My Accidental Husband is a Billionaire！ - Chapter 832 - 831

The future of the world and the direction of time possess infinite possibilities. Even the same event may lead to two completely opposite outcomes due to a millisecond deviation in completion time.

I have led the Evolutionary Deluge, causing species worldwide to evolve and creating a splendid era of warriors. I have also allowed the invasion of evil gods, bringing those indescribable ancient dominators to the mortal world, instantly corrupting the Earth with evil beings.

In the infinite space-time, there are a million possibilities. I have witnessed the divinization of machinery and have seen the revival of myths. Humans call me: The Creator of Everything, The Eternal Supreme God, The Cause of All Results, The Origin of Everything.

But.. I prefer to call myself a humble observer.

"I want to run away from everything."

Frida, a first-year medical student, has always been focused on academics, with no time for relationships or intimacy. Though her friends tease her for being a prude, they don’t know about the wild fantasies she keeps locked away, wondering if anyone would ever see her for who she truly is.Laziel her ex-best friend turned enemy, a tech genius and adrenaline-fueled F1 racer who’s every girl’s dream but her personal nightmare. Their shared past is full of unresolved tension and high school scandals she’d rather forget.When Frida starts receiving mysterious red sticky notes promising to bring her most forbidden fantasies to life, she’s intrigued and terrified. But as the anonymous promises heat up, her imagination betrays her, and the faceless lover in her fantasies starts to look a lot like Laz.What happens when desire crosses the line into obsession? And what if her enemy is the one person who knows exactly how to make her wildest dreams come true?

“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.