MTL - Pokemon Black Fantasy - Chapter 10 : 1 wave of fat?

Time travelling from the majestic era after the Recuperation of Reiki, he became Kimura Kazuki, a 16-year-old high school student in Japan, one year before the Reiki Recuperation.

Tentatively, he set out to hone himself to the bone, burning candles at both ends to stockpile resources in preparation for the imminent Recuperation of Reiki. His goal was to be many steps ahead of all humanity when the time comes.

However, it seemed like fate had decided to play a cruel trick on him.

One year later, the Recuperation of Reiki… did not happen as expected.

“Meet. Befriend. Seduce.”

Those were the words promised which made him excited.

“Play Nightlife and date your favorite Vampire Girlfriend!”

—-—-

When Lukas purchases Nightlife, all he expected was dating all the girls and getting the sweet sweet “plot”. He didn't expect to be thrown into the world entirely!

What's a Vampire got to do to survive?

-Daughter? Yes!-Multiple worlds? Yes!-Vast Lore? Yes!-Fastpace? Yes!...“You either Die a Villain or Live long enough to see yourself as a Hero.” ~Probably Spark---------------------------------------Spark, the lofty young master of the Dwight family, had always been a mystery. His true abilities were never known until the day he stepped onto the frontlines.In one awe-inspiring exhibition of power, Spark shocked the world and sent the coalition army of the five emperors into a chaotic retreat.Now, with the eyes of the world on him, each faction lusted to uncover the secrets behind his unparalleled strength.Still, in spite of the rampant curiosity and greed, nobody had the guts to confront him directly.And with every rumor spread of his feats, a question burned in every mind: was Spark this powerful all this time, or was he casting an illusion of strength before everybody's eyes?

“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.