DESTINY GAMES - Chapter 187: Black Star.

Patricia had only one goal in life: to finally break free from her abusive family. But what happens when she suddenly finds herself married to a man she has never even met?Just when she finally found the love of her life and landed her dream job, everything spiraled. Her world shifted overnight when she discovered she was married to the most infamous and feared man in the city.Roman Blackthorn, known as The Don of the Doctors, was revered for his unmatched medical skills and chilling indifference. Few knew much about him and he rarely appeared in public but everyone knew not to cross him.Believing her stepmother was behind it all, Patricia made the bold decision to face Roman and ask for a divorce… from a man who didn’t even know he was married.

Xiao Shan is a famously profligate prince, the kind that makes his emperor father angry just by being seen. Xiao Shan’s greatest wish in life is to be a salted fish who lives without any worldly strife, until his father bestows upon him Xie Zhui, a ger who has been mixing with men, to be his bride. Xie Zhui took his brother’s place in the army at fourteen, achieved great merits by successfully defending against enemies outside the northern border city at sixteen, and was discovered to be a ger after being seriously injured at eighteen. After returning to the capital, the emperor pardoned Xie Zhui’s crime of deceiving the monarch and bestowed him to Xiao Shan as his rightful spouse. Everyone says that Xiao Shan has married a ger who came out of a pile of men, with a vast grassland above his head. They think about how much the emperor must dislike Xiao Shan to have given him such a troublesome marriage.

“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.