Garden Of Poison - Chapter 130: Mine, as much as I am yours

He slides his hand between her legs and pulls her in. She gasps and holds on to him for support as he runs his fingers between her lips and clit. She's trembling from his touch. As he moves his finger around the outside of her.“Time to rinse off” he whispers to her.He uses his body to push her towards the water and he rubs her again he presses the front half of her body to his and washes the soap off her backside. She throws her head back. And begins to let out a scream, but he covers her mouth with his hands and says “shhhhh be quiet now.”He spins her around so her back side is pressed against his erected cock. Feeling it's cold contact she throws her head back again gasping. Her then washes the front of her off pressing hard against her he gropes her breast squeezing them tight and pinching her nipples.She was so surprised by how good this felt.How badly she wanted him to bite her.And just as she finished that thought he stuck his hands between her legs again, and then he bit her on the opposite side of Oliver's bite. The bite burned her core undoing her as he played with her clit with his fingers and then sliding them inside her. Holding her body hostage with his fangs and fingers she completely submitted to his whims. He could have what ever he wanted in that moment and she wouldn't complain a bit.Pulling his fingers out of her and sucking her juices off them he says “You really are the best thing I've ever tasted. And now I know why my brothers are struggling not to fuck you and are fighting over you. I don’t think we can wait until the full moon to start breaking you in.”

The gods visit my shop. I travel across countless worlds with them. But then… “This is my sword, the Heavenly Tyrant Blade.” “This is the Ruyi Jingu Bang.” “This is the lightning spear I once wielded.” Their payments are… peculiar.

Twelve zodiac animals represented the months of the Lunar calendar. No one was aware,however, that these twelve representations were Guardian Gods. These twelve positions were passed down the twelve patron bloodlines. They possessed the ability of the zodiac guardians and silently protected the East.

In the East, the auspicious Qilin, possessing royal blood, descended, reigning over the Twelve Zodiac Guardian Gods, who devote all of their power into protecting the East.

A ruffian Qilin, an Earth that transcends all expectations, a legendary city, and the patronage of the Zodiac animals together create an unforgettable novel.

(Rat, Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, Snake, Horse, Ram/Goat, Monkey, Rooster, Dog, Pig)

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.