My Longevity Simulation - Chapter 677

Lin Wan transmigrated into a book and became the stepmother of the male lead. Her husband was an undisputed big shot in commerce and was cold, decisive, and ruthless. Her stepsons were each more eccentric and difficult than the other… until they took part in a variety show as a family. Five families were competing, each of which was perfectly harmonious…

Except for Lin Wan’s family. Naturally, they were the control group once the variety show aired. Every other family would have scenes of the parents cooking and the children helping adorably, a picturesque sight of family harmony. On the other hand, Lin Wan and her three stepsons ignored each other as they had crackers and ham for their dinners amidst an eerie silence. At night, while the other families went out happily stargazing and moon-watching, Lin Wan and her stepsons told each other horror stories, leaving the viewers petrified! Netizens were flaming as they watched, but they soon noticed that the control group was changing…

Even though the eldest son insisted that he disliked his stepmother, he sneaked off to buy her a scarf! The second son declared his favorite person was his father but voted for his stepmother instead! The third son was also caught putting his stepmother’s favorite candy below her pillow! The netizens were shocked, but it’s true: the tsundere stepsons were extraordinarily close with their stepmother!

Reborn as a Gotham minion and strayed into an evil organization, his heart is bright but he has fallen into darkness step by step. The whole world and even countless worlds are convincing the good guy Mason that it is obviously more promising to become a super villain in this era of disaster.

But Mason didn’t think it was easy to convince himself, so let’s do something simple.

How about we try to bring this dark and chaotic era back on track?

besides!

Batman and the heroes of the Justice League, when are you fucking going to do it? If I don’t close the net, I will go undercover and become the evil boss!

PS:

The real title of this book should be “Crossing the Beautiful Man: I Want to Be a Good Man”, “Gotham Legend: If I Were Robin, Would You Love Me?” “, “One Hundred and Eight Confessions of the Unlimited Traveling through the Worlds for White Whoring Monsters” and “The Tragic Past: From Craftsman Spirit to the No Return of Counterfeit Dealers”

- Description from novelbuddy

[Shuangqiang, sweet pet, 1v1]

A very distinguished person has come to the west city.

The mysterious man Rong Wuye is ascetic and dignified, ruthless and crazy, unparalleled in power and wealth, but he is also a well-known and unfeminine flower in the business world.

“Follow Fifth Master to keep you safe.”

“That mountain, and the three mountains connected to it, are all our private domain.”

“I don’t even intend to give my name to Lao Tzu? I’m sorry!”

He pushed her against the corner, “Little thing is misbehaving, how should I be punished?”

…

Nanhuang was reborn and found that she had become Ye Nanhuang, a woman whose marriage was not going well.

A cold divorce agreement was thrown in front of her. She took the agreement, signed it quickly, and left.

Stupid scumbag, sister don’t want it!

“Ye Nanhuang is a divorced woman.”

“Ye Nanhuang knows nothing but painting.”

“Have you heard? She is barren.”

The powerful and overlord of the imperial city, Rong Wuye, came all the way to the west city, and put his arms around her slender waist.

“Little thing, marry me, huh?”

- 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.