Lazy Dungeon Master - Chapter 522 - Email.

This story tells the life of two people, a noble only in name and an older wife from the army, married through a tentative agreement. In the bone-chilling cold, they spend their time hunting, gutting, and cooking by the fireplace. Their daily life passes peacefully. This is the warm love story recounting their daily lives.

The Halfling says: curiosity is power.The Dwarf says: unity is power.The Elf says: Magic is power.The Gnome says: creation is power.The Beastman says: slaughter is power.Humans say: authority is power.The Dragon always says: knowledge is power.The Gods once said: faith is power.Lynch stands on the terrace of the All-Knowing Tower, overlooking the Anriel Continent, and gently says:“I”, am power.

(MATURE CONTENT)I GOT HIT BY A TRUCK AND GOT INTO A STEAMY RELATIONSHIP WITH TWO FREAKING ALPHAS!I guess I was facing Karma. Who knew I'd be reincarnated into an alternate universe as a BOY?! And I became a BETA!why didn't I become an OMEGA? Afterall, I was more pretty than any male omega out there, probably because I was a girl in my last life.Well, living the life of a boy is so much easier. That way, I can do stuff I always snuck to do. Hehe. Ahem!Anyway, I got an apartment with two hot Alpha hunks, who I assumed to be dating but they weren't. They were something like friends with benefits.I somehow get involved in their 'relationship' and have to spend my day with at least one of them.It was exhausting but fulfilling.By the way, there seems to be something weird going on with my body. Do Betas become Omegas overnight?It might just be me being overly sensitive but just in case...If you wanna know more about what I'm talking about, read this new story. You'll like it.*********Check out the next generation of this book,To Byul (Omegaverse)And then my other book,It's Just A Picture (BL)

“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.