Tribulation of Myriad Races - Chapter 1397: Fighting Eyeball (1)

Aidan was thrust into this word of death and magic against his will. He was weak, Frail and pathetic but his unyielding hardwork led him to the peak where he sits unrivaled, Now he tries to find other ways to cure his unending bordom.Netorase—Netorare—Overpowered—Harem—Elf’s—Giants—Incest—

Humiliated and in heat, Idalia was forced to attend the Moonlight Masquerade in hopes of finding a mate to satisfy her body's needs.Vulnerable to her desires, she ran into the woods to escape a potential scandal. But when a masked man catches her, his touch tosses all reasoning aside.What should have been a simple humiliating event for the princess turns into a night of passion.There was one problem though: she couldn't remember who she mated with!The slave who carried her to bed.The knight who knelt before her and offered his canines for touching her.The sworn enemy Alpha Prince, who confessed his love for her.Follow Idalia as she navigates between three Weres. One is a pretty guy eager to please her to escape his fate, another trying to reclaim his honour while unable to control his desires, and the last is a villain using her for his goals, but a flame festers between them at every interaction.A slave, a knight and a villain prince, who will she choose?[ Mature Content ]“You smell like the sun.” His strides are long and confident, heading in my direction like he knows exactly what he wants. He stops before me, and my head tips back. “How is that possible?” His voice drops to a rumbling whisper.Now that he was close to me, the burning ache deep within started to throb and palpitate. His body tensed, and then he was on me, nose against my neck, inhaling deeply, one hand on the side of my hair, pinning me in place with his hips.My head tilts back, unable to stop myself from giving into his touch, exposing my neck more to him, his chest rumbling as he licks the side of my skin, kissing and nipping, placing his scent over me. I am completely and utterly at his mercy.I vaguely hear material ripping, and then his warm hand cups me. “You're not finished yet,” his voice is thick and deep, and it shoots straight to my tingling, pulsing core. His touch is almost possessive, and I nearly beg him to do whatever he wants with me.“Should I make it better?” His whisper is a caress against my ear before he nips the lobe, a bite promising that this would not be tender.- Daily chapter uploads -

When I woke up after being transported to another world, I am suddenly the antagonist? This script is wrong! I stole the other guy’s girl! I also have a super strong big sister! This script is even more wrong! There’s even an Overgod Space, along with the infinite worlds? I must be dreaming! Wu Ming calmly maintains his neutral expression and journeys ever onwards.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.