My Wife Is A Ghost Exorciser - Chapter 384 Stay With Me

Watts is just your average 21-year-old, hustling to make a living in a world that seems to grow harsher by the day. By daylight, he works in the bustling chaos of the airport, hefting heavy luggage for passengers who barely notice him.By night, he trades punches as a kickboxer, channeling his frustrations into the ring. Life isn’t easy, but it’s his, and he’s making it work.Until the day everything changes.Watts wakes up one morning lying in a pool of his own blood on the cold floor of the airport’s luggage room, his mind blank about what happened.Was it an accident? An attack? He has no answers—just a splitting headache and a world turned upside down. Because when he comes to, Watts discovers something unbelievable: he can create anything. Anything.Money, cars, weapons of unimaginable destruction. Galaxies, black holes, entire realities. All at the tips of his fingers. The possibilities are limitless, but so are the dangers.As Watts begins to explore the boundaries of his newfound power, he stumbles upon secrets buried deep within the world—secrets no one was meant to uncover.Now, with his life spiraling into the unknown, Watts is faced with a choice: use his powers to better the world or risk losing himself entirely. But the deeper he delves into his abilities, the more he realizes the price of wielding such power might be more than he’s willing to pay.Dive into Watts' Creation and follow his journey as he unravels the mysteries of his new reality, challenges forces beyond comprehension, and wrestles with the ultimate question: what would you do if you could create… everything

It begins on the mountain.

With the glint of a knife, a flash of steel in the hands of a sworn brother. A betrayal.

Stabbed and pushed down the mountain, Zi Chen lied within the red-stained snow, left to die.

This is where it begins; he is given life by lightning,
baptized by thunder.

Those who had once betrayed him should all suffer in his cruel revenge.

- Description from Novelupdates

Will, an aspiring director and a college student was busy dreaming about becoming a successful figure in Hollywood when he found himself on an alternate earth.

The world is almost the same, but wait... all the celebrities, brands, and even renowned works from his world are no more!?

Armed with the Hollywood System, Will Evans will rise to the very pinnacle of stardom.

MCU and DC? I will create them!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S and the Office? I will write them!

Harry Potter and the Lord Of The Rings? I will direct them!

“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.