Primitive Man - Chapter 240: Familiar yet different

Ye Beibei was unprepared for a while, and she married Young Master Gu who was sitting in a wheelchair.

I thought that from then on, I would have lived a career as a wealthy man, rich and free, but I never knew I was enslaved every day to become a nanny.

Ye Beibei beat the table: Liar, I want a divorce!

Young Master Gu pushed a cute baby to his front: You still want to get a divorce even when we already have a child? Wife, you wake up!

“…” Ye Beibei looked at a cute baby, who was exactly like her, with a confused expression.

Who can tell her when she gave birth! ?

- Description from MTL

Du Fei was reborn, and in this difficult era of extreme shortage of supplies, he started his wonderful life of opening and hanging…

- Description from novelbuddy

After rebirth, Liu Jian exposed his hidden nature and squandered his youth recklessly.

“I will invest in any company I like, and I will get my hands on any woman I like.”

He is not a gentleman, and in order to achieve his goal, he will resort to tricks and schemes, and he will get revenge. Like a nouveau riche, wearing a big gold necklace, driving a sports car, and vigorously chasing women.

When he grew into a towering tree, he realized that he had unknowingly changed the world, and the woman under him already had a strengthened platoon!

113512389 reward subscription group! What to do? Lao Tzu’s goal of beheading thousands of people has not yet been achieved, and it seems that he will continue to work hard. A certain man who crossed the notebook murmured.

This book is on the shelves, and I hope that wolf friends will continue to support it! The pure cool text is waiting for you to watch, don’t wait until it disappears to regret it! ! ! Wolf friends group: 254750819! ! !

- 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.