Adorable Wife at Home: Flash Marriage with Her Mysterious Husband - Chapter 464: An Ordinary Big Boss Behind the Scenes

Xiao Ze, who was dedicated to the people and vowed to become a generation of Ming Jun, accidentally fell on a little lady.
The little lady was born beautiful and lovable.
So Xiao Ze accepted his life and got the name of fear.

ps:
①The male protagonist has no concubine, and he is dedicated to serving the country.

- Description from novelbuddy

Grandpa Yu often repeated beside the ear of Yu Zhen, saying that he(YZ) has a soul in his body. If he doesn’t properly train in asceticism, and raise then send away the powerful soul, in this lifetime he would have to live as a bachelor. In his next lifetime he would be reborn as a lifestock animal.

Yu Zhen played on his mobile and nodded. On the surface he replied, “Uh-huh”. In his heart he laughed, “hahaha”. Keeping his grandfather in the dark was amusing so the lie was repeated for over ten years without Yu Zhen getting tired of it.

After some years, Grandpa Yu passed away and a cold-faced handsome guy came to his door in a luxury car – with a household register in his hands.

…..

Yu Zhen: The soul in my body reincarnated into someone else’s body to demand repayment, what should I do!

- Description from Novelupdates

I possessed the weakest character in my favorite game’s Hell Mode. I want to survive, but the way the main character is being controlled is atrocious.

It can’t be helped.

I have to stop the bad ending myself.

“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.