Apocalypse: I have a supermarket stocked with supplies - Chapter 344: Snail Noodles forever divine

[Warning Mature Content: 18+][Sexual Content Warning]'Reincarnated With a Divine Bloodline System' tells the story of Adam, who unexpectedly reincarnates into a new world as Silas Armstrong, the son of powerful cultivators. Initially disoriented and longing for the peaceful life he shared with his wife, Lilian, Silas gradually embraces the unique opportunities and challenges that his new life offers.

*NonRape-General langauge*Liora’s life takes an unexpected and cruel turn when she’s sent to the royal court as a concubine for the disgraced Prince Lucien, a man whose past is shadowed by betrayal and loss. Stripped of his royal title, Lucien has long distanced himself from love and loyalty, existing in a cold, indifferent world.Thrown into this world of palace internal battles, power struggles, and betrayal, Liora must face not only Lucien’s frosty demeanor but also the dangerous secrets that lurk within the court. Every move she makes is watched, every word is questioned. Yet, despite his distant nature, she can’t shake the feeling that beneath the hardened prince lies a man struggling with the ghosts of his past.As Liora tries to find her place in this hostile environment, she faces a constant dilemma: Can she warm the prince’s cold heart and heal his wounds, or will she fall victim to the very same forces that tore him apart?'Can she thaw lucien’s frozen heart, or will his haunted past consume them both?'Arranged marriage,Disgraced prince,Court intrigue,Royal concubine,Forbidden love, Political drama, Palace secrets, Unwanted bride, Betrayal. Haunted memories, redemption,Royal court drama, second chances

That afternoon, Roland received the most absurd gift imaginable—his stepmom handed him a System literally.That’s right. Not a game console. Not money. A real, cheat-like System... the kind usually reserved for transmigrators and chosen ones.Except Roland had transmigrated eighteen years ago, and nothing remotely “chosen” had ever happened since—until now.The catch? It wasn’t just any System. It was the “Mother's Little Tasks” System, formerly owned by his doting (mysterious) mother. And its first mission?[Mission: Go on a blind date.][Target Options: Yukino Yukio (Mom), Yukino Haruno (Elder Sister), Yukino Yuki (Younger Sister).][Warning: Once locked, your chosen girl can never marry anyone else.][Reward: 1000 Points, one self-selected supernatural ability from Mall]Roland: “...What kind of twisted matchmaking app did I just inherit?”After reading the mission, Roland was stunned. An arranged romance at 18 was already bad—but a binding rule that prevented the chosen girl from marrying anyone else? What if he failed the mission? Would she be alone forever?“And this is supposed to be a System?”“Mom! What the hell is this mission?” Roland asked, his face darkening.“It finally triggered! All those Points I spent transferring the System weren’t wasted,” his mother replied cheerfully, ignoring his outrage.“You set this up? Why?”“You’re nearly an adult and you’ve never even dated. Of course I’m worried.”“I’m only eighteen! I have college entrance exams next year!”“Exams don’t matter. But youth without love isn’t youth at all.”“...Is that something a mother should say?” Roland muttered. Most mothers pushed their kids to study harder—his acted like grades were irrelevant.“What kind of mom does this to her own son? And why is Aunt Yukio even on the target list? That’s just insane!”“Well~, I don’t know what kind of girl you like. The Yukino family has all three types—mother, elder sister, and younger sister—so I gave you options.”

“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.