Arts by BubbleTeeXL

Black Mercy

his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "Or is your pride more important than your survival?"
She forced her eyes to meet his. She did not see her man. She saw something else—a Kryptonian who had seen his mate brutalized and was now prepared to use a terrifying level of force to reclaim her.
she whispered, her voice cracking. "But... this... it's so humil... humiliating..."
Kal's thumb brushed gently over her lips, silencing her words. "Diana, I need to get you out of these clothes," he said softly, his fingers deftly working to undo the straps of her shredded costume. When he finished, Diana lay before him, her statuesque form now exposed and vulnerable. The soft curves of her breasts, the gentle swell of her hips, the delicate folds of her sex – all were on full display.
The Black Mercy glistened obscenely within her, its tendrils pulsing faintly... It was feeding on her.
“Diana,” he breathed, his voice thick.
Her eyelids fluttered... pupils blown wide with a terrifying mixture of pain and want. Her lips parted, and a shuddering gasp escaped her.
“K… Kal…”
Her voice was wrecked, raw.
Kal exhaled. Slowly, so slowly, he peeled away the last remnants of her clothing. Her breasts heaved with every labored breath, nipples stiff from overstimulation. The curve of her stomach was slick with sweat, her thighs parted in an obscene, helpless display. And there, nestled between her swollen, glistening folds, was the Black Mercy.
Kal’s stomach turned. “Diana…”
Her fingers curled into fists. “Fix it,” she begged, voice cracking.

He scooped her into his arms, and she whimpered, her body shuddering violently against his chest. It took everything in him not to react to the slick heat of her thighs pressing against him, the way her body instinctively arched toward him..
Kal carried her to the Fortress... Every step sent a fresh tremor through her, every jostle elicited a choked gasp. he laid her on the medical table, Diana was trembling... fingers digging into the sheets. Her eyes wild, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

the Black Mercy was already taking its toll. Her consciousness was flickering, her control over her own body rapidly diminishing. He opened his eyes, a grim resolve hardening his features. This wasn’t about consent anymore. It was about saving her life, even if he had to sacrifice her dignity.
“Diana, you have to trust me. I won’t hurt you more than I have to. I swear it.”
He leaned down, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead. "Forgive me, Diana," he whispered.
His fingers moved with an almost surgical precision, gently manipulating the engorged, hypersensitive folds of her vulva around the alien parasite. His gaze was fixed on her face, watching the conflicting emotions war within her. He moved his thumb, rubbing firmly against her clitoris, which was now painfully swollen and throbbing..

He shifted her, his hands gripping her waist with enough pressure to leave marks. He positioned her on his lap, the parasite inside her pulsing in anticipation of the only thing that could dislodge it: a sensory overload so intense the organism would be forced to detach to avoid being incinerated by the host's neural firing.
his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her glutes. He would push her to the absolute brink, her womb muscles clenching, her breath catching in a strangled cry, only to halt, to shift his angle, to change his rhythm of pounding. He would trace the contours of her ravaged skin, before plunging back into the depths of her, each thrust calculated to maximize the agony.

Aftermath
She did not move; she barely breathed. The only sign of life was the rhythmic, involuntary twitch of her thighs—a residual echo of the seven-hour ordeal that had finally purged the Black Mercy from her womb.
with a wet pop, the Black Mercy detached. Diana collapsed back onto the table, a shuddering, broken mess. Her body was slick with sweat and other fluids, trembling uncontrollably, utterly spent. The wild look in her eyes slowly receded, replaced by a profound, desolate emptiness. She looked at Kal, her gaze unfocused, then slowly, agonizingly, it sharpened, and the full shame of what had just transpired washed over her. A fresh wave of tears, silent and devastating, cascaded down her face. Kal-El pulled his hand away, he stared at his hand, covered in her fluids.He looked at Diana. Her face was buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
The silence that followed was heavier than the crystal ceiling of the Fortress. **Diana remained draped over him, a pale, sweat-slicked statue of a goddess. Kal-El didn’t move. He kept his arms locked around her, his chin resting against her damp temple. He could feel her heart, which had been a frantic, hummingbird blur, finally beginning to settle into a deep, exhausted thud.
"It’s over, Diana," he whispered. He reached out and gently unhooked her fingers from his shoulders. Her nails had left deep, white gouges in his skin. Diana’s head fell forward. A soft, broken sound escaped her—half-sob, half-sigh. He stood up, keeping her cradled against his chest. She was utterly limp, her long, muscular legs dangling, her arms hanging like silk ribbons.
Diana hung in his arms, utterly spent... the last vestige of her Amazonian strength seemingly evaporated. **Her skin was a mottled landscape of angry red handprints where Kal’s fingers had dug in, and stark white lines where the Lasso of Hestia had bitten into her ivory flesh. He unwound the Golden Lasso from Diana’s wrists. Her arms, devoid of any will, fell uselessly to her sides... Her head lolled against his shoulder, her mouth slightly agape, a thin trail of saliva, mixed with a hint of blood, tracing a path down her chin.
“Diana?” he whispered. There was no answer, no flutter of an eyelid, no tremor of a muscle.
With infinite care, he lifted her, cradling her pliant form against his chest. She felt impossibly light, a feather in his arms. He laid her gently on a medical diagnostic bed... a faint blue light that immediately began to scan her vitals. A soft hum filled the air, the silent language of a machine assessing the damage to a goddess. Her heart rate was now a slow, irregular thrum. **Her nervous system, overstimulated to the point of collapse, was attempting to regulate itself. She was alive, but barely.
A faint tremor ran through Diana’s eyelids. Then another. Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, her eyes fluttered open. The world was a blur of hazy blue light, and a crushing weight in her limbs. Her head ached, a dull, throbbing pulse behind her eyes.
Kal. His hands, so gentle in the bath, yet so brutally effective... She remembered the speed, the agonizing climax after climax, a hundred peaks in five minutes, each one a tearing of her very essence. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and fast, tracing paths through the dried residue of blood on her cheeks. They weren’t tears of physical pain, but of a soul utterly ravaged, of a spirit violated to its core, even in salvation.

DID not withdraw+levitate
Kal-El did not withdraw. He remained buried deep within her. He could feel the internal tremors of her recovery, the way her heat-slicked vaginal walls clutched at him in mindless, post-traumatic spasms.
He remained joined with her. It was a physical necessity, he told himself—a way to monitor her recovery, to feel the internal tremors of her vaginal muscle, her nervous system... he shifted his weight slightly, a slow, micro-adjustment that sent a fresh wave of over-stimulated agony through her. Diana’s back arched instinctively, her fingers clawing at the furs. Her body was so raw, so thoroughly sensitized by the hundred-fold purge he had forced her through, that even a millimeter of movement felt like a bolt of lightning.
**He reached down, his hands sliding under her armpits. With a slow, deliberate grace, he began to levitate. Diana’s head fell forth, her neck bending at an unnatural, vulnerable angle. Her raven hair cascaded like a waterfall of silk toward the floor as he rose into the air. She was completely limp, an ivory-skinned doll impaled on a god. She offered no resistance, her muscles too exhausted to even tensing. As he ascended toward the upper tiers of the Fortress, her weight shifted, her pelvis pressing harder against his groin, the gravity forcing his dick even deeper into her over-sensitized cervix. A broken, wet sound escaped her throat. It wasn't a scream, nor a word. **It was the sound of a living thing that had been dismantled and put back together incorrectly.
He hovered over the steaming water of the restorative baths he used after his most grueling battles. He didn't set her down. He didn't uncouple...
"You... you’re... still... inside..." she stammered, her eyes fluttering, unable to hold his gaze. "...it’s... been... hours... why...?"
"It’s not the first time, is it?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. "The time in the Mediterranean... The ambush in the Phantom Zone. I’ve carried you out of the wreckage so many times, Diana. Limp. Broken. Shredded. I am tired of seeing you like that. I am tired of the world thinking they can break what belongs to me."
Diana’s breath hitched. "...I... I don't... belong... to... anyone..."
"Zod didn't just defeat you, Diana. He put that thing inside you because he knew you couldn't stop him. He knew your 'warrior's spirit' had limits. I am here to make sure those limits no longer exist."
"Kal..." she finally slurred. "Please... let... let me down."
"I can't," he murmured, his grip tightening on her armpits, his fingers sinking into her soft flesh. "You're too weak to stand.."
He lowered them into the water. It was hot. As the water rose to chest height, Diana’s head lolled onto his shoulder. She was pressed flush against him, her back crushed against his chest..
He began to wash her. With a piece of soft, Kryptonian cloth, He scrubbed her shoulders, her back, and the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, all while remaining his cock firmly, unrelentingly inside her. Every movement he made sent a fresh jolt through her nervous system. She was so raw, so thoroughly "opened" by the previous hours, that even the gentle friction of the water felt like an assault.
"I... I hate you," she sobbed, the words bubbling up from the depths of her fractured pride. The Lasso pulsed gold, demanding the full truth. "I hate... that you saw me like this. I hate... Zod... I hate..."
She gasped, her back arching as he adjusted his position, his cock brushing against the bruised roof of her cervix. **She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her teeth grazing his skin in a gesture that was half-bite, half-kiss...
"You are mine," Kal corrected. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to look into eyes..
He lifted her slightly, then dropped her back down onto his erection with a wet, heavy thud. Diana let out a sharp, high-pitched keening sound, her fingers clawing at his cape.
The night stretched on... He did not let her go. When he finally moved her from the bath to the central bed of the Fortress—he kept her impaled, carrying her through the halls. He laid her down, but he stayed over her, his weight pinning her to the furs. Her body was a map of his obsession: the purple bruises on her hips where he had gripped her, the faint red lines from the Lasso, and the permanent flush of a woman who had been kept on the brink of a climax for a lifetime’s worth of seconds.
"You said... you would train me," she whispered.
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "You wanted to be Superman’s girlfriend. You wanted to stand by my side. This is what it means to be it."
It was a total, ego-dissolving surrender. The Amazonian warrior, the champion of justice...
As the first rays of the Arctic sun hit the crystals of the Fortress, Kal looked down at the sleeping, exhausted woman in his arms. She was still impaled, her body, it seems, having finally accepted him as a permanent part of her anatomy. He kissed her forehead...

Bath
As he stripped the last of her iconic armor away, Diana felt a fresh wave of shame wash over her... here she was, being peeled like fruit by the only man she had ever allowed herself to love.
"Stop... please," she gasped, her head lulling back against the crystal rim. Her raven hair was a matted halo of wet silk. "I can... I can do it..."
"You can't even hold your head up, Princess," Kal countered.
As his hands moved lower, tracing the bruises on her ribs where Zod’s boots had collided with her smooth flesh, the Black Mercy inside her gave a vicious, parasitic throb. Diana’s back arched violently out of the water, her breasts—heavy and swollen—heaving as a choked cry escaped her blood-flecked lips.
"Kal... it's... it's too much," she whimpered, her fingers clawing at the edge of the basin.
"I know," he whispered, moving his hand between her thighs to wash away the slick evidence of her body’s betrayal.

Last edited on 08 February 2026, 09:10.

Base +3, tongresman.xvii -4

Torrent please

Base +6