Killing Grounds of Gods and Devils - Chapter 142: Terrifying Hospital

Mizuno Eiji, a siscon high school student, receives the worst news from his older sister: “I have a boyfriend now.”In order to identify the man who stole his sister, he follows her on a date and… sees a suspicious figure watching the two of them as well.That person is Hasegawa Aoi, his classmate who is famous for hating men despite being a beautiful girl!“I can’t believe you are actually a brocon.”“I never thought you are a siscon.”In order to make their beloved sister and brother to break up, the two of them formed a mutual relationship and went on a date as fake lovers while following the brother-sister couple… Aoi kissed Eiji on the cheek.“You’re the only one who is… special.”Brocon x Siscon, two people who shouldn’t be able to get along is actually a perfect match…!?

The Synders and Thornes had always been the closest of friends. So when Kyra Thorne and James Synders both lost their parents in an accident, twenty-year-old James swore to protect ten-year-old Kyra as though he were her uncle.Twelve years later, Kyra had not only blossomed into a beautiful woman, but she also could no longer ignore the feelings she’d developed for James at nineteen. After three years of struggling to suppress them, she was finally ready to confess.However, what Kyra didn’t know was that James had long discovered her feelings—and had devised the cruelest way to reject her.But, what happened when James unintentionally crossed a line?One thing was certain: Kyra Thorne always got even, even if it meant destroying them both.

Once an imperial princess, now reborn among the lowest of s*aves of the nobility.

“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.