and didn’t let her go. Kaya didn’t fight him. She couldn’t. She was too tired, too weak, too lost in the haze to do anything but let him take her again and again.

Cutie fucked her hard, deep, and without mercy. He held her down, his hands tight on her wrists, his mouth on her neck, his cock slamming into her until she was sore and trembling. Sometimes she cried out, sometimes she begged him to stop, but he never did. He just kept going, pushing her to her limits, making her take everything he had.

Kaya didn’t know how many times he came inside her. She didn’t know how many times she passed out on top of him, only to wake up with his hands on her, his mouth on her skin, his body burning against hers. She lost track of time, lost track of day and night, lost track of everything except Cutie’s heat, his breath, his touch.

By the fourth day, the fever finally broke. Cutie’s skin cooled, his eyes cleared, his breathing steadied. Kaya didn’t feel relief. She felt empty. Her body was wrecked, her mind was numb, and she didn’t know how she’d made it through.

She lay beside Cutie, tangled in the sheets, too tired to move. She didn’t know what happened. She didn’t know how she’d gotten through those four nights and days. All she knew was that she was still there, still holding him, still alive.

And when Cutie finally opened his eyes and looked at her—really looked, not hazy or feverish—Kaya didn’t smile. She didn’t cry. She just lay there, too tired to feel anything, too tired to care.

She didn’t know what came next. She didn’t know if she could face the world outside. All she knew was that she’d survived.

For now, that was enough.

.

.

.

Kaya didn’t wake up for a whole week.

The first three days, she was so deep in sleep she couldn’t move a single muscle. She didn’t know how she ate, how she drank, how she even breathed—someone must have fed her, spooned broth into her mouth, wiped her face, turned her in bed. But she didn’t remember any of it. She just floated in a thick, heavy darkness, like her body had been used up and thrown away.

She had been a soldier. She had been thrown into war for the first time, bleeding, broken, half-dead, and still she had crawled back to her feet. But this? This was different. This was worse. Now she didn’t even have the strength to lift a finger, to open her eyes for more than a few seconds, to say a single word.

Cutie, on the other hand, got better fast.

Too fast.

Kaya woke up slowly, in pieces. First, she felt the warmth of the blanket. Then the smell of herbs and broth. Then the sound of soft footsteps, the creak of the bed, the quiet rustle of someone moving around her.

And then she saw him.

Cutie, sitting beside the bed, head slightly lowered, eyes down, looking like a man drowning in guilt. He brought water, adjusted the blanket, checked her pulse with careful fingers, spoke in a low, gentle voice like she was something fragile.

Kaya watched him.

She saw how he flinched when she finally looked at him, how his ears twitched, how his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for a slap.

But she also saw it.

That tiny, almost invisible twitch at the corner of his lips. The way his mouth curved up for just a second when he thought she wasn’t looking.

That bastard was happy.

Kaya’s mind was still slow, still heavy, but that one truth cut through the fog like a knife.

She had thought vulture beastmen were assholes. Cold, cruel, arrogant. But who would have thought that a rabbit beastman, all soft ears and gentle hands, would be the real monster?

A monster who had fucked her into the ground for four days straight, who had drained her so completely she couldn’t even move, and who now sat there like a saint, playing the worried caretaker while secretly loving every second of it.

Kaya closed her eyes again, not because she was tired, but because she didn’t want him to see the fury burning behind them.

She was weak now.

But she wouldn’t stay weak forever.

And when she got her strength back?

That rabbit was going to learn what it meant to play with a vulture.