Wife is Fierce, Don’t Mess With Her! - Chapter 11: Luckily They Are Still Here

In the Tranquil Sun province of the empire, there exists an unremarkable lordship known as Xue Ying Territory! This is the home of the Dong Bo clan, the clan of our hero Xue Ying!

His father, a commoner turned noble; his mother, a noble who abandoned her clan for love, and his brother, an innocent toddler. But peace cannot last forever, Xue Ying’s peaceful life is shattered, and the only way to reclaim it is through power!

Drunk, she forces a man to sleep with her and does some unspeakable things.

He's the king of the business world and a prominent figure in the political world. He's widely known as the chief but even the president has to kneel down and kowtow to him when he meets him.

She is fooled by him into visiting the Civil Affairs Bureau and fooled into getting into his bed. That's when she realizes that he's mysterious, wealthy, ruthless, and impotent.

“What do you want? No! It hurts.” Gentlemanly? Impotent? Everything's a lie. He even finds 13 times a night too little for him! She runs away in fright because of her husband's powerful virility. However, she is carried back and 'tormented' every night.

She kneels down and begs him, “Please kill me.”

“Hmm?” The man has just decided something for her...

(An extremely sweet novel)

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Two women visits Dong Fang Ao’s home. Both women claim to be his betrothed. The first woman wants to break off their betrothal but she lost the betrothal gift. The second woman is holding the betrothal gift and demands Dong Fang Ao to marry her.

Dong Fang Ao keeps both women as guests in his home to find out who is his real betrothed. He is curious about the secretive Cao Zi Yun. If she is his real betrothed then he wants to keep her by his side forever. But her secret is capable of separating them forever.

“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.