Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere

*Huff~*

Don was now catching his breath after blowing his load over Samantha. It was a strange sort of tiredness that he felt, one that could only come to a man after such a brief but hot session.

Samantha, whose legs were still weak, fell forward onto the bed as Don loosened his hold on her.

She fell onto the lush sheets with no resistance, her breasts pressing into the fine material while her ass was on full display for Don.

'!!'

He could only widen his eyes slightly as Samantha's ass jiggled and shook upon landing on the bed.

Clearly still recovering from her climax, she didn't pay attention to her movements. And so as she shifted her legs a little, her most intimate areas became visible to Don.

Her wet, cum stained pussy lips still had trails of her nectar running down to her thighs, along with the cum Don had unloaded onto her ass, thighs, and pussy.

*huff~* *huff~*

'Oh my goodness… I just came… in front of my son…'

As Samantha was catching her breath and trying to recover, her thoughts remained a mess.

Clearly, she understood what had just happened, but rather than feel bad or guilty, she felt at ease. It was like all the stress that had been clawing at her mind and heart had just disappeared.

She was so immersed in this liberating sensation, that she had no idea how vulgar and arousing she looked.

The sight alone was enough to have Don stay hard and erect, his cock twitching as if demanding more.

With how turned on he felt, the sight was truly tempting. But again, he reminded himself not to push it.

Quite frankly he was surprised he got away with this without much resistance from Samantha. Now he could only see how she reacted to this and hope it would open up doors for him to be more intimate with her.

With a reluctant sigh, he quickly turned away and rushed to the bathroom to get a towel for Samantha.

After getting it, he used it to cover her behind, breaking her out of her daze once she felt the soft fabric make contact with her now sticky ass.

"Oh honey…" she glanced, her cheeks a rosy blush and her lips slightly parted as shallow breaths escaped.

She placed one hand on her chest as if trying to ease her pounding heartbeat. But this only gave Don the sight of her bountiful breasts, whose nipples were visibly perky.

Not seeming to mind at all that her chest was exposed, Samantha continued and asked, "Are you feeling better honey? You're still... erm…"

Samantha trailed her gaze from Don's head to his still partially erect cock.

Even without following her gaze, Don knew what Samantha was referring to. And as good of an opportunity that was, after the boundary they had just pushed, he needed to leave her be for a bit.

At her very least, he could wait a few days before asking for help again and seeing how she reacts. And more importantly, if she'll be willing to let him pleasure her again.

On the surface though, he just showed a weak smile and rubbed the back of his neck as if embarrassed. "It takes a little while to go down sometimes but I feel better. It's like a weight off my shoulders… thanks mom."

'Is this what it feels like to climax with someone you're close with? No wonder he looks relieved. Goodness, I had no idea…'

Samantha gave a weak smile and nodded.

Having never cum before, Samantha could only connect this wonderful sensation to Don and try to relate to it. It was easy after all to conclude Don must've felt the same.

Those raw, intense, emotions and the spurring of desires but with someone so close, trusted and safe. How couldn't it be the reason Don was confiding in her and asking for help.

This had to be his way of releasing all of the stress he must've had… Samantha concluded. After all… that's how she currently felt.

Of course, as sure of this as she felt at the moment, she wasn't so daring as to confront Don about it outright. Instead she she simply smiled warmly and agreed. "Of course honey, uhm… like I said, I'm always here for you."

"Thanks, mom, I'm always here for you two," as Don said this, he approached Samantha and spread his arms open to embrace her.

She naturally smiled at this and leaned forward to meet Don. Her skin tingled as his scent wafted into her nose and her body warmed up as her perky nipples pressed against his chest.

The hug was brief and Don soon pulled away before yawning and stretching as if he was tired. "Anyway, I should probably get to bed while I'm still feeling relaxed so I don't wake up sore."

Samantha found herself reluctant to see Don leave but nodded immediately in agreement with his words. "Of course sweetie, you have a good night."

Mr. Barclay sat in the back of his Escalade with his gaze sharp as he surveyed the dimly lit surroundings.

The vehicle rolled through the murky streets of New Coral City's Y2 District, an area popularly known as the

*Freaks Den.*

This district was cast off from the rest of the city, left to the superhumans whose powers had twisted their forms in ways most people found disgusting.

Where other districts shined under the night lights, here, the streets were shrouded in fog that crept up and hung around ankle height, like silent, gray snakes slithering through the emptiness.

Buildings lined the streets with a kind of exhausted, battered look, their once-vibrant colors dulled beneath layers of grime.

Many of them were covered in distorted murals—garish images of superhumans with grotesque features attempting to interact with wide-eyed, cartoonish children. However, mocking speech bubbles were scrawled over the art, reading messages like,

"Haha, you're a freak,"

and, "

Just die, freak."

These words were scrawled in lurid, bold letters, making it clear that the residents had long given up on any illusions of kindness.

As the Escalade crawled forward, Barclay looked out through the tinted windows, suppressing a grimace as his gaze fell upon the few figures shuffling along the cracked sidewalks.

One figure had arms disproportionately long, with knuckles that grazed the ground, while another had a face with an oversized, craggy growth stretching from his forehead to his chin, leaving only one eye visible.

They wore mismatched, faded clothes that hung off them awkwardly, garments that looked like they had come from charity bins left out on rainy days.

Their heads turned slowly toward the passing Escalade, their expressions hard to read. Some appeared curious, while others seemed to regard the luxury car with suspicion. Barclay only had disdain for them as he watched, finding their misshapen forms distasteful.

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