My Sect System - Chapter 553 Ghjk

Knowing she married a wrong guy, what would she do to deal with the subsequent marriage lives?

In order to pay for her brother’s medical expenses, she had to replace her own sister to marry the rich family's elder son . She always thought she was married to the elder one, but she did not know her husband was nominally the younger son He Yi Ning.

He Yi Ning, the real heir of the rich family, the ruthless business emperor, the ruthless workplace tyrant, and her sister’s dreaming husband. When she found out that the person who married her was He Yi Ning, she stunned and asked, “Shouldn’t i be your sister-in-law?” He smiled charmingly: “Are you unhappy with your husband?”

A scientist, Duan Yixin, transmigrated into another world. She possessed the body of a sixteen-year-old girl but had not inherited any of her memories. With a broken marriage engagement and no money in her hand, she only wants to earn money peacefully. It's a pity that fate always plays tricks on people.When she thought she could finally live peacefully, she discovered that this world was not as simple as she thought. The man she rescued was the notorious ruthless general, and the woman who stole her ex-fiancé was the female protagonist of this world.She looked up at the sky and asked, “God, are you kidding me?”A few years later, on their wedding night, she stared at him and said seriously, “General, I'm not your white moonlight.”The man lowered his head and whispered in her ear, “Mhm, you are not my white moonlight, you are my life.”

[Warning: r18+/strong mature content]He is her salvation. She, his demise. Yet, he refuses to let her go…Mineah, the youngest Princess of Ebodia, was cursed at birth to remain untainted and bring misfortune to those around her. This prophecy looms over her like a dark cloud, growing bigger every year it does not come to pass.She exists in hushed rumors as a pitiful figure - fragile, meek, unwanted. Underneath that mask is a strong and feisty vixen worthy of being a queen. And this would-be queen has set her eyes on breaking her curse, even if that means tricking the most cunning vampire ever born.Nikolai, though reclusive and enigmatic, is revered by the Kingdom of Valcrez as a wise and powerful ruler. Unbeknownst to his loyal subjects, his image of perfection is a web of lies that if exposed can send their kingdom and everything they hold dear crumbling beneath their feet.When these two find their paths crossed in a marriage alliance, the game of Crown's Seduction begins. But just who is the hunter and who is the prey?********Excerpt:“Why are you stripping naked in front of me?” she questioned with a frown, doing little to hide the irritation in her voice. Her goal was to capture only his heart, not his whole body!“Am I not allowed to have a bath with my wife?” he remarked with a cold tone. “I purposely asked for a big tub to just make sure that the two of us will fit in it together.”She sighed, not tearing her gaze away from him as she regained her composure. Seeing him smirk she forced herself to get comfortable as he spoke.“That’s more like it. You said it yourself that no one forced you into marrying me. Instead, you offered and volunteered yourself willingly for it, so I expect that you’ll be confident enough to share a bath with your husband,” Nikolai confidently stated. “After all, we’ll do more than this soon enough.”Shameless…Preventing herself from rolling her eyes, she managed to give him a smile as she said, “Don’t blame me if you die on me then.”

“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.