Regressing Through the Apocalypse with the Third Male Lead - Chapter 3 - : Regression and Transmigration 3

“Blonde again this time.” It’s already the third time being possessed. The third time with blonde hair. At this point, I can’t help but doubt the taste of the deity I serve, Pebula. Upon waking up, the detailed personal information of the third body, Siora, is as follows: [Siora Velvet. 20 years old. Parents died in a fire. Currently under the protection of Count Bonetti. Remaining assets: 0g. Scheduled to be evicted in 3 days] It’s clearly a worse situation than the previous two possessions! *** As the only priestess, cleric, saint, and pope of the ancient deity Pebula, one day she received a book. The book titled described that the world would soon be destroyed by the villain ‘Cruello White Desert.’ “Ancient deity Pebula, please perform a miracle.” As soon as she finished reading the book, Pebula, who had given the revelation to ‘Reform the villain!’ immediately threw her into the body of the villain’s childhood fiancée. First attempt: Died after being poisoned instead of the villain, thus failing. Second attempt: Possessed the body of the villain’s maid but also failed, as she was too focused on doing nothing but dying. Finally, the third attempt. Waking up in the body of Siora, who had no connection with the villain, she strives to make a connection with Cruello. However, there is only one year left before Cruello destroys the world… Moreover, after two failed attempts, the once innocent child has already grown into a wicked villain! Like Cinderella returning home at midnight, Siora wants to save Cruello and escape her duties. Will she be able to fulfill her role and break free from her fate? #Overpowered #MultiplePossessions #PoliticalMarriage #Revenge #ComingOfAge #Redemption #SaintOfAncientDeity #ReformTheVillain

Ayaan is a young resident aspiring to be a surgeon, the final stage of a full on graduated plague doctor. However, in her attempt to redeem herself after a sudden discontinuation, she finds herself unravelling mysteries about her institution that are rather gut wrenching. Stick around and watch her persevere in a world full of monsters; creatures and humans alike.

Realistic Zombie Online Game!Scavenge, craft tools, farm, combat monsters, and actively survive while searching for the reasons behind humanity's failure against the zombie virus.16 completed VIP volumes, 23 million words, starting with online gaming and returning to it.

“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.