Dating My Scumbag Ex’s Uncle - Chapter 31

Roland was just a normal college student living peacefully in an H-Grade City when he experienced his very first devastating heartbreak.

He found out that his girlfriend of two years was cheating on him with the City Councilor’s son, she even embarrassed him in front of a lot of people.

When Roland was already completely devastated and was already at his wits end, a virtual screen suddenly appeared in front of his eyes.

[Requirements: Experience a devastating heartbreak(Completed)]

[System bound!]

[Congratulations for unlocking the Face-Slapping System!]

Since then, Roland’s life has taken a complete turn.

Max wanted to be a [Baker].

Settle down, bake stuff, and enjoy life.

The gods, however, ruined that dream. Given [Baker] and a black skill, he is now running for his life, trying to grow strong enough to return home.

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Marry him for a contract, but it is love that supports them to live together.

In order to raise medical expenses for the seriously ill father, she had to sign a contract with a strange man, she would be his wife, and he was responsible for paying for the treatment of her father.

Life after marriage is very ordinary. He is the CEO of the company. He is busy working every day and occasionally has a look at her, but he is full of disgust. However, she fell in love with him little by little, and she was very sad when facing his indifference. Neither of them knew how to resolve the misunderstanding between them.

After experiencing the death of her father and an unexpected pregnancy, they finally opened their hearts, and sincerely, began a happy life.

“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.