Sex
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 10
by
copier
· original author:
an188
Blitzo barely let the door slam shut before he was on her.
Loona stumbled backward into her cluttered dorm room—posters of screaming bands peeling from the walls, black sheets tangled on an unmade bed, cigarette butts and empty energy drink cans scattered like casualties. She didn’t get two steps before Blitzo’s massive hands clamped around her waist, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her platform boots dangled for a second, then he spun and slammed her back against the wall hard enough to rattle the cheap plaster.
“Fuck—yes,” she gasped, legs already wrapping around his narrow waist.
Blitzo grinned, all teeth and triumph. He flexed—deliberately, obscenely. Every hypertrophied inch of him tensed at once: traps rising like volcanic ridges, pecs ballooning until the mesh crop top stretched to transparency, lats flaring wide enough to eclipse the light switch. Veins pulsed across his arms like rivers on fire. The vinyl pants gave a tortured creak—then split down the front with a loud rrrrrip. His thick, pierced cock sprang free, already leaking, slapping wetly against his shredded abs. Shreds of fabric fluttered to the floor. He stood naked, oiled bronze skin gleaming under the dim purple LED strips, a god carved from lust and spite.
Loona’s breath hitched. Her black-lined eyes were huge, pupils blown, nipples stabbing through her cropped top like bullets. Between her thighs, her shorts were soaked through.
Blitzo didn’t ask. He simply reached out and tore. One claw-like swipe of his long purple nails shredded the crisscross straps of her top; another ripped the booty shorts and thigh-highs away in one brutal motion. Fabric fluttered like defeated flags. She was bare now—pale skin flushed pink, silver hair wild, small silver piercings glinting in her nipples and navel, cunt already glistening and swollen.
He pinned her harder against the wall, one massive forearm caging her head, the other gripping her thigh to hitch her leg higher. Then he kissed her—deep, filthy, possessive. His lavender lips crushed hers, tongue shoving in without preamble, thick and hot and demanding. He fucked her mouth with it, tasting smoke and metal and desperation while she moaned into him, nails raking uselessly down his unbreakable back.
Invisible to Loona, Stolas hovered in the corner like decadent theater seating, ghostly-pale muscles flexing in sympathetic rhythm. His own cock was in his gold-clawed hand, stroking slowly, red-slit eyes glowing with sadistic delight.
Magnifique, he purred telepathically into Blitzo’s mind. Look at her melt. So fierce on the outside, yet she’s already dripping like a faucet for you. Pin her harder, darling—make her scream your name until the RA comes knocking.
Blitzo growled into Loona’s mouth, breaking the kiss with a wet pop. Ropes of saliva stretched between their lips before snapping. He lined himself up—thick head nudging her soaked entrance—and thrust in one brutal stroke.
Loona screamed—pleasure, shock, surrender all at once. “Fuck—Blitzo—!”
He didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her like he was trying to break the wall behind her—deep, punishing, relentless. Each snap of his hips drove her up the plaster, her back scraping, thighs trembling around his waist. Her head thrashed, silver hair whipping across her face. “Yes—yes—harder—fuck—!”
Blitzo shifted—lifted her completely off the ground, turned, and carried her across the room while still buried to the hilt. He fucked her mid-stride, every step slamming deeper. She clawed at his shoulders, leaving red trails that vanished almost instantly on his unbreakable skin. He dropped her onto the desk—scattering books, cans, a cracked mirror—then bent her over it, gripping her hips with bruising force. Thrust after thrust rattled the furniture; wood groaned in protest.
Stolas drifted closer, stroking faster now, forked tongue lolling. Oh, she’s exquisite when she breaks. Listen to those little whimpers. You’re ruining her, master—ruining her so beautifully. Fill her. Mark her. Make her wake up tomorrow still leaking your custard.
Loona’s moans turned to full-throated screams. Her cunt clenched around him like a vice, walls fluttering, thighs shaking. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—!”
Blitzo felt it build—pressure like a supernova in his core. His balls drew tight, cock swelling impossibly thicker inside her. He roared, slamming in one final time, burying himself to the root.
“SPLURGE!”
The first thick rope erupted, flooding her, spilling out around his shaft in heavy, sticky pulses.
“SPLUURGE!”
More followed—custard-thick, opaque white, gushing in endless waves. It painted her insides, overflowed, dripped down her thighs in viscous strands, splattered across the desk, the floor, the wall behind them.
“SPLUUURGE!”
Loona came with a broken scream, body convulsing, eyes rolling back. Her orgasm milked him harder, drawing out every last drop until she went limp, boneless, head lolling forward. She passed out mid-shudder, cheek pressed to the desk, silver hair fanned across scattered papers, chest heaving, cunt still twitching around his softening cock.
Blitzo pulled out slowly, a final thick rope of cum splattering across her ass and lower back like glaze on porcelain. The room reeked of sex, smoke, and sweet vanilla. Cum dripped from every surface—desk, floor, even a streak on the ceiling fan blade that must have flown there mid-thrust.
Stolas sighed theatrically, licking his own release from his claws. A masterpiece, darling. She’ll be ruined for anyone else. Shall we leave her a little souvenir?
Blitzo smirked, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of one massive forearm. He stepped over the wreckage—naked, glistening, still half-hard—and grabbed the copper lamp from where he’d dropped it near the door. He tucked it back against his waistband.
Loona didn’t stir.
He glanced back at her once—passed out, covered in his thick white claim, looking smaller and softer than she ever had—then shrugged.
“Sweet dreams, Sweet Pup.”
What Blitzo do?
Loona stumbled backward into her cluttered dorm room—posters of screaming bands peeling from the walls, black sheets tangled on an unmade bed, cigarette butts and empty energy drink cans scattered like casualties. She didn’t get two steps before Blitzo’s massive hands clamped around her waist, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Her platform boots dangled for a second, then he spun and slammed her back against the wall hard enough to rattle the cheap plaster.
“Fuck—yes,” she gasped, legs already wrapping around his narrow waist.
Blitzo grinned, all teeth and triumph. He flexed—deliberately, obscenely. Every hypertrophied inch of him tensed at once: traps rising like volcanic ridges, pecs ballooning until the mesh crop top stretched to transparency, lats flaring wide enough to eclipse the light switch. Veins pulsed across his arms like rivers on fire. The vinyl pants gave a tortured creak—then split down the front with a loud rrrrrip. His thick, pierced cock sprang free, already leaking, slapping wetly against his shredded abs. Shreds of fabric fluttered to the floor. He stood naked, oiled bronze skin gleaming under the dim purple LED strips, a god carved from lust and spite.
Loona’s breath hitched. Her black-lined eyes were huge, pupils blown, nipples stabbing through her cropped top like bullets. Between her thighs, her shorts were soaked through.
Blitzo didn’t ask. He simply reached out and tore. One claw-like swipe of his long purple nails shredded the crisscross straps of her top; another ripped the booty shorts and thigh-highs away in one brutal motion. Fabric fluttered like defeated flags. She was bare now—pale skin flushed pink, silver hair wild, small silver piercings glinting in her nipples and navel, cunt already glistening and swollen.
He pinned her harder against the wall, one massive forearm caging her head, the other gripping her thigh to hitch her leg higher. Then he kissed her—deep, filthy, possessive. His lavender lips crushed hers, tongue shoving in without preamble, thick and hot and demanding. He fucked her mouth with it, tasting smoke and metal and desperation while she moaned into him, nails raking uselessly down his unbreakable back.
Invisible to Loona, Stolas hovered in the corner like decadent theater seating, ghostly-pale muscles flexing in sympathetic rhythm. His own cock was in his gold-clawed hand, stroking slowly, red-slit eyes glowing with sadistic delight.
Magnifique, he purred telepathically into Blitzo’s mind. Look at her melt. So fierce on the outside, yet she’s already dripping like a faucet for you. Pin her harder, darling—make her scream your name until the RA comes knocking.
Blitzo growled into Loona’s mouth, breaking the kiss with a wet pop. Ropes of saliva stretched between their lips before snapping. He lined himself up—thick head nudging her soaked entrance—and thrust in one brutal stroke.
Loona screamed—pleasure, shock, surrender all at once. “Fuck—Blitzo—!”
He didn’t give her time to adjust. He fucked her like he was trying to break the wall behind her—deep, punishing, relentless. Each snap of his hips drove her up the plaster, her back scraping, thighs trembling around his waist. Her head thrashed, silver hair whipping across her face. “Yes—yes—harder—fuck—!”
Blitzo shifted—lifted her completely off the ground, turned, and carried her across the room while still buried to the hilt. He fucked her mid-stride, every step slamming deeper. She clawed at his shoulders, leaving red trails that vanished almost instantly on his unbreakable skin. He dropped her onto the desk—scattering books, cans, a cracked mirror—then bent her over it, gripping her hips with bruising force. Thrust after thrust rattled the furniture; wood groaned in protest.
Stolas drifted closer, stroking faster now, forked tongue lolling. Oh, she’s exquisite when she breaks. Listen to those little whimpers. You’re ruining her, master—ruining her so beautifully. Fill her. Mark her. Make her wake up tomorrow still leaking your custard.
Loona’s moans turned to full-throated screams. Her cunt clenched around him like a vice, walls fluttering, thighs shaking. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna—!”
Blitzo felt it build—pressure like a supernova in his core. His balls drew tight, cock swelling impossibly thicker inside her. He roared, slamming in one final time, burying himself to the root.
“SPLURGE!”
The first thick rope erupted, flooding her, spilling out around his shaft in heavy, sticky pulses.
“SPLUURGE!”
More followed—custard-thick, opaque white, gushing in endless waves. It painted her insides, overflowed, dripped down her thighs in viscous strands, splattered across the desk, the floor, the wall behind them.
“SPLUUURGE!”
Loona came with a broken scream, body convulsing, eyes rolling back. Her orgasm milked him harder, drawing out every last drop until she went limp, boneless, head lolling forward. She passed out mid-shudder, cheek pressed to the desk, silver hair fanned across scattered papers, chest heaving, cunt still twitching around his softening cock.
Blitzo pulled out slowly, a final thick rope of cum splattering across her ass and lower back like glaze on porcelain. The room reeked of sex, smoke, and sweet vanilla. Cum dripped from every surface—desk, floor, even a streak on the ceiling fan blade that must have flown there mid-thrust.
Stolas sighed theatrically, licking his own release from his claws. A masterpiece, darling. She’ll be ruined for anyone else. Shall we leave her a little souvenir?
Blitzo smirked, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of one massive forearm. He stepped over the wreckage—naked, glistening, still half-hard—and grabbed the copper lamp from where he’d dropped it near the door. He tucked it back against his waistband.
Loona didn’t stir.
He glanced back at her once—passed out, covered in his thick white claim, looking smaller and softer than she ever had—then shrugged.
“Sweet dreams, Sweet Pup.”
What Blitzo do?
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June 13
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