MTL - Vicious Male Partner is a Girl - Chapter 81 drug effect

He was only an ordinary Chinese youth. Because of the strong refusal of his soul, he unexpectedly arrived in this strange world. He ardently loved peace; yet, he had no choice but to become a Demon God. If cultivating to the peak could lose person’s human nature, then all living creatures will weep with grief, waiting to be slaughtered. Can he still remain calm after this? In the vast wilderness, a handsome youth carrying the wisdom of “Daodejing”, step by step would rise to prominence in this world. Condensing and cultivating his bloodline to the supreme. Controlling and commanding the rivers. Swallowing and spitting the sun…

Tl: 1.Daodejing also mean as “The classic of the virtue of the tao” was a book of dao by Lao tzu, a sacred text of Daoism.

- Description from Novelupdates

Su An was thrown into a world of quick transmigration by his suitor, who attempts to approach him with a different identity.

Hidden dangers can not be prevented, but fortunately, with sweet words and beauty, Su An has won the love of the big bosses from each world.

An indifferent painter suffering from mental illness, a flirtatious bandit young master from a wealthy family, a demon monk with powerful martial arts skills…

To Su An’s surprise: Every big boss is poking my appetite!

The big bosses who got hooked up: …

They all gave a meaningful smile.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the far future humanity is threatened by monstrous beings called kaiju now humans have expanded across the galaxy with the development of new techniques and fleets of mechs.Alto a young boy with dreams of becoming a great mech pilot is forced to be a mech designer. He finds a strange technology that opens his eyes to the vast secrets of the galaxy, now with a new purpose Alto must become something the world has never seen before.A/N: Just wanna do a good sci-fi book

“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.