I'm the Villain, But the Heroines Keep Choosing Me-Chapter 125: Control (r18)

Seria didn’t complain. If anything, she moved faster, clearly enjoying the rougher handling.

"Harder," she demanded. "Fuck me like you mean it."

Something shifted in Damien. The corruption that had been simmering beneath careful control surged forward, making him rougher, more aggressive, less concerned with being gentle.p

He flipped their positions without warning, pinning Seria beneath him, his hands gripping her thighs and spreading them wider. Then he thrust into her with force that made the bed shake.

"Yes!" Seria’s approval was immediate. "Like that – exactly like that – "

He gave her what she wanted – hard, deep strokes that hit angles meant top overwhelm. No careful building of sensation, no measured pace – just raw intensity driven by corrupted desire.

Seria’s nails raked down his back, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him deeper. "Don’t – don’t hold back – I can take it – "

Damien didn’t hold back. He fucked her with abandon that would have concerned him if he was thinking clearly. But the corruption made it feel right – this aggressive claiming, this rough intensity, this surrender to pure physical want.

Elara watched from beside them, her hand between her own legs, clearly aroused by witnessing the intensity.

"She looks beautiful like this," Elara observed, her voice breathless

Seria came with a scream, her body clenching around him so tightly it almost hurt. Damien worked her through it without mercy, drawing out the climax until she was sobbing with overstimulation.

Only then did he stop, pulling out carefully, his own release still pending.

"My turn," Elara said immediately. She moved onto her hands and knees, looking back at him over her shoulder.

Damien positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips with the same bruising force he’d used on Seria. Then he thrust in, burying himself completely in one stroke.

Elara’s back arched, her head dropping forward. "Gods – yes – more – "

He gave her more. The same aggressive pace, the same overwhelming intensity, his hips snapping forward with force that made her whole body shake.

This was different from their usual intimacy. Rougher. More primal. The corruption driving him to take rather than give, to claim rather than cherish.

P

And they loved it.

Elara pushed back to meet his thrusts, her hands fisting in the sheets, her moans continuous and uninhibited. "Harder – please – I need – "

Damien’s hand tangled in her golden hair, pulling her head back, arching her spine further. The position let him go deeper, hit angles that made Elara cry out.

"Like this?" he growled, his voice rougher than usual.

"Exactly – like that – don’t stop – "

The stimulation was too much. Elara came hard, her inner walls clamping down on him rhythmically, her scream of pleasure muffled as she bit into the pillow.

Damien didn’t slow. Just kept moving, prolonging her climax until she collapsed forward, trembling.

He pulled out, his control fraying but still holding. Both women were satisfied, thoroughly pleasured, exactly where he wanted them.

But he still hadn’t finished.

"Both of you," he said, his voice carrying command that was pure corruption. "On your knees."

They obeyed without hesitation, moving to kneel in front of him, their faces level with his still-hard length.

"Open your mouths," Damien instructed.

They did, and he guided himself between them, letting them take turns – Seria’s mouth, then Elara’s, back and forth, two tongues working him in coordination.

The visual alone was almost enough to push him over the edge. Both women servicing him, their hands joining their mouths, working together to give him pleasure without reservation.

"I’m close," he warned.

"Then finish," Seria said between strokes. "Give us what we earned."

"Come for us," Elara added. "Let us taste it."

That permission was all it took. Damien’s orgasm hit with force that left him shaking, spilling across both their tongues as they shared him without hesitation.

When he finally stopped, both women swallowed without being asked, their expressions showing clear satisfaction.

"That was intense," Elara observed, licking her lips.

"You were rougher than usual," Seria added. "It was incredible. But definitely different."

Damien collapsed onto the bed between them, exhaustion finally catching up now that the arousal had been satisfied.

"Too rough?" he asked, some part of him suddenly concerned he’d gone too far.

"Not even close," Seria assured him. "That was perfect."

"We like it when you lose control in here," Elara agreed, curling against his side. "When you stop calculating and just feel and passion overwhelms the strategy."

"It felt good to just... let go," Damien admitted. "To stop managing everything and just surrender to sensation."

"That’s what we want," Seria said from his other side. "For you to feel safe enough with us to completely let go. To be rough when you want to be rough, gentle when you want to be gentle, whatever feels right in the moment rather than what you think we expect."

"We trust you," Elara added. "All of you. The strategic parts and the passionate parts and everything in between. You don’t have to hide or restrain yourself here. Not with us."

Damien felt something warm bloom in his chest – gratitude, affection, the bone-deep comfort of being completely accepted. The corruption tried to suppress it, frame it as tactical weakness, but the anchor bonds pushed back enough that he felt it fully.

They lay together in comfortable silence, bodies cooling, breathing returning to normal. The anchor bonds hummed with satisfaction and renewed strength, pushing back the corruption’s influence more effectively than they had in days.

They eventually moved to actually sleep, bodies tangled together in the familiar configuration that maximized anchor bond contact. Damien felt the corruption settle back to its baseline thirty percent, no longer spiking from isolation and solo operations.

This was what he needed. Not just physical satisfaction, but emotional grounding. Proof that connection was worth fighting for, that humanity could survive alongside darkness if the anchors were strong enough.

Tomorrow, he’d return to his assassination assignments. To the careful elimination of imperial traitors.

To the strategic isolation required for operations his anchors couldn’t know about.

But he was happy now.