The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live a Normal Life - Chapter 160: Two Way (3)

He was straight.Even after dying and waking up as the protagonist in his sister’s BL web novel.He was straight.Even with all the male leads practically throwing themselves at his feet.He was straight.Even when his heart inexplicably skipped a beat during romantic moments with one of them.He was straight.Even now... when he could somehow get pregnant.He was straight.There was no denying it.HE. WAS. STRAIGHT!“So, can someone please help me get out of this goddamn novel already?!”[Warning: 18+ content and there will be some themes of non-consent, mentions of abuse and suicide.]

Disclaimer: This story doesn't belong to me, I posted it here just to use the audio book feature of the app.For most, becoming a member of the Elite 4 would be the culmination of their Journey. A great achievement that solidified your status in the annals of history. For me, it was just the start of my journey. Hopefully, everything stays Normal.A pre-canon self-insert into the world of Pokémon.

Reborn in the United States in 1995, with all the web novels he has read in his head.Let's see how he uses online literature to skew America's bestseller rankings and become a popular cultural master like Stan Lee.In the 20th century, what is the largest IP in Hollywood?It's comics and web novels!Netflix? It's nothing without online literature! Disney's CEO later claims.

“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.