Daily Intelligence System: Don't Kill Me, Honey! - Chapter 59 Lu 3 Seeks Help

As a human, I should be miles away from any large shifter event. Especially the annual Mate Hunt.A hunt for mates. Doesn't that sound barbaric? Yeah, it's as bad as it sounds.Several packs in the area gather as their newly minted adult wolves shift. Females are let into the woods first and are given an hour's head start, just before sundown. Then it's time for the males, ostensibly thrown out to hunt down the scent of their fated (or chosen) mates.It isn't an event for the faint of heart, and it's definitely no place for someone who can't shift. So why the fuck am I here, running my little human heart out, chased by what sounds like an entire pack of wolves? Great question. I don't know, either.But I'm here.Surrounded by howls fueled by the thrill of the hunt.Feet bleeding. Lungs freezing.I am so fucked.----R18. Dark themes, including but not limited to: Murder, attempted murder, a stack of dead bodies, betrayal, mild sociopathy, an ML who appears to bathe in red flags despite his favorite color being green, an unwarranted hatred of blueberry muffins, and pillow thievery.

'Nina?'The thought hit me before I even really processed who it was. Nina Shoka from my class. She was just walking along, probably listening to music, totally unaware that this car had lost control and was sliding right toward her.I didn't think about it. Didn't weigh the pros and cons or consider my options. My legs just started moving.I dropped my phone and sprinted toward her. The car was maybe three seconds away from hitting her when I slammed into her side, pushing her as hard as I could toward the sidewalk.She went flying, landing hard on the concrete but definitely out of the car's path.Me? Not so lucky.The impact felt like getting hit by a train. One second I was pushing Nina to safety, the next I was flying through the air. Then I hit the ground and everything went wrong at once.I couldn't move my legs. Couldn't really move much of anything, actually. There was this weird warm feeling spreading across my chest and stomach, and when I tried to breathe, it felt like drowning.'Well, this sucks,' I thought, staring up at the sky. 'Guess that's what I get for being a hero.'My vision started getting all swimmy and weird, but I could make out Nina crawling over to me. She had pulled out her earbuds and there were tears streaming down her face.“Why did you do that?” she kept asking, over and over. “Why would you do that?”I wanted to shrug, but my shoulders weren't really cooperating. It seemed pretty obvious to me - she was in trouble, so I helped. That's what you do, right? Nothing fancy about it.She was talking to me, saying my name a lot. I didn't realize she even knew my name, to be honest. We had been in the same class for like three months and I don't think we had ever actually had a conversation.“Kofi, stay with me, okay?” she was saying. “You're gonna be fine. The ambulance is coming.”

Betrayed by his former gang and thrown into the Rendhold Underprison, Dantes has spent the last five years scraping by. A whoreson of orcish, human, and elvish blood, he's lived on the periphery of the periphery, lying, cheating, and stealing to survive. After a run of bad luck, he's made a powerful enemy. Luckily, he's also gotten all the tools he needs to turn things around.A slow burn progression fantasy focused on rising through the criminal underworld of a city-state using newfound powers and quick wits.MC's powers will develop slowly, but he will use them in creative ways to get ahead, and in the meantime he's not above just braining someone with a club.Anti-hero/villainous MC with a code.

“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.