MTL - The Moon In My Arms - Chapter 188 a slap

Xu Youyou, daughter of the Xu family who had been sent to the countryside to nurse her health years ago, had returned to uphold the marriage promise with the Lin family. On the eve of her wedding, the groom escaped abroad in search of his dream girl. The crowd gasped and watched on excitedly.

Xu Youyou’s only comment was, “Okay.” The next instant, her fair hands had seized the collar of a man’s shirt as she asked sweetly, “Mr. Mo, can you marry me?” The business tycoon, Mo Shenbai, was aloof, abstinent, mysterious, and kept a low profile. Having dominated the challenging business industry for ten years, no media was bold enough to post a picture of him, and no woman was able to catch his eye.

Everyone said that Mo Shenbai’s marriage with Xu Youyou was only a contract, and they would surely divorce after a year. Xu Youyou was happily reading these rumors about her, but then she noticed something was off, She didn’t have to pay for her shopping, nor choose her food, and everyone would ardently greet her wherever she went, calling her “Mrs. Xu.” Then, Mo Shenbai’s dream girl came back, and Xu Youyou’s ex-fiance confessed, “Youyou, only my love for you is true.

Come back to me. I won’t dislike you.” Before Xu Youyou could answer him, the domineering man embraced her and said in a low and seductive voice, “Baby, didn’t you tell him that you already have a proof of our love in here?” He placed his warm hand on her flat tummy. Xu Youyou blushed, and the ex-fiance’s eyes turned red…

In a world of wizards and witches, Jaegar undergoes reincarnation and enters a mysterious realm. Driven by a desire for pleasure, he embarks on a journey of self-discovery, encountering challenges and uncovering secrets along the way. As he explores the magical arts, Jaegar's pursuit of pleasure shapes his choices and drives him forward, leading to both fulfilment and consequences. This is a story of a young man's quest for pleasure in a new and enchanting world of wizards and magic.

In his previous life, Tang Shi was a cannon fodder. For a jerk, he even turned down a blind date his father arranged for him, but finally died in the hands of his lover and half-blooded elder brother.

Before he died, his elder brother told him that the one that always went against him, teased him and used him as a bait was the one who truly loved him, also that blind date his father had arranged for him—Yan Xu.

Feeling regretful?

What would have happened if he hadn’t made that kind of choice from the very beginning?

“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.