Shocking the Whole Internet! You Are Not a Psychologist at All! - Chapter 60 - Valuables Should Have Anti-Theft

Because of a mission, Bruce White entered prison as a criminal, but his family was abused and bullied as a result. After three years of life in prison, he finally completed his mission. Yet, he received truly shocking news when he came out of prison. His father had passed away, his mother went missing, but he knew nothing about it. Filled to the brim with rage and grief, Bruce gathered his forces and headed towards the city as fast as possible.

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[BL WARNING: EXTREMELY MATURE CONTENT]“I know you like it when I dig deep inside you.”Maxim had been living a secret double life as a masked dancer in a brothel within the red-light district, driven by the need to earn a high income.One night, he noticed a golden-haired man staring at him with intense interest.Seizing the opportunity, Maxim seduced the stranger and lured him into his bed for a one-night stand.However, what began as a brief moment of pleasure quickly turned into a nightmare when Maxim discovered the true identity of his mysterious admirer.The revelation set off a relentless pursuit, with Maxim finding himself hunted wherever he went. Especially after knowing the golden-haired admirer was the son of the man who killed his parents.The revelation set off a relentless pursuit, as Maxim found himself being hunted wherever he went; he couldn't escape.Would Maxim surrender himself or fight for his rightful place?

“Doc, it’s like the game I made is becoming a reality.”“Isn’t that nice? People are under so much pressure at work these days, but you can get away from it all, play the game, and live the life of your dreams.”“But I’m a famous ghost story game designer, I’ve conceived one hundred and twenty-six mu*der cases, portrayed dozens of mu*derers with different personalities, and to find material I’ve watched ninety-five thriller movies, more than four hundred horror comics, and collected more than two thousand urban weird tales. Now they all seem to be true!”“So …… do I look familiar to you?”

“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.