MTL - History’s Strongest Husband - Chapter 111 : Smart and superb! Kill the whole family! (1 more)

He mocked the omegaverse. Now he’s living it—with a baby on the way.Souta Tachibana was just your average, overworked office drone—until his BL-obsessed coworker introduced him to a trashy omegaverse romance novel. Curious (and a little horrified), Souta read it for laughs. But then he died in an accident.Now, he wakes up in the body of Lucien d’Armoire, a minor noble in the empire of Aetheria. No plot relevance. No destined lovers. Just a quiet, boring life as a background beta.Until one morning, he throws up into a chamber pot… and his doctor says something unthinkable:“Baron d’Armoire, you’re pregnant.”Which is impossible.Because he's male.And straight!And because Betas can’t get pregnant.…Right?Except Lucien is no Beta. He’s a rare male Omega. Apparently, during one reckless, drunken night, Lucien slept with an Alpha. Now he's pregnant, confused, and definitely not ready to be a father. To make matters worse—he doesn’t even know who the father is.

Dropped

Ian Night’s life was a joke—until it wasn’t.Betrayed, discarded, and left with nothing, he welcomed death when it came. But fate had other plans.Reborn in chains, Ian awakens as a slave in a world where power is dictated by bloodlines and magic.While others wield fire and lightning, he is given dominion over something far more absolute: Death.With every slain foe, every stolen soul, and every corpse bound to his will, Ian will carve his way from servitude to supremacy.He will rise from the dirt. He will shatter his chains. And those who once cast him aside will learn what it means to fear the dead.[Ability Unlocked: Soulbind – Bind the fallen to your will.][Absorb strength of fallen soul?][New Trait Acquired: Gravewalker – The dead whisper, and you listen.]Kingdoms will tremble.The weak will kneel.And Ian Night will never be a failure again.Or, like most in this cursed world, he’ll die trying.

“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.