My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines
Chapter 106 - Seleyena’s Role

Chapter 106: Chapter 106 - Seleyena’s Role

A few moments ago,

Cruxius held the pen between his fingers with a casual grip that didn’t match the heaviness in the air. He leaned forward, the sleeve of his buttoned shirt brushing slightly against her wrist.

His other hand steadied Seleyena’s open palm—small, trembling, her fingers twitching as if she could already feel what he was about to ask of her.

Her blouse had been shoved down earlier in a moment of reckless heat, bunched just beneath her exposed, perky breasts.

Now, they were completely bare—flush against the still air, nipples stiff and flushed, betraying every breath and beat of her racing pulse.

Faint red marks lingered across the milky white, swollen, puffy skin—some like the remnants of a hungry mouth, others finger-shaped and swollen, drawn across her skin like bruised constellations.

The right nipple was redder than the other, slightly puffed as if recently pulled or bitten.

A bead of sweat gathered at the base of her throat, slid downward, and traced a slow, glistening path until it rolled directly over her right nipple, drawing a visible flinch from her that she didn’t seem to register.

She didn’t notice it.

Her eyes were locked on the words he was writing—sentence after sentence, ink blooming across the skin of her hand like orders, commands too shameful to read aloud, too raw to imagine without heat rising in her cheeks.

Her breath caught. She blinked.

"Wait... I-I can’t say these things," she whispered. Her voice cracked as her other hand instinctively reached up to pull her blouse tighter.

Cruxius didn’t look up as he finally ended the sentence and threw the pen aside.

"You told me you love me," he said.

Her throat tightened. "I do," she said quietly—too quickly, like saying it faster would make it easier to believe.

"Then show me." His words were light, but they cut deep. "You want me to believe you? Make me believe it."

She glanced down again at the lines inked across her skin.

The sentences weren’t just vulgar—they were humiliating in their boldness. Personal truths turned into script.

Each one was crafted to break her principles, her lifelong personality and words—to test how far she would go for him.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

"I... I don’t know if I can," she said honestly, her voice smaller now.

Cruxius moved closer—not rough, not cruel. Just near enough that his hand gently caught the edge of her fallen blouse.

His fingers slid under the fabric, grazing the underside of her breast as he lifted it back into place.

His knuckles brushed against her nipple—accidental or deliberate, she couldn’t tell—and the contact made her gasp, a soft, involuntary moan escaping her throat before she could stop it.

Her back arched slightly, as if her body moved on instinct.

He smoothed the fabric over her chest slowly, letting it cling against the damp sheen of her skin, the cotton now thin with sweat and breath.

Then his hand didn’t leave.

He placed it flat—lightly, reverently—over her chest. Right above her heart. He felt it pounding through the fabric—frantic, helpless.

"Seleyena," he said, voice low but burning. "Please. Do it for me."

And then—he pulled.

His hand fisted the fabric just over her heart and yanked her toward him with a sudden, breath-stealing motion. Her body lurched, eyes flying wide, a startled gasp ripping from her throat.

"Wha—!"

She didn’t even get to finish.

His mouth was on hers—hot, demanding, silencing her shock with a kiss that devoured hesitation and left no room for doubt.

"Mmphh—"

KRIEEK—the door to the room opened.

---

Present.

"He didn’t," Seleyena cut in again. "He didn’t touch you again after that night. He didn’t even mention it. He never humiliated you. Never threatened you. He respected you—when he didn’t have to."

Thalia’s breath came shakier now. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest again, this time like she was holding her ribs in place.

Seleyena’s voice softened, but it struck deeper. "Do you know how easily he could’ve made you his sex slave, Thalia? No cameras. No escape. Just luxury prisons and forced moans. And the world would still call him a hero. But he didn’t."

Thalia’s knees nearly buckled at that.

Her face twisted—shame, anger, something tangled and raw flashing in her eyes. Her lips parted, trying to speak, but nothing came out.

"I know you hate what happened," Seleyena whispered. "You’re allowed to. But don’t lie to yourself about the kind of man he is. Because somewhere inside you... you already know."

Thalia’s voice came out small, hoarse. "Then why are you telling me this?"

Seleyena stepped back, exhaling slowly. "Because I... I—"

Seleyena’s eyes turned toward Cruxius. Her hands clenched with hesitation, but still, she said something she never thought she would:

"I want to make sure you don’t come back... He is... mine."

Seleyena’s words hung in the air like a fragile truth just spoken aloud for the first time.

Her throat bobbed with a silent swallow, eyes dipping for a second—shadows of hesitation ghosting her expression. She wrapped one arm slightly across her midriff, fingers gripping her other wrist, as though grounding herself.

A quiet, nervous shift of weight from one foot to the other.

She didn’t look at Cruxius again—not immediately. Instead, her gaze flicked to Thalia.

The other woman stood frozen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open as if caught mid-thought, lips trembling with a dozen things unsaid.

Thalia blinked.

Once. Twice. Slowly. As though she was trying to process a blow she hadn’t seen coming.

"I... will take my leave," she said—barely a whisper, her voice scraped raw from restraint.

And then she turned.

No dramatic flair, no stomping anger—just quiet steps, the kind that came from someone retreating not because they were defeated, but because they didn’t know how to survive the next minute if they stayed.

The door clicked shut behind her.

And in that silence, Seleyena exhaled—barely, just a tremble of breath through parted lips.

Her shoulders dropped a little. Not in relief.

Head down,

Seleyena’s fingers clenched around the edge of her doctor’s coat. Guilt curled like smoke in her chest.

The words she had spoken—to Thalia, the girl who once clung to her in desperation—echoed back like knives.

Was I too harsh?

Her heart raced, not from righteousness, but from the weight of her own fall.

Then—

Cruxius.

He was behind her. No sound. No breath. Just there.

And in the next instant—

Her body jolted.

A hand—brutal, possessive—clamped over her breast through the blouse. Fingers crushed in, digging until flesh bulged through the gaps and nipples slammed against his palm, kneading her too tightly to breathe.

"Ah—! Crux—"

Her voice cracked, stolen by the pain-laced grip.

The other hand dove between her thighs.

Up the skirt. No pause.

Two fingers mashed against her clothed slit—firm, unforgiving.

They rubbed in cruel circles, dragging friction and wetness through the fabric with deep strokes, without caring about her comfort, like he was measuring how far she’d fallen.

No teasing. Just pressure. Friction. Claim.

His body pressed in—solid heat, silk over steel.

His lips hovered at her ear.

Breathless. Dark.

"You proved your love, Seleyena..."

A pause.

"...Now it’s my turn."

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