Pregnant After Healing the Alpha - Chapter 574 - 563: Qiao Jing Quickly Handles Lin Yun’s Affairs

The night is dark and the wind is high, and the reality is killed.

Dear players, welcome to the holographic killing game “Fantasy”.

This game is not easy, don’t flirt with girls, don’t make friends, focus on hurting each other.

【Book Friends Group: 471036516】

- Description from novelbuddy

Chen Miao transmigrated to a supernatural world, where everyone had their own profession, such as “Student”, “Fighter”, “Thief”, and so on.After much contemplation, he activated the “Gunslinger” profession.From then on!While the foreign races brandished their claws to invade, and others tirelessly trained their physical fitness and learned skills.Chen Miao silently ventured into secret realms to collect all sorts of materials, crafting Occupation Exclusive weapons like the “Thompson Submachine Gun,” “Falling Blossom Sniper Rifle,” “Inferno Gatling,” “Matrix Sky-Eye Cannon,” and so on....One day, people suddenly noticed that a very unfamiliar Supernatural Occupation had appeared on the city's Combat Power rankings.And in the crowd.Chen Miao, bare-chested under a black suit jacket with sunglasses on and a cigar in his mouth, held two Inferno Gatlings in his hands, looking up slightly at a group of scoundrels in front of him with the corners of his mouth turned up.“Don't wait for me to stuff the gun barrel in your mouth before you admit you were wrong.”

Disclaimer: This story doesn't belong to me, I posted it here just to use the audio book feature of the app.For most, becoming a member of the Elite 4 would be the culmination of their Journey. A great achievement that solidified your status in the annals of history. For me, it was just the start of my journey. Hopefully, everything stays Normal.A pre-canon self-insert into the world of Pokémon.

“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.