Princess Medical Doctor - Chapter 785: Calculating, sleeping with the imperial concubines niece

Ye Qing transmigrated into a novel. She was only an unimportant character in the novel, and she was free to live a wonderful life by herself.

But, her happiness was short-lived. One day, an adorable girl that looked around three-year-old popped up and called out in a milky voice, “Mom.”

Ye Qing: ???

On another day, a cute and handsome twenty-something guy hugged her. With tears in his eyes, he said in a voice that was full of affection, “Mom!”

Ye Qing: ???

After Ye Qing had somehow inexplicably become the mother of two children, she discovered –

Neither of these children were human!

***

One day, a little girl pulled a certain big boss to the side to whisper, “Dad, mom was patting my head when she was telling me a bedtime story. I felt too comfortable, and I accidently swung my tail out. Mom seems to have seen my tail. What should I do? QAQ.”

- Description from Novelupdates

I was on my way home with my friend when suddenly, I spotted a catgirl cosplayer who made my heart skip a beat.But something felt off—I couldn’t recall seeing her in any anime, manga, or games I had ever come across. Confused, I asked my friend standing next to me.To my shock, his response sent chills down my spine:“Huh? What catgirl? What are you talking about?”Suddenly, a truck came barreling toward the girl. Without thinking, I rushed to save her. In the end, both of us were hit by the truck.Now, I find myself reincarnated in another world—in the body of the very catgirl I had seen.But... who is this girl?How is she related to the dungeons that keep popping up in this new world?

“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.

After the battle, the beautiful senior sister shyly raised her face in front of you and slowly closed her eyes. At this time, you…

Eh? The choice this time was too simple. Of course, it was four.