Popular NPC in a Gender-Reversed Game - Chapter 141

I, a HIKKI-NEET, suddenly reincarnated in another world as a prince, and was immediately deemed the weakest ever, with my life already in a pinch after being abandoned as a baby, being stared down by a huge beast!?

However, I could only use one kind of magic. It was close, but I was able to avoid a “dead end” in my first few days of being born using that magic.

Anyways, I just want to live a lazy shut-in life as an adopted noble with my one all-purpose magic, but…?

One late-night run changed Aila’s life forever after getting caught up in a battle between werewolves and hunters. She is suddenly kidnapped by said hunters and finds out secrets about her past and her future as she embarks on a journey to find out who or what she truly is. Issues arise one after the other when she finally escapes the hunters grasp, only to be taken in by the ferocious Alpha of the Silver Crescent Pack. Unlike most who fear him, Aila challenges his authority every step of the way as she learns more about herself and the dominant, possessive Alpha who tries to claim her. Will heads collide in a battle of will, or can they work together and help keep the hidden world of creatures safe from the hunters? Join Aila on her journey of rediscovery, love, laugh and cry along with her on this action-packed, steamy romance novel. ----- Gold Tier Winner in #161 Writing Prompt Contest - Shapeshifters. ------ *** SNEAK PEAK *** [ MATURE CONTENT ] “Eyes up here, Aila.” He snapped; his harsh voice made her look into his eyes, and she was immediately trapped under his stone-cold gaze. She couldn’t move her eyes away from his as he stepped closer to her, his movements slow as though he was ready to pounce on her, his prey. Without thinking, she stood up from her position, prepared to bolt, but he grabbed her and pinned her hands against the bed. He moved his knee forwards, parting her legs that resisted only for a second before allowing his knee entry. He pushed it slowly into the spot between her thighs, making her gasp from the sudden contact. “Do you like disobeying me, Aila?” He growled; Aila was confused for a moment until she remembered how easily she defied his commands. Was he really still angry from earlier? But when she searched his face for an answer, she soon found it. He was definitely mad from earlier. “To be quite honest, I do. It puts you in your place,” Aila smirked when she met his blazing eyes. He brought his face down closer to hers, the pressure from his knee in between her legs increased, making her bite her bottom lip. “Wrong answer,” He growled before biting her lip apart from her teeth.

In a world where the strong prey on the weak and nobles slaughter commoners like insects, Alex was just a weak boy who lost everything to the cruelty of fate.For the sake of revenge, he rose from the ashes, determined to carve his path through a world soaked in blood and betrayal.But there is something the world does not know—something even Alex himself has yet to discover...A power buried deep within his blood, ancient and untamed, waiting to awaken.

“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.