MTL - I Was a Group Pet In 80 - Chapter 193 pen sheep 2

The night before we obtained our marriage certificate, I asked him, “When did you start to develop feelings for me?”

He answered, “I don’t remember.”

“But, why me?”

“Why not you?”

“I’m very petty, and I get jealous very easily.”

“So am I.”

“I’m afraid I’m not worthy of you.”

“So am I.”

“I haven’t really dated, so I don’t know what love is.”

“I don’t know either.”

He held my hand gently, “But I know this. When I think about spending the rest of my life with you, I feel that my future is filled with hope.”

At 16, we used the same class desk, with less than 10cm between our arms. My peripheral vision was full of him.

At 26, I woke up in the morning, and saw the sunlight softly shining on his face. I thought, this is how I want to grow old – gradually, together, with him.

I guess this must be love.

Coco Coison, after her untimely death at the hands of a fairy, finds herself transmigrated into the body of Coco Hughes, a woman with a troubled past. However, Coco was bestowed upon an ability: she was given abilities similar to Lala, a garden fairy, as compensation from Lala's sister.Eager to embrace her new life and start afresh in this unfamiliar world, Coco soon discovers that her new reality is far from what she wanted it to be.She encounters the four husbands of Coco Hughes, only to learn that they harbor deep resentment towards her due to Coco Hughes's abusive behavior— both physically and emotionally.Despite her intentions to lead a better life, Coco realizes that she must go through the complicated relationships and work to mend the damage caused by Coco Hughes to the husbands, who are now tied to her fate.Coco Coison must confront her past actions in a world where she is both an outsider in the lives of those Coco Hughes has wronged while carving a path for her to separate herself from her husbands.However, they seem to have another plan.“Where are you going? Stay for the night.” The first husband who doesn't like her presence around the house had started to let her stay.“Coco, what the f*ck are you doing? I told you to not lift a hand after coming back from outside!” The second husband who likes slaving her, cusses her out from trying to make herself a cup of tea.“The librarian told me that you went to the main city to get me books again. I thought I told you to stop doing that and put yourself at risk?” The third husband who loves books more than anything else had scolded her for doing her supposedly weekly errand told by him.“Who told you to go and ask those mediators to sing for you? I'm here, I can do it for you.” The fourth husband who doesn't like to sing for her had made it his daily task to sing for her before she goes to sleep.Coco Coison only wanted to live her life peacefully and earn money so she could divorce the four husbands, but it seems like they didn't want that.“It seems that tons of leeches want to have you around, huh? How about we get ourselves busy and have some kids fill the empty space of this house?”

Life from birth has been nothing but hell. I lost my parents to some stupid aristocrats whom they offended. Executed for no good reason.

My relatives abandoned me and pushed me aside. They feared for their lives and left me and my sister to starve and wander the streets alone!

No, this is worse than hell!

I watched my sister die of starvation. Her lips were dry and her feet bloody. Her nails were broken and her fingers riddled with cuts. She struggled in my hands and after a few seconds of struggle she passed away. She seemed joyful in death so I prayed mine will come just as swift and merciful as hers.

So I stayed in the alleyway, alone with her rotten corpse awaiting my fate for God knows how long. I could see it already. The darkness encroaching from all sides

Everyone said death is scary but I say it’s the end! Who needs life after death? What is the need for reincarnation?

Who would want to return to this crazy world?

“It’s not yet time for you to go… You have one more task to accomplish as my host” A voice called out to me.

I could barely see or speak but how can I miss such a beautiful face? It was an extremely handsome man who gazed at me with tender eyes.

.....

“Haven’t I suffered enough? Can’t I just rest?” I cried out. Why would I want to stay back in such a cruel world?

“Don’t you want to avenge the death of your parents? Don’t you want to become something greater? I can make that happen!” The beautiful man said with an alluring voice.

“You… Who are you?” I asked with an anxious heart.

My parents always said God is the only one who cares about me! Maybe in my final hours, he has come to save me.

“Call me Death…”

“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.