My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines

Cruxius stepped out of the shower, still carrying her—her thick, glistening body wrapped around his lean, muscle-lined frame like she was made to hang there. His arms gripped just beneath the swell of her ass, fingers digging deep into the soft flesh, lifting her easily like she weighed nothing.

Her wet breasts pressed into his chest, nipples brushing faintly as he moved—slow, steady—the cool air brushing against their sweat-slick, steaming skin. Every time her hips rocked from his steps, she twitched, oversensitive, her inner walls still fluttering from the aftershocks of the orgasm he gave her.

She nuzzled into his neck, heart pounding.

And then—he spoke.

"How can I believe you?"

His voice wasn't cold. It wasn't mocking. It was just quiet. Too quiet. But the kind of quiet that made her stomach twist.

She blinked. "What…?"

He didn't stop walking. He didn't pull out of her yet either—his cock softening only slightly, still buried inside, her slick warmth clinging to him like glue.

Ytrisia pulled her face back to meet his eyes. The question echoed inside her head. What else could he possibly need? She had given herself completely. Her heart. Her body. Her submission. The taste of her tears still lingered on her cheeks.

"I gave you everything," she said softly, voice trembling. "Isn't that enough?"

He paused.

His eyes didn't answer. Not yet.

Instead, he said:

"I have some conditions."

Ytrisia's heart thudded hard in her chest. Her lips parted, confusion flashing in her eyes, but she nodded.

Whatever it was… she was ready to hear it.

He turned, slowly walking toward the bed, the dim lighting catching the steam rising from their bodies.

She stayed quiet, just watching his face, waiting.

"I want a promise from you," he said, breath steady, though something deeper trembled under it. "That you'll prove your love every time I ask."

She blinked again. "I don't understand…"

He stopped at the bed's edge.

"I want you," he said, voice low, "to give me a blowjob… whenever I ask."

Her body stiffened in his arms. A sharp inhale escaped her lips.

Her legs tightened around his waist. Her ass, still cradled in his palms, tensed.

"What…?"

Cruxius's gaze didn't waver. "In return, I promise… I'll never touch another woman without asking you first."

Ytrisia flinched.

Not because the demand was cruel. But because it wasn't.

Because it was an offer. A trade.

Not domination.

Informed submission.

And she knew him. Knew what he was. What he'd always be. Perverse. Hungry. Unapologetic. His lust was never going to disappear.

But this—

This was the closest he had come to asking for restraint.

Her throat tightened.

She should have protested. Should have screamed, called him selfish, disgusting, twisted.

But instead…

She laid her head down on his shoulder.

Quiet.

Still.

Agreeing.

Her silence was answer enough.

Cruxius didn't smile.

Didn't soften.

His fingers sank deeper into the plush swell of her ass, prying her cheeks apart with deliberate cruelty as he stepped back from the bed—not to lay her down, not yet.

She wasn't free.

She wasn't done.

Neither was he.

Her heart thumped—one, two, sharp pulses in her ribs—as she gasped, thighs forced wider. Her body clung to his out of instinct, out of memory. Her pussy, still sore and tender from the night before, was drooling around the base of his shaft, warm and pulsing like it remembered him even more vividly than she did.

Her arms tightened around his neck, not knowing if he meant to drop her or take her again. Her breasts crushed against his chest, the raw scrape of her nipples against his skin making her suck in a shaky breath.

She was tired.

She was aching.

But she was also throbbing.

"I said," he growled, voice thick with smoke and dark hunger, "whenever I ask."

His lips brushed her ear, and she jolted—not in fear, but because of the sudden, deep ache that pooled low in her belly. Her body betrayed her again, muscles clenching, breath stuttering.

He shifted her, and her legs trembled slightly around his waist, still sore from how wide he'd held her last night. His cock, thick and soft and still hot from the afterglow of their last brutal encounter, dragged against her swollen slit.

Her clit pulsed against the sticky base of his shaft, sending jolts of humiliating pleasure through her, even now.

"I'll use your mouth, yes," he whispered, slow and cruel. "But I want more than that."

A pulse of shame and heat rolled through her. She bit her lip, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

She loved him.

But she didn't understand him. Not this part.

"I want your cunt when you're half-asleep, twitching on my fingers before dawn. I want your ass slick and stretched open, sloppy from how deep I've been. I want to wake up with your pussy wrapped around me, leaking because your body begged in your sleep."

Her eyes flew open. A tiny sound escaped her lips. Her throat clenched, and so did the tender walls between her thighs.

She hated how her body answered him.

Hated how she could feel her pulse between her legs, even now.

Even after last night.

Even after crying in his arms when it was over.

"And I want you filthy for it," he went on, voice velvet and razors. "Wearing no panties. Walking around with my cum still inside you. Sitting on my cock while I work, pretending you're not dripping onto the floor. Spreading your legs at the dinner table because I told you to."

Her chest hitched. A flash of heat tore through her spine.

She felt it.

The drip.

A humiliating, hot trickle escaping her sore hole and sliding down her inner thigh.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to cry.

But she also wanted to melt into him.

"And in return," he said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes, "I give you this."

His voice dipped, almost gentle—no, reverent.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide, lip trembling again.

"This promise," he said, as if realizing that he needed to break her mind with his demands, break her character first. Given her superhero principles, he needed to first remove the first layer of her dignity, make her completely naked to his desires. And when it happened, he would slowly manipulate her into deeper things like betraying her first principle of not killing innocents. But to do that, he needed to give her an offer that was too alluring for someone who overcame her fear to love someone with a loose character like him.

"I won't touch another woman. I won't taste, fuck, or even flirt. But only if you let me ruin you. If you're mine like that."

Her pulse was thundering in her ears. Her stomach clenched. Her thighs quivered.

He meant every word.

She believed him.

And she didn't know if that terrified her more than the filth in his voice.

His cock throbbed against her, slow and thick and heavy against her soaked slit.

"And I mean every inch. Every hole. Every cry. You give me all of you—your shame, your heat, your filth—and I'll give you all of me."

Her mouth opened—but nothing came out.

Only a broken whimper, quiet and fragile.

Her hands fisted his shoulders like they were the only thing holding her together. Her thighs squeezed around him, the tremble in her muscles betraying the contradiction she couldn't voice.

She wanted to run.