MTL - The Emperor’s Favorite Imperial Concubine From the Northeast - Chapter 69 shared bath

The elder master in Shen’s refused female secretary to maintain his image，thus the girl, who was beautiful and tough, lost her job. Later, she became the secretary of the young master, a playboy.

As a secretary, she not only had to help the playboy deal with the enemy but also help him deal with women. At the same time, she also had to face suspicion and attacks.

She fought her way to gain his trust and became his best assistant. However, things changed quietly.

She noticed that he was getting closer and closer and wanted to remind him not to cross the line, but he said, “If we don’t cross the line, how can we fall in love?”

- Description from Novelupdates

Maya prophesied that December 21, 2012 would be the end of the world. On this day, some people were anxious and afraid of not seeing the sun the next day. More people held a playful attitude and celebrated with their loved ones in the early morning night, waiting for dawn to celebrate their safe passage through the end.The next day, the sun rose as usual, and people only thought that God was joking with everyone, working and living as usual.But they were too happy too early.The end has already quietly arrived, but they have been adapted to the harsh environment, unable to see the green mountains turn into yellow soil, and flowers and birds disappear; Unable to see the clear river turning into a foul smelling canal, fish and shrimp are dying; Unable to see grassland turning into desert, land howlingAccording to the Observatory, there was a once-in-a-millennium meteor shower in the early morning of December 21, 2020. Many places can be seen with the naked eye, with young men and women rushing to tell each other, eagerly anticipating this romantic meteor shower.At midnight, the long-awaited miracle finally appeared. The moon, which had been hard to see for a long time, descended like a silver plate, clear and bright, right in front of meBut then people were extremely frightened. According to the lunar calendar, this day is the Winter Solstice Festival on the seventh day of the winter lunar month. How could there be a full moonThis is a beautiful miracleIt's still the beginning of the nightmare

When an S-class elite assassin-raised captain of a special ops suicide squad comes home from a high-stakes Africa mission, he finds himself offered something that could potentially set him up for life- a curious assignment that he could use to finally exit his days of war and slaughter.

“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.