Can I Not Marry - Chapter 46 — Du Du, let’s elope?

And so Arascus, God of Pride, waited. He waited for his defeat as the forces of Heaven & Hell combined descended upon him. He waited as they tried to kill him. He waited as they locked him away. He waited for a thousand years in that dark prison.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.

So to begin, this is technically a skyrim fanfic.Why isn't it in the fan-fics then?Simple! It's based on a game and I don't feel that counts as a fan-fic.Second, I've read like a few skyrim stories here lately. I liked them, as a bethesda fan boy... Well, now I need to take a crack at it. I literally start a new game of skyrim every new year. Its my tradition, so I felt I had to do this.If its bad, ah well. If its good, GREAT! Overall though, I feel we need more skyrim based stories or fan-fics. It has the perfect setting for the transmigration genre. Now read at your own risk.

“Hey, wait! I'm not a god, I'm just a guy who loves trash!”Rhys loves trash. Trashy anime, trashy novels, trashy games, he can't get enough. Which was all well and good until one day, his passion for trash gets him mistaken as an actual trash god. Whisked away into another world, Rhys wakes up in a trash heap as a trash talent with trash skills and no chance of progression. Given his trashy start, it seems there's no hope for him.Or at least, there wouldn't be for a lesser man. But Rhys loves trash.There's only one path before him. Embrace the trash! Empower the trash! Dig the diamonds out from the trash! Polish the trash until it shines brighter than gold! If there's one thing Rhys is passionate about, it's trash. And even in another world, he isn't going to stop until he proves that trash shouldn't be overlooked!What to expect: Trash charactersTrash skillsTrash storyNumber go upCultivation-style systemFast-paced progression