MTL - The Emperor is Expecting! - Chapter 113

I, Fang Cheng, an Immortal.Although I had developed many hit games, there was one question I never quite figured out.Games, why are you fun?

All it takes is one monster for the world to go to ruins.Life as Nadine knows it goes to shit and she has to accustom herself to life underground, that is until an accident forces her out into the real world.Caine has no idea why he saved Nadine.She is everything he hates- rich, spoiled and entitled- and yet, he couldn't just let her die.Living outside is hard enough without having to save someone else and yet, he does it with Nadine.Thrust into a world that she has no idea how to navigate, Nadine is forced to rely on Caine.Her life is literally in his hands.They soon realize that maybe the monsters are the least of their worries.

I am reborn as a minor character and the mother of the main character, the deposed ruler Leriana Ashford.My husband's younger brother will stage a rebellion against him, and only my young children will manage to escape. And the unfortunate Queen Leriane faces a bleak end. According to the plot, my heroine will sacrifice her life during the rebellion to save her children.Except she won't! Dying at twenty-seven is too soon for me and I'm going to change the tragic plot of this novella.I was lucky enough to be reborn ten years before the events of the novel began. At a time when the future King Philip and his brother Razor had just fallen in love with me at the Royal Academy, and their fight for me led to a feud. To survive - I decided not to become queen and live a quiet life with my father the Duke. And in order to rid myself of these two, I had to go to extreme measures.I decided to start dating the daughter of the cursed Duke, who is feared and hated by the entire academy.

“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.