Deep Space Wandering Fleet - Chapter 160 - 161 Supernova Explosion

Xu Jun finally defeated the BOSS–the Dark Demon King, in this stand-alone, virtual reality game. When he wanted to go out to browse Weibo and express his mood, he suddenly encountered a game BUG and immediately passes over to the game world.

He became the man who finally took down the Great Demon King in this world. Gratifying! The attention of millions of people!

……However, he did not know the development of this world was not the same as the game, the Demon King did not die, rather his soul entered into Xu Jun’s body; this Demon King knows of all the stupid things Xu Jun does everyday…….

- Description from Novelupdates

Su Ying, a major general of the armored army of the last days, traveled through time, to the body of a scumbag who colluded with a scumbag to murder her husband. She was exiled as soon as she came, and she also gave her two children and a disabled husband who killed her every minute.

Small injury, big disability, Su Ying waved his hand, it’s not a problem.

On the way to exile, I didn’t eat or drink and was hunted down, so I was sprinkled with water.

With the material and space in hand, she has meat in her left hand and wine in her right hand. The assassins come one by one, and two kill one pair.

Treat the disabled husband well, raise a fat and cute baby, build mountains and houses on the wasteland, farm around the land, establish your own civilization and kingdom, and be your own queen.

After curing the illness of the disabled husband and letting him go back to Shangjing to clean up his grievances and regain everything that belongs to him, Su Ying and Li Shu dumped it on the table.

A certain king gritted his teeth and blocked others: Su Ying, you dare to leave and try!

The two cute babies rushed to hug Su Ying’s legs, “Mother, don’t you want your baby?”

Su Ying raised her forehead, well, then take it all!

“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.

When the night came, there was a twittering sound in his ears, and the monster in the shadows began to move restlessly. Jason’s hungry stomach began to roar, and he couldn’t help swallow his saliva. Hunger was the best spur.