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... d. The eyes of other players are mainly concentrated on the sides of the river and Down the road, so mahoon inserted the jewelry guard behind the blue buff, there is no lid vision in the middle of the river.

Mahoon flashed, but did not respond for a moment. Cheng Feng was a big trick that blocked his vision. 008 Jian Ji opened a big move against Bobby and rushed forward. Mahon calmed down instantly and Bobby walked towards the wall of the wild area. Go, and then a decisive flash e ...

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Five years ago, she left an egg and said, “This is the son I gave birth to you. When he grows up, it’s my return date.” He thought she was joking, but the son broke out of the egg a few months later. She looks like a baby, but there are two shiny, cute and cute little dragon horns on her head, but she has no return date.

*

Later, she disappeared for five years, and he also went crazy for five years, until Xiaolongzai brought back a woman, and he sobered up on the spot… But Xiaolongzai said: “Father, although you don’t have a wife, you will soon have a daughter-in-law. She saved me, and I want to make a promise to her!”

*

Since then, the father and son have fallen into open and secret struggles for favor.

“Your Excellency, Ms. Si’s medical skills have amazed the world, and big shots from all walks of life are fighting to spoil her. Your hero is useless to save the beauty…”

Mo Yinhe suddenly fell to the ground, coughing profusely: “Quick, call her to save me!”

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Mo Yinhe announced his abdication on the spot, and dragged his son to live on the street: “Son, from now on Dad can only follow you to your wife.”

The little dragon cub shook the shiny, cute little dragon horns on the top of his head: “Father, I have already contacted you with a nursing home, so that you can spend your old age safely~”

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My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroinesChapter 34 - Ytrisia’s Suspicion
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“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.