Empress with no Virtue - Chapter 86

[Quan You Fan: You can read without barriers even if you haven’t read the original book or TV series]

after many years,

When the legendary lord, the dragon knight, the son of the holy flame, the nightmare of the schemer, the smasher of the order of the game, the undefeated myth on the battlefield, the ruler of the seven kingdoms and the guardian of the whole territory——

When Samwell Caesar sat on the Iron Throne,

He must have thought of that distant afternoon when he got the pioneering order from the Rose of Highgarden.

At that time, no one could have imagined that this young man abandoned by his father would set off an iron-blooded storm that would sweep across the entire continent of Westeros.

There were three rules to working for CEO Karsten Chevalier.First, bring his coffee brimming hot and black like a starless night.Second, park your attitude outside his office door—his broody demeanour has the room covered.Third, never say ‘No’ to whatever he demands. Not even when he asks you to become his fake girlfriend?(Synopsis)Arata's fiance dumped her through a text on the day of their engagement party. The reason? She is too curvy for his taste!He only entertained her because of her prestigious family name.“Do you think men want a fatso like you? You're nothing without your family's name!”A heartbroken Arata sets out on a journey to discover herself without revealing she is the daughter of a billionaire. She moves to another city, away from her beloved family.‘How dare he insult me? I love my curves and I will show him.’ Arata is not a damsel; her parents have raised her strong, and now it is time to become independent.Her heart is ablaze with newfound goals.One: to see how people will treat her if she acts like an ordinary girl and hides her identity.Two: to bag a bigger fish than her stinking—joke of an ex-fiancé.She will prove that a man will genuinely love her irrespective of her curves and surname!Arata's new life begins as the secretary of Karsten Chevalier, the CEO of a multinational clothing brand who is renowned for his dashing personality and enigmatic persona. Not much is publicly known about this man.Doused in mystery, the man has his own goals and hidden agenda which will topple Arata's world.Unfortunately, Karsten's handsome face becomes a punching bag in Arata's mind because of his ruthlessly demanding personality and ego larger than Mount Everest.Arata eases her frustrations by going to meet Twisted Rider, the currently popular yet mysterious, masked internet sensation.Both tangle under the sheets and he becomes her safe space as she complains and opens up about her boss.“Will you act as my girlfriend?”Karsten's proposal to become a fake girlfriend for his family events surprised Arata!How will Arata juggle the piling demands of her boss, her own heartbreak and the seduction traps of the masked man she loves to watch in her spare time?Will sparks fly between Arata and her colder-than-Arctic ice boss? Or, will she continue to complain to the masked man that her boss probably has a small PP?This is my entry for WSA 2025, please support it with your power stones.The book is a sequel to my previous novel “The CEO of My Dreams Returned To Me.” But it can read as standalone.A special thanks to Author Hansora for the overwhelming support and encouraging me to publish this book and helping me with the book cover.Want to chat or have any questions regarding the book? Find me on Instagram, Facebook and Discord with the same name.

“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.