MTL - There is Room For the Hot Lady In the Farmhouse - Chapter 965 lick the dog

College was like a wake-up call for most people. Especially the likes of Christopher Owen, who spent the rest of his high school years messing around and pining for the boy he never had.Having had a frustrating high school year, he decided to dedicate himself to his studies in college.He flew many miles away from home, changed his looks, and hid his real identity from everyone. His plans were simple: study hard, pass well, no dating.But then he realized two things: life was anything but easy without the backing of his last name.And... he wasn't sure how long he could last before he jumped his roommate, who was obviously not gay.But lust wasn't love, right?Maybe he could indulge a little? Just a little, I promise.

The World Tower has unimaginable wealth and treasures. Once a week, as long as you rush high enough, you can surpass ordinary people and enjoy a brilliant and glorious life.

A thousand floors are capped, and some people say that reaching the thousand floors can get the wealth of the whole world; some people say that above the thousand floors is a beautiful new world or even heaven; some people say that they can obtain the power of gods;

Unfortunately, no one has reached the summit for thousands of years.

The strongest team in the world rushed to the 929th floor, which was unprecedented, and was still destroyed.

Wang Wen survived.

Time went back to twenty years ago.

Reborn with all the emotions and experiences, the lush Wang Wen in front of the World Tower is calm and determined.

- Description from novelbuddy

The True Spirit Continent is an era of prodigies and monstrous talents vying for supremacy. Kings roar and can make stars fall, while emperors can cover the sky with a flip of their hand. A young man named Xiao Ye, born humble, receives ancient inheritance and thus becomes the pinnacle of martial arts. He sweeps across enemies, battling through the Nine Wilds with passionate vigor, igniting the Nine Heavens with battle fervor.On the invincible battlefield, where the blood of geniuses forms a sea and monstrosities' bones pile up like mountains, Xiao Ye advances step by step, ascending to the peak, defeating all who dare proclaim supremacy in the world.As warriors, we ought to rather break than bend, decisive and resolute in slaughter, unhesitant in vendettas, and annihilate all enemies in the world!

“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.