New Father: Empress Appearing On My Doorstep With Our Daughters - Chapter 37 - : Xuan Xi's Little Secret!

I was transmigrated into a work I liked and finally came back.But after, I was dragged into an Academy Romance Novel, which I skipped over after only reading the prologue.There I found a half-broken possessors who regressed endlessly.

Lucas was the last human in the universe.A cosmic-scale war had consumed humanity in massive destruction. As collateral damage, there were no longer any habitable planets. Lucas Alhamera, a scientist, attempted to terraform a planet resembling Earth called Antroseda but continuously failed.Overwhelmed by despair and the crushing weight of loneliness, Lucas attempted to end his own life using a euthanasia capsule. However, just before his life could be taken, he was abruptly awakened by a notification.[As the last of the dominant species, you have been chosen as the new Overseer of this universe.][The cycle of life must continue to preserve balance.][Select planet as the birthplace of the new species (default)][Select another planet...]With the Overseer System he had obtained, Lucas began what he had failed to do for hundreds of years: reviving a dead planet and creating a new race to succeed humanity.

Jinhyuk is a person who likes to immerse himself in the role of the Villains but there is one villain which he particularly hates,

Reed Adeleheights Roton, the false final boss of the game.

The one who created the Seven Disasters.

The one who due to his inferiority complex led to his own doom.

The one who turned a cute innocent girl into the monstrous First Disaster codenamed Cosmo.

“If I was the Villain then I would have raised her a little better.”

And thus God granted his wish and now he was the false final Villain Reed Adeleheights Roton, the creator of the Seven Disasters.

How different would the world turn out to be now?

“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.