Tsunade Can Hear My Inner Voice - Chapter 10: Lee’s Treatment Plan

Bored in class, Ivaim suddenly transmigrates into a world plagued with Fractured Realities.A century ago, Reality Masters suddenly arrived— bringing a wave of terror over the planet.Just as the people despaired, they began to discover “Threshold Items” which allowed them to enter the domains of these Reality Masters.They had two options starting from there :One, to become a Reality Walker— a person marked and blessed by a Reality Master, fighting by their side in order to defend against other Reality Masters.Or to become a Reality Ruiner— A person who kills Reality Masters, directly consuming and taking over the powers that they posses!However, to Ivaim, he seemed to have taken on a different path.As he looked towards his own body, he sighed as he realized that he was neither a Reality Walker, nor a Reality Ruiner.—He had somehow become a Reality Master....

Our straight (?) bottom woke up ten years into the future and found himself on the bed of his childhood friend… At the start, the bottom was shocked to his very bones, but he soon quickly accepted this premise and found the whole situation to be rather amusing. Precisely then, the bottom once again went back to his timeline — back to when he and the top were just platonic childhood friends.

Victor can’t wait to get the hell out of high school, go to the local community college on a sports scholarship, and start his own life. But that’s all put on hold when he enters his abuela’s house and somehow ends up stepping into a world unlike anything he’s ever known, filled with fantastical meta-humans; walking, talking devils; and other creatures one usually needs some serious pharmaceuticals to see.

Fanwath is no dream, though. In fact, it’s a nightmare. Sold into slavery as a pit fighter, Victor quickly learns his new home is controlled by the “System,” and the only way to get ahead is to fight, kill, and collect the precious “Energy,” which means the difference between a long life and an early grave. And according to his stats, Victor’s starting out at a solid zero.

Lucky for him, no one in this world has ever met his kind before—which means they have no idea what he’s really capable of. But they’re about to find out . . .

Release Schedule: 3k+ word chapters every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

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“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.