Married To The Cruel Crown Prince - Chapter 247 - Seven Brothers Together

Xu Mo, a modern high school student was sent back in time to Jing Kingdom and found herself trapped inside of the body of a princess with the same name.

She had barely recovered when she learned of an unparalleled fiancé and in a daze, they got married. Then the stunning genius physician who normally does not pay attention clamoured to marry her. After that, there was a cold general, a flirtatious lord, a tsundere young master……

As it turns out, this was a male-dominated dynasty. Because the female population was sparse, the entire nation shared wives regardless of rank or nobility. Is it feasible for someone who wants to maintain monogamy in this dynasty?

- Description from Novelupdates

Transmigrating to the perilous High Martial World, Su Mu has dedicated half his life to diligent efforts, but due to mediocre talent, he has not progressed an inch in ten years, remaining a Second Level Martial Artist.On his birthday, feeling troubled, he plans to drown his sorrows in alcohol until an unusual sound echoes in his mind.“Ding!”[Superpower Refresh System successfully loaded!][Every month, a Spirit Stone can be consumed to randomly refresh a superpower!]

In a land ruled by vile monsters, where death is common and life is cruel, one outcast endeavors to have it all. When misfortune drags the odd goblin Stryg from his forest home and into the ruthless city of Hollow Shade, he must try and adapt to a world that only sees him as a dimwit savage.Stryg finds himself embroiled in a school of magic, where an aristocrat's smile is filled with deceit and the simplest of remarks may lead to death threats. Yet nothing will stop him from aspiring to his beliefs of glory: power, honor, and food with salt.But as Stryg navigates through the muddled grey waters of the Ebon Realm, he will learn that some monsters lurk everywhere.

“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.