NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 106

Chapter 106: The Glowing Rod!

Just because a man lets you borrow his shit doesn’t mean you get to slap your name on it like some territorial bastard.

Letting a dude borrow your horse didn’t mean you wanted him to ride it into battle and claim it as his own war steed.

And yet, here Artis was, balls-deep in Lui’s wife, acting like he had full ownership.

Lui had tolerated this whole fucked-up arrangement. But hearing Artis talk about filling Juliana with his cum like she was some kind of fertility chalice? That shit had him seeing red.

Who the fuck knew if she could still get pregnant at this age? Did sperm have senior citizen discounts? He sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

“WAIT, NO! NOT INSIDE!”

Fueled by sheer male indignation, Lui launched himself toward the battlefield like a warrior ready to reclaim his honor—only to immediately faceplant like the useless sack of jealousy he was.

A solid thud echoed through the room as his dignity took a nosedive.

By the time he groaned, lifted his head, and blinked the stars out of his vision, it was too fucking late.

Artis was already there, at the finish line, panting like he’d just conquered Everest, hands braced against the table to hold himself up.

And Lui knew.

That motherfucker (literally and figuratively) was draining his soul into his wife.

His cock was still twitching, a lazy smirk spreading across his face as he emptied the last sinful drops of his load into Juliana’s well-fucked pussy.

Lui’s eye twitched.

Juliana, meanwhile, was fucking gone. Half-lidded eyes, lips curved in a dreamy little smile, and her whole body trembling like a bitch in heat.

If there was a thought in her head, it was probably just more, more, more.

Lui, still on his knees, had meant to launch a protest or at least look pissed, but instead, he found himself staring—hard.

From his angle, he had the perfect fucking view of Artis’s cock still lodged deep inside his wife’s swollen, well-fucked pussy.

And goddamn, it was hot. So hot that for a second, he completely forgot why the fuck he had even jumped in like some kind of righteous avenger.

Then, after a long, smug stretch of silence, Artis leaned back, slowly peeling himself away from the table. And with that movement, his monster of a cock began sliding out of Juliana’s stretched, pink pussy.

Lui gulped.

It was a slow, sinful exit, and his baby-sized carrot twitched at the sight—jealous? Offended? Just fucking confused at the size difference? Who the fuck knew.

Then, the thick, bulbous tip finally popped free, glistening and still hard, and that’s when Lui saw it. The first creamy peek of Artis’s seed slipping out of Juliana’s thoroughly wrecked entrance.

A second later, the floodgates fucking opened.

Thick white rivulets trickled down, forming obscene little trails over her twitching folds before dripping onto the low table below. The sound of it—wet, messy, filthy—made Lui’s breath hitch.

The puddle grew.

His eye twitched.

His dick ached.

“Shit… I think I’m getting addicted.”

Artis groaned, running a hand through his sweaty hair. His chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath.

“Mommy, you’ve got one hell of a pussy. I swear, it’s like fucking a sin incarnate.”

Juliana, meanwhile, was wrecked. Absolutely fucked stupid. Her chest was heaving, boobs bouncing with every shaky breath, and her legs twitched like she was still trying to ride out the aftershocks.

“I wanna go again, but…”

Artis trailed off, his eyes flicking to the cuck in the room. Lui. The poor bastard was frozen, his mouth slack, his eyes locked on Juliana’s thoroughly used, cum-leaking hole.

He looked like a man who had just watched his entire belief system shatter before his eyes.

“Oi, Lui, you good?”

Lui’s brain snapped like a cheap rubber band. His entire body jerked, but his baby carrot had other plans.

Even without him touching it, the pathetic little thing twitched—then spurted a sad, watery mess onto the wooden floor.

“H-huh…?”

Lui stammered, eyes wild, as if he had just woken up from a fever dream.

“Ah, nevermind,” Artis muttered, waving him off. “Damn. Pheww—never thought I’d be this fucking spent, man.”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking up at the ceiling like he was contemplating life itself.

Lui, still dazed, assumed he was talking about Juliana—about how good her tight, milfy pussy felt wrapped around his cock. But that wasn’t it.

Artis was fucking disappointed in himself.

‘Man, just one round and I’m done…?’

He wasn’t feeling guilt—fuck no. He had zero regrets about rearranging Juliana’s insides like a man on a mission. But the disappointment? Oh, that shit was real.

One round? One fucking round and he was done? What the fuck was that? Back when she was milking his cock dry, he could’ve gone all night, pounding her mouth like a beast in heat.

But now? Now he felt like a used-up husk of a man. His legs wobbled, his muscles ached, and worst of all—his cock felt empty. Like it had been robbed of all its power.

‘This is some bullshit.’

His body felt weird, wrong, like all his stamina had been sucked right out of him—literally. Even his qi energy was gone. The fuck? It was like he was back in his old human body—weak, mortal, and useless.

‘I am NOT liking this at all…’

Then, suddenly—whoosh! A sharp cold wrapped around his cock, shocking him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“What the—?!”

He jerked his head down, eyes wide.

The darkness swallowed his vision, creeping in like a bitch ready to ruin his night. His sight tunneled until he could only see a blurry patch in the middle—and fuck, what a sight it was.

His cock—his glorious, battle-worn cock—was glowing.

Not just glowing, radiating a golden light, so bright it was more white than gold, like some holy divine relic. If his dick had a theme song, this was the part where a celestial choir would start singing.

“Holy fuck…”

He mumbled, cracking a delirious smile.

And then—bam—darkness fully took over.

His legs wobbled like he’d just gone twelve rounds with a succubus on steroids, and he barely managed to stumble toward the bed.

Lui was saying something—probably whining like the cuck he was—but Artis couldn’t hear shit. His only priority was not crushing his divine dick under his own weight.

With the last of his strength, he flopped onto the bed, rolling just enough so his cock was standing proud and free like the monument it was. And then—lights out.

Lui had no fucking clue what was going on with Artis, and honestly, he didn’t give a shit. His brain had short-circuited the moment Juliana’s perfectly breedable, cock-draining body went limp.

He scrambled toward her like a desperate man crawling to the last drop of water in a desert.

“Wife! Wife! Wake up!”

He shook her, jostling her soft, well-used tits, his hands gripping her shoulders as if he could squeeze life back into her.

After a few minutes of twitching—some residual aftershocks from her trip to holy-fucking-shit-heaven—her heavy-lidded eyes finally fluttered open.

She sucked in a deep, gasping breath, her chest rising dramatically before she exhaled with the satisfaction of a woman who had been utterly ruined.

She stared at Lui’s concerned face, and for a brief moment, she looked… disappointed.

But then she gave a slow, lazy smile, the kind of smile that said, Yeah, I died a little, but I’d do it all over again.

Lui, completely oblivious, handled her like a delicate flower, gingerly pulling her to her feet as if she might shatter from even the slightest rough touch—not that she hadn’t just endured the roughest fucking of her life.

She turned her head slightly and caught a glimpse of Artis still sprawled on the bed, his body looking drained, his cock still hanging out—and was that thing fucking glowing?!

She blinked.

No. No way. That had to be her imagination. Of course his dick looked divine—it was a gift from the gods, handcrafted by celestial beings and blessed with unholy stamina.

Shaking the ridiculous thought from her mind, she let Lui sling her arm over his shoulder and lead her out of the room. The poor woman needed rest. A long, deep, well-earned fucking rest.

After making sure those two were out of the picture and Artis was dead to the world, the cat perched on the window gave a flick of its tail—its personal way of saying, finally, these dumbasses are gone.

With a silent leap, it landed on the wooden floor, barely making a sound. But as it padded forward, something strange happened.

Wisps of white smoke began to curl from its sleek fur, trailing behind it like ghostly mist.

The further it walked, the thicker the smoke became, swallowing the tiny feline completely until only a hazy white fog remained.

And then—oh fuck.

The shadow inside the smoke stretched, grew, and morphed. A long, silky leg stepped forward, smooth and toned. Another leg followed, attached to curvy, naked hips that swayed with a natural sensuality.

Then came a pair of perfectly perky, medium-sized breasts, barely concealed by long, flowing black hair that cascaded down her shoulders like a luxurious veil.

And finally, a face emerged—sharp, elegant, and absolutely fucking divine.

Her eyes were a shade of green so vivid, they looked like polished crystal, glowing ever so slightly in the dim light.

She circled the bed like a predator inspecting its prey, her expression cool and unreadable.

Her gaze swept over Artis’s unconscious form, assessing him from head to toe, pausing only briefly at his glowing cock before moving on—like it wasn’t even worth her time.

But then… she stopped.

Her eyes slid back down.

The cock was still glowing.

And for the first time, those cold, unreadable eyes sparked with something else.

Curiosity.