MTL - My Beloved Concubine Only Wants to Eat Melons - Chapter 70

She’s somehow ended up transmigrating into the book as the supporting female lead, who was beaten to death! Deeply in love with the male lead, she’s fated to be beaten to a bloody pulp before even holding hands with him?!

First things first, she needs to survive and latch onto the big thigh of a patron. But the supporting male lead is a true gentleman and feels nothing for her stunning, alluring body. That’s alright! She’ll latch onto the old madame or the male lead then!

But why does the supporting male lead look at her with increasingly odd eyes? And what of that Wulin Alliance Head with the personality disorder? You’re just a random bystander, what are you getting involved for??

Finally, the male lead could bear it no longer and dragged her back to the Prince Li Manor…

Having found herself caught in a dispute between two goddesses, follow Olivia as she ends up being transmigrated to a strange new world called Khallasia as another species.

This world contains many different races, from humans to elves and gnomes to beast-kin, along with monsters such as goblins and ogres.

Starting anew in this world with no possessions, she will try to live her life in a world that vilifies the races that make up her species.

Her journey will include having to learn to fight in a world where death is frequent, wars are brewing, and slavery, while illegal, is a common occurrence.

She will face many foes, from wild animals to full-fledged monsters, as well as bandits and robbers to knights and adventures, while she tries to find a place to call home.

With only her appearance changing, her mentality to do good deeds remains the same.

Whether this can continue in this new and more violent world is another story, especially since the urges that plague her species will soon start to plague her.

Warning: This is a harem, yuri novel where the MC is also a futanari.

July, 1946. The existence of an alternate world was confirmed.

It was supposed to be a new world for mankind.

However, the enormous cost, the annihilation of the advance troops, and fierce public opposition led to the signing of a non-aggression treaty.

Mankind turned their eyes towards space.

Half a century later.

A certain company formed a team in order to explore the alternate world’s dungeon.

Five professionals and three artificial intelligences. And one reserve member.

With modern weapons and technology, the adventure was expected to be easy.

However, the ones who had arrived in the alternate world were a defective artificial intelligence and a non-professional.

Through trial and error, they lived, ate, and fought. And, they explored the dungeon.

“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.