Divorced and Determined: The CEO's Ex-Wife Fights for Love - Chapter 85

The female protagonist crossed over to become the Venerable Woman Kingdom’s Crown Princess. That’s right, that’s right, holding power and authority and handsome men!

What? She’s has the body constitution of trash and is unable to practice martial arts?

Having finally set her eyes on a good looking man, he turned out to be a snow wolf. Isn’t that just so sad and depressing….. Having captured a good looking man, a certain woman laughed sinisterly. “Remember this. You are already mine, so you have to remain chaste for me. If you do not obey, I will then reject the goods.”

The handsome looking man was stunned with his mouth agape. “You….. You’ve gotten it completely backwards!”

- Description from Novelupdates

This is the story of a poor young man whose poverty even shreds apart their family willing to climb his way through society and into the top

After slumbering for years in the darkest pits of the abyss, Haruki Shin is awoken by the demon lord of lust. She tries to remind him of a contract he signed with her in exchange for the power that would help him exact his revenge in the mortal world.

However, who or what he wanted to get revenge on? He couldn’t remember. Replaced with a hazy mist, his memories had long since faded. But to the mistress of lust that didn’t matter as she forced him back into the mortal world with the demonic body of an incubus.

Feeling lost he’s forced to adhere to each of her commands, and despite his refusal, he can’t resist the binds of the contract. Eventually, however, as he learns more about his tragic past, and the existence of the lustful system he’s been blessed with for his revenge, his path to becoming a monster finally begins.

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“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.