MTL - I Am Invincible From the End of the World - Chapter 938 Liu Miaomiao shot

The one single goal in life of the Strongest Old Sage is to subjugate the Demon King. In an epic final battle, both of them met their mutual destruction at each other’s hands.

However, the Demon King was not completely destroyed!

In order to destroy the Demon King once and for all; post-death, the Old Sage trains in the World of Gods and reincarnates as the Apostle of the Gods, Will.

In the reincarnated future, the Old Sage had become a legend and his former disciples hold the supreme authority in the world. The disciples had created an organization to oppose the Demon King and an academy to nurture the new generation of Heroes.

Thus the Apostle of the Gods, Will (8 year old), enrols into that Academy of Heroes.

This is the story of a boy on a mission to save the world through epic battles while enjoying Academy life.

She, a renowned assassin of the 21st century, actually crossed over to become Su Manor’s most useless good-for-nothing Fourth Miss.

Office worker Leon is reincarnated into a particularly punishing dating sim video game, where women reign supreme and only beautiful men have a seat at the table. But Leon has a secret weapon: he remembers everything from his past life, which includes a complete playthrough of the very game in which he is now trapped. Watch Leon spark a revolution to change this new world in order to fulfill his ultimate desire…of living a quiet, easy life in the countryside!

“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.