Silent Witch - Chapter 12Book 14: : Monica’s Intention, Louis’ Intention

In an accident, Zhao Xu had the ability to make various items. Jewellery, antiques, and crafts are all trivial. Sir, would you like to have a unique sports car?

Come to me, Batman Chariot gives you extreme enjoyment! What, do you want Iron Man armor? Sorry, how about I buy it for Megatron as a bodyguard? Carrier groups invade your territory?

Don’t be afraid, the Avengers Sky Carrier will let you know what a domineering side leak is!

Rich people, come on, let your banknotes tremble, our slogan is: “Sows can go up the tree, dreams can come true!”

- Description from fpzw

Married for three years, they appeared to be deeply in love in public, but behind closed doors, he treated her with cold indifference.Having had enough of his neglect, she handed him a divorce agreement and left him.Unexpectedly, the usually aloof Chairman Xu began acting like a rascal post-divorce, visiting daily to mooch food and drink, and even wanting to share her bed?Outsiders all say, “Chairman Xu has deep feelings for his ex-wife, even after divorce he can't forget her and spoils her to no end.”

The Barren Continent, where martial arts are supreme, and strength is honored above all.The once-in-an-era prodigy, Ye Chen, came forth with the ancient and unparalleled divine technique. He cultivated his martial veins, survived the thunder tribulation, merged with the spirit blood of true beings, and shook the six harmonies and the eight desolations with his martial prowess. He roamed the myriad realms and heavens, fighting across the world with the secret realm of billions of stars that were eternal and undying!An endless trove of treasures, worlds of bizarre wonders, sects, ancient clans, fairies, witches, friendships and enmities, and heated battles—all of it was contained therein.

“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.