MTL - My Darling Sick Beauty - Chapter 10

MC has the power of resurrection. He first resurrect Pirate King then WhiteBeard, Rock , Golden Lion and finally complete his crew.MC is mostly op. Read as Mc sail in the world of One Piece with the re-alive Characters.

[MATURE CONTENT]Abigail Snow accidentally caught her fiancé being intimate with her sister. She learned that her fiancé had only used her to advance his business and had never truly loved her.Heartbroken, Abigail called off the engagement and left everything behind to start a new life with nothing. At her lowest point, she met Sawyer, a hidden tycoon who helped her rebuild her life and seek justice against those who made her suffer.As Abigail begins to fall in love with Sawyer, his childhood sweetheart reappears, causing doubt and confusion for her.***Excerpt:Whoever this man was, he was her savior. If he hadn’t held her hand and pulled her, she might have become dead meat and gone straight to the afterlife.“Thank you so much, good sir,” Abigail said softly as she finally looked up to see him.Abigail was stunned.“But I'm not planning to commit suicide. I tripped over my own feet,” she continued, avoiding eye contact. She stared at his chest—her line of sight only reaching his sturdy chest.“It sounds better to hear that, Miss. Because I don’t want to go to the police station to become a witness, or they might wrongly accuse me as a suspect,” he said with a sarcastic tone that caused Abigail to stifle a laugh.“Sir, I’m so grateful you helped me. You are my savior. I owe you my life—” Abigail paused, taken aback by her own words.How could she make such a deep vow to this man!? This man might take advantage of her if he was a bad person. Right?“Alright, young lady, you’re supposed to release your tight embrace on me. You’re safe now.”Abigail was utterly shocked to hear his words. She only realized she was still in his arms, her hands tightly wrapped around his waist, and her entire body pressed against him. They were so close—close enough to hear his loud heartbeat. She quickly took a few steps back.

Idol show for dead people?Rayen was suddenly thrown into a supernatural idol show after meeting an untimely death at the peak of his career as a band vocalist.Upon waking up in a strange building, with a creepy stalker fan claiming to have written his entire biography, and a strange jukebox demanding him to perform, he learned of his death and found himself in a bizarre situation.[Please select a song to dance.]“What? Dance? I don't know how to dance!”[Select a song or disappear?]“Ain't no way I'm gonna dance!”[If you want to revive, become an idol.]“Screw revival! I don't want to dance!”

“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.