MTL - Holding On to My Man - Chapter 51

After suffering so much on earth, Liam died with his heart filled with hatred for heaven and humans.....

At the great void of reincarnation, he disobeyed a god and entered a different reincarnation portal....

He was reborn in a new world, possessing immersive bloodlines abilities....

With this he have finally started his journey of going against the heavens..

[Additional tag: GL, Yuri, Only Wholesome romance, Harem, Slow romance, Academy, Fluff, Lighthearted, Overpowered Protagonist and Love Interest][Update Daily]Seven Witches. Seven Sins. Mel always found the apocalyptic Gacha World of the 'Witchhunter's Howl' quirky and confusing. The Tragic Witches. The over-powered Saintess. The Bad Ending. And the twelve thousand Dollar she spent on pulling PNG waifus. Really, another salary emptied? Aw, she still hasn’t bought the new, limited merch yet!But now, transmigrated back to the world 15 years before the apocalypse, Mel had a new mission: as the Witch of Lust, she had to seduce the six other witches, plus the Saintess, to prevent the end of everything.Now if only the Kingdom would stop mistaking her for a terrorist, her childhood friend-turned-lover Envy would chill on the yandere vibes, and the Saintess wouldn’t tease her every chance she got...“Ah... I want Miss Pride to be my chair at my tea party...” Mel sighed, just another normal thought on another not-so-normal day.

Traversing worlds with the Immortal Sword slaying demons, it was not until a monkey who claimed to be the Monkey King appeared before Lu Yu that he realized he had come to the world of Journey to the West. Striving for supremacy along the Human Path, the secrets of Journey to the West unrevealed, cutting off heaven and earth, the Three Realms were isolated.

“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.