MTL - After Being Approached by His Son’s Dad - Chapter 85 Grow a tail again!

In order to protect my two sisters-in-law, I was possessed by a Fox Demon. Since then, I've found that the way all women look at me has changed...

In the world of Norse mythology, a human boy falls in love with Waltraute, the fourth Valkyrie sister. He wishes to marry her, but Waltraute gives him an impossible challenge to deter him.

Nevertheless, the boy is determined to carry out the dangerous task and to marry Waltraute afterwards.

When she woke up, her nightmares began.After a tragic accident, Lu Mengjie woke up with no memory of who she was, unable to recognize the people around her as well. Without her memories to guide her, she was like a blank canvas... that was until the Devil from her past finally appeared.The Devil was known for his cruelty, a heartless man who only cared for himself and no one else. He would use anyone as his pawns, however he liked. He was a selfish tyrant walking freely in the world he saw as hell.They were two imperfect souls; one was damaged, and yet, she had a fire burning inside that refused to be put out by the iciness of the world around her, while the other was filled with complete darkness, as the world had eaten him alive with its brutality.Simply intended to be together, their love for each other was perfectly imperfect, and out of their control.Join Lu Mengjie on her journey to unravel the mystery of her accident and the enigma that surrounded the Devil in her memory. Their love would be tested. Lives would be lost. Love conquers all but would their love be strong enough to withstand what's coming their way?

“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.