MTL - Time Traveling: the Only Beloved Husband - Chapter 47

Upon waking up from the dream, Josie traveled from the 21st century to Chicago in 1943, becoming a poor boy wandering the streets.

World War II? For Josie, who is still underage, it is too far away.

As an orphan, how he can survive in this age is the most important thing.

Fortunately, he has a plane trading system. In this era, being a master of time and space can make a good life if you think about it.

However, a few months later, Josie, whose life had just improved a little, looked at Captain America, who was singing and dancing with a group of girls on the stage of the war fundraising benefit performance, and fell silent.

It’s over, Barbie Q is over.

This is Marvel!

- Description from Novelupdates

After choking to death on a watermelon, Rong Jiahui thought that she would enter the netherworld and be reincarnated.

But when she opened her eyes, she discovered, to her very horror, that she had returned twelve years into the past…

Looking at the beautiful and awkward “little brother” that would be conferred the title of Marshal in the future for outstanding military service, she almost let out a snort of laughter.

She firmly decided to hug the thigh of this little brother, and climb to the top of her life!

The plan was beautiful, but it had just one problem.

Why had this little brother… suddenly turned into…

A little sister…

- Description from Novelupdates

It had been two years since their marriage. However, every time he had s*x with her, he always did it from backwards.

She was more than angry. “Sheng Youting! Why do you avoid my face every time when you had me? Is it because that you are afraid to see it’s me rather than my sister that you get laid?!”

“Are you asking me to look at your face when I’m in you? OK, as long as you can bear!”

He was like a beast and all she could do was to accept what he gave…

Yu Lan had loved Sheng Youting for 11 years despite no response from him. Inferiority became part of her when she was with Sheng Youting. However, when she found it was so hard to continue her unrequited love and finally decided to exclude him from her world, her heart ached extremely and it nearly cost her life. It turned out that her love had become a habit and if it was stopped, she won’t be a whole man.

“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.