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... ible amount of cum that he had pumped into her came flowing out. Her cunt, stretched after two hours of continuous use, twitched while her belly deflated. It was not as absurd as it could be, but swelling from being filled with semen could never be truly reasonable.

Leaving the tub segment of the wellness area, John took a pitstop in the shower, rinsed himself off, and then returned to his apartment. There, Lydia was waiting for him. The redhead sat in an armchair that the Couch provided ...

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Aiden, who spent his days staring at a screen and playing the same game, 'Leclentia', had finally succumbed to his unhealthy lifestyle and died...

However, he found himself reincarnated in a world full of mythical creatures and magic, with his consciousness inhabiting the body of a frail young boy who was supposed to attend the mage academy.

“Wait... I've reincarnated into Leclentia!”

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After the college entrance examination, Qian Quan was about to confess to the goddess, but watched helplessly that the goddess was stolen away by the rich second-generation classmates.

At this time, he awakened the “Tiger Father No Dog Son” system.

[Ding, the system has detected that your father has won a bonus of 3,000 yuan, and will reward you with 30,000 yuan! 】

[Ding, the system has detected that your father is practicing Wing Chun, and rewards you as a master Wing Chun! 】

[Ding, the system has detected that your father made a game-winning shot in the school basketball game, and rewards you for your professional basketball skills! 】

Ah this?

Dad, please work harder, it’s better to roll yourself than roll your baby!

Novel Keywords: Dad, Please Work Hard No pop-up window,Dad, Please Work Hardtxt Complete Works Download,Dad, Please Work HardThe latest chapter read

- Description from novelbuddy

My SuperVillain System: Building Legion of SSS-Ranked SuperHeroinesChapter 34 - Ytrisia’s Suspicion
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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.