Aristocratic Shocking Love: The First Lady - Chapter 110

The wife is first, the country is second, and the husband is of lesser importance.

All of his life was spent riding a war horse and accomplishing meritorious military services. But what was the result? In the end, he was cast aside once he had served his purpose.

Out of selfishness, he had favored his consort and neglected his wife. Ultimately, the one who stood by his side was the wife that he had neglected for 10 years…

After being reborn, Jing Shao decided to repent and turn over a new leaf…

Standing outside the door while holding a pillow, Jing Shao gazed at the sky. He must first mend his relationship with his wife. Jing Shao formed a fist and knocked on the door, “Jun Qing, I know my wrongs, let me in!”

- Description from Novelupdates

Richard Santamo, a Jobless, idling bystander, stumbles upon a mysterious blue panel that grants him access to advanced technology and skills beyond human comprehension. With the power to shape his destiny, he must navigate his newfound abilities while balancing everyday life, friendships, and his mother’s expectations. As he sets his sights on business, innovation, and self-improvement, Richard quickly realizes that knowledge and power come at a cost. Will he rise above his humble beginnings, or will the weight of his ambitions pull him under?-----------[ DISCLAIMER ] -----------Please note that the entirety of this book is a work of fiction. All characters, names, businesses, locations, and events depicted within these pages are products of the author's imagination or have been used in a purely fictitious manner. Any perceived resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or to real-world companies, organizations, or institutions, is entirely unintentional and purely coincidental. The portrayal of any names, character traits, positions, or corporate entities in this narrative is fundamentally fictional and is not intended to represent, comment upon, or interact with their real-life counterparts in any way. Our aim is to provide an immersive story, completely detached from reality.Furthermore, neither the author nor the publisher intends to defame, discredit, or infringe upon the rights or reputation of any individual, company, or entity that may, by sheer happenstance, share a name or a superficial characteristic with an element found in this book. This creation is offered solely for entertainment purposes and should not, under any circumstances, be interpreted as factual documentation or a representation of real-life events, actual people, or existing circumstances. Its sole purpose is to invite you into a world crafted from imagination, with no ties to the factual world.

Lorelai is an unwanted princess; a puppet in the hands of the royal family.Born weak and raised loyal only to her kingdom, she has no real power and is constantly abused by both her stepmother and her son.Her value lies in one thing only––marriage. Thus, she is to marry Duke Kalder, an old but powerful and influential man whose previous wives have all gone missing under mysterious circumstances.That is until she meets him.Tall, dark, strong, mysterious, irresistible, seductive.The King of Lycans. The King of Beasts. The Gypsy King.One who was once a slave now controls the biggest and strongest, most feared kingdom of the continent. And for some reason, he has his eyes set only on Lorelai.Important note: this is a historical fantasy novel and in its context, the word “Gypsy” is only used as a name of a nomad tribe and is not used as a slur.

“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.