MTL - After Brushing Face At The Apocalypse’s Boss For 363 Days - Chapter 31 Transform

When Jake dies in a mundane accident, he awakens in a breathtaking yet brutal fantasy world ruled by towering, powerful women—warriors, sorceresses, and seductive monster girls alike. Here, men are rare, submissive, and treasured as playthings. He starts his days with trying to save a Kingdom under attack.__________________# Extremely Niche Novel# A lot of Femdom (contains reverse r*pe, pegging)# smut and ecchi# no humiliation , no Yaoi. (Mc is liked by the women he has s*x with)# Read at your own risk.# Also, has a story, it won't just revolve around the same loop.## Really Hot Woman (warriors, witches, and seductive monster girls) ### Just in case, I will give all the tags on the starting of a chapter if it has sex scenes, so you are free to avoid those chapters.# Enjoy, if you are into this thing.

Leon is an average high school student who likes to watch anime and read novels.
He's about to cross the street, only to be greeted by a truck and died.
But, he got reincarnated as Uchiha yet dead again because Itachi killed him.
Leon got reincarnated again as the grandson of the recovery girl.
He got kidnaped and tortured by All For One.
After his third death, he got reincarnated as a son of Bibi Dong.
In this fourth life, he wants to change his fate to become the strongest.

Note: Please read the tag before reading.
- English is not my first language, so there would be grammatical mistakes in this story.
- Please give my story a proper review.
- I accept a suggestion, but no spam!

You think too much, cultivation is not like this…

When Kong Hou steps on the path to cultivation, she learns that all xianxia stories are full of lies.

A relaxed cultivation story.

Kong Hou: a traditional musical instrument like a harp. The female protagonist’s name.

- Description from novelupdates

“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.