MTL - The Rest Of My Life Is For You - Chapter 2 His child's mother

This story tells the life of two people, a noble only in name and an older wife from the army, married through a tentative agreement. In the bone-chilling cold, they spend their time hunting, gutting, and cooking by the fireplace. Their daily life passes peacefully. This is the warm love story recounting their daily lives.

Heavy rain poured down from above the dark clouds up in the night sky, filling the sky with droplets that splatter on the muddy ground of a narrow road. Thunder and purple lightning roar resounded over the clouds.

This was a night that would forever be remembered.

Bernard was a poor young man with a dream just like any normal human would have, he wanted to survive and make ends meet.

However, he was rendered hopeless when he realized just his certificates and hard work alone, wouldn't be enough to climb up the ladder in the society, he needed connections as well.

Putting his frustrations aside, Bernard decided to work harder, however on his way home something that would forever change his life happened.

Bernard was bitten by a strange Cat in his dark room and entered a strange world...the Symbiote world, with this strange twist of fate, Bernard soon realized the hope to fulfill his dream was rekindled once again.

[Daily Quest: 'Meow Meow five times]

She is a descendant of Shennong with unparalleled medical skills and possesses a unique treasure. He is a handsome warlord who mysteriously goes blind and is sly and cunning. Crossing into another world, she becomes a six-year-old little waste. Through defying the heavens with summons and forbidden magic, she rises up in one fell swoop, showing a dazzling brilliance, looking down upon the powerful.When arrogant meets cunning and genius clashes with monstrosity, at that moment, the world trembles in awe!

“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.