The Kitty Became a Cutie and Was Pampered in the 80s - Chapter 927: Trip to Beidu (12)

Only I know the end of this world.

One day our MC finds himself stuck in the world of his favorite webnovel. What does he do to survive? It is a world struck by catastrophe and danger all around.

His edge? He knows the plot of the story to end. Because he was the sole reader that stuck with it. Read his story to see how he survives!

【You will encounter gongs in different worlds with different temperaments and different emotions. They are fine and loyal dogs. 】

【You are superior in appearance, they will love you at first sight, willing to sacrifice all, but soon they will get bored, betray, cheat】

【You are vengeful, and want to take revenge on that slag gong】

“Can.” Qin Mu then put forward his own requirements. “To fall in love, they first must have a good waist and long legs. The abdominal muscles must have eight blocks to satisfy me. As for the face, I am not superficial, as long as it’s of the highest quality I don’t mind.”

The thieves are caught, and those slag gongs take for granted that because Qin Mu loves them, he will choose to forgive them.【Smile】

However Qin Mu, who is cold to the bones, only smokes a cigarette and expresses his deep love to a new lover. “Beauty, I want to be with you.”

The slag gongs, “Please come back to me, I will never leave you… If you don’t agree and continue to hook up with other people, then I can only break your legs and lock you up. From now on, only I can see you.”

- Description from Novelupdates

By the time I reached thirty, I hadn't managed to provide any of the happiness I wanted for my wife.I also still couldn't become the support my parents relied on.At this turning point in my fate, my income suddenly began to increase randomly.(A daily life tale in a wealthy family setting, featuring a single female lead and no harem.)

“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.