MTL - Beastly Fēi that Go Against the Heaven: Coerced by the Huáng Shū - Chapter 69 You can't go down!

“You wouldn't force me, would you? I thought you hated me,” I plead.“I do,” Matthew hisses, his eyes flashing dangerously as he rips open my dress.Sarah Wilson's dreams of a perfect marriage shatter as Matthew's hatred for her is revealed on their wedding night. She had always loved him in secret, but now she realizes the ultimate truth - he despises her.Will Matthew ever see past his bitterness and realize they are meant to be together? Or will he make Sarah suffer until death finally separates them?

Be an Uber driver, one Pagani Zonda rewarded.

“I’ll say it again, I’m not really a genius singer, nor a genius creator! I have no love for singing! My ideal is to be a carpenter!”

“But Mr. Xu, you have won the Grand Slam of awards, and your albums have accumulated the world’s number one sales! Your lyrics and production have won so many kings and queens with one hand! You are considered by everyone to have crushed one by yourself. era!”

“Didn’t you agree to talk about woodworking? Don’t you want to do it?”

“No, boss! But this is your TV station, you have to think about the ratings! Everyone just wants to hear how awesome you are, not your woodworking hobby! The story of being banned?…Okay, okay, can we talk about last year’s rich list? We all know that there are four Chinese women in the top 50 of the world’s richest list, all of them are single, and it is rumored that they are all single with you…”

“Actually, woodworking is very interesting, let’s talk about woodworking!”

“Why don’t we talk about An Xiaojing An Tian? Everyone is very curious. She is not married, but her three children are all surnamed Xu, and…”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.