When Immortal Ascension Fails Time Travel to Try Again - Story 10 - The Spy Who Rocked Too Hard (41/51

In 2180, the last survivor of the human race returns to Earth.

In 2025, a 3rd generation Chaebol regains consciousness after being rendered a vegetable in a car accident.

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When disaster struck, Ling Mo knew that the kinds of zombies depicted in doomsday movies would in fact, be totally different from reality…

Normally, the most important thing to do during the end of the world is to survive, but when Ling Mo picked up his girlfriend from an abandoned bus, the trajectory of his life had gone completely out of control.

The cause of this was very simple. His girlfriend, mutated…

Wait, Shana, that sickle in your hand looks like its being pointed at my pants!

Senior sister! Stop trying to pounce on me the moment I’m distracted!

And little girl, is it really alright for you to just hide by my side and laugh?

Lastly…all of you, stop trying to bite me…ahhh!!!

- Description from novelupdates

There’s nothing that Yu Wan has in common with her new neighbor– whether it’s charisma, personality, or cooking skills– other than that they both own dogs. Their two cute pets get along well (a bit far too well) and start what seems like a rocky friendship between the two; however, Yu Wan has more important things to worry about. Her wildly popular novel is about to take off into a drama adaptation, but the handsome, mysterious, and callous neighbor- is the director?!

Shen Qingzhou (as he thinks of someone): I’d say three. ]

- 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.