The Wielder of Death Magic - Chapter 1112 - 1112 "I gambled,"

Luke is a half-beast who grew up in the twisty streets of a large city called Oukiwa. Abandoned by his parents as a child, he soon had to learn the arts of thievery to survive.

Even on the fringes of a super-powered society, he has followed a single rule all his life: never get involved with the Adventurers.

However, this rule is broken when his gang begins to hatch a plan to rob the most powerful family in town.

And so begins the chronicles of Luke Lange, a thief with no ancestors who in the future becomes one of the strongest men in history, with powers that are rivaling even the gods.

“Let's get married!” When those words came out of the beautiful CEO's mouth, Li Chen felt dizzy!

Lin Tantan was a die-hard fan of Ye Xiao, the most powerful person in the apocalypse. After her death, she went to the beginning of the apocalypse more than three hundred years ago. Her first wish was to protect Ye Xiao and his team, who were still relatively weak at this time, so that he would not go back to the original path of his teammates dying, and finally blowing himself up among the zombies.

Of course, to love someone is to love his CP together. Her second wish is to focus on protecting Ye Xiao’s vice-captain, so that these two lovers can open their hearts to each other bravely, and spend a happy life together. No more regrets.

Ye Xiao found that whenever he talked to Old Bai, that very powerful but also a little weird little girl always looked at them and smiled like an aunt. So, what was she laughing at?

After a long time, Ye Xiao blocked the little girl in a corner, kissed her forehead, and successfully saw the little girl instantly turned into a screaming chicken, and laughed in a low voice: “Who told you that Old Bai and I are a couple?”

Lin Tantan: “!!!”

What should I do if I want to fall in love with my idol?

- 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.