My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines

Each exhale was a mix of breath and broken moan, her throat too raw for words.

And then—he kissed her.

He turned his head just enough and brushed his lips across her cheek. Then down to the side of her mouth. And then—

His hand slid beneath her chin, fingers curling to lift it gently, and he kissed her full.

Mouth to mouth.

Slow.

Wet.

Hungry.

Their tongues met and slid, water pouring over their faces, drenching their kiss. His lips sucked on hers. His teeth grazed her lower lip. The kiss wasn't clean—it was messy, dripping, open-mouthed. His tongue tasted the back of her throat, claiming her as the hot water rinsed their flushed faces.

And the whole time—

His hips moved.

Schlop.

A slow, dragging thrust upward. His cock slid deeper again, nudging at the end of her abused passage.

She gasped into his mouth.

"Mnhh—haaah… ahh…"

Her body jerked slightly, not in escape, but reaction—his cock grinding through the loosened grip of her stretched rim, wet and slick.

Schlop.

Another roll of his hips. Another wet sound. Another twitch in her stomach.

Her hands finally lifted, weak fingers grasping at his wrist that held her breast, not to stop him—just to hold on. To ground herself.

He kissed her again.

Deeper this time.

His tongue moved lazily, tasting her broken moans, while his cock moved with slow, rhythmic thrusts—fucking her ruined hole like it belonged to him.

Because now it did.

Her ass wasn't resisting anymore. It clenched and twitched every time he pulled back, only to suck him in again. She could feel the shape of him inside her—pushing her open, grinding her soft inner walls.

She was trained.

Molded.

Ruined.

And she couldn't stop moaning, even if it wasn't loud anymore. It came as soft, hot breaths, trembling out between her parted lips.

"Haah… haah… nnh… Cruxi…us…"

Her body trembled again. The weight of the water. The heat of him. The ache in her core. It was all too much.

Pink hair clung to her damp face. Her eyes fluttered open halfway, glassy, unfocused. Her lips were swollen from the kiss, glistening.

He pulled away slightly—just enough to let the water run between their mouths, rinsing the trail of spit and breath from their skin.

She looked up at him.

Barely.

Eyes hazy.

Lashes wet.

Face flushed red and glistening.

And he smirked.

Smug.

In control.

His hand slid up her stomach again, slowly, knuckles grazing over her wet skin, pushing the clinging top higher—until his palm cupped her breast fully. His thumb flicked over her soaked, throbbing nipple.

She gasped.

"Haahhh—haaah…"

Then his voice.

Low.

Dark.

Felt more than heard, right at her ear.

"You're not moaning now," he murmured, voice curling with pride.

She shivered.

Her legs almost buckled again.

"Haaah… haah… mmhh…"

Her lips parted, her tongue barely moving—but no words came.

Only heat.

Only breath.

Only his cock—still pulsing deep inside her leaking, ruined hole.

"I hate you," she whispered — barely louder than the water hissing down, her voice cracking, raw. Her breath shook with it, chest heaving against the steam-slick air, but her fingers still trembled against his wrist.

Her body leaned into him even as her words tried to pull away.

He let out a dark, low chuckle right beside her ear, lips brushing against the wet shell.

"Hate me for loving you like this?" His voice was a rasp — velvet mixed with iron — smug, slow, merciless.

His hand at her chest squeezed her breast again, thumb dragging a tight circle around her stiff nipple, and she gasped through clenched teeth, arching slightly into it.

She reached back, weak fingers wrapping around his wrist, trying to push him away — but it slipped. Slick with water, sweat, arousal — it slid off like she had no strength at all. And in that bare moment of failure, he moved.

His hand dropped down — fluid, practiced — tracing her soaked, trembling stomach, gliding over the cling of her bunched-up skirt… until he found the jagged tear in her stockings.

She tensed.

He didn't stop.

His fingers slid between the shredded gaps — right over the swollen, glistening heat between her thighs.

Her pussy peeked through the torn fabric like something forbidden laid bare. Dripping. Shining. Still aching.

"N-no…" she whispered, voice barely a breath, "don't…" But it was hollow.

Her thighs stayed parted. Her hips didn't move away. Her words hung in the air, unanswered, while her body betrayed her — open, trembling, already wet again.

He pressed.

Two fingers slowly slid along her clit — the ruined edge of the stockings scraping lightly, roughly — and she jolted.

"Hhh—!"

He grinned against her cheek. "Still pretending," he murmured, words dripping into her skin like heat. "Even now, when you're soaked for me."

Her head lolled back against his shoulder, lips parted in a soundless gasp. His fingers began to move — lazy, precise circles around her swollen clit, pushing down just enough to make her hips twitch, her knees buckle.

His cock twitched inside her ass, still buried thick and heavy, still claiming her from behind.

And now his hand claimed the front too.

"Haah… haaah…"

Her moans were breathy at first — soft, gasped between clenched teeth — but as his fingers moved faster, firmer, she couldn't hold them anymore. She whimpered.

She shook. Her thighs trembled as slick heat gathered between her folds, more and more, drenching his fingers through the torn fabric.

Her hips began to grind — just a little. Reflex. Instinct. Betrayal.

He kissed her again.

Hot.

Hard.

Tongue invading, licking up her breath like it belonged to him. His teeth grazed her lower lip as he swallowed her broken sounds.

Her hands, no longer pushing him away, clung to his forearm instead — nails digging in, just to stay upright.

And then — his other hand moved.

Slow.

Certain.

It slid to the soaked laces of her maid dress, tugging. Loosening. Undoing her inch by inch.

The fabric fell apart — wet, heavy, clinging — sliding down her arms, her shoulders, her chest. Her breasts spilled free, flushed and bouncing with every twitch of her hips.

Water ran down their curve, over her nipples, already red and aching.

He groaned low in her ear.

"Look at you… your tiny hole is your weakness even now... my cotton candy."