MTL - The Empress’s Gigolo - Chapter 672 Better than?

Yang Qizhou unexpectedly obtained a text-based role-playing game called 【Deceit World】 and discovered that the rewards he received in the game could be brought into reality, and various bizarre events also began to unfold in the real world.In the era of ancient earth, ancient god sacrifices, the return of the old gods, strangeness rises, horror rampages, the unknown and the mysterious coexist, distortion and evil thrive, the sun cannot be directly viewed, the night cannot last long, dreams involve calamity, and the river of death holds terror... This is an era where even deities can fall, and even the sky can decay.Yang Qizhou obtained the 'Blasphemous Dark Crow' and, relying on the ability to restart fate, embarked on the path to become the 'Master of Blasphemy'.

I am a doctor, and after I became a zombie, I found that my face was paralyzed.

Actually, I didn’t want to block the zombies for my patient, but I accidentally stumbled and fell on him.

As for why I am conscious, it may be because I am handsome…

After all, compared to those A zombie that stinks and dries and still grows green hair, except that my skin is paler, my body temperature is a little lower, my pupils are a little discolored, and there are a few cyan veins on my neck, as long as I don’t say…

Actually I can still see that I am not a normal person.

I was able to determine that my stomach was not interested in humans.

However, my patient seems to smell delicious…

Rong Yun (smile): Be good, don’t bite anyone

Xiao Shenwei (face paralysis and rub hands): Okay, ah hoo~

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.

[Mature Content] Divorced and in debt, Elena decides to become the contract wife of three rich and famous men. A fair exchange begins between a woman disillusioned about love and men with their own demands and desires. But when they demand for more than her body, she discovers many dark truths as the past slowly catches up to her.