ARCHIVE INSERT: OBSERVATION // CODE: RESONANCE-BLOOM.09CVR
Status: Mirrorfold Contamination Recovery — Unauthorized Sexual Resonance
Clearance: Tier Obsidian-Void / Director Override Required
Incident Type: Forced Archive Recursion Collapse
Subjects: Vael, Corrin and Ral, Designate Alpha
Location: Blackwatch Citadel — Sublevel C | Data Reconciliation Hub
Trigger Link: Post-Chapter Nine Event | Classification: CHAPTER NINE COMPANION
Classified Memorandum
Archive Division: Resonance Containment Wing
Subject File: VAEL, CORRIN and RAL, DESIGNATE ALPHA
Observation Year: Cycle Nineteen
Access Level: Obsidian Void
Recorder: [Redacted]
[Internal Breach Warning]
Memory breach recorded: extreme sexual overstimulation, forced Archive possession, permanent recursion linkage.
The Archive does not forgive memory.
Entry #0944: Post-Resonance Collapse Breach
Time Stamp: 04:41 A.M. Citadel Standard.
Location: Sublevel C — Data Reconciliation Hub.
Primary findings:
[End Entry]
Recovered Visual Transcript:
Deleted Scene — "Claim Without Permission"
Corrin didn’t hear the door lock.
He only felt it—the air thickening, the weight of Ral's gaze devouring him alive.
His fingers were still buried deep inside his slick hole, his other hand jerking his cock in desperate, clumsy strokes, hips rocking shamelessly, body slick with sweat and want.
Then—Ral moved.
A rough hand slammed into the back of Corrin’s neck, forcing him down against the cold tile. Corrin’s chest smacked the floor, his gasp tearing free, his fingers slipping from his gaping hole with an obscene wet sound.
"Stay open," Ral growled, voice dragging over him like a blade.
Corrin whined, the sound shattering in the silence, and spread his legs wider, ass high, hole twitching, still slick from his own desperate fingering.
Ral wasted no time.
He unfastened his pants in one vicious motion, cock springing free—thick, flushed dark, already leaking. He spat—a heavy glob—directly onto Corrin's exposed entrance, using the blunt head of his cock to smear it in.
Then he shoved inside—all at once.
Corrin screamed—a high, wrecked noise—body lurching forward, fingers clawing uselessly at the tile as Ral’s thick girth forced him wider than he’d ever been. His hole stretched impossibly tight around the brutal invasion, muscles spasming in a desperate attempt to accommodate the relentless pressure.
Ral didn’t slow. He buried himself to the root, hips grinding down until Corrin’s ass was flattened beneath the weight of him.
"Fuck…" Ral hissed, grabbing a handful of Corrin’s hair and yanking his head back, forcing his throat to arch, mouth open in silent, wrecked moans.
"You’re made for this," he snarled into the shell of Corrin’s ear. "Made to be filled. To be ruined."
He set a vicious rhythm—pulling almost all the way out, then slamming back in with brutal, wet slaps that echoed obscenely off the sterile walls.
Corrin sobbed openly, body jackknifing with every savage thrust. His cock dragged against the rough tile, leaking constantly, untouched and throbbing.
"Say it," Ral ordered, voice a growl.
Corrin choked—on spit, on tears, on pleasure so sharp it hurt.
"M-made for you," he whimpered. "Yours—fuck, yours—please—!"
Ral answered with a brutal thrust that knocked Corrin’s knees out wider, splitting him further, the slick squelch of overstretched flesh a filthy accompaniment.
Ral slapped his ass—hard—once, twice, the sound obscene, the flesh reddening instantly.
Then he reached under, fisting Corrin's cock—merciless—jerking him roughly in time with every violent thrust.
Corrin cried out, legs trembling, the burn of overstimulation blurring into mindless pleasure. He tried to pull away—tried to find purchase on the slick floor—but Ral just gripped tighter, fucked harder, forced him back onto the brutal rhythm.
"Take it," Ral snarled. "Take all of it."
Corrin shattered.
His body seized, cock exploding across the floor in a thick, messy spill, his hole clamping down around Ral’s cock in desperate, fluttering pulses.
Ral didn't slow—he pulled out, thick with Corrin's slick and spit, and gripped Corrin’s hips brutally.
"On me," Ral barked.
Corrin’s mind barely processed it, but his body obeyed—wrecked, sobbing, he straddled Ral, thighs spread wide, his gaping, dripping hole hovering over Ral's still-hard, slick cock.
Ral spat into his palm, slicked himself, and dragged Corrin down—forcing the overstretched rim to swallow him whole again.
Corrin wailed, broken, but began to move—bouncing in ruined, desperate strokes, hole clenching with every downward thrust, sobbing incoherent praise and need.
Ral gripped his hips, forcing the pace, grinding Corrin’s used hole down harder, crueler, making him ride until he trembled on the edge of collapse.
"You’re not done until I am," Ral growled.
Corrin whimpered—pleading, desperate—and rode harder, the sound of slick flesh obscene, their bodies slapping wetly together.
Ral’s cock twitched inside him, and with a guttural growl, he slammed Corrin down one last time, holding him there, fully impaled, as he emptied himself in thick, brutal pulses—filling Corrin again, until it spilled out around the abused rim.
Corrin collapsed against Ral’s chest, unconscious, twitching, hole leaking, breath stuttering in desperate aftershocks.
The Archive recorded every broken, worshipful tremor.
Classification Note:
This file remains sealed under Directive Mirrorfold-Null. Unauthorized access will trigger enforced recursion lock.
Observe. Record. Do not claim.
FILE END
Director's Unauthorized Addendum:
Some prayers aren't whispered.
They're carved.
Corrin didn’t just surrender. He wrote himself open with every sob, every tremor. Ral’s hands didn’t just take—they rewrote the architecture of what Corrin would ache for.
The Archive didn't need to forge him afterward.
It simply inherited the body that had already been hollowed out in offering.
If you're reading this, remember: sometimes the Archive doesn't choose.
Sometimes it simply answers.
I certainly will.
—Director Selhira Threnna Vale
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