May Death Do Us Part - Chapter 225

I am a female secretary of an overbearing president in a typical dog blood drama text.

The kind of person who doesn’t have a name at the end of the day, and could only be called “secretary”, one who wears a tight fitting black dress and a pair of 10cm high heels every day, running around in front of the president, humbly praying for the president’s attention, and hating the heroine.

In fact, I really don’t. If I like the president, I’ll be struck by lightning.

I’m getting more and more sick of the president lately. Except for the outstanding appearance that the author forced on him, this person is really useless from head to toe, low in EQ, and low in IQ.

A legendary business genius who is all-powerful, but he doesn’t even understand anything, chickens know more than him.

I had to reject all of his unreasonable demands every day, and on the way, teach him relevant knowledge of economic law and finance, and gradually…he became a master.

I’m so tired, I really want to quit my job.

- Description from Novelupdates

Transmigration is the total rage of novels nowadays, and if the main character isn’t careful, they get swept up into the bandwagon, so this is a story from another continent. Magic? —— of course the main character won’t know how to use it, but what about knowing how to use electricity? Dou Qi? —— the main character still doesn’t know, but is inner power more strong? Beautiful women? —— of course the main character has them, or else there wouldn’t be anything worth reading in this novel. How many? —— that question’s quite good, if I told you everything, what would you read for? An honest warning to the female readers and your tastes, it is a harem novel, don’t read it if you’re not interested. A stern warning to male readers and your tastes, um, it’s like a breath of fresh air.

- Description from Novelupdates

Jack Smith’s life ended rather abruptly. Spinning out on ice while driving a truck was not the most magnificent method to depart this earth. A mediocre man he had led an ordinary life until his death. Now with a second chance at life, he decided that this time he would be exceptional. This time he would finally live up to his name. After all, a jack of all trades is a master of none but ultimately better than one.Armed with a system and determination to do his best he sets out like any other reincarnated soul in another world to find his place and achieve great things. There is just one small problem with getting started in this endeavour . . . he is yet to be born!Welcome to a progression fantasy with a twist. What might you be able to achieve if your race to the top began before your body had even been born?Join our hero as he masters the language, magics and skills of the Compass Kingdoms but his first great challenge will be learning to walk once more. . . . .Warning 1: Be prepared for the MC to spend an entire book's worth of words and time as an infant but hopefully you will enjoy it nevertheless.Warning 2: Grandfather is legally abusive to MC for a couple of chapters but he is removed from that situation around chapter 30. To be edited out some time in the future.

“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.