MTL - I Can Actually Bring Out Game Items (I Can Bring In-game Items Out) - Chapter 165 It's no longer in the service area?

[TRIGGER WARNING: DARK THEMES, MATURE CONTENT.]In a world where humans, werewolves, vampires, fey, and other supernatural beings coexist, Isleen; an Omega who has been subject to multiple bullying and ridicule in the pack because of her parent's past, faces a challenging dilemma. She's dating Kylo but unexpectedly discovers that his strict father, Rhett, who is the pack’s Gamma, is her destined mate.Conflict arises as a war breaks out among the supernatural creatures and the death toll rises. Isleen struggles with her loyalty to her boyfriend, and the powerful pull she feels towards his father, due to the mate bond.——Imagine getting married at Eighteen to a woman old enough to be your mother– all because of your loyalty to the Moon Goddess?Welcome to Rhett’s reality. Rhett DarkWater is a man of principles but not without his share of secrets and hidden missions. After finding out who his second fated mate is, he battles with his devotion to the Moon Goddess, his loyalty to his son, and his duty as the Gamma who is supposed to protect the pack—not have his son’s girlfriend pinned beneath him in a corner with her clothes off.Unfortunately for Rhett and Isleen, the mate bond knows no morality – it attacks, and when it does, two hearts must become one.——I and Gamma Rhett just kissed again.He knelt before me, his hand reaching out to touch me, but I flinched away. “Isleen,” he muttered.“This is wrong,” I cried. “We can't do this. It's forbidden. W-what about Kylo?”He stared at me, his eyes burning with a passion that frightened me to the core. Yet, it left tingling sensational effects all over my body. “Don't fight it, Isleen. We are mates. This is what we're meant for.”

“I hope you don’t fall in love with me, because I won’t be taking responsibility,” warned the young man. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall in love with a body double,” the employer dully replied. Yet, both of them forgot what they had said.

Five years ago, Gu Jiayu, who climbed out of the mountain nest, entered the entertainment circle in order to cultivate, and in order to overcome the shortcomings of emotional gaps, he used an excellent acting skill to hook up a Chinese “little nobleman” abroad. After a month of falling in love and feeling love, he ran away with guilty conscience after the other party proposed marriage.

Five years later, Gu Yingdi had become popular all over the country, but he had a four-year-old son beside him. 

One day, the little handsome guy pointed at the man who took up the entire page in the financial newspaper and said, “Dad, this man looks like me!” Gu Jiayi glanced at the calm, handsome man in a suit and shoes in the newspaper, and asked with a guilty conscience, “He has an onion head, and his body is black and black like the top post. Are you sure you look like him?” That night, “Top Door Post” came to the door … Gu Jiayu, “My son, hide your tail!”

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.