Sword King In A Women's World - Chapter 107 - : No More Next Time

Nicole d'Armand never expected to walk into her apartment and find her fiancé *bleep*-deep in another woman's lady bits. What's a girl to do?Well, after obliterating an 18th-century Meissen vase, delivering a punch that would make a heavyweight boxer proud, and embarking on a night of raucous drinking, Nicole figures she might as well embrace the chaos.But when alcohol and pheromones collide, her wild night spins into something unexpected... Like a ride on the Logan Everett express.Which, naturally, leads to a whirlwind of its own: She's his fated mate. Because of course she is.And he rejects her. Because of course he does.Now embroiled in a mystery bigger than her post-breakup hangover, Nicole finds herself the prime suspect in a murder she didn't commit—no matter how tempting the thought might have been. And the only person who believes her innocence? The same guy who shot down the idea of being her fated mate.Great. Just what she needed: her love life is a crime scene, and the man stupid enough to let her go is holding her freedom in his hands.

Bai Qi traveled to a world where beast masters were the mainstream, and became a student of the Mechanics College. In order to explore the ultimate evolution of beast masters, he led a group of pet beasts that were slightly crooked on the evolutionary tree to embark on an abnormal evolutionary journey. the road.

- Description from novelbuddy

“21 days. 7 hundred million won. 29 strangers. One unforgettable man.” Yoon Ji-won never planned to become a substitute driver. He never planned to be locked inside a building for 21 days with 29 dangerously attractive men. And he definitely didn’t plan to have his world turned upside down by a smooth-talking younger guy who won’t leave him alone. After a mysterious interview, Ji-won is thrown into a secretive, high-stakes project with an offer too tempting to refuse. The rules? Obey. Stay. Survive. But when he meets “Number Three,” everything starts to unravel. Cold stares. Lingering touches. A spark that turns into a fire he can't put out. Is it destiny? Or just another trap? For readers who crave intense power dynamics, isolated tension, and twisted attraction wrapped in a sleek, modern BL thriller.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.