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... sense!

What’s happening? Could it be that the stewed squab with a sea cucumber I ate yesterday hasn’t been digested yet?

Hearing the big white pigeon’s words, the pigeons standing on the wall immediately became excited.

“Sure enough, he belongs to our pigeon family.”

“Great, our pigeon family has a new member.”

“It’s a pity that he can’t fly. Otherwise, we can fly with him in the future.”

“Hey, it doesn’t matter. He can’t fly. He is half human and ...

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It all started when a minute before we began morning activities, something suddenly occurred. The floor started shining a dazzling light, the shining expanded in an instant, and 30 classmates, including me, were laying on top of a place we didn’t recognize.

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When Linger was looking for a job, he applied for a bartender at a bar, but the guests who came here seemed strange.

What can a female warrior wearing very little, an armor that can’t even protect her eyesight, protect against?

How did the calamity mage who owed a hundred luck points survive until now?

Melancholic and lonely Skeletor, Skeleton? drink wine? Please don’t waste it!

The devil who likes the hero, since he is the devil, please do your job well, OK?

Well, he was getting used to these strange guests.

(Unknown Uncomfortable Sky: “Presenting Fine Wine for a Wonderful Different World”, “Sword and Magic and Beautiful Girls”, “Wine of Beautiful Girls”, “God-level Bartender of the Other World”, “I’m Really Not the God of Dionysus”)

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“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.

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“That’s a jinx and must be rid of. It’s that or you and your family get out of here.”

Su Xiaolu was transmigrated into this world as a newborn, and the instant she opened her eyes, she was deemed a burden and a jinx by a venomous grandmother-in-law.

Her father, Su Sanlang, gritted his teeth and said, “Alright then, you can separate us from the family and we’ll leave.”

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Now a divine physician herself and well-versed in nutritious recipes, she owned the largest restaurant in the Zhou Dynasty and earned so much money that she couldn’t possibly finish spending them in ten lives.

Her family grew more prosperous and their horrible relatives showed up, trying to ride their coattails.

Su Xiaolu smirked. “Close the gates and release the tiger!”