Love So Sweet - Chapter 625 - Your Present

Lin Yu crossed into the world of the Demon Slayer and started the mode of rewarding hard work.

Each physical training can bring the increase of its own attributes, and there is no limit to the superposition.

The flesh is sanctified, and the power is supreme.

Fallen Ji looked in fear at the tall man in front of him, whose body was covered in shadows. The machete-like Japanese sword behind the man was bigger than her entire body, and her neck was being stabbed to death by a strong arm. ‘s grasp.

“Unarmed… catch a ghost?”

Yi Wozu couldn’t remember how many times his wounds had healed in the fierce battle, and the corners of his bloodshot eyes were fierce and excited.

“A mere human can actually reach this level, are you a monster?

bring it on!

I would like to call you the strongest. ”

Ghost Dance? Wu Miserable: Trembling…

- Description from novelbuddy

Ark travels to a world of cultivating immortals where men are inferior to women.

In this world, the uprights are women, the villains are women, the cultivators are women, and even the creator gods who created the world are women. ?

As a pretty boy who is coveted everywhere, Fang Zhou is under a lot of pressure.

Girls want to play with him, but also want to catch him back to play.

For the sake of his own life, Fang Zhou had no choice but to turn into a steel hunk and resist to the end. ?

“Go away, that stinky woman, don’t disturb my cultivation!”

………………

The new book “Your ability is very strong, now it’s mine” has been released, welcome to watch

- Description from novelbuddy

“Even if this universe is truly nothing more than a brutal bloody shadowy forest, we Cultivators will burn all that we have just to give off a single weak flickering spark in the darkness!

“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.