Reborn in the 1980s: Recapture My Devoted Husband - Chapter 2 - 1: Awareness_

After his fall, the Duke who was distant with his wife and daughter recalled his memories of another world. With a new perspective on life, he swore to cherish and protect those two.

She was born into a wealthy family but was abandoned because of her ugly appearance.In the eyes of her family, she was worthless,In the eyes of outsiders, she was just an unloved, uncared-for abandoned girl,No one knew that the legendary healer who could mend bones and revive the dead was her,The queen of the business underworld was her,The famous racing car god in the racing world was also her...He, the heir to the most prominent family in the capital, had wealth, power, and looks.But his true strength was far more astonishing than what the world saw.Yet, he was inexplicably enchanted by her, and his eyes and heart were filled only with her presence.Moment:Qin Yu Shen propped his chin with one hand, his handsome eyebrows slightly furrowed, staring at Song Yan Ning in front of him.“Why do you look unhappy?” Song Yan Ning lifted her lips, reaching out to gently soothe Qin Yu Shen's brows, smoothing the worries between them.Qin Yu Shen took hold of Song Yan Ning's hand, gazing into her deep eyes where a hint of grievance lingered, “Can you return to your original appearance?”Song Yan Ning raised her eyebrows in surprise, “Don't I look good now?”Qin Yu Shen leaned in slightly closer, nuzzling her delicate nose with his well-defined nose, his magnetic voice soft and enchanting, “Beautiful! So beautiful that I want to hide you away...” No matter if she is ugly or beautiful, he wants her all to himself.The male protagonist in this story is extremely devoted to his wife, a double clean double strong theme, dear readers, please add this to your collection!

“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.

Gripes have their origins and debts have their creditors. We haven’t crossed each other in days past or present, nor formed any grudges. I am but duty-bound to carry this out, so apologies in advance!