10x God-Tier Stealing System: Pumping S-Rank SuperHeroines Daily!-Chapter 171 - Manipulating Ytrisia

The soft, definitive click of the heavy door echoed behind them, sealing them into the dim, secure room.

The magical lighting was low and moody, the walls smooth and sterile, the air perfectly still.

Far too still.

Ytrisia took a slow step forward, the sharp click of her low heels striking the cold stone floor.

Her signature purple latex suit clung aggressively to every single inch of her—thick, skintight, and flawlessly molded to her body like a second, shiny skin.

Her figure was deeply mature, lush, and completely impossible to ignore. Her hips were incredibly wide, sweeping up into a tight, snatched waist, while her breasts were heavy, full, and pushed high. The glossy latex caught the dim purple light with every subtle movement she made.

She looked around the room, her violet eyes scanning the shadows slowly.

"This place..." Her voice was soft, almost deceptively casual. "Doesn’t it feel entirely too clean? Like someone meticulously wiped it down to hide the blood."

Standing just behind her, Cruxius said nothing.

He was busy staring.

His dark eyes greedily followed the mesmerizing way the shiny suit hugged the heavy curve of her ass, tracking how her thick, muscular thighs pressed snugly together when she walked.

He breathed in—a slow, measured intake of air, acting like he was desperately trying to keep his primal control—but he didn’t bother to hide exactly what he was doing.

Then, he spoke quietly. "I’m sorry."

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Her voluptuous body stiffened for a fraction of a second, acting like the simple words had just touched a raw, exposed nerve deep inside her.

She turned around slowly. Her vibrant purple hair slid heavily over her shoulder, falling across her flushed cheek. Her violet eyes narrowed into sharp slits.

"What did you just say?"

Cruxius rubbed the back of his neck, his posture relaxed but guarded. His voice was low, sounding genuinely tired.

"I’m sorry for being exactly like this. I tried. I really did, Ytrisia. I tried to be the man you deserved. But every single time I think I can finally settle down... something dark inside me just breaks. And I go right back to chasing thrills, flirting recklessly, and completely fucking it up."

She crossed her arms tightly under her chest. The slick latex stretched dangerously taut over her heavy breasts, pulling the material tight. She didn’t speak.

Inside her head, the chaotic noise was deafening.

’You’ve said this exact line before. Every single time. This is exactly what you do. You break something beautiful, then come crawling back looking like you’re the one bleeding.’

Cruxius kept going, his dark eyes earnest.

"It’s not that I didn’t care deeply about you. I just... my body simply doesn’t stop. My libido—it’s like a curse that runs my life. I try to fight the hunger, but I always lose. I inevitably end up in someone else’s bed, and I absolutely hate myself the morning after."

’No, you don’t. You never did. You smiled. You smirked proudly when those other women clung to your sheets. You only claim to hate it when you’re finally alone again.’

Ytrisia stared at him in heavy silence. Her beautiful face didn’t move a muscle, but something fragile inside her cracked just a little bit more.

"And you actually think a high sex drive justifies chronic cheating?" she asked quietly, her tone laced with venom.

"I’m not justifying a damn thing," he replied softly.

He took a slow step closer, invading her personal space. His dark eyes locked with hers, then dropped—agonizingly slowly—to the heavy swell of her latex-clad chest, down to the wide flare of her hips, and then right back up to her eyes.

"I’m just saying... maybe it wouldn’t have happened so often if I had exactly what I needed at home. If I didn’t feel forced to seek that specific fire somewhere else."

’This again. This sick, twisted manipulation of need. Acting like I didn’t give you enough of myself. Like it’s somehow my fault you couldn’t keep it in your pants.’

But still... a treacherous part of her remembered those early, sweaty nights. The tender way he had held her bare body after they finished, acting like she was his whole world. The deep, rumbling way his voice sounded in the pitch dark.

She didn’t want that painful vulnerability back—she logically knew she couldn’t risk it—but that soft part of her hadn’t entirely died. It just stayed quiet. Waiting in the shadows.

"You could’ve taken something for it," she argued weakly. "Chemical inhibitors, medical suppressants—"

"I tried them," his voice dropped to a pained whisper. "They shut absolutely everything down. They erased who I am. It’s not about wanting to fuck everyone, Ytrisia. It’s about desperately needing it... specifically from you."

She froze.

’No. No, don’t do this to me. Don’t pull me back in. Don’t use that soft voice on me. You always did this. You twist the narrative until I can’t even breathe.’

He looked down at her, not blinking. Not offering his usual arrogant smirk. Just looking... hungry.

Not for basic food. Not even for cheap pleasure. He was hungry for access to her soul.

Ytrisia’s violet eyes lowered to the floor. Her heavy chest felt suffocatingly tight inside the restrictive suit. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess. She hated this. She hated how easily he still got right under her skin.

’You’re stronger than this. You’re not some weak, pathetic woman who breaks just because a handsome man looks at you.’

But despite the logical warnings, she found herself whispering:

"...Can I help in some way?"

Her words were barely there, incredibly fragile. They hung in the thick air like something that could easily shatter if touched too hard.

Cruxius didn’t speak immediately.

His dark eyes held hers for a long, heavy moment—not sharp, not cold—just... intensely focused.

His hand moved slowly, without any suddenness to startle her. He raised his arm, stretched forward, and gently took her gloved hand in his. His large palm was incredibly warm.

He guided her hand without uttering a single word, placing it flat against the center of his broad chest—right over the steady, heavy thud of his beating heart.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice vibrating under her palm. "You can."

She felt the intense, living heat of him radiating beneath her fingers. His body was lean, heavily built, and undeniably real—not a cold monster like the men she fought or trained with, but a steady, living anchor. Human. Beautifully vulnerable in all the wrong and right ways.

’He’s doing it again. This... fake softness. This careful, calculated act. Acting as if he wants my heart, not just my body. But those eyes... his physical reactions never lie.’

Cruxius’s gaze flicked downward for a fleeting second.

Just a second. But in that brief moment, he truly saw her.

He saw the incredible way her heavy breasts strained desperately against the shiny suit, the purple latex pressing around their lush curve like a glove that was simply too tight. Her tight, peaking nipples stood faintly defined, pressing hard against the thick fabric.

He saw the explicit way the suit hugged her crotch, pulled tight between her thick thighs—molded perfectly, splitting her soft, plump mound into a distinct shape. Not a single wrinkle, not a loose crease.