Transmigration: On the Gossip Front - Chapter 1009 - 1010: The Lonely Village Girl 54

Volume 1: The Ender of Third Apocalypse - In ProgressVolume 2: The Missing 9th Apocalypse: The Battle Against the Ender of Vampire's Rise Apocalypse - Soon***You are about to start your selected Apocalypse World.You are free to choose one of the Gift Packs you'll bring to help you in the early stages of the event.[ Energy Gift Pack ][ Entertainment Gift Pack ][ Food Gift Pack ][ Medical Gift Pack ][ Shelter Gift Pack ][ Stealth Gift Pack ][ Survival Tools Gift Pack ][ Transport Gift Pack ][ Water Gift Pack ][ Weapon Gift Pack ]You have 10 minutes to choose.***WSA 2024 EntryPlease support! Thank you!

A boy who lost his love for Formula racing after his father died on track, bringing calamity to his family. Left to care for his mother and sister, Luca does all he can to make ends meet. But it seems that every step he takes keeps pulling him back to the asphalt, and one sudden endeavor changes his life completely. [SYSTEM INITIALIZING......] [SYSTEM MERGING COMPLETE!] [Congratulations, you have attained the Formula 1 System] Luca rekindles his love for Formula racing as he strives to find his footing in this world. Rivalries and conspiracies may try to weigh him down, but Luca is determined to emerge victorious. [THE FORMULA 1 SYSTEM, A SYSTEM THAT WILL HELP HOST BECOME THE BEST RACER IN THE WORLD]

An acid rain, a biohazard.

A new folder, a global arsenal.

As long as Tang Zheng collects enough gold, he can buy any weapon.

This is a story about a military fan who acquires an arsenal of weapons, fights zombies in the last days, saves good people and eliminates bad people.

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Book Friends Penguin Group (746860067)

Key words of the novel: Commander of the Last Days has no pop-up window, Commander of the Last Days txt complete works download, Commander of the Last Days latest chapter reading

- 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.