Fated to the Alpha's Sons: An Omegas Rise to Fame - Chapter 46: Take Me To Your Room.

Merged into the body of External Disciple Chen Yu was the heart of a demonic god.The heart is the core of life, the most fragile vital organ. To Chen Yu, however, the heart was his greatest strength, granting him power and potential beyond demonic and divine beasts. Here on out, we follow him as he embarks on a mysterious and wonderful journey.

She, Mu Qing, was holding space supplies and dressed like a silly village girl.

The beginning was difficult for everyone, and it was still one woman vs two men.

In the face of the upcoming arrest scene, she decisively gave up the goal set by her relatives and turned to the arms of the unlucky boss.

From now on, she will fight for the best, seek justice, and clean up all those who want to harm her.

By the way… Oh no, how could the luck of this unlucky boss get better, and he still hugged her and cried in the middle of the night?

- Description from Novelupdates

Bluestar 2100, the global land resources are exhausted. Food crisis is coming! For the few available land, the cloud of war shrouded the entire Blue Star! However, at this moment, the National Farm suddenly came! Everyone thought that Blue Star was saved.

However, in the farm, danger is looming! In just one month, the vast majority of people in Daxia have been eliminated from the farm space! Only Su Chen is left! Countless Daxia people fell into despair.

At this moment, a voice suddenly sounded in Su Chen’s mind. Ding your infinite synthesis system activated! Please pay attention to check! ! …

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.