Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives Chapter 1628: Sexual Violation!

Villain Ch 1628. Sexual Violation!

After another hour—it was finally over.

Allen slumped back into his throne in the Crypts, chest rising and falling in long, controlled breaths. The table was a ss. The girls were scattered across the room in various states of undress and smug satisfaction, still teasing each other lazily like drunk witches after a blood moon feast.

He stared at them—his harem, his chaos, his kingdom of lust and laughter—and felt sothing odd tug at his chest. Not regret. Not guilt.

More like... wonder.

This was the first ti he’d gone that far in-ga. All seven of them. No filters, no sha, no turn-taking drama. Just them. All of them letting go in their own crazy, terrifying, beautiful ways. The way they matched his tempo, pushed him back, then pulled him in—gods. It didn’t feel like sex.

It felt like a party. On their terms. A devil’s party. One hell never planned for.

"...Damn," Allen muttered.

He stood slowly, stretching, the aftermath still tingling through his muscles—even if it was virtual. His wings faded with a whisper of static. The crimson glow from the Crypt throne pulsed like a satisfied beast. Notifications still blinked in the corner of his HUD, but he ignored them.

Instead, he exhaled, turned to the others still lounging—sweaty, half-dressed, sprawled like victorious demons after a feast—and said with a wry smirk, "Alright, I’m logging out. Got dinner with the family. Can’t show up late slling like sweat and sin."

Vivian, curled against the broken edge of the throne, stretched lazily. "Mm. Real-world obligations? Tragic."

Jane sighed, head in Shea’s lap, her voice a soft rasp. "Ugh. I should log out too. My body’s gonna cramp if I stay in this position longer."

"You think your position was bad?" Zoe muttered. "My spine is gone."

"Guess we all needed a break anyway," Larissa said, brushing her silver hair out of her face. She didn’t look tired. She looked... sated. Like a vampire queen waking from a dream. "See you all soon?"

Bella gave a slow thumbs-up without lifting her head.

"Logging out in three," Alice said, already opening her system nu. "And Allen? Try not to get hard at dinner thinking about this."

Allen gave her a pointed look, deadpan. "Thanks for that. Super helpful."

Shea giggled. "Have fun with Daddy Goldborne~"

He flipped them off with zero heat and reached for his VR gear.

"Devils," he muttered, smiling.

Then he pulled it off with a low hiss of disconnect.

The real world snapped back.

Ceiling.

Dim lights.

His bedroom—walls, warm gold trim, and that automatic scent diffuser that always triggered a jasmine puff when the headset ca off.

Allen set the VR visor on his desk and leaned back into his chair, dragging one hand through his real hair, breathing slow. Then deeper.

His heart was still racing.

From the battle.

From them.

From all of it.

A grin tugged at his lips as he stared at the ceiling. "Damn... I hope what I just did didn’t cause a server glitch or trigger so weird bug report."

He half expected Kafra to burst through his wall screaming "Sexual Violation!" in a duck costu again.

But nothing happened.

So he sighed, pushed up from the chair, and headed to the bathroom. Lights auto-flicked on as he entered, bright and sterile. His reflection t him with a crooked smile and post-ga hair that looked more like he’d just survived a hurricane.

He undressed fast, peeled off his shirt, pants, and paused.

"...Okay. Just checking," he muttered, tugging his briefs away to take a look.

Clean.

Not tragic.

Just... a bit sore in the ego.

"Cold shower later," he told himself, chuckling dryly. "I deserve that one."

He threw on a casual black shirt and tailored pants—because even his loungewear looked like sothing rich CEOs wore in luxury comrcials.

Then checked the ti.

"Damn it."

Ten minutes late.

Technically, not a cri. But still—Jordan and Emma were downstairs.

He pocketed his phone and headed down the grand staircase, shoes quiet against the steps. The sll of sothing savory hit him halfway down. Sothing spicy. Sothing cheesy?

He winced. "Michael’s cooking a special dish tonight?"

Confird when he turned the corner and stepped into the dining room.

Long table. Low golden lighting. Polished floor reflecting it all like a scene from a high-end mafia movie. Jordan Goldborne sat at the far end of the table, relaxed, legs crossed, sipping a glass of aged wine with the sa lazy elegance he used to ruin entire economies.

And across from him, grinning like she was about to set the room on fire— Emma.

"Sorry I’m late," Allen said as he approached, trying to smooth the wild energy still buzzing in his blood. "I got caught up."

Jordan lifted a brow. "It’s fine. Kafra told you were busy."

Emma, of course, pounced. "Yup. ’Busy’."

Allen stopped mid-step. "Can we not—"

"Nope," Emma said, practically vibrating. "You should’ve seen the system logs. Server-wide temperature spikes. Localized latency drops. I thought a glitch was happening but nope—it was just you having your villain-era harem party!"

Allen sighed. "Emma."

Jordan chuckled. "To be fair, it’s the most activity that dungeon’s seen in years."

"Even the dungeon’s trauma logs need therapy," Emma added with a smirk.

Allen cleared his throat, face hot. "Seriously. Drop it."

And that’s when the doors to the dining room opened with the fury of a man who considered every dinner a battlefield.

Chef Michael walked in.

Tall, scowling, apron spotless despite the firestorm vibes, and holding a tray like he was presenting the grail of culinary conquest.

"Oh no," Allen muttered. "He’s still mad."

Michael said nothing at first. He approached like a final boss, then placed the tray down.

Pasta. lted cheese and spice layered over hand-rolled noodles. Steam rolled off like it was blessed.

And next to it— A cake.

Not just a cake.

The cake. Chocolate. Dark. Glossy. Daring.

Emma’s eyes widened. "Oh no. You’re challenging him."

Michael finally spoke. "Enough talk. I need you to taste this. With your soul. With your genes. With your goddamn gastronomic dignity."

Allen blinked. "I don’t think I have that."