Full-level Boss Dressed As a Peasant Girl - Chapter 2401: Agree to marry

A new work from the author of 'My Senior Brother is Too Steady', welcome to enjoy it!-------[Science Fiction Apocalypse Setting + Alone Cultivation Protagonist, Not a Mindless Feel-Good Story]This is a shattered world where human civilization barely gasps for air on a planet ravaged by the Blade Beast catastrophe, the flame of civilization in underground fortresses flickers intermittently, and human elites in space are brewing a final plan to strike back at the Blade Beasts, but the future of humanity is dimly lit by fading stars…“So,”a Mahayana Realm expert, who after cultivating alone for one hundred and twenty-five years failed his tribulation and became a Residual Soul in this 'peculiar' world, sighed deeply as he looked up to the sky:“What the hell does this have to do with me?!”

Dying in a tragic accident Marcus Ferrous gets transferred to a fantasy world of monsters and magic, except when he arrives contrary to what he expected he is now level one and a ghost. Left with nothing on a strange new world, Marcus will struggle with everything he has on his journey to get stronger and uncover the secrets of his new world.

“When am I getting a new mom? ”

Maya choked and sputtered on her drink getting herself into a coughing fit while I was quite startled but showed no other reaction other than that. I was expecting it anyway

Maya got herself after some moments “You! ” She bellowed “That's no way to tal-” I dismissed Maya with a wave of my hand fixing my attention on my dear daughter .

“Why? ” I asked exuding an authoritative aura with an arrogant smile tugging at a corner of my lips

Isabelle smiled back at me, a fierce determination to win this battle evident on her face “I need a motherly figure ”

“And? ”

“Girls just want their mom sometimes ”

“And? ”

“Need someone to talk boys stuff with”

“You can always discuss it with me” I blurted out without even realizing it and the reply I got was an awkward cough from Maya and a death stare from my daughter.

“Well, we can always compromise on that ” I tried minimizing the damage done. Why does it all go south when it comes to boy's stuff?

Isabelle stood up abruptly and banged her hand hard against the table almost knocking some dishes over in the process “Just admit it!What makes you think you can be able to handle me in my rebellious teenage years? ”

I wanted to reply when I heard Maya murmur beneath her breath “As if you aren't rebellious enough now? ”

I smirked,she was definitely the perfect match for Isabella and I had the perfect plan in mind.

“So let's say I agree, who do you want for a mother? ”I said throwing the ball in her court and hoping she'll make the right choice “Tina? or.....? ”

Isabelle stared at me skeptically, obviously wondering if I was sincere or playing around. So I focused my intense and get down to business gaze on her and in a few moment, her lips twitch upward in a smirk , as if we were communicating telepathically, she said

“I want her” Isabelle announced pointing at an absent minded female entertaining herself with a grilled chicken and quite oblivious to what was going on. I smiled, Isabelle was surely my blood

“Fine by me ”I agreed knowing just how much Isabelle values promises “ I have to keep my own part of the deal then ”

I excused myself before turning to discover the horror on Maya's face but that didn't stop me, instead I added more fuel to the fire

“let's get married”

~~~~

Maya was never special especially not like her sister Kim who seem to have everything.

Nik Spencer a world known professional player, a chronic heartbreaker and the only man immune to love.

But fate seems to play a lot of twists as they both cross paths and she ends up being his daughter's Nanny.

Will she end up as one of the many women on his bed ?

Is Niklaus really immune to love?

Well, read to find out.

“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.