MTL - Futuristic Chef Transmigrated As Mother - Chapter 407 kitchen kiss

Transmigrated into a trash body of general's daughter as female lead? Peh! Too mainstream! Transmigrated to be a villainess? Common! What about transmigrating and ending up as cannon fodder? Have read it before!

Song Zhiyi is really annoying.
Meng Xi has hated her since she was a student and competed with her.
After a dream, she realized that she was living in a novel.
Song Zhiyi is the heroine and a natural winner.
And she’s just a nasty supporting actress who needs to be brought down.
There’s nothing wrong, the heroine and the supporting actress are not born to deal with each other.
Meng Xi became more and more difficult for her, poured her red wine at the banquet, and asked the bodyguard to send her brother to the hospital…
The worst part is that he kissed her when he was drunk.
I don’t know when, everyone thinks they have a leg.
Meng Xi sneered at them: “Bah!”
But Song Zhiyi himself said, “Meng Xi, what kind of relationship do we have?”
Meng Xi was cold to her… unable to get cold: “…”
The arrogant and domineering young lady and the pitiful black and white lotus.
It’s cookies, it’s a weird two-way crush.

Content tags: The rich and powerful family has a soft spot, sweet text, wears books
Search keywords: Protagonist: Meng Xi, Song Zhiyi ┃ Supporting role: ┃ Others:
One-sentence introduction: It’s also really worthy of love
Concept: true love is to understand each other, respect each other, and make people pursue a better self

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.

“Aria,” he said softly. “Today is your birthday.”It wasn't a question, but I nodded nevertheless.“The moon is full tonight,” he added, his voice quiet. “You will attend the ceremony.”“Of course, Elder,” I replied, puzzled. All eighteen-year-olds attended the ceremony. It was essential.He leaned in, smelling gently. “You already feel it, don't you? ”The change.My heartbeat skipped. “What change?”Elder Malin's eyes narrowed. Interesting. “Very interesting.” He reached inside his pocket and retrieved a little pouch. “Wear this tonight.”I accepted it hesitantly. Inside was a simple moonstone pendant with a leather cord.“But this is for—”“Wear it,” he interjected. “Hide it under your clothes if you must, but wear it.”Moonstones were precious. They aided our connection to the Moon Goddess during ceremonies. However, they were only given to wolves from influential families (Alphas and Betas). Not Omegas like me.“Why?” I questioned.Elder Malin glanced at Mira before returning his attention to me. “Because someone is harboring secrets about you, child. And tonight, those secrets may be revealed.”I never mattered in our pack. Omegas like me serve, submit, and survive. We don't dream of love. We don't dream of power.She was the future Luna. I was just the girl who watched from the shadows.But everything changed on my 18th birthday.I felt the bond. I met my mate.One of the Alpha's sons.But the Alpha has triplets, and I felt the mate bond with all three and it seems the three of them felt it too — three perfect warriors, three powerful Alphas, three secrets buried beneath the surface.One of them is my destiny.One of them is lying.And one of them might be the death of me.The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes... but this time, I think she might've given me too much to handle.