If You Could Hear My Heart - Chapter 397 - : I Want You to Kiss Me Voluntarily

When Simon dies, it turns out there's more to combat than lightning reflexes with his controller, and the path to becoming a hero is more brutal than he can imagine as he descends into The Pit. Death after Death is a dark, time loop/Isesaki story with roguelike elements, that explores some of the common tropes in a different light.

A decision can destroy the sun, moon and stars. A finger can kill the Heavenly Overlord. While chatting, the Heaven and ten worlds can be annihilated.

A poor little kid walks out from a remote mountain area while holding the Nine Dragons and the Incredible Cauldron. With a control over the time and space eternally, he embarks on the Path to God where he defies the odds of the boundless universe gaudily by fighting against royalty and clashing with the legendary generation.

Raphael loves women in relationships.It's always been a problem of his. He just can't help it.And now that he's been accepted into the Magical Five Schools, a place filled with some of the most beautiful women he has ever seen, he's able to live out his fantasy to even greater lengths.But his addiction puts him in difficult situations. Some so serious that even his life is put at risk.How will he navigate this new environment, whilst living his life to his most lustful desires?With the help of his unique powers and being granted the S-Rank, Raphael Brooks' will surely live an adventurous life in the Nation of Vailstone.

“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.