My Wife Is A Miracle Doctor In The 80s - Chapter 1118

Demien Walter died on a rain-soaked road in 2025, his career a footnote in football history.A journeyman midfielder whose playing days ended in obscurity. A tactical obsessive whose notebooks gathered dust. A coach whose first opportunity came too late and ended too soon.Until he opened his eyes in 2003, inhabiting the body of Yves Laurent — head coach of AS Monaco.Now, armed with twenty years of football knowledge from a future that hasn't happened yet, Demien faces the ultimate tactical challenge: rewriting history from the touchline.He knows which players will become legends. He remembers which matches change careers. He's witnessed the tactical revolutions that transformed the game.Monaco is just the beginning. With each victory, each tactical masterclass, each deviation from the timeline he remembers, Demien alters football's destiny. From the Champions League's bright lights to World Cup glory, from Milan to Madrid to Manchester, his journey will reshape the beautiful game in ways no one could predict.No cheat codes. No supernatural abilities. No second chances.Just a man with future knowledge in a past world, attempting to build a legacy that even death couldn't erase.Football isn't just played on the pitch. It's won in the mind.And Demien Walter's mind has already lived through everything that's about to happen.

Brave, sly, kind, slippery, generous, greedy, elegant, ferocious, happy, abnormal, honest, hypocritical...In this apocalyptic world, only by winning on the Alien Star battlefield can one obtain resources to ensure the continuity of civilization.Every warrior that enters the Alien Star battlefield receives a randomly assigned keyword that belongs to them.If one's actions align with their keyword, their attributes will rapidly grow, granting abilities akin to Superman. On the contrary, if they fail to comply, they will swiftly weaken;This is a world where performance skills are paramount;Performance skills equate to sustenance, performance skills are glory, performance skills provide privileges, performance skills are life......Already concluded with thousands of orders are the works “Dream Fufiller of Ten Thousand Realms”, and “Ten Thousand Methods to Remove Players.” There is a guarantee of completion, so please feel free to dive in.

Opening her eyes, she becomes the eldest daughter of the Great General of Liuyin Kingdom.She is the modern girl that transmigrated into a world that only respects the strong.Bullied by her cousins...Broken engagement...She did not care about all of that.Her motto is inspired by one of her favourite anime, Hyouka: “If I don't have to do it, I won't. If I have to do it, I'll make it quick.”“You already come into this Lord's hug. Don't you dare to run?” A Lord threatens her.“Do you think I'm scared of you? You can keep dreaming.” She spoke back.She just wants to have a peaceful life, however, can she has it?

“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.