MTL - Billion Technology Crystal System - Chapter 752 : The blackening of Marlow Jack! Be sure!

Eighteen years ago, she saved his life. Eighteen years later, he gave his heart to her.

He asked her if she was willing to be sexually abstinent for the rest of her life, yet he kept her busy day and night. To the public, he’s sexual impotent, but only she knows how sexually passionate he is.

In his special way, he let the entire world that she was his one and only!Eighteen years ago, she saved his life.

Eighteen years later, he gave his heart to her.

He asked her if she was willing to be sexually abstinent for the rest of her life, yet he kept her busy day and night. To the public, he’s sexual impotent, but only she knows how sexually passionate he is.

In his special way, he let the entire world that she was his one and only!

……………………………………………………………

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Seven billion humans living on the Earth time-traveled together after they had woken up one morning. They all heard a synthesized female voice.

The Synders and Thornes had always been the closest of friends. So when Kyra Thorne and James Synders both lost their parents in an accident, twenty-year-old James swore to protect ten-year-old Kyra as though he were her uncle.Twelve years later, Kyra had not only blossomed into a beautiful woman, but she also could no longer ignore the feelings she’d developed for James at nineteen. After three years of struggling to suppress them, she was finally ready to confess.However, what Kyra didn’t know was that James had long discovered her feelings—and had devised the cruelest way to reject her.But, what happened when James unintentionally crossed a line?One thing was certain: Kyra Thorne always got even, even if it meant destroying them both.

“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.