This Eroge Won't Make Me Fall! - Chapter 104 98: Let’s Get Out

1946

Peggy Carter walked to the Brooklyn Bridge and poured Captain America’s blood sample under the bridge with her own hands. “Goodbye, dear.” A woman’s voice suddenly sounded beside her, as if it had come out of nowhere. “He will come back.” At this time, Carter’s face was full of tears, and he looked at the woman in black with a black hat in his pocket very puzzled, “Ha, I’m sorry to scare you suddenly. Seeing what you said Yes, I just want to persuade you.” After finishing speaking, he looked towards the bridge and looked at the sea view in the distance. Carter, who was very vigilant, felt relieved after hearing such an explanation, wiped away his tears, and wanted to leave. “I have a friend ……” The mysterious woman suddenly said another word, interrupting Carter, which made her feel uneasy.

“I have a friend who wants me to tell you that I look forward to meeting you.” As she said that, Peggy’s uneasiness increased by three points, and she quietly touched the hidden gun.

“In the future, live well…”

“Who are you!”

The mysterious woman ignored Peggy Carter and immediately turned around. Peggy was anxious and immediately drew out her gun.

The woman took out her hand from her pocket, and there were six gemstones of different colors inlaid in her hand, clenched into a fist. The mysterious woman disappeared in front of Peggy’s eyes, but the last words “for the captain” still linger in Peggy’s ears.

Year 2008.

Daisy officially presented the full plan to the Security Council

“The world needs more heroes”

- Description from novelbuddy

***Completed*** Lady Jessamyn brought home a ten-year-old orphan when she was eight. He was handsome ^_~. She provided him with a place to stay and warm meals. As they grew up, she desired to marry him, despite their differing statuses. As war raged, he signed up for the military, promising to ask for her hand when he was worthy.Two years later, he became more than what he promised he would be. He became the Archduke of Ayberia. But he broke her heart by marrying her friend.Years rolled away; life happened. She married a man who loved her and fell madly in love with him. She didn't think of him again. But fate was cruel; she was widowed at the age of twenty-one. She lost everything.Seven years later, she met a mysterious wolf while she was out at work in the Archduke's fief. She had a fall. The next morning, she found herself on the Archduke's bed.Did fate bring them together again? Or something nefarious is at play? Is this a chance for a second love?Will she find out why he abandoned her in the past?Is it possible to rekindle their old love, or is it too late?-----Join me in this journey. Your comments and votes are appreciated. Gift me to motivate me.Updates will be daily.

Let someone else go to war, you, lucky Austria, go get married! What the god of war can give you, the god of love can also give you.

The smoke of the Napoleonic Wars has dissipated, and the Vienna system that once brought peace to Europe is riddled with holes. Beneath the seemingly peaceful appearance, there is a vortex of the times with undercurrents, the tranquility before the storm.

The air is filled with the steaming mist of sweat, and the choking black smoke makes it hard to breathe. On the elegant dining table, a group of soldiers and fat men in suits are pushing each other, feasting on the feast called the world, hanging on the wall Van Gogh’s self-portrait with waltz in his ears.

Suddenly the music turned into a march, and the picture also turned to the battlefield. Soldiers marched in a neat line, walking towards the machine gun barbed wire.

A shell fell on the ground, and after the smoke passed, countless cavalry rushed to the artillery position.

Accompanied by a loud noise, a wooden plane flew close to the ground, then pulled up rapidly, broke through the clouds, and shone brightly.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.