MTL - I Just Wanted To Retire and I Was Forced To Become a General - Chapter 70 I don't want to be in the East China Sea anymore, Mr. Clow!

A bitter old man gets tossed into the world of Tamriel, as a descendant of a religious madman no less, watch as he delves into the secrets of magic and explores the wonders of this danger-filled world, and with luck and a lot of magic juice possibly even beyond.This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic (or anything for that matter). English is not my native language but I think there shouldn't be too many mistakes. The story will focus on magic and exploration with most likely a bit of romance later on.

[ R18+ ]“TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF…NOW!!” Zara commanded the king Erythian in anger as her eyes turn blood red.he didn't see it coming and his face is flushed with shock..“WHAT? LYS—” he asked before she interrupts.“if I have to ask again...I WILL DO IT MYSELF” she is unrelenting.Does Eythian comply?Zara, a modern girl from Colombia law school is transmigrated into the body of an ancient queen.She wakes up as Queen Lysandra.With a turn of events, she is Obsessed over by the ruthless, Warlord Alaric and finds herself Falling so dearly for him even if she is aware that it’s forbidden.Simultaneously, she is also betrothed to and in love with his enigmatic half brother King Erythian.let it be known that both brothers detest each other.she fights to hold on to her heart, but fate is cruel.Everything shatters and the man who destroyed her…now owns her.The lines between love and duty are blurred as Zara must navigate threats against the kingdom, alongside the love triangle with her between two brothers who despise each other.As she is taken further into a world of secrets.Will Zara honor Queen Lysandra`s duty to the crown and her people, or will she risk it all to follow the desires of her heart?

“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.