Goblin Workshop In Me - Chapter 90

Chen Tong is punished by a Demon God to go to each world to be various kinds of spirits, fortunately regardless of what to cross, he is good at using demon spirit magic, healing, prophecy, psychic, all kinds of strong flaunting off isn’t good.

Thus, warlord and his little mirror, imperial prince and little fox, alliance head and little peach blossom, chief-executive’s little kitty…… having lived a life (chicken) full (flying) of blessing (dog) and beauty (jumping).

Just, –“Baby, when did you change into human form?” The man who is chasing after him regrets asks, “human form can then pa pa pa ……”

- Description from Novelupdates

Witnessing her fiance’s derailment with her own eyes, she married a “poor and poor” poor second generation.

The next day, jewelry, diamonds, haute couture clothing, luxury cars and mansions were received softly.

He is a domineering president who is cold-hearted and black-bellied in front of others, and he is also a three-good man who spoils his wife, loves his wife, and loves his wife.

 …

Rumor has it that his cleanliness allergy makes him never touch a woman, but she is a complete exception;

Rumor has it that he is an ascetic man who is so indifferent to strangers that he is extremely gentle in front of her;

Rumor has it that he is generous and neat and never cares about others. After his marriage, he overturns countless vinegar jars every day…

Her married life: sweet, sour, sweet, sweet, bitter, salty;

His married life: Chai, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar, vinegar, vinegar, vinegar, vinegar, vinegar, vinegar, tea.

- Description from novelbuddy

This story is centered around the man named Yi Ji-Hyuk, who has spent 1000 years in a Medieval Western fantasy-like world before returning back to the modern-day Earth. When he returns, he finds that his home is facing monster threats, and that humans with superpowers have appeared to protect the innocent people of Earth.

“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.