This Japanese Monogatari Isn't Lame - Chapter 435 - 293: Jishi Park (4000 words)_2

The world had shown Baines every possible lesson it could teach; from familial love, joy, and peace to hate, rage, betrayal, and pain.He got detached from his family by the wimps of others.But, before he began his journey to find them, he was forced to witness that scene that haunted him once more. The destruction of his home.He was about to give up on life when an unforeseen opportunity presented itself.There, he vowed, “The world will bleed for what it has done to me.”Using the greatest collections gathered by his ancestors, he set out on the thorny path to revenge.Little did he know, the result of his actions followed other cascading events that then threatened his world.Does he refuse to help the world because of the pain it had caused him? Or, will he join in the destruction?

I, Asahi was just a filthy rich young master who died? But why I am following the plotline of a third rate novel? Why is this Goddess named Cliche? And wait, this didn't end there. I'm also getting this great system for fulfilling my fantasies.

FIRST WORLD: HIGH SCHOOL OF THE DEAD.

SECOND WORLD: Irregular In A Magic High School

THIRD WORLD: High School DxD

FOURTH WORLD: Danmachi

Features: A mc who never rapes.

With the marriage of her prostitute mother to the Count, Aria’s status in society skyrocketed immediately. After leading a life of luxury, Aria unfairly meets death because of her sister Mielle’s schemes. And right before she dies, she sees an hourglass fall as if it were a fantasy. And just like that, she was miraculously brought back to the past.

“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.