MTL - Bent By the Male Protagonist’s White Moonlight - Chapter 58

Transmigrated into a flesh ball, my father swung a sword to chop me, why does this storyline seem so familiar?Have I become Nezha?A great cultivator from the Earth's end-times era transmigrates into Nezha. Watch as the young man navigates the prehistoric world, cutting through illusions, slaying dragon sons, subduing the Dragon Palace, and breaking heaven's barriers!

In the blood-soaked world of Magus , Aizen, a young man from Earth, finds himself thrust into a brutal reality where Sorcery reigns supreme. Once a lowly servant, despised and humiliated, Aizen hid his true intentions beneath a mask of submission. With each insult endured and every drop of blood spilled, he sharpened his resolve, guided by the mysterious Wisdom System.

A 20-years old boy transmigrated into the female-dominated novel world, But not as a protagonist nor as the main villain.

He transmigrated as the green tea boyfriend of the main female CEO heroine and will become the first target of the protagonist of this novel. Alex was scared for his life. In the novel, it's impossible to defeat the son of luck.

When he was helpless, the golden finger exclusive for travelers came.

[Ding! The Female Raider System is being loaded.]

Alex was excited thinking that he doesn't need to go close to a high cold female CEO but the system tells him different things.

[Ding! As long as the host raids the heroines and increases their affection, the Host will receive heaven-defying rewards.]

So his journey as green tea/White lotus raiding began.

“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.