Cannon-Fodder Female Supporting Character Swaps Bodies with Her Cold Husband - Chapter 7

She became the nanny of Claude, the blackened male protagonist who would destroy the world. If this continues, she will be killed by the cursed power possessed by the blackened male protagonist. So, she decided to pour out her love for the blackened male protagonist to prevent the blackening. She also raised the child’s self-esteem, and made the Duke act like a proper father, as fatherly love was essential for the male protagonist’s self-esteem. She thought the child was gradually recovering his bright face, and the Duke was now learning how to gradually give love to the child. But she doesn’t know if it’s because she worked too hard….? “It has always been a problem. You have hundreds of reasons to abandon me, but I don’t have a single one.” “Nanny will always be by my side, right? That’s why you can’t go. Never, never.” Two men started obsessing over me.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.

The protracted ’witch hunting’ had faded into silence with the end of the Seven Years’ War, and the mysteries of the East Coast had begun to conceal themselves, yet gunpowder was on a rapid rise. Mo Qishang, who should have been utterly confounded, stood at the crossroads of destiny in the name of Arthur. He stared in astonishment at the charging knights, the wizards atop the high towers, and the bizarre wilderness. He felt the sharpness of the longsword and the recoil of the firearm, both clear and unfamiliar. At last, he excitedly shook his robe and, with a smile on his face, said— “Do not believe what I say, for to believe is to exist!”

Tired of the intrigue in the big city and the face of the boss, tired of working overtime every day and earning thousands of dollars, Zhou An returned from the big city to the small fishing village where he was raised, and lived a leisurely life!

Plant vegetables, grow flowers, and thousands of acres of fruit trees!

Walk the dog, feed the cows, the ranch is thousands of miles away!

Deep sea seafood, shallow sea fish, fishermen catch!

Cultivating mountain streams, grazing cattle and sheep, and fragrant fruit trees!

In the bright spring, the teenagers wandered freely, and Zhou Ande was surrounded by mountains and rivers, and lived a leisurely life!

- Description from novelbuddy