Scandal Supermodel - Chapter 136

TW: DARK ROMANCE FANTASY

================

He was Chaos, the shattering soul that was deemed to wreak havoc and the cause of thousands of deaths.

Fear was a cloak that engulfed his existence.

He didn’t want anything except to find every piece of his damn soul, until the little white wolf entered his life. He wanted her.

Chaos didn’t care if he had to spill blood more than necessary, still he wanted her.

“You will put yourself in a battle against them,” He said begrudgingly. “Give up the girl.”

Yet, he stared into his eyes and he knew he wouldn’t be able to change his decision, as if it was already written on the stone.

“The girl stays. Touch her and I will show them what Chaos is.”

.....

Sumi has always despised the world she lives in—one filled with greed, deceit, and pain. Trapped in a miserable life with a dead-end job and mounting debt, she sees no escape. But when her lecherous boss crosses the line, Sumi reaches her breaking point. In a desperate act, she takes her own life—only to awaken in the darkness and found out that her wish has been granted she is no longer human she finds herself in the most unexpected form… a seed of a flower and she was in the world which she only knows in game and stories. a world where creature like demon, monster and things like magic and spells exist and she is going to live her second life… as a flower.

“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.

To be is to have a soul. The soul begets a will. Wills accumulate into mysterious psychic forces, weaving secret domains within the fabric of reality.