MTL - Poisoning the World: The Secret Service Mysterious Doctor is a Young Beastly Wife - Chapter 51 Want to invite me to sleep?

In the near future, a space channel connecting the other world suddenly appeared on Blue Star, and a large number of other world monsters poured into the homeland where human beings depended for survival.

Human civilization has shrunk sharply and had to hide in the base city to survive.

Only warriors can lead human beings to open up living space and regain lost land.

However, martial arts requires talent, and not everyone can become a martial artist.

People with outstanding martial arts talent can not only advance quickly and break through limits, but also optimize their exercises and benefit future generations, and are admired by all mankind.

By chance, Lu Heng discovered that his martial arts talent could continue to evolve…

- Description from novelbuddy

Bai Ye traveled to a very strange world where food is the sky and became a chef. He thought it would still be an ordinary life, but he slowly discovered how strange things always came in in this world.

What the hell is a gourmet cell?

What happened to Totsuki Academy?

Are the legendary kitchen utensils true or false?

Even the Sword Art Online Food Hunter version has come out, what kind of trouble do you want to make…

Although I feel that few people read it, I still set up a book friend group, welcome to join the home cook, group number: 553438462

- Description from novelbuddy

She, Xue Fanxin, a famous medical genius in the 21st century, had transmigrated into the body of the dumb daughter of the Grand Duke.

“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.