Young Master Fu’s Incredible Real Heiress - Chapter 335 - A Partnership of Clothing and Clothing brands

Shen Gu, an ordinary university student who discovers that he is a “spare tire” in his social circle.With the help of a system, he gradually rises to the top of life!

A relentless young man, a shadow of a dragon soul sword, a legendary immortal saga.Who will be the peak in the battle for imperial supremacy, only I, Lin Xuan, despise all living!

“Teacher, you know me. I’m usually a good student, with nearly 100% attendance, and I’m also eager to help the people.

Yesterday I flew to the coast to fight monsters, so…”

“Teacher, you know me. Which teacher is not full of praise for me, but things are prioritized. Yesterday happened to be the Ghost Festival. Hundreds of ghosts walk at night, so I…”

“Teacher, you know me well. I am an activist in our dormitory. Every day I call them to go to class, but under special circumstances, so…”

“Teacher, I’m a foreigner, I don’t understand what Xie said, and I didn’t know there was a class yesterday, so…”

The teacher took off his glasses and rubbed his temples, “I can tell that everyone in your dormitory has stunts, but this is by no means a reason to skip class! This class! This year! You guys are all done!”

————————

Another version of the introduction: Ultraman Delta was living in another world for unknown reasons. Originally, he wanted to be an ordinary college student, waiting for one day to find a way to return home.

But the sudden appearance of a monster disrupted his plans, and he also discovered that his roommates were not ordinary people either.

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.