While I Was Giving Love Advice to My Best Friend, the School's Most Beautiful Girl Somehow Became the Closest Person to Me - Chapter 3Volume 2 .7 - The Beautiful Girls Are Making Their Move

Akira, was born in the slum and wishes to get out but the only way he could was to risk his life in these ruins as a hunter.

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…?

A man who was locked up to cultivate immortality finally achieved it, becoming immortal and reaching the very peak of existence.But to achieve immortality, he was forced to give up one thing he loved the most, and that was sex. He was a man whore before he was set on the path to cultivating immortality. He could seduce any woman during his time as a mortal.But now that he has achieved immortality and has omnipotent, he wants to go back to his old ways, finding pleasure in tasting different types of women.______________________A/N - This WN is focused on sex, there is a story but it is very slow, MC's focus will be on women since this is a sex story, as for the plot, it really doesn't matter, being omnipotent means no matter what the antagonists do, it is useless, but there will be something to look into when it comes to the plot as I don't want to make it boring to you readers.WARNING.This novel consists of extreme sexual content, for example, hardcore BDSM, sharing, public display, gang bang, corruption, manipulation, and every other kink that I want to put in.If you are uncomfortable with any of the following, do not read.

“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.