Naruto: Uchiha Survivor Forced to Save the Shinobi World - Chapter 6: Shinji’s Mangekyo Sharingan Dojutsu

You are the ruler, I am a subject, you want loyalty, I’ll give you loyalty. You are the ruler, I am the subject, you want my sacrifice, I will sacrifice for you. This lifetime, we’ll only be ruler and subject…… cannot become the one who accompanies you to experience everything.

A deposed empress, a failure of a substitute. Charging into battle, he was the emperor, and she, his general. But within the intimacy of their military tent, he was her husband, and she, his wife.

But everything was star-crossed. For the one he loved the most, he would push her into hell again and again.

- Description from Novelupdates

The story of otaku building a harem! School flower, loli, wife, mother and daughter, mature woman, teacher, nurse, queen, all kinds of beauties, three steps to push a girl, five steps to a group, harem group, infinite warmth, so cool that you always need to prepare a tissue for easy reading !

- Description from novelbuddy

Sabrina Jewel found out she was pregnant after so many pregnancy tests. The same day, her husband, the powerful President of Jewels Group of Companies in NY city, Robin Jewel, brought another woman home after Sabrina had endured his escapades with ceaseless women and tried to be a good wife.“What? After all the sperm, you could not for once be pregnant. Not even a miscarriage. She did your job for you,” Robin pinned the blame on Sabrina.Sabrina’s world crumbled right before her eyes. She left her family for this idiot but not anymore. His father knew who she was but Robin never took the pain to even research about her throughout their three years of marriage. Since he got another woman pregnant, she was done for good.“I have had enough, Robin. It’s either she leaves or I leave….”

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.