MTL - The Sufferer is My Wife - Chapter 153

Xu Yangyi, an 18-year-old high school student, for the reason that his older twin sister eloped with her girlfriend on the wedding day, was forced to be the surrogate bride by his own father. As a result, he became the wife of the man who should have been his brother-in-law.“You’ve gotta look at me carefully. I’m a man.” Xu Yangyi glared at He Jingyan, who was still getting fresh with him though he already knew Xu Yangyi was indeed a man.“Man?” He Jingyan fiddled with Xu Yangyi’s face with his big hand and gave him a sly smile, “You look identical with your sister, so it doesn’t matter!”

In her previous lifetime, they had married for five years. He meant everything to her, but she was thrown away like an old shoe.

After her rebirth, she gave him a divorce contract preemptively—

“Divorce after one year, the terms of the contract are as follows: husband and wife shall not share a room or bed. Intimacy forbidden?”

He raised his eyebrow.

Who knew that after she got drunk one day, leaning on the headboard, he rested his deep-set eyes on her. “You broke the contract, Mrs, Li.”

- Description from Novelupdates

Being adored by one's parents and hoping to achieve something that could bring them happiness, a child sacrificed their carefree personality and chose the path of books and knowledge at an early age.Without looking back to see how those they thought were their parents were, in truth, only pushing them from behind.Esme, a prodigy from an early age, excelled in everything, unlike her sister, who, though adored by both parents, always lagged behind.Finally, after saving the company from debts and restoring it to its former glory, Esme looked back at her parents in hope of recognition but...“You are not even my daughter, you pathetic fool.”“Hehe, Sister, how about I take your fiancé?”“Um, you see, Esme, I love your sister.”“Tch, insect, how dare you reject checks whenever I, your mother, asked for money!”Those words lingered in Esme's mind before she lost consciousness and woke up inside a prison.“What are you doing here, Aron?” Esme looked at a handsome young man seated in a wheelchair, gazing at her with amusement. He was her sole business competitor, and now, he was visiting her in prison.“Nothing, just came here for a proposal, Miss Esme...”Let's see what awaits the journey of an heiress who was wrongly accused of being fake, betrayed by her fiancé, and had to seek support from her business rivals.

“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.