10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 189 - Tainting the Superheroine with My Seed

Chapter 189: Chapter 189 - Tainting the Superheroine with My Seed

She wasn’t free.

She wasn’t done.

And neither was he.

Her heart kicked—one, two, sharp, erratic pulses against her ribs—as she gasped, her thighs forced painfully wider. Her flushed body clung to his torso out of sheer instinct and muscle memory.

Her pussy, still deliciously sore and tender from the hours before, was practically drooling around the thick base of his shaft. It pulsed against him, warm and inviting, as if her anatomy remembered his touch even more vividly than her conscious mind did.

Her arms locked tighter around his neck. She didn’t know if he meant to drop her onto the sheets or take her right there standing up. Her tender breasts crushed into his chest, the raw scrape of her erect nipples rubbing against his skin making her suck in a shaky, shallow breath.

She was exhausted.

She was aching.

But god, she was also throbbing.

"I said," he growled, the sound thick with smoke and dark promises, "whenever I ask."

His lips grazed the sensitive shell of her ear, and she jolted—not out of fear, but from the sudden, pooling ache of heat that flooded the lowest part of her belly. Her traitorous body answered him again, inner muscles clenching, her breath stuttering into a soft whine.

He shifted her weight. Her legs trembled around his waist, the joints protesting from how wide he’d stretched her all night. His cock, thick and heavy, still radiating heat from the afterglow of their brutal session, dragged agonizingly against her swollen, sensitive slit.

Her swollen clit dragged right over the sticky base of his root, sending a fresh jolt of humiliating, electric pleasure straight up her spine.

"I’ll use your mouth, yes," he whispered, his tone agonizingly slow and cruel. "But I want more than that."

A wave of hot shame rolled through her chest. She bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief second.

She loved him.

But she didn’t fully comprehend the depths of him. Not this dark, consuming 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 for it in your sleep."

Her dark eyes snapped open. A tiny, broken sound escaped her throat. Her throat clenched tight, and so did the tender, abused walls between her spread thighs.

She hated how eagerly her flesh answered his filth.

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

Even after being wrecked.

Even after sobbing in his arms when the climax broke her.

"And I want you filthy for it," he continued, his voice a lethal mix of 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 just because I told you to."

Her chest hitched. A sudden flash of liquid heat tore right down her spine.

She felt it.

The inevitable drip.

A humiliating, hot trickle of his thick seed escaping her overused, gaping hole, sliding a slow path down her chilled inner thigh.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to cry.

But above all else, she wanted to melt into a puddle at his feet.

"And in return," he murmured, pulling back just enough to force her to meet his intense stare, "I give you this."

His voice dipped low, shifting into something almost gentle—no, reverent.

She blinked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, her plush lower lip trembling once more.

"This promise," he repeated. It was a calculated strike. He knew exactly what he was doing. He needed to fracture her mind with these demands, to systematically dismantle her character. Given her stubborn superhero principles, the first step was stripping away her dignity—leaving her bare, leaking, and entirely subject to his darkest whims. Once she accepted this baseline of sexual degradation, he could slowly twist her moral compass, molding her until she was ready to betray her most sacred rule: the vow never to kill an innocent. But to drag a hero into the dark, he had to dangle a prize too intoxicating for a woman who had just conquered her own fears to love a notorious stray 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 thundered in her ears, deafening and wild. Her stomach clenched tight. The muscles in her thighs quivered against his flanks.

He meant every single syllable.

She believed him.

And she didn’t know if that terrifying sincerity scared her more than the utter filth dripping from his tongue.

His half-erect cock gave a thick, heavy throb right against her soaked, messy slit, a physical reminder of who she belonged to now.

"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 to speak—but her voice failed her.

Only a broken, fragile whimper managed to escape.

Her hands fisted the slick skin of his broad shoulders as though they were the only anchor keeping her from shattering. Her sore thighs squeezed tighter around him, the minute trembling in her muscles betraying the massive contradiction she couldn’t voice.

She wanted to run.

But her body... her ruined, thoroughly marked body... it wanted to stay.

He pressed closer, caging her softness against his rigid frame. Her bruised nipples ached at the sudden friction, and her stomach fluttered violently, like trapped wings beating against her ribs.

"I won’t lie to you," he murmured, his voice more flame than breath. "I’ll still look. Still ache. Still fantasize. But if you let me use your mouth before I even say good morning—if I can take your holes without needing to ask—then I swear... you’re the only one I’ll beg for. The only one I’ll kneel to. The only one who’ll ever own my filth."

Her slick legs trembled. Her fingers curled into his damp hair in helpless surrender.

"I’m... I’m scared," she whispered.

Her heart screamed with the admission.

Her rigid morals fractured.

His lips brushed hers—soft, teasing, devastatingly cruel.

"I’m worse than anything you fear."

And still, she didn’t pull away.

Still, she clung to him.

Carrying her weight effortlessly, he closed the distance to the bed—but he didn’t lay her down. Not yet.

He held her suspended right on the edge.

Her thighs remained spread wide around his waist, her hips quivering as she stayed straddled against him. She couldn’t hide the broken flutter of her breath, or the raw, flushed ache of the night etched into every inch of her pale skin.

His grip shifted.

One broad hand kept its punishing hold on her ass.

The other slipped deliberately between her thighs.

She whimpered—a tiny, helpless gasp—as his rough fingers mapped the slick, swollen heat of her. The messy cocktail of his seed and her own nectar made her sensitive folds flutter wildly under his calluses.

"You’re scared," he hummed, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. "But your pussy is sucking air like it’s lonely."

Two thick fingers slid inside her dripping canal.

Squish.

"W-wait—Anghh!"