Net Game: All My Pet Beasts Are Goddesses - Chapter 139

Nan Yu was brought by the Nan Family back from the countryside to pretend as the fake heiress, being forced to marry the paralyzed and tyrannical young master of Huo Family on behalf of the real heiress.Before the marriage, she was just a fake heiress who had been abused since childhood, despised by everyone, and had nowhere to call home.After the marriage, she became the heiress who was coveted by many, lavished with love, and had countless brilliant hidden identities.Such a perfect person, the only pity was having a disabled husband.Everyone advised her to kick him out and find someone better.But a few days later, they saw the man who had been in a wheelchair stand up and become the rich and powerful ruler of the Huo Family.He then pinned Nan Yu in a corner, held her by the waist, and with a hint of red in his eyes, and said, “Sweetie, I heard that you want to divorce me?”Remembering his wildness in bed, Nan Yu shook her head violently, “No! Those are all rumors. You are the only one I want to spend my life with!”

Damien never asked for this life.Confined to a hospital bed, chained by a body that betrayed him, he spent his days battling the cruel joke that was fate. But when a single video game shattered his last shred of patience, he found himself facing something even worse—his own reflection, cast into a story that should have never been his.“Fucking NTR game!” He said as he threw the console.In the game, the player was nothing but a tragic figure. A weak, spineless fool, doomed to be discarded. A character whose sole purpose was to be broken.But was that really all he was?Thrown into a world that scorned him, Damien refuses to play by the script. If fate had already written his downfall, then he would carve his own path—one of defiance, of rage, of survival.Watch as Damien, a man who once had nothing left to lose, fights to take control of a story that was never meant to be his.Because in a world that demands he stay weak—he will either shatter expectations… or burn everything down with him.

A face is a face, a song is a song, a composition is a composition.

Beautiful, talented and hardworking upcoming idol Sun Woojoo.

One day, a miracle came to him!

“I’ll become a star who shines more than anyone else.”

His dreadful dancing wasn’t an issue anymore.

At last, an idol with everything prepared.

Now, a monster rookie has appeared in the entertainment world!

In this life, the greatest star in the universe!

“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.