Wedding Night: I Became the Female Supporting Character and Married the Villain! - Chapter 305 - : Mending Bridges

[Face-slapping satisfying story] [Beloved by all] [Smart female lead, adult CP with Sheng Yuxiao]Li Xiaoya was born in a poor mountain village. Her mother died when she was three, and her father ran off with a mistress.When she was seven, the “Life Swap” TV show crew came to the small village and immediately chose Xiaoya.But when filming began, they suddenly switched to the village chief’s granddaughter instead.Later, the chief’s granddaughter went to the big city and appeared on TV. Netizens praised her for being poised and well-behaved, saying she’d become the goddaughter of an incredibly wealthy family. How enviable!The netizens also said that Xiaoya from the same village was originally chosen, but supposedly she stole and grabbed things, cursed constantly – good thing she didn’t make it on the show!Xiaoya had no idea a chapter of life that should have been hers had been stolen…***On the second day of filming, the rich young master who was swapped to experience life in the small mountain village met the dirt-covered Xiaoya.Despite her young age, Xiaoya would stand on a stool to cook for him, trek through mountains to dig up wild vegetables for him, and even save the one piece of candy given out in the village to bring back to him, holding it until it melted.The arrogant young master’s heart completely melted.So while the village chief’s granddaughter was touring Disneyland in the big city,The young master was helping Xiaoya dig in the fields and carry manure.The life was too hard; the young master really couldn’t take it anymore. In a fit of anger, he summoned a group of rich second-generation kids to dig fields and carry manure together… Instantly it went viral online, crushing the ratings of the other group.**Later, she was recognized and taken back by a top wealthy family. Her grandfather was gravely ill, her uncles and aunts were either crazy or disabled. No worries! The young master helped her with everything!Even the fiercest villains fought to be her father!

I was sixteen when the gods abandoned me.The Blessing Ritual was supposed to grant me power, a divine gift to carve my future. Instead, I received nothing. No abilities. No hope. Just another nameless soul left to rot in a world ruled by strength.Fine. If the gods wouldn’t bless me, I’d make my own power.For ten years, I clawed my way forward, experimenting with forces no human should touch. I pushed too far—and it killed me.Then I woke up.Sixteen again. Back at the Ritual. But this time, something changed.Time bends at my will. Blood moves when I command it.The gods still won’t acknowledge me, but it doesn’t matter. This world isn’t fair, and I’ve stopped playing by its rules. Faith and Chaos clash in my veins, and I will use them both.They wanted a Chosen Hero, someone to dance to their tune.Well, too bad for them—I’ll carve my own fate.

When Han Kain woke up, he and several other people were inside a mysterious hotel with different rules and different expectations.Going into each hotel room threw them into other worlds and scenarios where they must brace death at times to escape or lift the curse of the individual rooms for a chance to bring everyone that died during the process back to life.Using their blessings that were given at the time of entry, they have to weave their way through the rooms while sometimes sacrificing themselves for a higher likelihood of success.* Very little horror; more of a thriller

“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.