My Wife is a Dead Villainess, and I'm Her Living Weapon - Chapter 24: Useful

Lin Qing He transmigrated into a novel and became one of its cannon fodders. The novel’s background is non-viable 1960s, a time of want to eat but nothing to eat and want to wear but nothing to wear. Although there is a lack of supplies and life was monotonous, this wasn’t what she was concerned about because she got a small personal interspatial space, which was stuffed with supplies, so temporarily there were no worries about her basic needs.What she’s worried about is that if she remembers correctly, her three so-called sons will become big villains in the future, and their upright and cold dad will end up with an undeniable end.Lin Qing He looked at the three future villain sons, the eldest who was only five years old, the second child was only three years old, and the third child was only one year old, and decided to give them half of a big white bun first…

Shen Yu was looking forward to divorce, but unexpectedly the Bingjiao CEO suddenly obtained the ability to read minds!

“Rui-ge is the love of my life!”
—— ‘Dog man still doesn’t want to mention divorce. Is he waiting for me to blow off his head?’
Feng SiRui: Does he want to kill me just to get a divorce?

“Rui-ge, I belong to you, both physically and mentally. Can you not leave me?”
—— ‘If this dog man dares to touch me, he will be in tomorrow’s headlines.’
Angered Feng SiRui: Can’t I see my own husband’s body? “As you wish, I will fulfil you.”

—— ‘Quickly take that white lotus and get away from my sight’
Helpless Feng SiRui: How can I, when I only have you in my heart?

- Description from Novelupdates

Drugged one night by her ex-boyfriend, a mysterious man took advantage of her in an ecstatic night filled with sex.To take her revenge, she married the man, and used him.

“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.