The billionaire's only desire - Chapter 53: in her arms

I am serious about saving people, I am professional in protecting people, and I like hunting for treasures. . . .

Emergency doctor Lu Fei was forced to travel to a small town in the United States in a parallel universe, got the rescue system, and became a legal mercenary by chance.

As a real man, you must always cut open people’s bodies to save people from danger; you must often fight and kill, and use thunderbolt methods with compassion!

- Description from novelbuddy

After enduring the wreckage of a broken marriage, Gabriel Williams finally made the decision to let go of his unfaithful husband. But letting go didn't mean forgiving and it certainly didn't mean forgetting. No, Gabriel craved something darker. He craved revenge.And that revenge came in an unexpected form: a dangerously attractive therapist.Someone who was supposed to heal broken marriages. Someone whose job was to mend, restore, and save love. Instead, this so-called savior became the very man who would tear Gabriel's marriage apart even further.“Make me moan, Mr. Therapist.”______Warning: This novel contains heavy smut and when I say heavy, I mean unapologetically explicit, raw, and relentless, r19. If erotic content is not your cup of tea, kindly look away now.For everyone else… welcome.

Once in time, she became a peasant girl in Yuehe Village who had just been divorced. Her parents disappeared, leaving her with a five-year-old child. Little Baozi brother, grandma doesn’t care, grandpa doesn’t care, uncles and aunts are top-notch, cousins ​​make fun of them.

It doesn’t matter, we have space and the world in our hands. Let’s see her make a fortune with her little bun.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.