Supreme Emperor of Swords - Chapter 1247 - 52 Each With Their Own Schemes

My end was not majestic, my beginning was not beautiful, but I will make damn sure that I rise once more. No more shall I bend a knee, no more shall I hide, no more shall I cower. No more shall the light guild my path, for only Darkness remains.

***

Killed by the universe's greatest killer, Truck-Kun. My existence was twisted as I gazed up at King-Yama, staring down at me with revulsion, “You sick bastard, you ate people.” He bellowed, glaring at me with disgust.

Snorting, I gathered my courage raising my head high and proud, my voice carrying a hint of pride, “So what, have you ever tried it...Let me ask you, have you ever had sex.”

A bewildered expression hung on his rugged appearance as he absentmindedly nodded. A slight smirk crossed my face as I declared, “then have you ate ass,”

“WHAT!!!” He balled in panic, shivering like a guilty man on trial.

“HAHA, you call me disgusting, but it appears you were sucking ass, now that is truly disgusting. I don't judge, but if you ask me, I will stick to cannibalism.”

“THAT NOT A FAIR COMPARISON, YOU LITTLE SHIT,”

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”

He slides his hand between her legs and pulls her in. She gasps and holds on to him for support as he runs his fingers between her lips and clit. She's trembling from his touch. As he moves his finger around the outside of her.“Time to rinse off” he whispers to her.He uses his body to push her towards the water and he rubs her again he presses the front half of her body to his and washes the soap off her backside. She throws her head back. And begins to let out a scream, but he covers her mouth with his hands and says “shhhhh be quiet now.”He spins her around so her back side is pressed against his erected cock. Feeling it's cold contact she throws her head back again gasping. Her then washes the front of her off pressing hard against her he gropes her breast squeezing them tight and pinching her nipples.She was so surprised by how good this felt.How badly she wanted him to bite her.And just as she finished that thought he stuck his hands between her legs again, and then he bit her on the opposite side of Oliver's bite. The bite burned her core undoing her as he played with her clit with his fingers and then sliding them inside her. Holding her body hostage with his fangs and fingers she completely submitted to his whims. He could have what ever he wanted in that moment and she wouldn't complain a bit.Pulling his fingers out of her and sucking her juices off them he says “You really are the best thing I've ever tasted. And now I know why my brothers are struggling not to fuck you and are fighting over you. I don’t think we can wait until the full moon to start breaking you in.”

Miracles don’t come walking your way by themselves.