Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1913. You're The One Feeding Me

"Test what?"

She crawled into his lap fully now, straddling him. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, slow and deliberate.

"If you really know all of us…" she whispered, "then show us."

"Show what?"

She grinned. "Use taste. Again."

"Now that is illegal," Azura mumbled from her pillow.

"Stop calling everything illegal," Jane muttered, kicking off her heels.

Allen?

Allen just smiled.

Like they'd handed him the keys to the kingdom he already ruled.

And he was about to prove it.

Again.

One taste at a time.

Allen reached for the blindfold himself this time.

His fingers moved slow—calculated. Letting them all see the way his eyes lingered, how he didn't just look at them—he studied them. Like a beast picking his next favorite sin. A silent challenge gleamed in those eyes.

"You want to win?"

"You better come hard."

Then he tied it over his own eyes with deliberate precision.

It wasn't submission. Not even close.

It was the kind of move that said "go ahead. Dare me."

And help them, it worked.

He leaned back on the wide velvet couch, arms resting along the armrests like a king waiting for tribute, legs spread just enough to look indecent.

Nobody moved at first.

Then—Vivian's laugh. Soft. Dangerous.

"Well. He tied himself up for us," she murmured.

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Confidence or challenge?"

"Both," Allen said. Cool. Calm. Blindfold on, smirk intact. "But mostly accuracy."

They exchanged glances.

That was all it took.

The wolves advanced.

The first kiss came quick. Soft, barely-there lips brushing his. Then again—firmer. Then a slow lick across his lower lip that made him inhale through his nose.

"Warm. You lean in too fast—Bella."

She giggled. "Damn it."

Then came the second. Someone kissed just under his jaw, slow and drawn out, then sucked gently until his skin gave in—leaving a warm mark that bloomed with heat.

Allen let out a quiet breath. "Shea. You only bite when you want praise."

"I do," she whispered. "So where's mine?"

"You'll earn it."

Another set of lips came next—but not to his mouth.

Vivian straddled him. Bold. Confident.

She pressed one of her breasts into his face, sliding it slowly against his lips with a smirk he could feel.

Allen's mouth opened. Instinctive. Tongue darting out just slightly. He felt her shiver.

He closed his lips around the soft mound and gave her a slow, deliberate suck.

Her breath caught.

"Vanilla," he said against her skin. "Vivian."

Her moan was the kind you bite down. "Tsk!"

"You're the one feeding me," he murmured, still mouthing her.

She trembled slightly before pulling away—half-smug, half-shaken.

Then—

A shift.

Lower.

Cool breath kissed his stomach, then down further. Hands opened his pants fully now. Someone stroked his thighs. Then—warmth. Lips. A tongue. It started at the base of his shaft, slow and wet, and dragged upward in a deliberate line.

Allen's head tipped back against the couch. He exhaled sharply.

The tongue swirled at the crown. Then lips closed around the tip and sucked. Not deep. Not fast. Just enough.

He groaned.

"Lavender and sin," he muttered. "Jane."

The suction stopped. A quiet curse.

"How?!"

"You always hesitate before the first taste," he said, smiling lazily. "It's adorable."

A laugh rang out—Zoe's this time. "You call that adorable? What the hell are we doing then?"

Allen tilted his head toward her voice. "Whatever you like."

And she did.

She crawled into his lap next. He felt her weight straddle him again. Her hand wrapped around him, bare now, stroking slow but firm—no teasing. No soft play.

Zoe wasn't soft.

"Zoe," Allen murmured, voice lower.

"You cheated."

"I memorized."

Her hand stopped. "That's creepy."

"It's effective."

Next came a hand down his chest. Smooth. Cold fingers.

Alice.

She didn't speak—just ran her fingertips in idle circles over his abs, then leaned in, licking a slow line up his neck before nipping his earlobe.

"Alice," he muttered.

She sighed. "Fine."

Then Larissa. She didn't say a word either. Just dropped herself onto his lap, shifted slightly, and pressed her lips to his neck like she was feeding—long, sensual kisses that melted into suckling bites.

Her perfume was rich and deep, like wine spilled on silk sheets.

Allen inhaled sharply.

"Larissa."

"Mmm. You always know," she murmured.

"I always will."

That left one.

He could feel her hesitation. The room stilled just slightly.

Azura.

Even blindfolded, he could sense her tension like a string pulled tight.

Then—soft hands touched his wrist. Gentle. Slower. Like asking for permission with skin.

Allen didn't move.

Didn't rush.

Azura leaned in. He felt her breath near his collarbone. Then—finally—her lips. A single, shy kiss. Sweet. Hesitant. Barely pressure at all.

Allen's voice dropped, soft for once. "Azura."

She didn't answer.

He smiled, even though she couldn't see it.

"You breathe like you're scared I'll disappear."

"I'm not," she whispered.

"Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

She stayed close. Just breathing. Just letting her skin touch his.

The others watched in silence, some amused, some thoughtful.

Eventually, Allen reached up, pulled off the blindfold.

His gaze was molten now. Not smug. Not cocky.

Just dangerous.

They were all around him. Knees on cushions, curled against his sides, lips red and glossy, eyes dark and wanting. Skin flushed, breath short.

He looked wrecked and in control at the same time.

He looked like sin dressed in velvet.

"You lost," he said calmly. "All of you."

"No," Vivian said breathlessly, "we fed you."

Zoe scoffed. "And now he's stronger."

"That's the problem," Jane muttered. "He's leveling up on us."

Allen leaned forward, placing a hand on each thigh beside him. His tone dropped, silk over flame.

"You want to win?"

They looked at him.

He smirked.

"Then take me down."

And they moved—

Again.

Allen barely had time to react before the first girl straddled him.

He heard the shuffle of silk, the rush of breath, the whisper of skin sliding against skin. His arms were still draped across the velvet couch, posture loose and open, but inside? Inside, he was on high alert. His nerves were fire. His blood—molten.

Then he felt it.