MTL - Artifact Planting Space - v4 Chapter 209 First court

I was a good looking prince when I was reborn, and because I could do indecent things as much as I like, I decided to make a harem while traveling with a beautiful female elf~

“Why did you have to get married to me then if you knew you were going to throw me away!” She yelled.He exhaled gently and faced her, his face blank, his eyes surprisingly cool.“That's because, I had to save my crown and my throne. Now, let me live my life.”“Why did it have to be me?” She palmed her face.“You know she's my fated mate and there's nothing I can do about it.”With tears in her eyes, she slowly picked up herself and nodded.“I'll sign the divorce papers.”•••Nyx is torn with grief, when Alpha Oberon, her husband decides to divorce her after he claims to have found his fated mate.She leaves the pack out of the fear of returning back to her abusive and cruel parents and raises her child all by herself.Years race by, with the new Luna not being able to produce any heir for the kingdom. A seer tells the king that he has a heir who has the king's blood running in his veins.What happens when he realises the child is from the very woman who once offended? What will he to do convince her to come back in order to save his throne and kingdom?

“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.