After Entering the Wrong Room, I Became Mr. Feng's Wife - Chapter 185 - :1 Already Had a Lot of Self-Control

Zarah is nothing but a lowly runt in Howl Creek who is bullied relentlessly. She wants nothing more than to leave the oppressive pack. When it is revealed who her mate is—none other than her greatest bully, Alpha Damon—she is humiliated and rejected.She leaves for the human sector and lives her life with her son, only for the past to come knocking. Alpha Damon is back, and he wants his son.

The ‘heartwarming’ daily life of Miss Witch in the Cyber Galactic Era, and occasional epic adventures.She is a timid girl who grew up in a cyber city. She is the weeping child who trudged through the mud. She is a legendary star admired by all, detached from the mundane. She is the Pitch-Black Songstress who brings sorrow and tears to the world. She is the ruthless witch who cannot speak of false hopes. She is the blood-stained angel singing the song of the end.Please enjoy the latest work from the clumsy author, Blue Sky Melody, “The Witch of Eternal Night”This book is also known as:“Miss Witch’s Part-time Job Diary”“As a Color-Grade Songstress, I Must Hide My Identity”“Is It Okay If I Only Know How to Pilot a Gundam?”“The Dark Queen Behind the Federation’s Curtain”“If That Final Song Is to Be Sung, Let It Be Me”“We Shall Eventually Unite as One”T/N: Taking places in the same universe as author’s previous work, “She is not a Witch”, with brand new array of casts. It is a sequel that can be read without reading the prequel. At most you can find subtle reference that comes from previous work as historical tidbits~

Short, rich, and handsome, Lin Feiran was always the center of attention. But after transferring schools in his second year of high school, he discovered that his limelight was snatched by his Adonis classmate, Gu Kaifeng.

“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.