MTL - A Seductive Gentleman - Chapter 45 Zhaohua Fuying (2)

Standalone stories exploring bondage sex, dominance and submission, captivating power dynamics, threesome, multifuck and rape. Indulge in your wildest dreams, brought to life on every page :)

An unnamed 34-year-old Japanese NEET is evicted from his home following his parents' death.

Upon some self-introspection, he concludes that his life was ultimately pointless.

Walking down a street he intercepts a speeding truck heading towards a group of teenagers, in an attempt to do something meaningful for once in his life he manages to pull one of them out of harm's way before getting himself in the way of the truck and dying.

Awakening in a baby's body, he realizes he has been reincarnated in a world of sword and sorcery.

He resolves to become successful in his new life, discarding his past identity for his new life as Rudeus Greyrat.

I am a vampire, possessing the body of the villainess in the novel.

I want to live quietly so I can live peacefully.

When I saw the Duke of Esteban, I lost all my reason and bit his neck.

Duke of Esteban just so happens to be the greatest figure in the empire.

I didn’t have enough strength to fight the desire, so I slept with him…

I’m in trouble. Let’s erase his memory and run.

“Your Excellency asked me to convey a message ‘I let you have my neck and body, but you threw it all away and ran.’”

What are you saying?

Does he remember?

Later, there was a strange declaration of war after we met.

“Don’t avoid me and let’s continue to meet. Also, when you need blood, come find me.”

Duke, would you please stay away from me?

It’s hard to breathe because of your taste.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.