Pokemon: Radical Redux - Chapter 35: Making Pancakes

“Great Saint, why did you follow that thieving baldy to rob the sacred mountain?” “Ah, it’s a long story. Back then, that thieving baldy grabbed my neck and asked me, ‘Are you coming with me to the Western Heaven, or should I send you to the Western Heaven...’” “What about you, Marshal Tianpeng?” “He said he was afraid of getting hungry on the way to the West, so he brought some dry rations along.” “...” This is a story filled with joy, scheming, and relentless teasing all the way through.

[WARNING: MATURE CONTENT 18+. No rape. No NTR. No Yuri]WebNovel Spirity Awards 2025 EntryPlease note that any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, real world events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional. The characters, places, and incidents portrayed in this work of fiction are products of the author's imagination.

Wen Zhi had a treasure, which allowed her to enter other people's dreams.Therefore, on her first day residing at the Shang family residence, she decided to explore Lady Shang's dreams first, to curry favor with her by pandering to her preferences...But an accidental bug occurred, and the person who ended up sharing Wen Zhi's dream was the person in charge of the Shang family, and her best friend's cousin, Shang Hexing!To figure out whether it was her own dream or a shared one, Wen Zhi discreetly told her best friend, “Your cousin has a red mole on his chest.”Her best friend, horrified, warned her, “My cousin is an unattainable flower, cold-hearted and solely focused on his career. There's no future between you two.”Wen Zhi was relieved. This must be her own dream.Recently, Shang Hexing had been troubled by frequent dreams at night.In those dreams, the same woman always appeared, with a delicate and soft body and a sweet, mellow voice that completely mesmerized him.It wasn't until he noticed that the young girl his mother had taken in was recently looking at him with panicked eyes...

“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.