City of Sin (Yanyu Jiangnan) - Vol 8 Chapter 114

Floods, torrential rains, extreme cold, heatwaves, hail, earthquakes, polar nights and polar days… Overnight, the world transformed immensely as numerous natural disasters swept across it.Gu Yan knew, who struggled alone in the post-apocalyptic world for ten years, finally met her end alongside her enemies.Upon opening her eyes again, Gu Yan knew with her space ability replanted herself back three months before the apocalypse.Her younger brother had not yet been washed away by a sudden flood, and her boyfriend had not been frozen to death by his cousin in extreme coldness.With her soon-to-be useless company, she tricked her cousin's family out of billions, and Gu Yan knew started her delightful stockpiling life.From pearl milk tea and instant noodles, hot pots and rice with big plate chicken,To things that fly and swim,Whether for eating, drinking, playing, or using,All that can be thought of and not, she arranged everything.Whether it could be of use or not, stockpiling was the key!

The system says that curing a person will get good doctor points, and killing a person will get bad doctor points. When the 100 points are reached, the skills of good doctors or bad doctors will be randomly selected.

Why do I always feel that bad doctors are better than good doctors…

Nani?

Does the captain’s orange count as a bad doctor’s skill?

You lie here and don’t move, I’m going to buy some oranges.

- Description from novelbuddy

What if Midoriya Izuku stayed quirkless? What if he could become a hero without any powers? Or even more shocking—what if he became the successor to All For One?

“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.