My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroines
Chapter 83 - A Kind Gentleman

Chapter 83: Chapter 83 - A Kind Gentleman

With the morning sun slowly falling over northeastern Europe, its golden rays finally reached the premises of Saint Regalia Hospital.

One particular beam slipped through a gap in the curtain, landing firmly on bare skin that had no business being exposed in a room meant for rest and recovery.

Inside one of the private rooms, the air remained dense and moist, despite the automated fragrance dispenser releasing a soft mist every hour.

On the crumpled hospital bed, two bodies lay close beneath a thin white sheet that barely concealed the chaos underneath.

The room was silent. But it was not peaceful.

The sheets, once soaked, had dried with crusted rings of mixed fluids. The distinct scent of sex lingered heavily in the air—undeniable and unrepentant.

It was not a place of rest, but one of raw rhythm and relentless movement, repeated over and over through the night.

The woman’s back was bent at an odd angle, her body loosely entangled with the man beside her.

Her face was pressed into his chest, hair disheveled, lips parted from silent, forgotten moans. The man remained still. His hand, however, held her wrist with quiet insistence—as if refusing to let her go.

Dark violet hickeys were scattered across her collarbone, shoulders, and thighs. Finger-shaped impressions marked her waist—deep, rough, closer to bruises than gentle touches.

"Shh..." The soft hiss left her lips as the sunlight kissed her skin—sharp and hot, like needles against raw nerves. Her face twitched. Slowly, painfully, Seleyena opened her eyes.

Her vision was unsteady.

Her body ached. Not the kind of ache born of battle or strain—but a slow, consuming soreness. A trembling fatigue.

The kind left behind by being taken, stretched, and overused until even her voice had broken into screams she could no longer remember.

There was weight on her chest. His scent clung to her. His hand still circled her wrist—warm, firm.

"Good morning, Seleyena," The voice was calm. Deep. Unmistakable. Cruxius.

She flinched before her mind had fully registered him. Her legs twitched in protest—weak, failing to move.

The sheet clung to her skin, heavy with dried fluids.

She could feel it.

Between her thighs—raw, tender. The unmistakable wet cling of something that had spilled hours ago.

Her throat moved dryly. "...You?" she managed, her voice hoarse.

At last, her gaze focused.

The man beside her. That smirk. That relaxed expression. The warmth in his posture— As if he hadn’t spent the entire night buried inside her, mercilessly.

Seleyena blinked again.

Something in her stirred—an instinct, a quiet panic.

Her trembling hand reached for the edge of the sheet. She hesitated, then pulled it off.

"—!!"

He was naked. Entirely.

Her eyes dropped. Her breath caught.

His chest was lined with her scratches. Faint blood traced where her nails had dug in. A deep bite near his collarbone. Lips bruised from too many kisses that blurred into oblivion, a thick flesh dangling between his legs seemed to be covered with dried liquid and redness, relaxed as if worked all night.

And even with those marks—

She looked worse.

Her thighs were a mess—sticky, trembling. Her hips bore the deep indentations of fingers. Her breasts—swollen, her nipples dark and tender, marked with soft rings where his mouth had been.

Bite marks dotted her skin. Her waist showed fading bruises where he had held her with force.

Her wrists were darkened—tight bruises where his grip had claimed her.

Her body didn’t feel like her own.

She shifted.

"Haah." A quiet, involuntary whimper escaped her lips as her leg brushed against his thigh.

’!’

Her stomach tightened.

She could feel it—deep inside. His presence. His scent. His release. Her body was still full. Still invaded.

"Hiekk—" Seleyena’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes wide and glassy.

For a moment, she simply lay there, her body still trembling from the lingering intensity of the night before.

Drip

And a sound that all it took to let her drown in sorrow.

A tear drop.

Big enough to show the amount of pain she just felt now.

She could feel the wetness creeping down her cheeks, the tears finally breaking free from her tightly clenched lids.

Her chest heaved as the weight of the situation crushed her, the humiliation, the violation, the rawness of everything he had done to her.

She couldn’t hold back any longer.

The tears came like a flood—slow, silent drops that streaked her flushed cheeks, each one a reminder of what she had allowed to happen, what he had taken from her.

"Wh—What did you do to me?" she gasped, her voice broken, fragile, like a shard of glass ready to shatter completely.

"I—I didn’t want this... not like this." Her voice wavered, raw and trembling, barely more than a whisper caught in the aftermath.

Her hands clenched into fists, pressing hard against her face, as if she could scrub the shame from her skin—but the tears only flowed faster.

Hot trails ran down her cheeks, soaking into her palms. Her shoulders shook.

"Don’t cry, Seleyena," came that voice—low, sharp, cutting through the heavy silence like a knife through silk.

She flinched. Her breath caught.

She hadn’t noticed the shift in the mattress until his weight moved, until she felt the air stir with his body leaning in.

Before she could recoil, his arms wrapped around her—tight, iron-like, swallowing her up in his heat. Her naked skin pressed flush to his, breasts squishing into the firm wall of his chest, nipples brushing against taut muscle.

But it wasn’t just her upper body that reacted.

As he hugged her tighter, their lower halves collided. Her hips—still sore and raw from his grip and torment all night—shifted against the bulge of his hard dick, still warm from the night before. His length brushed against her, insistent, pressing up into the sensitive, trembling flesh of her lower bust.

"Ahnn—!" A broken whimper escaped her lips, involuntary and soft due to pain caused by the force he used to hug her.

His scent hit her next. Intoxicating. Thick with sweat, sex, and something darker—like the remnants of last night still clinging to his skin.

"Leave me!" she gasped, voice cracking as her fists pounded weakly at his arms. "Don’t touch me—don’t you dare!"

But he didn’t let go.

If anything, he drew her closer—until her trembling frame was buried against his chest, her soft flesh molding into the hard shape of him, her breasts flattened and aching against his warmth.

She could feel the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear.

"You ruined me," she sobbed, her voice muffled into his skin, wet and hollow. "You ruined my life..."

He inhaled deeply. His breath grazed her temple. "I told you," he murmured, voice low and almost cruel in its calm. "Once you cross the line... you’re mine. Did you forget that?"

Her body stiffened. Her spine arched as if something had jolted through her nerves.

He loosened his hold just enough to lift her chin. Her lips trembled, parted with confusion, as her eyes met his.

Then, with deliberate slowness, he dipped forward and pressed his lips to her cheek.

Once. Twice. Right where her tears fell.

The kisses were warm. Damp. Possessive. Each one stripped her bare more than the night before had.

Her body trembled harder, he was kissing away her tears and then eyes.

Her eyes fluttered closed as memories flooded in—the venomous words she’d spat at him, the dare in her tone, the foolish pride in her challenge.

"I take full responsibility for these tears and... the one who is shedding them."

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