MTL - I Ran Away After I Online-dated the Slag Marshal - Chapter 47 It's too late to regret

[ Caution: High Heat Advisory ]“Harper, stop undressing me with your eyes. The plot isn’t going that way… YET.”Harper McKenzie, a newbie web novel author, has a problem — she struggles with romance scenes. As someone with almost nonexistent real-life experience in the matter, she can’t get the intimate chemistry right, and those chapters always come out dry and cringy.Fortunately for her, Harper finds a freelance editor willing to workshop her writing. But the surprise? That editor turns out to be her childhood friend and the very first crush of her life.What happens now when he offers her personal lessons on how to write the hottest romance … and love scenes?--------------Note: this is a fun, cozy, sweet story with a low-drama plot. No love triangles, no misunderstandings, no memory loss / car accidents / terminal illnesses / etc.. Mature content abounds, starting out soft but heats up quickly. You’ve been warned!--------------Sneak Peek:He slid her bra over her shoulders and, with impossibly quick and skilled work, tied the lacy garment around her wrists. “Spread your legs wider,” he ordered.Harper’s already faltering heartbeat faltered some more. The command in his tone was foreign, but it crashed over her like a heat wave, and even though she could barely begin to picture how salacious she must look, with her hands bound and thighs spread wide like an offering to be ravished, she could feel the scorching need coiling hotter and hotter in her core. Her body obeyed eagerly on its own accord, bringing herself fully open just like she was told.Eli grinned. Moving between her legs, he trailed hot kisses along her inner thigh, leaving sizzling little fires crackling in its wake. “Good girl. Now, what should your character say next?” A finger glided over her wet and wanting flesh in a slippery stroke, making her heart slam to a hard stop as a moan tore free. “Write the next line for me, what should I say before I unravel you with my tongue and make you scream my name?”

Ben was having the worst day of his life—then he died. But instead of moving on to whatever comes next, he woke up in the Wizarding World as Benedict Brown, the alternate male version of Lavender Brown. Which is... concerning, because Lavender Brown did not have a great time during the Second Wizarding War.On the bright side, he’s apparently the Dovahkiin. And he has a Skyrim shop system. So, you know, pros and cons.Can he survive Hogwarts, Death Eaters, and whatever else this world throws at him? Or will he end up as werewolf chow just like Lavender? One thing’s for sure—he’s going to loot everything that isn’t nailed down.

Umm, well, I will make it really short and just tell you what you can expect in this one.As my other novel, it will also be a smut one but this time it is a magic world.Our MC was the demon king, who gets killed by the hero in the war and gets reborn in that same world again as the son of...(you will know after reading)Then begins his new life with a lot of adventures, along with many beauties around him.So give it a try atleast and tell me your opinion on comments. The more you comment, the more chapters you will get.Also go and check out my other novel, you will love that one for sure.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”