MTL - Mr. Fu’s Wife Reincarnated - Chapter 288 289: Shiyue said: so what if you marry and go home

Alexander lived—and died—as a wretched, poor virgin, meeting his end as he laid in the hands of his own mother.Stricken by a strange illness, his final vow was a desperate plea: If I’m ever reborn, I’ll attack all the ladies. I'll give my canal desires more attention!Miraculously, fate answers.Reborn into a world eerily similar to his last, Alexander awakens as a Guardian Candidate—a chosen warrior destined to endure trials and serve the gods.But he has no interest in destiny. Armed with divine skills and a frustratingly incompetent and seductive system, he rejects his ordained path, determined to seize this second life for one purpose: conquering women.Now, as a self-aware, unapologetic pervert, Alexander embarks on a relentless quest to charm, seduce, and claim every beautiful woman he encounters.Will his insatiable appetite lead him to the harem of his dreams, or will his reckless pursuit bring another premature end?Join Alexander in this wild, uninhibited adventure—where desire defies duty, and pleasure reigns supreme!

Neuer travels through the world of pirates, is adopted by Bermer, and becomes Nami’s older brother!

The Awakened Talent Copy System can copy anyone’s talent in a certain aspect at will!

What kind of experience will it be when Neuer has Shanks’ domineering talent, Kaido’s physical talent and Hawkeye’s swordsmanship talent?

Even the ability of a devil fruit can be copied by the system as a talent!

Many years later, Neuer turned the sea upside down with a talent that surpassed everyone in the world.

(Slow and hot text, slow development in the early stage, and random waves afterwards)

- Description from novelbuddy

This thought had grown deep in William’s mind!

“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.