MTL - I’ve Been Pregnant for 10 Years Without Giving Birth - Chapter 36

Jadis has no idea how she died. One minute she's living her life as a young college student in Pennsylvania, the next she's hurtling through the unimaginable, incomprehensible void of the space between realities as a lost and detached soul. Luckily for her, the bored, and slightly deranged, god D finds her soul before it is mulched by the incomprehensible cosmos. After offering her a cookie to calm down from her existential nightmare, he explains that not only are gods and their respective afterlives real, but her disbelief in gods while living also means she doesn’t qualify to enter any god’s afterlife upon death. However, since D is in the mood for some mischief, he strikes a deal with her. Life in a fantasy world with RPG elements, along with a body built to match Jadis' slightly perverted wishes. Additionally, she gets a guaranteed spot in his afterlife. All that for the low price of spicing up the stagnant cyclical nature of a never-ending war between two stubborn gods and their respective followers on said magic-filled world. What disembodied soul could turn down an offer like that?Except, once Jadis takes the deal, she finds that she has been transported to the middle of nowhere and the lazy jerk of a god forgot to check if any of his followers were around to greet Jadis. Now freshly reincarnated as a Nephilim, Jadis is all alone and all but naked in an abandoned dwarven village located firmly in demon infested territory. Not planning on dying again anytime soon, she is forced to take the only non-perverted class option given to her and unexpectedly receives a second body for it. How is Jadis going to explain that when she gets back to civilization? From there, the now pluralized Jadis tries to survive long enough to understand her new system and skills, looking forward to the day she finds civilization, hot baths, and hotter elves.[I have already posted 300+ chapters on Scribble Hub. Updates there are Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, with double chapters posted every Friday. I plan on posting an increased number of chapters on Royal Road until this site has caught up and then post here on the same schedule. Rebirth of the Nephilim contains sexually explicit material, so for Royal Road I will be censoring the more explicit chapters. If you want to read the lewd chapters in their entirety, they will remain uncensored on Scribble Hub.]

After everything that Zaroth had was stolen from him, he decided to live solely for his desires, morals be damned!Close to his death, he resurrects and tames a mythical dragon, who turns out to be a breathtaking woman.Learning that in order to explore her body, he must grow stronger so he doesn’t die during the act, Zaroth sets a clear goal for himself: to get stronger.“But I’m curious about something.”“Hm? What is it?” Luna asked, raising an eyebrow.“You said you judged me. How did you do that? Why was I worthy?”Luna’s smile darkened, her eyes glowing with a dangerous intensity.“Despite knowing you would die, you didn’t pray to the gods. On the contrary, you declared that you would kill every single one of them like the dogs they are. In my life, you’re the only one who’s ever made such a declaration, which is why I couldn’t leave you behind—someone who dares to share my dream.”

In this world, being a farmer is a noble profession.

To obtain the Zhang Xiaofan super ability, have no matter all sorts of grass, raise flower, you ‘ll became one big guy unconsciously.

At a dying grass, give it 60 points of life, and will live.

Villain holding a 100 years of Lingcao in front of Zhang Xiaofan show off in an ostentatious manner, conveniently give it a year. As a result of the tragedy, it degenerates into a ten rank grass, the villain be crying faint in the toilet.

- 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.