Devil's Son-in-Law - Chapter 16 - Hot Pot

Su Li has never expected that those she met in her first life would follow her to a new life in a new family.

After finishing the DxD light novel, a Warhammer 40K fan loses his life and finds himself, without any clear explanation, in the body of an angel banished from paradise by his Heavenly Father.[Ding!!!][Congratulations, Lord Sanguinius.][You have been selected to become a member of the dimensional discussion group.]“'m just a member... not the administrator?”Author's Note:A story born from a whim, but one that can flourish with your support.## Warning:I do not own any of the works represented here, such as DxD, Warhammer 40k, or others (the cover doesn't belong to me either).This is a harem (small, but still a harem).Author’s note:!!!! Another important piece of information!!!Please, do not read this story if you are unable to distinguish between an Ecchi light novel and religious events or statements related to various sacred scriptures.If that’s not the case for you and you post crap in the comments, I’ll just delete it (this is a fanfic, not a place for religious debates or discussions related to the divine word).Honestly, I didn’t want to include this in the synopsis (it makes me seem like I hate faith when I actually have religious friends), but a VERY intelligent reader managed to persuade me to explain to people the difference between an Ecchi light novel and the precious writings of human history

“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.

The course of commitments never did run smooth.