Harem In The Intergalactic Apocalypse - Chapter 50 Friends And Family

[Host, host, I am the System, I can help you conquer the world and the witches with various personalities.]Xi Mu: Hmm... Isn't this an action game? When do we start slashing?[Right... This is an action game, but I suggest that the host also try to seduce the witches along the way, there are generous rewards.]Xi Mu: What rewards?[Of course, the perfect romantic experience!]Xi Mu: No need, I've already played through the romance plotlines. Now I just want to go on a rampage and speedrun the game.][...]

In her past life, Lu Zhaozhao placed her trust in the wrong people, inadvertently causing the death of the man who deeply loved her.Reborn on the first day she met him, Lu Zhaozhao decisively dragged Song Si Nian to register their marriage. As she busied herself with dealing retribution and slapping faces, she had only one principle regarding her husband, who suffered from emotional expression disorder: to love him.What Lu Zhaozhao did not know was that she was Song Si Nian's only light. His illness made him paranoid and obsessive, yet he dared not reveal his true self to her.But the truth cannot remain hidden forever. When everything about him was laid bare before her, Song Si Nian held her tightly, tears reddening his eyes, and with a timid voice asked while buried in her neck, “Zhaozhao, do you not want me anymore?”

“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.

If you had a chance to live again, what would you do? Earn money, hold onto a thick leg, just find someone to live a happy life with? Ha ha… Stepping on the beat of the times, riding the wind and breaking the waves, strategizing, using your knowledge to change yourself, and everything around you, come back! The reality flows to the plot, the golden fingers are thick, slow, and cool.

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