#we're slowly working our way through this!

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Slade Wilson Characters: Stephanie Brown, Slade Wilson Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Fighting, Blood and Injury, Blood Kink, Kidnapping, Manhandling, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Competence Kink, shock collar, Inappropriate Use of Healing Factors, Cunnilingus, Biting, Knifeplay, Pain Kink, mild Identity Porn, Consensual Stabbing During Sex, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, BAMF Stephanie Brown, fight for dominance, Choking, Timeline What Timeline, Banter, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Series: Part 24 of necrotic nephilim's writings Summary:

The problem with Stephanie is this: she loves too much. Too deeply and too violently. It's an infection that no one else has or understands. That is, until Deathstroke comes to kidnap her for a contract and somehow, she ends up underneath him. Split open and spilling violence he's all too eager to drink up.

-

SladeRobin Week 2024 - Day 3: Competence Kink | Collars

[kudamono94]

I'm trying to be more active on my blog again, so take some trash memes I spent like an hour on lol

Also sorry they're all Zapp related in advance - I got a lot of the ideas for making these at work, and with the new Futurama episodes airing in just a few days, I'd figure I'd make something for one of my favorite characters✨ That said, since I am once again trying to be more active here, it might be a while before I post anything substantial bc I want to go through and reblog stuff/sort through my blog for a bit, so in that case, if anyone likes these memes and wants to talk about the upcoming seasons/new episodes airing on the 29th, then pls feel free to spam me lol - my inbox is always open in general, but I love when people talk about Futurama especially~

(You get bonus points if you want to also talk about Fry or Zapp too btw)~

Anywho, onto the stuff I put together - and to anyone who actually turns out to like this, stick around for the read more if you're a Yancy fan, maybe ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ?

Here's that bonus Yancy content I promised lol - and to anyone who actually made it to the bottom of this post, thank you for taking the time to get here~ I hope everyone has a great day, and here's looking forward to the new episodes starting on the 29th~ Happy viewing :3

[penisbilt]

the bittersweet but absolute flood of relief that comes from admitting defeat at living independently, to have to move back in with parents. we tried! we gave it our best shot for almost 3 years! but living like this (being on our own) is just not possible for us at this time of our lives. we've finally proved it to ourselves that we can't do it. it'll be okay to let ourselves rest now

[pixiemage]

I work with my dad, and when his phone goes off the office, it sets off his phone, his smart watch, his ipad, and his laptop. So there are moments where a non-client will call and his ipad will start ringing on the charger on my desk, his laptop will start revving like a motorcycle on his desk, and two different tones will ping with an echo across the kitchen, where my dad - using his phone and wearing his watch in the bathroom - will go "Heeey what's up?" as he answers it.

Yet he still somehow manages to miss it half the time when I text him, which I entirely chalk up to our shared ADHD. God I love my dad lol

[exoexid]

the suyeol lore is so crazy

[aggressionbread]

Me and my bf are finally caught up on Kingdom Hearts and we're ready for him to play 3 for the first time and I am so excited but I am trying to be so normal and patient about it

[dandyshucks]

me waking up at 6am this morning and immediately having the thought "maybe Guz still gets angry a lot because strong emotions are difficult if not impossible to control esp if its rooted in abuse trauma BUT he learns how to apologize, and thus - especially in the beginning - he would lash out as an automatic response but quickly realize what he's doing and apologize for it and we'd move on and be okay" like it had been beamed into my brain from some divine source.

also junebug (waves. thats literally just me.) would have to do their own hard work to learn to not automatically fawn when someone starts seeming the littlest bit potentially displeased or unhappy (because that is unhealthy for all parties involved). they'd BOTH be putting in the work to make it work !!!!!! 🎉

[fraddit]

Reservation Dogs is maybe the best show I've ever seen. But sometimes after an episode it's like, okay that was A Lot and I need to disassociate in an episode of star trek now please, so I'm not too depressed to sleep at bedtime.

[winnow-girl]

it's honestly very funny being a trails fan but not engaging with the fandom online much at all and not really having anyone i know irl that's played them, because it means that whenever something like this happens i spend the next three days walking around my apartment vibrating and wheezing like a sick animal. and my wife just sort of pats my shoulder and is like. "i'm happy for you!"

yes i feel like i am being hunted for sport. no i have not even fully caught up on the series because every time i play reverie i do feel like i am being electrocuted. i'm having a GREAT time you should all come join me.

[aubiesquire]

You know, Bob's Burgers does a better job pronouncing Japanese words than some anime dubs do. Crunchyroll obviously does a great job; I'm talking more about certain Netflix dubs. Like, the Dungeon Meshi dub is great, but I tried to watch the Kimi Ni Todoke dub and the second Kazehaya said "KuroNUMA" I was like nope I'm out

Anyway, Bob's Burgers is great

[hyckstarz]

breaking the rival code | l.mk

pairing. rival!mark lee x afab reader

word count. 6.1k

genre. smut · enemies to lovers trope · humour

synopsis. Mark had a way of getting on your nerves, to the point you'd even considered shutting him up for good. However, your best friend eventually planted a seed in your head that fucking your rival, and breaking the unspoken code, would be enough to finally end the long-standing feud.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, fingering, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (fem receiving), haechan as best friend and instigator

A/N. i had this buried in my drafts for months but it had me screaming into my own pillow whenever i read it so, it couldn't stay unpublished for long.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Mark Lee," she's fuming, as per usual. Eyebrows tightly knit and throwing daggers with her hard glare while Mark just laughs, "It's due next week, and you haven't even written up a plan?!"

Mark rolls his eyes, his glasses almost slipping down his nose, doodling absentmindedly in his notebook, "Relax, that's 168 hours of time to work on it, it's nothing."

She sinks back into her chair, crossing her arms in that arrogant way — as Mark would describe it, "Actually, it's less than 84 hours if you factor in sleep, other classes you have to go to, and fucking surviving. Mark, do you take anything seriously?"

Mark rubs his face in frustration, facing her, "It's the first year; none of this counts towards our grade," he goes back to doodling small Spider-Man caricatures but, as always, he can't resist having the last word, "And you're too serious, princess. Live a little."

Small things like that always set her off. She was aware of how she came across but, when it involved Mark, she only ever saw red. She somehow manages to calm herself down, realising they're in the campus library and already earning a few curious, judgemental stares.

"Mark...," she manages to whisper somewhat loudly, leaning in close enough for him to feel her minty breath against his skin, "Can we please get most of this done today? I'd very much like to be free of your presence."

Mark chuckled under his breath, his dark eyes slowly drifting over her subtle features, raising a brow in amusement — the weight of his gaze caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Finally, he gave in and pulled out his laptop. He began clicking through their assignment brief and taking notes down, surprising even her, who started doing the same. As English literature students, it was a given that they had to read a stack of novels and articles, even for an assignment worth 0% towards their final grade.

Yet even small victories in their relationship were rare. It was a miracle that they were somehow able to work through the tasks efficiently, though that moment was short-lived before they were at each other’s throats, with Y/N starting it again.

"Mark, we're meant to critically analyse, not describe. Do you have any working brain cells in that thick head of yours?" Her fingers twitched, as if to hold herself back from clenching her fists and knocking some ounce of sense into him.

He rolls his eyes in response, jaw hardening as he scowled at her, clearly not in the mood for their usual back and forth, "We need to have a synopsis of the texts, I don't know how else you expect me to include all of the relevant info without having a short paragraph in there."

She simply looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if he'd just said the most absurd thing ever, "Mark... do you really think we can afford a whole paragraph just on a summary?"

He just chuckles in response, clearly uncaring. She leaned forward, her fingers digging into the desk and turning white as she struggled to maintain her composure. Mark’s casual smile only fuelled her irritation, but she lets out a heavy sigh, judgy eyes flicking across his face.

"You're like those pretty dumb blondes; the only thing you've got going for you are your looks, sorry to say," she sneers, going back to taking notes, but she internally curses at herself for admitting she found him at least objectively attractive.

Mark pauses, head snapping to her, his eyes flicking over her features, trying to decipher what she'd just said, or if he'd even heard her correctly under the hushed whispers of the library. He spins the pencil in his hand, eyes narrowing at her as a smug expression tugs on the corners of his lips, "You think I'm good looking? I'm flattered."

Y/N gives him an exasperated glance, snorting at his sudden change in demeanour and sitting up to look at him straight on, "I know you took me for a fool, but a blind one too? Damn," she said with a sarcastic lilt.

When Mark doesn't respond, just a cocky smirk widening — his gaze intense — she feels her heart rapidly beat against her chest and, as a way to hide the effect he has on her, she rolls her eyes for the nth time that hour, clearing her throat and focusing back on her task, "If you weren't so annoying, or if you learnt how to shut your mouth and do things correctly, you'd have a lot more going for you," she sends him a glare, "But you don't, so your looks only take you so far, and that's below average in my books."

He mocks in response, "Wow, you read? How surprising."

This time, she couldn't hold herself back. Mark did have a way with getting under her skin, so well in fact, that it led to them being asked to leave the library, only furthering their frustration and anger towards one another.

It wasn't always like this, either. When Mark had first met her, he was a shy, slightly awkward teenage boy and, the first impression she had of him, was cute. He was incredibly sweet and outgoing; it was easy for him to make friends and that meant they easily got close too. The only problem was, they were so alike in all the wrong ways. He was just too competitive and stubborn, always aiming for the top, and so was she. It was only natural that friends turned to rivals, competing with one another over everything. With that being an understatement.

From whom could get to the cafeteria the fastest, to who could submit their assignment the earliest and get the highest grade? It was competition, after competition. Most would get exhausted after the first two or three, but for them, it was thrilling, though they'd never admit that to one another.

"I can't believe your loudmouth got us kicked out of the library," his jaw hardened as he met her intense gaze, "Can't you sit still and take comments with some sort of, I don't know, strength? Because clearly, you're so sensitive over such simple, meaningless words," He slings his bag over his shoulder, already walking off.

Only further proving his point, she chases after him, tugging at his arm so that he wouldn't get away.

"You're the one who can't let things go either, always needing to have the last word, what are you, a child?" she crosses her arms and nods her head with a questioning brow, as if to say, 'go on'.

Mark just scoffs, about to walk off before turning around, his hands moving in frustration as he glares down at her, "You- you're such a pain in the ass, you know that? You really know how to drive me crazy."

He's panting, frustration evident. But it was the way he was looking at her that threw her completely off balance. His narrowed eyes flicked to her lips, brows furrowed as though he were etching her features into his long-term memory. She felt her heart drumming in her chest.

Before she could respond, a familiar yet equally as annoying mutual friend of theirs appears, snickering at the pair and their usual quarrelling, "Jeez, can't you two just fuck already?"

"Shut the fuck up, Haechan" they both say in unison, tearing their gaze away from one another with a scowl.

Haechan only snorts, glancing between the pair with an amused brow, "Clearly there's some sexual tension that I'm interrupting here, it would explain why you look at each other like that," He leans in-between them, as if to reveal the biggest secret in history, "I bet you two dream about each other too — in, you know, that kinda way."

Mark just stands there, mouth agape and in disbelief at the absurdity Haechan was spewing, looking between the two. Y/N just scoffed, grabbing the man by his bag and pulling him away without so much of a word. Haechan waved a chaste goodbye to Mark as he was being dragged off to God knows where.

Someone was going to die today, and it was definitely Haechan.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The coffee shop was empty, hence for the low whispers of the baristas in the far corner, and a cheeky Haechan sitting before her, happily drinking his iced tea after telling his two closest friends that they should fuck each other. She groans, letting her head fall into the palm of her hands.

Usually, this coffee shop was a place where she could find peace and solitude. It was bright, with large windows that let light in all throughout the day, creating a florescent streak of amber and pink through the thin stickers attached to the panels. The colour schemes could easily brighten one's day as whites and pinks peppered along the walls.

The foliage brought life to what would otherwise seem like a cold, simple design, and the bakery added a subtle hint of beige, creating a natural environment. But the best thing about any coffee shop, was the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, and the sounds of the machine working, or even the quiet conversations. Though, sounds were non-existent today, except for her constant groaning, which started to bother her best friend.

"If you make one more frustrated sound, I'm leaving," he takes another sip of his cool drink, "Is it because of what I said earlier? Just know, I wasn't lying, that would definitely help you two."

She pulls her hands away, pursing her lips as she started twirling her straw, watching the milk mix with the coffee and caramel, "No, it's because I'm... I don't know, frustrated?"

Haechan glared incredulously, "Clearly."

"Not like that, I meant... I miss how Mark and I used to be, how we would laugh at silly jokes, or talk for hours without it having to turn into a competition, but now everything he says or does has a way of getting under my skin," She takes a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling at the taste, "He could just be sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and I'd I just want to-"

"Want to what?" Haechan asks, ears perking up, waiting for a gotcha moment.

"Well, what I usually do." She shrugs, going back to her drink.

Haechan takes everything she says in, nodding his head slowly, "Anyway, it's sort of funny as Mark said the same kinda thing to me the other day...," Haechan takes a sip of his drink, whining when he finds it empty, "He said he missed the old you, or when you guys used to be friends."

She pauses, meeting her waiting friend’s gaze. Her brows furrow. Mark... missed how they used to be? But she doesn't say anything to Haechan, keeping her thoughts to herself.

The usual smug expression returns as he leans back in his chair, leg bouncing under the table out of habit as he crossed his arms behind his head, "Anyway, as I said, you need to get your frustrations out in other ways. You clearly have a thing for each other. The way you express it is a little... unconventional, but you're both immature, so I'm not surprised."

She simply looks at her friend in disbelief, lips parted as she gapes at him, to which Haechan only grins annoyingly at her. He also had a way with words, just like Mark, except he seemed to understand boundaries a lot better, and was chill enough to not want to fight back.

"What? Please tell me you two at least have moments of either flirting with each other or checking the other person out-"

"No." She scowls, shivering at the thought. Though, she couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at her earlier, brushing off the thought, "It's hard enough to even look at him without wanting to strangle him."

"Okay, so you're into choking, got it." Haechan chuckles, nodding as if to make a mental note of it.

"No, I'm not into that! Whatever, look, I don't have a thing for him, so just drop it." She looks at him with a serious, intense gaze, as if to emphasise the fact she really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Her friend only nods, putting his hands up in mock surrender, "Okay, just know Mark would definitely jump you if he had the chance — I mean, which guy would put up with your shit? No offence."

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink in hopes it would be refreshing enough to block out her growing irritation, "Anyway, the sooner I get this assignment done, the sooner I can move on from this Mark topic."

She quickly pulls out her phone before Haechan could drop in another one of his grand ideas, finding Mark's contact and immediately sending him a text. She almost spat out her drink at how fast he had responded.

You: Let's just get this assignment done with. I don't feel like getting kicked out of yet another establishment, so just come over to mine tomorrow or something.

You: *sends her address*

Mark: Fun.

Mark: I'll be there around 4 if that works

You: 👍

She bit her nails anxiously, eyes glancing between the door and the clock on the wall - each tick of the hands signalled it was only getting closer to 4, which was when Mark said he would arrive.

That wasn't why she was anxiously boring holes into the clock, however. She could curse the heavens, the earth and the 12 Olympians, but instead, she chose to curse the lust demon himself, aka Haechan. She buried her head in her hands, tugging at the roots of her hair in frustration. She can't believe she dreamt of Mark last night for the first time and, it wasn't just any dream — which was the worst part. Why did her mind have to be so vivid and make Mark so incredibly sexy? She had no idea.

When a knock came from the door, she stood up a little too quickly, rushing to it and praying that Mark looked far from presentable than he had been in her dream. But he wasn't, of course. She'd never seen him in jeans before and the green hoodie was the cherry on top. She swallowed hard, peering up at him as he adjusted his glasses.

"Are you going to let me in?" He raised a brow, his dark eyes glancing over her features in suspicion, taking a quick, subtle glimpse at her plaid sweatpants and pink t-shirt that didn't do much to hide the outline of her bra. He swallowed hard, tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance yet, the only thing that swirled in his mind were thoughts of how fucking attractive she was without even trying.

His annoyed expression grounded her temporarily, falling back into her usual demeanour as she rolled her eyes and held the door open wider for him, "If I catch you slacking once, I'll kick your ass out of here."

Mark gives her a side eye, frowning before kicking his shoes off, "Are you trying to motivate me not to do the work?"

She laughs sarcastically, leading him to her room as she props herself on her bed, noticing Mark looking over her interior.

"I expected your place to be put together, but not drenched in pink," his gaze trailed over her shelf, taking note of the various photo frames and mini ornaments.

She chuckles under her breath, pulling out her laptop and notes, "What, too girly for me?"

He turns his gaze to her, a quiet silence envelops them for a moment, and she takes that time to admire him. She knew he was attractive — objectively — but never had she looked at him in that way. The kind of way that made her heart and mind race.

Mark finally straightens up with a shrug, sitting down on the edge of the bed and getting his things out as well.

It felt strange having Mark in her home. If it weren't for getting kicked out of the library, her apartment would have been the last place he would be at. Though, now seeing him sat almost politely at a respectable distance from her, typing away on his keyboard quietly, made it start to feel right somehow.

She opened their shared document, reading the notes he was typing up. Even though he tended to be a lazy ass — or a procrastinator, as he would call it — there was no doubt he had a way with words. When he really put his mind to something, he would always deliver quality work. At times, she'd look back on why they had turned rivals, or enemies, and then she'd see what a complete genius he was. Maybe it was always her. Maybe she was just jealous that, no matter how hard she worked, Mark would always be ten steps ahead.

"I wrote up all the notes," Mark's voice cut through her thoughts, "How far did you get?"

She turned back to her laptop, pursing her lips at the blank screen. When she took her time responding, Mark scrolled down the document to where her cursor was and sent her a deadpanned expression, "What did you say about slacking off...?"

She doesn't know whether to laugh or smack him, so she picks the secret third option and scowls, "I did more work than you yesterday."

"That's old news," he sighed, looking through their to-do list, "I thought you wanted to get this assignment done and dusted because... what was the reason again? Oh yeah, you wanted nothing to do with me."

She scoffs, sitting up as she points an accusatory finger at him, "Don't act like you don't feel the same way."

Mark clears out the already completed tasks on the list, colour coding the other bullet points to distribute the work evenly between them, "Oh I do, and I wonder why." He doesn't even spare her a glance.

"Go on."

"Maybe it's because you continuously bitch over every little thing, it's no wonder Haechan is the only friend you have and, it's probably because he's waiting for some kind of green light," Mark's bitter words reeked of jealousy as he spoke through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?" She shrieks before she leans over the bed and grasps at his hoodie, his hand immediately grabbing her wrist, "That's too far, Mark, even for you."

He raised an unamused brow at her, fingers tightening on her wrists, yet she doesn't waver, "Maybe, but I'm sick of it. All you ever do is complain and treat me like some sort of idiot and, when I give you the same energy, I'm the problem."

His voice is tight, jaw hard as he doesn't break the eye-contact. She pulls him in closer, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, "What a joke, you're just as much of a problem as I am and, you know what? Maybe Haechan was right, maybe we need to fuck for us to finally pull our shit together."

The moment those words leave her lips, she regrets them. From up close, he was even more attractive that those words naturally came out. Mark's eyes widened comically and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

His brows furrowed, "Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually suggesting that?" his voice carried a disbelieving tone despite his cheeks growing redder by the minute.

If it weren't for the dream she had last night, or that stupid green hoodie he was wearing right now, she would have laughed it off as a joke or even knocked him out in hopes he'd forget what nonsense she'd just spewed. However, all she could think about in that moment were his hands gripping at her plush thighs, spreading them apart as he lodged himself between her legs, his soft lips parting against hers desperately. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am suggesting that," she doubles down, the words more confident now. She knew she wanted him, even if he drove her bat-shit crazy. Even if he'd think she's bat-shit crazy.

It was almost laughable how wide Mark's eyes had gotten, his lips parted in shock, "you're fucking serious, Y/N?" This was too cruel of a joke from someone like Y/N. He knew she would rather curse him out than make absurd suggestions such as sleeping with each other. And the more he thought about it, on top of the intense gaze she carried, the more he believed she was being serious.

She leaned in, her warm breath fanning against his skin. She could smell his musky cologne — it was a scent she felt she could easily get addicted to, "I am serious, Mark," her big, doe eyes peered up at him through her lashes, "Hell, I even dreamt of you last night thanks to that blabby-mouthed Haechan."

Mark suddenly grows flustered, averting his gaze. She dreamt of him? His words practically came out like a croak from the nerves, "H-hey, that's a little..."

She raised a brow, waiting for him to continue his sentence yet he'd only grown quiet, his jaw clenched as he processed the situation. He felt his throat go dry and, the way she was staring at him made him feel breathless - a little too out in the open under her gaze. It was taking everything in him to hold back, but their shared history and his growing annoyance towards her kept him stuck in place.

"What? Mark, don't be a pussy," she scoffed. Despite her harsh words, they had rolled off of her tongue like honey, "Do you want this or not?"

Mark's head whips to her, his brows furrowed, "I am not...," the words faltered on his tongue as his hands came to rest behind her on the bed, his nose brushing against hers. He was way bigger than her, his arms caging her in, looming over her, "I'm not as much of a loser as you think I am, Y/N," the words were bitter; however, he felt like he was falling too deep.

Being this close to her, with her wide, surprised eyes staring back at him, her flowery perfume more prominent at the proximity, and her warm breath... He couldn't find it in him to deny it anymore, "Fuck, I do want this," he muttered, the whispered confession slipping past his lips before he himself could process the words.

At that, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing his nose fully against hers, "I want this too." Her soft words drew him in like a moth to a flame and it felt like the string that held onto his sanity had snapped.

Mark pressed his lips to her glossy, pink ones that tasted like cherry, breathing in her flowery scent, to which she parted her lips against his in response. His hands gripped at the soft flesh of her waist, pulling her in impossibly close. He tasted minty, mixing with his musky cologne and it was like she couldn't think straight anymore, losing her grip on reality and, instead, losing herself in him. In Mark. Her supposed enemy and rival.

It didn't take long for her to pull him on top of her, her back falling against the mattress whilst her leg rode up his side, hooking over his hips. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, nipping at her skin and down the valley of her clothed breasts. She was going insane, and it was his fault, "Mark, take off my damn shirt already," she groaned in frustration, sitting up.

He didn't waste any time. Stripping off her shirt, he subtly admired her plush breasts which sat pretty in her lilac laced bra, barely leaving anything up to his imagination. As much as she got on his nerves, he couldn't deny the effect she had on him by being effortlessly gorgeous even as her brows were tightly knit. He pushed her back down onto the bed, planting his hands on either side of her head, "Are you always this demanding?"

"Only with you," she mutters, tugging at his hoodie impatiently, to which he chuckles, taking it off. She couldn’t help but gawk at him, sending him a glare for being more attractive than her dreams could ever do justice.

He kisses her again, his hand trailing down the side of her breasts, not giving her time to run her mouth. Then, his hand pulls the bra down, letting her breasts slip out as he cupped and kneaded the soft mounds, groaning into her mouth at how they fit perfectly in his hand. He rolled the nub between his fingers, grazing his thumb over them.

Mark kisses down her body, taking a nipple into his mouth — biting and tugging at it as his hand continued to twist the other between his thumb and index. He relished in the soft sounds that escaped her lips and the way she tugged at the locks of his hair.

He continued to move down her body, his finger hooking under the waistband of her sweatpants as he met her gaze, "I know you beat my ass over this, but you sure this is what you want?"

She deadpanned at him, "You just made out with my breasts, Mark. If I didn't want this, I would have stopped you there."

Mark just rolls his eyes in response, slipping her sweatpants down, "Could have just said yes."

She's about to retort when she feels his hand cup her, finger tracing the clothed slit of her pussy and she has to bite her lip to stop her from making a sound. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction so soon. Didn't want him to know just how badly she wanted him — more than she'd like to admit.

However, Mark was as stubborn and competitive as she was, and he wouldn't hold back until she gave in. He pushes her underwear to the side, leaning in so that his warm breath fanned against her sensitive folds, causing her to whimper.

'Fuck,' she thought.

Mark, without warning, slowly licks a stripe up her slit, his flat tongue drawing out a shudder from her — back naturally arching. Each time, he'd go in for more, slowly bringing up the pace. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him hostage until he groaned and grabbed onto her plush thighs, pinning them to the bed; fingers leaving marks along her soft skin. Her own fingers grabbed at anything they could, from the sheets beneath her, to the healthy lock of hair on his head, letting them knot around her digits and tug with every wave of pleasure he had given her.

She could feel his cocky smirk as he sucked on her clit, enjoying every moment of her falling apart on his mouth. Falling apart for him. When he pulls away from her, she let's out a frustrated whine to which Mark only laughs at, "Open your mouth."

She sends him a skeptical look, "Fuck no."

Mark's patience wears thin, "Don't be a stubborn brat now."

Surprisingly, she obliged and he pushes his fingers past her plush, kiss-swollen lips. Her mouth suckles on the digits, tongue swirling around them, and he retracts his fingers with a pop.

"Fuck, your mouth really does have uses other than spewing insults and demands," he teases, voice low, tracing her entrance which had her letting out shallow breaths.

"At least it has more use than your fingers-" her words cut short when he pushes his finger in, palm pressed to her clit as he looks up at her with a 'you sure about that?' look.

It doesn't take long for Mark to add a second finger, curling them in search for the spot that would make her see stars. And then, he finds it, and she let's out a sharp gasp which only grows louder when his lips wrap around her clit, continuing his earlier ministrations of lapping at her folds like a man starved.

Just as her dreams failed in visualising just how attractive her nemesis was, it had also failed in expressing how utterly, impossibly, and irritatingly good he was with his hands, lips, tongue-

"Mark, fuck-!" She starts to tense under him, eyes pierced shut as she chases that feeling of ecstasy.

"I believe I'm getting there...," Mark chuckles, the vibration of his voice fluttering against her.

And, just as she starts to see the twinkling behind her eyelids, the light at the end of the dark tunnel, and a glimpse of the heavens, Mark pulls away, leaving her empty, wanting, and embarrassingly needy.

Forget Haechan, Mark was the number one man on her hit list.

In a second, he's over her again, cupping the back of her neck and lifting her slightly up to kiss her. She can taste herself on his tongue, feel the way his lips apply just the right amount of pressure to say he's here, and it's so soft, so gentle, so wanting — it was the perfect contrast, the perfect contradiction to the image she'd created in her mind of him. His thumb brushes against her jaw, fingers tangling in her hair, before he pulls away, forehead resting on hers as he breaths against her.

His eyes flicker open to gaze down at her; warm and oh so inviting. It felt like the Mark she once knew. The genuine, loving and calming person. Though his next words threw her completely off balance, and she was quick to retract her claims.

"I'm going to fuck that sexy, infuriating attitude out of you, baby," he lets the pet name draw out. In every other context, with any other person, she would have cringed at that word, but it felt so undeniably attractive coming out of his lips, that she wanted to hear him say it more than once.

Mark got up off of the bed, pulling out his wallet to fish for a condom that had been in there for God knows how long, chucking it on the bed next to her and kicking off his jeans and boxers in record speed. She barely had a millisecond to admire the sheer length of him before he was on her again.

His deep brown eyes kept their hold on hers and she could see a subtle hint of affection; the space between his brows crinkling in focus as he slowly pushed into her. His calloused fingers pressed along her waist, leaving white marks along her curves, while she could feel every ridge, vein and pulse of his cock.

When he bottomed out, she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in impossibly close. Needing him closer to her. She could feel the rough planes of his body pressed to her soft ones as he started to rock against her. He gripped her thigh, pushing it further up so he could angle himself better, remembering the spot that had her seeing stars earlier.

Each time he'd hit that spot, she'd clench naturally, rocking her hips to meet his that had him softly groaning by her ear. He smelt so good, felt so good, was so good. She felt her mind start to fog up, jaw slack from the loud, erotic sounds that forced its way out from her throat. It was too much in the best possible way.

That wasn't as far as Mark would go though, he wouldn't stop at just good. He wanted best. His hand snakes up her body, gently wrapping around her neck — thumb pressed to her jaw — as he applied enough pressure to her pulse point. She knew then that maybe she did actually enjoy being choked or, at least, enjoyed anything Mark did.

She throws her legs around his waist, pulling him down, desperate to feel more of him, to reach her release she craved, pride long forgotten, "Mark... Mark, fuck- please..."

Mark pressed a sweet, uncharacteristic kiss to her cheek, "Please what, baby?" he brushed the strands away from her forehead, never halting his movements.

"Need more of you...," She could barely get the words out, but Mark knew exactly what she meant. Without time for her to process, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her face against the pillows, fingers tangled in her silky hair as he snapped his hips into her with more strength.

She could have sworn she started hallucinating seeing stars in the room from how deep he was reaching in this new angle, hitting her spot with added ease. Her glossy lips stayed parted against the pillows, drool staining the cotton case as she let out soft grunts.

Mark's head rolled back at the filthy sounds of her and how fucked out she looked. It made him want to carve this scene into the deepest part of his memory, "You're doing so good for me... So pretty like this."

His soft voice did not match the roughness of his fucking, but it made her clench around him, "C-close..."

Mark hummed, grabbing locks of her hair and tugging it back so that she arches against him, "Be a good girl and come all over my cock, then."

She nods eagerly, reaching behind him to grab at his hips, urging him to go faster, harder. She chased that release as if seeking closure from her pent up frustrations at Mark and hers usual bickering and challenges. She sits up to lean against him, knees pressed to the mattress and head rested on his collarbone — his own arms wrapping around her body. Finally, she came, body shuddering in his hold and, at the feel of her convulsing around his length, Mark bit her neck, muffling his sweet sounds as he followed suit.

They stayed like that for a while, panting, hair sticking to their foreheads. She wouldn't be close to exaggerating by saying this was the best sex she'd ever had, but she would also blame that on the sheer tension they carried for years around one another.

When Mark slips out of her, she fully expects him to make some usual smart comment, but he only pulls her with him as he lay in her bed, keeping his arms around her, "Who knew we'd be so compatible?"

She snorts, "I can name at least one person," she thinks of her best friend, the whole reason this night even happened and speeding up the process between them.

Mark smiles, snuggling into her and letting out a soft sigh, feeling sleep catching up to him, "I hope this isn't just a one time thing, though," he says suddenly with a soft voice, "you don't know how long I wanted this for. Wanted you. It drove me insane trying to be... I guess, respectful and casual about it all."

She sat up, turning to look down at him with a playful look of disbelief, "I call bullshit, you weren't respectful about nothing. Not that I'm complaining, it's attractive seeing you annoyed."

Mark rolls his eyes, smirking at her, his cockiness returning, "I knew you found me more than just objectively attractive, you're down bad."

She easily admits it, "Yeah, I am. But you're in way deeper for asking Haechan for advice of all people."

Mark immediately sits up, his face pale from the shock despite his cheeks being flushed, "Dude- Wait, what?"

"We're on dude terms now after you fucked an outline of my body into this mattress?" she scoffs, her crude words making Mark increasingly more flustered than he already was, "The choking kinda gave it away. I just know Haechan threw that in conversation with you."

Mark laughed sheepishly, pulling her into his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "Guilty as charged. Though, I'm proposing we get back at his arrogant ass by not telling him a thing. We'll slowly drop hints to mess with him a little — see how long it takes for him to catch on."

"I'm in," She giggles, feeling sleep overtake her as she nestled into Mark's chest.

Before today, neither of them would have imagined that fucking each others rival would be the secret to finally ending the long-standing feud and breaking the rival code.

© hyckstarz

[chaoticwriting]

Part 1

Gotham New Rogue 2

It's been a few weeks since Danny started to become the Trickster. To be honest, it is working very well. His core is expanding fast as ectoplasm is regenerating faster than ever before. He is also slowly developing new abilities and gaining more control and powers to his already established abilities.

For instance, Danny used to struggle making clones, but now he can easily create dozens of them with just a thought. He can also change his clothes to whatever he imagines using ectoplasm now. His ice power is also stronger and easier to control. His superhuman body is developing and slowly getting stronger and faster.

Overall, Danny will say that make a smart decision to become a rogue especially since no one has caught him yet. Danny is currently laying on top of a building watching the sun slowly set in the horizon. His stomach suddenly grumbles and he decides to hit the shack before he gets to "work" tonight.

Jumping off the roof, Danny lands and walks to the nearest Batburger while still wearing his rogue suit. He has a totally funny idea today and it involves him being seen in public. Entering the Batburger is like entering a library for some reason. As soon as he enters, everyone goes deathly quiet.

Danny slowly walks towards the cashier and orders his food.

Danny: 5 sets of set C please.

Cashier: Ermm, that will be 60 bucks.

Danny: Here.

After paying for the food, Danny gets his food and sits at one of the tables alone. It's only after he is through his 3rd set that reality is set in for the people. They begin to move and contrary to Danny's expectations, approach him to ask for pictures. Danny allows them some pictures and unknowingly raises his status as Gotham's friendliest rogue.

Suddenly, a white man that screams rich guy, a woman with blonde hair and a black guy wearing Signal's merch approach him. Danny has learned a lot of things from his 14 years of life and 2 years of half life and Danny knows when a rich guy approaches you, it's never good (Sam doesn't have the rich vibe).

Rich guy: Hello Trickster! May we have a meal with you?

Danny: Sure.

Rich guy: Ah, how rude of me. My name is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. These two are my friends, Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas. You can call me Tim by the way.

Danny: Sure, Tim.

They sit opposite him with their meals and try to make small talks with him while eating. The trio realize that Danny seems to respond a lot better when Steph or Duke is the one to ask the question.

Steph: So, Trickster. Why don't you like my friend here?

Duke: Way to go in being subtle, Steph. Why not ask who is he really next?

Steph: Hey, I can't help it you know. He seems so snarky whenever Tim asks questions. I wanna know if Tim pissed him off or something.

Danny: He is rich, right?

Duke: Err, yes?

Steph: Let's say he is. Why does that matter?

Danny: I hate rich people. And government. But who doesn't hate the government?

Duke: So, eat the rich?

Danny: Yes.

Steph: Cool cool. We are also here just so we could leech him off anyway. We're not really friends.

Tim: Ow, you hurt me by saying that. What happened to our vow of eternal friendships?

Steph: I cross my fingers.

Duke: I lie.

Danny: Hahahaha. You're like my friends.

Tim: You have friends?

Danny: Of course I have friends. And unlike you I don't need money to have friends.

Tim: Sorry sorry. Are your friends also rouges?

Danny: Wouldn't you like to know? Last I need is Batman investigating my friends. I'm sure Batman is part of you rich people group chat or something.

Steph and Duke: *Snickers*

Tim: *Glares at the two* Why would you think Batman is in contact with the rich people?

Danny: Isn't it obvious? Batman has all these high tech gadgets and is always there fast whenever a Wayne is kidnapped. I would even say Batman is being sponsored by the Wayne.

Danny: I also don't like most heroes in general. They are just the government lapdog doing whatever the government wants.

Tim, Steph and Duke frowned at that statement. From the way Danny speaks, it is clear that he has some history against the government. Him being here also means he is at least confident enough to run away if any of the bats are here. Is it just blind confidence or a truly competent ability will remain to be seen.

Tim is just about to refute him when Danny suddenly stands up. All of them tensed up and ready for battle when Danny turns towards one side of the window, waves and disappears right in front of them. They are very confused and when they turn towards the direction Danny was just looking at, they see Batman and Black Bat right on the rooftop across the building.

Batman and Tim nod to each other and they all return to the caves.

-Batcave-

Tim: So you all hear the conversation right?

Dick: Except at the end where the sound becomes blurred for a moment, we hear everything.

Tim: Good. So what are your thoughts on this?

Damian: It is pretty self explanatory Drake. He has a personal hatred towards the government and that extends to all bodies of government or people he thought is connected to the government.

Tim: But why though? Is the hatred towards the government something as simple because he is a criminal? Or is there something else towards it?

Bruce: There is nothing to find about him currently with our limited resources about him. Return to the manor for today and take some rest. We will investigate it later.

All of them return to the manor and rest for the night.

-2 weeks later-

The Trickster is standing in front of an unconscious and tied up Batman. He is giggling loudly that evolves into full blown laughter.

He takes off Batman's belt and starts to pull out stuff one after another. Soon, he found the item that he needed.

Trickster: Hahahahahahaha. I have finally got it. The strongest weapon in the world!

The batfam that is watching the live broadcast shiver as they watch Trickster holds out the black object high in the sky.

Part 3

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin�� for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[flux1563]

Sacrifice for Husband Ft Mina

Tags : pet play, degrading, creampie, squirting, creampie

Words :16k

Mina stood in her kitchen, the smell of burnt toast lingering in the air. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes late. Again. Her stomach tightened into a knot of anxiety as she thought about the long day ahead of her. Her husband, Alex, had been working late every night for the past two weeks. His business was failing, and she didn't know how to help.

The coffee machine hissed its final protest as she poured a cup, the dark liquid steaming in the stark light of the kitchen. The house was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the usual morning chatter of their daughters getting ready for school. She took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the mug seep into her cold hands. She had to come up with a solution. Their family was depending on it.

Alex's office was a mess of unpaid bills and half-empty coffee cups. She picked her way through the clutter, her eyes scanning the numbers that blurred together in a sea of red ink. The business they had built together, their dream, was slowly drowning, and she felt powerless. The phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. It was Alex, his voice tight with stress. He needed her to come in today, to help him figure out what to do.

Her mind raced as she drove to work, passing the familiar landmarks of their small town. The office was in a dingy building, the paint peeling in the harsh sunlight. Mina was the receptionist for a successful construction company, a job she had held for years. Her boss, Mr. y/n, was a fair man, but today she had to ask for something she knew he might not be able to give: a loan to save their family's future. She took a deep breath and stepped into the building, her heart pounding in her chest.

The lobby was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the street outside. The receptionist looked up and offered a tentative smile. Mina returned it, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. She couldn't put this off any longer. She had to see Mr. y/n. She took the stairs, her heels clicking on the linoleum, each step echoing in the stairwell. His office was at the end of the hall, the door slightly ajar. She could hear his deep voice, discussing plans with a contractor.

Mina took a moment to compose herself, smoothing down her blouse and checking her reflection in the glass pane of the office door. She took a deep breath, knocked, and stepped inside. Mr. y/n looked up, his eyes widening slightly when he saw her. He was a black man, tall, well-built man with a shaved head and a no-nonsense attitude. His expression softened when he saw the worry etched on her face.

"Mina, what can I do for you?" he asked, his voice a gentle rumble.

"Mr. y/n, I need to speak with you. It's about Alex's business," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

He gestured for her to take a seat across from his cluttered desk, his gaze concerned. "What's going on?"

Mina took a moment to gather her thoughts. "It's failing, Mr. y/n. Alex can't keep up with the bills. I've tried to help, but we're at the end of our rope. I was wondering... if there was any way you could lend us some money. Just until we get back on our feet." She met his eyes, her own pleading.

"I can give you money with two requirements," Y/n said, his voice firm yet understanding.

Mina felt a flicker of hope. "Anything," she replied desperately, leaning forward.

Y/n leaned back in his chair, his eyes sweeping over her body. "I want you to create an OnlyFans account," he said, his voice a low growl. "And you'll be my personal slut."

Mina's heart stopped. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What?" she sputtered, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Y/n's expression remained calm, his eyes unwavering. "Three days, Mina. Take the time to think about it," he repeated, his voice firm and unyielding. "I'm offering you a way to help your family, but it's a serious commitment."

Mina left his office in a daze, the door clicking shut behind her like a prison gate. She walked back through the lobby, her legs feeling like jelly. The receptionist's smile seemed to mock her as she stepped out into the unforgiving sun. The drive home was a blur, her mind racing with the implications of Y/n's proposal. The quiet hum of the engine was the only sound, punctuated by the occasional honk from an impatient driver.

When she arrived at the house, she found Alex in the living room, surrounded by bills and paperwork. The sight of him, shoulders slumped in defeat, made her want to scream. She couldn't tell him what Y/n had said. Not yet. Instead, she forced a smile and told him she was there to help. They spent the evening crunching numbers, trying to find a way out of their financial nightmare. The TV droned on in the background, a mindless distraction that did little to ease the tension in the room.

As they finally went to bed, Mina lay awake, Y/n's words echoing in her mind. The thought of creating an OnlyFans account, exposing herself to the world, was mortifying. But the alternative was unthinkable. Their house, their daughters' futures, all of it could be lost. Her heart raced as she thought of the second part of the deal. Being his personal slut. What did that even mean? Would she have to sleep with other men? Would it be just Y/n? The very idea of it made her stomach churn.

The next few days were a blur of work and worry. She couldn't focus, her thoughts consumed by the decision she had to make. Each time she saw Y/n's number flash on her phone, her pulse quickened. The silence was deafening, the weight of his proposal hanging heavy between them. She knew she had to make a choice, but she didn't know if she had the strength to go through with it. She felt like she was drowning, and the only lifeline was wrapped in a noose.

On the third day, she sat in her car outside the office, the engine idling. She had made up her mind. With trembling hands, she picked up her phone and called Y/n. "I'll do it," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Y/n's response was immediate. "Good girl," he said, the words sending a shiver down her spine. "Come to my office at six. We'll discuss the terms of our arrangement."

Mina nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her. She had agreed to become his personal slut, to do whatever he wanted, whenever he demanded it. The thought was terrifying, but the fear of losing everything pushed her forward. She took a deep breath and ended the call.

When she arrived at his office, the sun had set, leaving the room bathed in the glow of his desk lamp. The shadows danced on the walls as he stood up, his expression unreadable. "You've made the right choice," he said, his voice a dark promise. He handed her a contract, the pages thick with legal jargon. "Sign here, and it's all yours."

Mina took the pen with a shaking hand, her eyes scanning the document. It was all there in black and white: the loan amount, the terms, and her role as his sex slave. She felt sick, but she signed, sealing her fate. Y/n's smile was cold and calculating. "Welcome to your new life," he said, his eyes glinting with something that could have been excitement or malice.

The following days were a whirlwind of setting up the account, taking explicit photos, and recording videos. She felt like a whore, selling herself to strangers for money. But every time she saw Alex's hopeful face, she pushed down the nausea and continued. The money started to roll in, and she transferred it to Alex's account, watching the numbers rise with a sense of relief and self-loathing.

One evening, her phone buzzed with a message from Y/n. "Come to my house, slut. And make sure you don't wear a bra or panties." She read it over a dinner she couldn't eat, her heart racing. Alex looked up from his plate, noticing her sudden tension. "Everything okay?" he asked, oblivious to the deal she had made.

Mina took a deep breath, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just work stuff. I have to go to the office for a bit." She didn't know how much longer she could keep her secret from him. She showered, her hands trembling as she washed herself, feeling the weight of her decision like a noose tightening around her neck. She slipped into a short, tight dress, her bare skin feeling vulnerable and exposed.

The drive to Y/n's house was agonizing. Each minute stretched into an eternity, the anticipation of what was to come mixing with the fear of being caught. The luxurious mansion loomed before her, a symbol of the power dynamics that had shifted so dramatically in their lives. She stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushing against her bare skin. The door opened before she could knock, and he was there, his eyes raking over her body with a hunger she had never seen from him before.

As she entered, she noticed the dimly lit hallway and the faint smell of expensive cologne. She knew that tonight would be the first time she had to give in to his desires, and the thought filled her with dread. He led her into a plush living room, the sound of her heels echoing off the marble floors. He offered her a drink, which she took gratefully, downing it in one gulp, hoping the alcohol would ease her nerves.

The "red room" was exactly as he had described it: a den of iniquity, filled with an array of sex toys that seemed to glisten in the soft, crimson light. There were cameras positioned at every angle, ensuring that no part of their encounter would be missed. Her heart pounded in her chest as he closed the door with a soft click that sounded like a prison locking shut.

"Strip," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. She obeyed, peeling off her dress and letting it fall to the floor, leaving her naked and trembling. He approached her, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt the heat of his gaze on her skin as if it were a physical touch. He was tall, muscular, and powerful, his confidence palpable.

Mina lay down on the bed, the plush comforter cool against her feverish skin. Y/n pulled out a length of rope from a drawer, the sound of it slithering through his hands sending a jolt of fear through her body. He was surprisingly gentle as he tied her wrist to each ankle, her legs spread eagle, leaving her utterly vulnerable. The position was both humiliating and exhilarating, her body on full display for his perusal.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork, licking his lips. "Beautiful," he murmured, his eyes glinting with desire. "But not quite what I had in mind." He reached for another rope, looping it around her neck, and then down to her bound wrists, creating a tension that made her arch her back. She could feel the rope tighten slightly, the threat of choking if she moved the wrong way. "Now, let's get started."

Y/n approached the bedside table and picked up a sleek, black vibrator. He turned it on, the buzzing sound filling the room like a promise of pleasure and pain. Mina's eyes widened, her heart racing as she watched him approach with the toy. He knelt between her legs and spread her thighs even further apart, his breath hot on her skin as he leaned in.

With a practiced touch, he inserted the vibrator into her pussy, the coolness of the plastic giving way to a deep, pulsing warmth that sent shockwaves through her body. She gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head as he adjusted the speed, watching her reactions intently. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his breath hot and his words a dark contrast to the coldness of the transaction.

The vibrations grew stronger, each pulse making her toes curl and her body tense. She felt her muscles tighten around the invading object, her body betraying her by reacting with pleasure despite her mind's protest. It was a strange sensation, being both terrified and turned on, her thoughts racing as the room spun around her. He leaned over her, his handsome face a mask of concentration as he worked the vibrator with precision, his thumb circling her clit, pushing her closer and closer to the edge of an unwanted orgasm.

And then it hit her, a wave so powerful she couldn't hold back the scream that tore from her throat. "AHHHHHHHHHHH," she screamed, her voice echoing off the walls as her body convulsed with pleasure. The ropes bit into her wrists, the pain adding an unexpected intensity to the moment. Y/n watched her with a smug smile, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed the vibrator deeper, making her scream louder. She bucked and writhed against her restraints, feeling the rope tighten around her neck as she reached peak after peak, her orgasms rolling over her like a stormy sea.

He didn't stop, not even when she begged him, her voice hoarse from screaming. He was relentless, driving her body to its limits, pushing her until she didn't think she could take any more. But she did, each cry of pleasure a silent admission of her defeat. She was his, utterly and completely, and she knew it. The thought should have filled her with anger, but instead it just made her want to come again, to feel that rush of powerlessness and pleasure.

As the last tremor faded, he removed the vibrator, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good girl," he murmured, stroking her cheek with a tenderness that was almost affectionate. "Now, let's see if you can handle the real thing." He stood and began to undress, revealing his massive cock that was already hard and ready for her. She felt a mix of fear and excitement, knowing she had no choice but to submit to him fully.

Mina couldn't help but ask, "How long and big is that?" Y/n smirked, his chocolate eyes holding hers as he replied, "12-inch length, 4-inch girth. But don't worry, I'll take it slow with you." His words didn't comfort her; instead, they sent a fresh wave of panic crashing through her. She had never seen anything so large, and the thought of it inside her made her feel both terrified and strangely eager to prove herself.

He climbed onto the bed, his weight making her gasp. He positioned himself between her legs, and she felt the head of his cock nudge against her wet pussy. He was gentle at first, pushing in just a little, allowing her to adjust to the size. But with every inch, she felt herself stretching, the pain bordering on unbearable yet mixed with a strange thrill she had never felt before. Her breaths grew ragged, her eyes watering as he inched further inside her.

Finally, he was all the way in, and she lay there, panting and trembling, feeling utterly filled and claimed. He began to move, his strokes long and slow, each one sending a bolt of pleasure and pain through her. She had never felt so alive, so used, so completely under someone's control.

"Ahh, so big," she gasped, her eyes watering with every thrust. "My pussy is gonna tear apart." Her voice was a mix of pain and pleasure, a sound she had never heard herself make before. His eyes held hers, the connection between them almost intimate. He knew exactly how to push her buttons, how to make her beg for more.

"Do u like it how a BBC destroy ur pussy?" His voice was a gruff whisper, the question a taunt that sent a shiver down her spine. She didn't know if she liked it or not, but she knew she craved it. The way he filled her so completely, the way he made her feel so small and vulnerable, it was a heady cocktail she hadn't anticipated. She nodded, unable to form coherent words, her body already preparing for another orgasm.

"Good," he said, his strokes becoming more intense. "Now tell me, slut. What do you feel?" Mina took a deep breath, the pressure building inside her, his cock stretching her to her limits. "I...I feel...full," she managed to gasp out, the word barely audible over the sound of his hips slapping against her ass. "I feel...like I'm yours."

His smile grew wider at her admission, his grip on her hips tightening. "That's what I want to hear," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. He leaned down and kissed her, his tongue claiming her mouth as thoroughly as his cock claimed her pussy. She moaned into the kiss, the taste of him mixing with the metallic tang of fear and arousal on her tongue.

"I can feel your walls tightening around me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to cum again for me, aren't you?" She nodded, her eyes glazed with need. "Say it," he demanded, his thrusts growing faster, more erratic. "Say it, Mina."

"Yes," she whimpered, the word barely leaving her lips before she was spiraling into another orgasm. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, a crescendo of sensation that consumed her completely.

Y/n's grip tightened, his strokes becoming more frenzied as he approached his own climax. "Cum together, slut," he grunted, his eyes boring into hers. The command was a spark that ignited the final explosion of pleasure within her, her body convulsing as she screamed out her release. He followed shortly after, his hot seed filling her up, marking her as his.

"Ah, your womb is so tight," Y/n murmured, his voice a mix of satisfaction and amazement as he pulled out, his cock still pulsing with the aftermath of his orgasm. Mina felt a strange sense of pride, despite the circumstances. She had never felt so desired, so used, so completely owned.

As he untied her, she took a shaky step, her legs wobbling slightly. He handed her the crumpled dress, and she slipped it back on, feeling the fabric stick to her sweat-drenched skin. "Leave it here," he said with a cruel smirk. "Go home naked. And make sure you don't get caught by your husband."

Her heart racing, Mina nodded. She knew the drive home would be a mix of fear and excitement, her body still humming with the aftershocks of her forced climaxes. She stepped into her car, the cool leather of the seat a stark contrast to the heat between her legs. The engine roared to life, and she pulled away from the curb, her naked body on display through the windows. She had never felt more exposed, more alive.

The drive was a blur, the headlights piercing the darkness as she navigated the quiet streets. Every shadow could have been a hidden camera, every car a potential witness to her degradation. She felt a thrill at the risk, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a drug. The cool air brushed against her skin, making her nipples peak and her pussy throb with the memory of his touch.

Pulling into the garage, she killed the engine and took a deep breath. The house was dark, and she knew Alex would be asleep. She stepped out of the car, her bare feet hitting the cold concrete, the chill sending a shiver through her body. She tiptoed inside, the sound of her heels echoing in the silence. She made her way to the bathroom, her legs still trembling with the aftershocks of her experience. She slipped into the shower, the water scalding hot as she tried to scrub away the evidence of her betrayal. But she knew it was more than just physical; she had crossed a line she never thought she would.

The warmth of the water washed over her, mixing with her tears as she realized she had become the very thing she had once pitied: a woman willing to sell her body for the sake of her husband's business. Yet, as the water cascaded down her body, carrying away the traces of Y/n's semen, she felt a strange sense of empowerment. Despite the fear and the humiliation, she had survived. And the thought of going back for more, of being used and degraded by her powerful boss, sent a thrill through her that she couldn't ignore.

Mina stepped out of the shower, her body still trembling. The mirror reflected a woman she barely recognized, her makeup smudged, her hair a mess, and her eyes glazed over with a mix of pain and pleasure. She took a deep breath and opened her phone, the message from Y/n glaring at her from the screen. "This is your video from the red room. Upload it on your OnlyFans account tonight and make a slutty title." The words were a cold reminder of her new reality.

With trembling hands, she opened the file, watching herself being taken by her boss. The sight of his large, black cock pumping in and out of her made her stomach clench, both with disgust and an unwelcome wave of arousal. She forced herself to watch, to acknowledge what she had done. The video was explicit, her moans and cries of pleasure clear as day, and she felt a strange sense of pride knowing that she could handle something so intense.

But as she stared at the screen, she knew she couldn't just upload it. Not without a plan. She had to keep her identity a secret from Alex, from everyone. So she took another deep breath and opened her laptop, logging into her newly created OnlyFans account. The platform was a world of anonymity and depravity, a place where she could be anyone she wanted to be.

Her heart racing, she titled the video "My First Night with the Boss" and wrote a steamy description that made her skin crawl. She posted it, feeling a mix of excitement and dread as the notification popped up. "Video uploaded successfully." The thought of strangers watching her, getting off to her pain and pleasure, was both terrifying and exhilarating. But she had to push those thoughts aside. For now, she had to focus on the money and keeping her secret from Alex.

The morning came too quickly, and with it the inevitable return to the office. She tried to keep her head down, avoiding eye contact with Y/n as much as possible. But she could feel his gaze on her, a constant reminder of her new role. She sat at her desk, her mind racing with the events of the night before. The office was the same, but she felt different, tainted by her secret.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down, expecting it to be another notification from her OnlyFans. But it was a message from Y/n: "Came to my office, Mina. We have business to discuss." Her stomach dropped. She knew what he wanted, and she knew she had to go. With trembling legs, she stood and made her way down the hallway, the click of her heels echoing through the empty space.

His door was open, and she stepped inside, the smell of his cologne hitting her like a punch to the gut. He was sitting behind his desk, looking up at her with a smug smile. "Good morning, slut," he said, his eyes traveling up and down her body. "Take off your dress." She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew that she had no choice but to obey.

With shaking hands, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing nothing but a thong and a bra underneath, and she could feel his gaze burning through the thin fabric. "Turn around," he ordered, his voice firm. She did as she was told, her stomach flipping as she heard the sound of his chair rolling back. He stood up and came closer, his hand tracing the line of her thong, sending a jolt of arousal through her body.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled it down, letting it fall to her ankles. She stepped out of it, her bare ass on display. "Spread your cheeks," he murmured, his breath warm on her skin. She obeyed, feeling a strange mix of fear and excitement as he inspected her. He stepped closer, and she felt the tip of his finger brush against her clit, making her jump.

Without warning, he dropped to his knees and buried his face in her pussy. His tongue was hot and wet, and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her. "Ahh, yes," she gasped, her body responding to his touch despite herself. He licked and sucked, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves through her body. Her legs trembled, and she had to grip the edge of the desk to keep herself upright.

"Y/n," she moaned, her voice a breathy whisper. He looked up at her, a smug grin on his face. "You like that, don't you?" She didn't answer, the sensation too intense to form words. He chuckled darkly and went back to work, his tongue delving deeper, finding spots that made her toes curl.

Mina felt herself getting wetter with each pass, her body betraying her as she leaned into the feeling. "Ahhh," she moaned louder, her voice echoing in the quiet office.

Y/n slid a finger into her pussy, and she gasped. The intrusion was sudden and intense, her mind going blank as she focused on the feeling. He moved his finger in and out, his thumb rubbing her clit with expert precision. It was as if he knew her body better than she did herself. She could feel her walls tightening around his digit, her muscles contracting with each stroke.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and she found herself moaning continuously, unable to form coherent thoughts or words. Her knees began to buckle, and she was grateful for the desk that kept her upright. "More," she begged, the need in her voice unmistakable. He complied, adding a second finger, stretching her even further.

The sensation was almost too much, the pain and pleasure blurring into a white-hot haze that consumed her. She couldn't believe she was letting her boss do this to her, but she couldn't stop. It was as if she was watching herself from the outside, a spectator to her own degradation. And yet, she craved more. "Harder," she whispered, her voice hoarse from the screams she had held back.

With a smirk, Y/n increased his pace, his fingers moving faster, pushing her closer to the edge. She could feel the pressure building, her orgasm just out of reach. "You're going to cum for me now," he said, his voice firm and commanding. And with that final push, she did, her body shuddering as she screamed his name.

The climax ripped through her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air. Her legs gave out, and she would have collapsed if it weren't for his firm grip on her hips. He pulled out his fingers, licking them clean, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good girl," he said, his voice a dark purr. "You're learning fast."

Mina couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride, despite the sickness in her stomach. She had never been one to enjoy pain, but the way he made her body respond was addictive. She reached for her dress, her hands shaking as she tried to cover herself up. But he stopped her, holding up a hand.

"Not so fast," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I think we need a little... souvenir of our time together." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black device. "This little beauty is a mini-cam," he said, flicking it on to reveal the recording of her orgasm. "Every time you come for me, it'll be recorded for us to enjoy later."

Her eyes widened in horror as she watched the video, her own face a mask of pleasure and pain. She had never seen herself from that angle before, never realized how much she looked like she enjoyed it. "Y/n, please," she begged, her voice shaking. "Please don't do this."

He stepped closer, his breath warm against her ear. "It's already done," he whispered. "And who knows, maybe your husband would like to see his pretty wife taking a cock that's twice the size of his." The threat was clear, and she felt the color drain from her face. He was in complete control, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Mina nodded, her body trembling with a mix of fear and arousal. She knew she had to play along, to keep her secret and her marriage intact. She pulled her dress back up, trying to ignore the sticky wetness between her legs. "I'll upload it as soon as I get home," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the workday was a blur. She couldn't concentrate, her thoughts consumed by the video that was now in his possession. Every time she saw him in the office, she felt a strange mix of dread and excitement. What would he do with it? Would he share it with others? The thought made her stomach churn, but she couldn't deny the thrill of the risk.

Finally, the clock struck five, and she practically ran to the elevator, eager to escape the confines of the office. The ride home was torturous, her mind racing with what-ifs and fear of discovery. She knew she had to keep this from Alex at all costs, the thought of his reaction too much to bear.

As soon as she was in the privacy of her own home, she rushed to her laptop, her hands shaking as she logged into her OnlyFans account. She uploaded the video with trembling fingers, the title "Boss's Pet Gets What She Deserves." The click of the mouse button was like a gunshot in the silence of the room, finalizing her descent into a world she had never thought she would enter.

The video went live, and she watched as the views began to climb. The comments were a mix of praise and degradation, her secret admirers reveling in her humiliation. She couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction at the thought of them getting off to her pain. It was a twisted reality she had never imagined herself in, but here she was, playing the role of the obedient slut for the man who held the key to their financial future.

The next day, Mina walked into the office with a heavy heart, her chest feeling bare without the protection of her usual lingerie. She could feel the fabric of her blouse rubbing against her nipples with every step, the sensation a constant reminder of her submission. Y/n's eyes met hers, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He didn't say a word, but she knew he was aware of her predicament. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the scent of his dominance and her growing arousal.

Throughout the day, she found herself constantly checking her phone, the messages from her anonymous fans sending a thrill through her that she couldn't ignore. They praised her, called her their whore, their slut, and she found herself craving the validation. Her body was a battleground of emotions, torn between the fear of her husband finding out and the desire for the intense pleasure Y/n provided.

The moment she saw the message from him, she felt a jolt of panic. "Mina, come to my office," it read, simple and to the point. She knew what it meant, knew what he wanted from her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stood, her legs shaky as she made her way to his domain.

Y/n looked up from his paperwork, his gaze raking over her body as she entered. "Take off your dress," he said, his voice calm and in control. She knew the drill now, the power dynamics set in stone. With trembling hands, she unzipped the garment, letting it pool around her feet.

"Now, show me that you did what I say," he demanded, his eyes gleaming with lust. She took a deep breath, her cheeks flaming red with humiliation as she complied. She reached under her skirt, her fingers touching the bare, sensitive skin of her pussy. She had never gone without underwear to work before, and the feeling of vulnerability was intense.

Mina parted her legs slightly, allowing him to see that she had indeed followed his order. His eyes darkened with approval, and she felt a strange mix of pride and shame. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

He tossed her a pair of vibrating underwear, the kind that had a slit for her pussy. "Put these on," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. She caught the underwear with trembling hands, her heart racing as she realized what he wanted her to do.

With shaky fingers, she slid the garment over her bare skin, the material clinging to her curves. She could feel the vibrator nestled in the slit, the buzzing a constant reminder of her submission. Y/n watched with a smug expression, enjoying the sight of her in the compromising position. "Now, go back to your desk," he said, his voice a low growl.

Mina nodded, stepping back into her heels. She made her way back to her cubicle, the vibrator pulsing with every step. She tried to focus on the spreadsheet in front of her, but it was useless. The sensation was too intense, too distracting. Her colleagues were oblivious to the torment she was enduring, their mundane chatter a stark contrast to the war raging inside her.

Her body was betraying her, the vibrator sending waves of pleasure through her core. She bit her lip to stifle the moans, her cheeks flushing as the first orgasm of the day ripped through her. It was like a storm she couldn't control, a silent scream trapped in her throat. Her eyes glazed over, and she had to grip the edge of her desk to keep from falling.

The climax left her breathless, her body trembling with the aftershocks. She tried to compose herself, but the vibrator didn't relent. It kept pulsing, demanding more from her. She knew she couldn't last the whole day like this, but she had no choice. She was his plaything now, and she had to follow his every command.

The hours passed like molasses, each second a battle between focusing on her work and the relentless buzzing between her legs. She found herself getting wetter, her pussy swollen and begging for relief. The anticipation was agonizing, a delicious torment that she couldn't escape.

When the next orgasm hit, it was like a surprise attack. Her body tensed, her toes curling in her heels as she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. She hoped no one had noticed the subtle tremor that had passed through her, the way her hand had gripped the mouse so tightly. But she couldn't be sure.

The rest of the day was a blur of forced climaxes, her body a slave to the vibrator's whims. Each wave of pleasure brought a fresh wave of fear and arousal. She was living a double life, and the line between the two was blurring. By the time she was allowed to leave, she was a wreck, her nerves frayed and her pussy sore. But she knew she couldn't let it show, not when Alex was waiting for her at home.

As she pulled into the garage, she saw the notification on her phone. It was a video from Y/n, timestamped from the middle of the day. Her heart raced as she played it, the image of her own face, flushed and desperate, appearing on the screen. It was a recording from the office security camera, capturing the moment she had lost control in the throes of pleasure. Her mouth open in a silent moan, eyes squeezed shut, her hands desperately trying to keep herself from being heard.

The message that accompanied the video was a taunt, a declaration of his power. "Mina, remember," he had typed, his words a knife to her gut, "I put every camera on you in the office. Now, put this video on your OnlyFans with the title 'A slut craving for a big dick while at work.'" The reality of her situation hit her like a truck, her secret now in his hands, ready to be shared with the world.

With trembling fingers, she uploaded the video, the title a twisted jest that sent a shiver down her spine. She knew it would drive her viewers wild, the thought of her being watched while she worked, her desperation palpable. The comments began to flood in, each one more degrading than the last. But she couldn't bring herself to take it down. The money was too good, the thrill too intense.

The days turned into weeks, and Mina found herself caught in a cycle of submission and degradation. She continued to work, her OnlyFans account growing, her interactions with Y/n more intense with every encounter. She felt like she was drowning in a sea of desire and fear, her marriage hanging by a thread she didn't dare to pull. Her relationship with Alex grew more strained, their passion replaced by the cold, hard truth of their financial situation.

But every time she felt like she couldn't go on, she remembered the promise she had made to save her husband's business. And so, she endured, her body a battleground of pleasure and pain, her soul a tapestry of conflicting emotions. Each time she uploaded a new video, each time she felt the eyes of her anonymous fans upon her, she felt a strange sense of purpose, of power. She was more than just a wife now; she was a commodity, a source of income, and a woman who could survive anything.

The day the message came, she felt a strange mix of relief and dread. Her phone buzzed, and she saw the text from Y/n: "Our contract will end in 3 days. I want you to stay at my home until your contract ends." She knew what he was asking of her, and she also knew she had no choice but to agree. It was a final push, a chance to pay off their debts and end this twisted arrangement. But the thought of being so completely under his control, with no escape, was terrifying.

Mina took a deep breath, her heart racing as she replied, "Okay." The word felt like a weight on her chest, but she had come too far to back out now. She packed a small bag, her mind racing with what lay ahead. What would he make her do? How much more could she take? She tried to ignore the dark excitement that bubbled in her stomach, the thrill of the unknown.

When she arrived at his mansion, the gates loomed before her, a symbol of the prison she was about to enter. The house was as grand and intimidating as she remembered, a testament to his wealth and power. She stepped inside, her heels clicking on the marble floor, the sound echoing through the hollow halls. Y/n was waiting for her, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Welcome home, Mina," he said, a smug smile playing on his lips. The words sent a chill down her spine, but she forced a smile in return. "I've been looking forward to having you all to myself." His tone was one of ownership, a stark reminder of her fate. She swallowed hard, her body already responding to his presence.

"I will tell you right now," he began, his voice a deep rumble that sent tremors through her core, "that you will only be living in the red room for the next three days." The room she had come to know so well, the stage for their twisted games, was to become her prison. "You will eat, sleep, and breathe in that room. You will only leave when I command it."

Mina felt a cold hand of fear grip her heart, but she nodded in compliance. She knew what was expected of her, and she would see it through. The red room was her sanctuary of sin, a place where she could be someone else, do things she had never dreamed of doing. She had become addicted to the thrill of submission, the power dynamics that played out within those four walls.

As she stepped into the red room, she noticed that it had been transformed. The bed was adorned with silk scarves and leather cuffs, and the air was heavy with the scent of lust. Her eyes widened at the sight of the new toys laid out on the bedside table, each one more intimidating than the last. "You've been a good girl," he said, his eyes raking over her, "but now, it's time to push your boundaries even further."

Mina felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead as he approached her, his hand reaching out to caress her cheek. He guided her to a chair in the center of the room, one that she had never seen before. It was made of a sleek, black material, and it looked as if it had been designed with one purpose in mind: her submission. Her heart raced as he bound her wrists and ankles to the chair, the ropes biting into her skin, leaving her completely at his mercy.

He stepped back, admiring his handiwork, before he began his twisted game of tease. His fingers traced over her skin, skimming across her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs. Each touch sent a shiver through her body, her anticipation building to a fever pitch. The fabric over her eyes was tight, leaving her in darkness, heightening every sensation. "Please," she whimpered, her voice shaking with need. "I can't take it anymore. Give me your cock."

Y/n's chuckle was the only response she received. He continued his torturous exploration, his touch featherlight, driving her to the brink of madness. She could feel her pussy growing wetter with every stroke, her body begging for relief. "Please," she moaned, "please, I need it. I can't handle this."

He leaned down, his breath hot against her ear. "You want this, don't you?" His voice was a seductive whisper, a promise of pleasure wrapped in the threat of pain. "Beg for it," he ordered, his hand moving to her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. "Beg like the whore you are."

Mina's body responded to his dominance, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend the situation. "Yes," she choked out, "I need it. I'm begging you, please give me your cock."

The fabric was ripped away from her eyes, and she stared up at him, his expression a mix of amusement and lust. He stepped back, his cock already hard and ready. He didn't waste any time, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants fall to the floor. His shirt followed, revealing his muscular chest and abs.

He approached her again, his cock in hand, stroking it slowly. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice firm. "Look at what you've become." She couldn't help but watch, her eyes transfixed on the monstrous length of him. The fear and excitement melded into one, creating a potent cocktail that left her breathless.

He stepped closer, positioning himself between her spread legs. She could feel the head of his cock brushing against her, teasing her wetness. "Beg," he said again, his voice a low growl.

"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I need you inside me."

With a sadistic smile, Y/n leaned down and untied the ropes around her ankles. She let out a sigh of relief, her legs feeling like jelly as she tried to stand. He took her hand and led her to the bed, the plush mattress a stark contrast to the cold, hard chair. Her body was a canvas of bruises and marks from their previous encounters, but she didn't protest as he laid her down, her back arching with the softness of the bed beneath her.

"On your hands and knees," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill of excitement and fear through her. Mina complied, her heart racing as she positioned herself on the bed, her ass in the air. The cool air of the room brushed against her wet pussy, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

He approached her, his hand coming down to rest on her lower back. "You've been a naughty girl," he murmured, his voice a dark promise of what was to come. She felt his finger probe at her entrance, slick with her desire. He pushed it in, hard and fast, making her gasp. His hand was rough, his movements unyielding, and she could feel herself stretching around him.

The second finger followed, and then the third, each thrust sending waves of painful pleasure through her. She moaned, the sound echoing off the walls of the room. "Yes," she heard him murmur, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That's it. Take it like the whore you are." His grip tightened on her hips, his fingers moving faster, harder. The pain grew, but so did her arousal.

He pulled his hand away, and she felt the head of his cock at her entrance, thick and demanding. "U like that whore?" he repeated, his voice taunting, pushing her buttons. She nodded, unable to form words. It was a question that didn't need an answer, a declaration of her new reality.

With one firm thrust, he filled her completely, his cock stretching her to her limits. Mina cried out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming her senses. He paused, his cock buried deep inside her, and she felt his hand come down hard on her ass. "Who has the best cock?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper in the quiet room.

"My husband," she lied, her voice trembling with the effort to maintain her façade. The lie hung in the air, a stark reminder of the life she had left behind for this twisted world of debt and desire.

Y/n's hand swung down again, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the red room. "The truth," he demanded, his voice a low rumble of dominance. Mina gritted her teeth, the sting of his hand on her ass a stark reminder of her new reality.

"You," she finally admitted, the word slipping out in a rush of breath. "You have the best cock." His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she felt a surge of arousal at the admission. It was the truth, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it.

"Scream it," he ordered, his voice harsh and demanding. His hand came down again, the slap resonating through the room. She bit back a whimper, her pussy clenching around his shaft. The pleasure was almost unbearable, the pain a strange complement to the feeling of his thickness inside her.

"You are the best, my husband's dick was a quarter of your size," she gasped, her voice strained with each thrust. "He can't reach what you do inside my pussy." The words were a declaration of her submission, a confession that sent a jolt of arousal through her body. She felt the head of his cock hit her cervix, the sensation so intense it was almost unbearable.

Her body responded to his dominance, her pussy clenching and releasing around him, eager for more. Each slap on her ass brought a fresh wave of pleasure, a dark symphony of sensation that had her screaming his name. "Y/n, yes, yes," she chanted, her voice a litany of need and desperation.

Her orgasm was like a dam breaking, a flood of sensation that washed over her. She could feel the tears streaming down her face, the mix of pain and pleasure too much to hold back. "That's right," he groaned, his voice thick with his own desire. "You're mine now. You're nothing but a slut for my cock."

Mina's eyes rolled back in her head, her body writhing beneath him as she came. She had never felt so used, so utterly owned. And yet, she couldn't help but love it. The orgasm ripped through her, leaving her trembling and gasping for air.

He didn't stop, his strokes becoming more erratic, his breathing ragged. She could feel his cock swelling inside her, the promise of his release imminent. "Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a harsh growl. "I want to feel you milk my cock."

Her pussy clenched around him, her body responding to his words. The orgasm built again, a crescendo of pleasure that had her screaming. She could feel his hot breath on her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he bit down, claiming her in the most primal way.

With a roar, he released inside her, filling her with his cum. She felt it spurt hot and thick, the sensation of his seed filling her making her orgasm all the more intense. Her body was a wreck, her pussy sore and her ass bruised, but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

As he pulled out, she collapsed onto the bed, her body limp and exhausted. He leaned over her, his hand coming to rest on her cheek. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice filled with possession. "And you will always come back for more."

Mina looked up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure and pain. She knew it was true, that she would always come back for more of what he had to give her. Her life had changed irrevocably, and she was powerless to stop it. But as she lay there, the warmth of his cum inside her, she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time: alive.

The morning of the second day dawned, and Mina woke up with a start in the unfamiliar bed. Her body was sticky with sweat and cum, the scent of sex still lingering in the air. She tried to sit up, but her muscles protested, the evidence of the previous night's exertion clear. The sheets were tangled around her, a testament to the tumultuous night she had endured.

Her eyes searched the room, and she spotted a gleaming chain and a collar lying on the nightstand. The sight of them sent a shiver down her spine, her stomach flipping with a mix of dread and anticipation. Y/n had left them there as a reminder of their arrangement, a symbol of her servitude. She reached out, her hand trembling, and picked them up.

The chain was cold and heavy in her hand, the metal links glinting in the soft morning light. The collar was made of the same material, with a small, delicate lock at the back. It was beautiful in its own twisted way, a stark contrast to the stark reality of her situation. She knew what it meant: she was his, to use as he saw fit, until the end of their contract.

The door to the red room opened, and in strode Y/n, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of her. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his tie askew and his hair disheveled. "Good morning, my pet," he purred, his voice sending a thrill through her. "I trust you slept well."

Mina could only nod, her voice failing her. She felt his hand on her neck, the collar cool against her skin as he fastened it around her. The lock clicked into place, the sound final and irrevocable. He attached the chain to the collar, the other end in his hand. "Today," he began, "we're going to explore some new boundaries."

He led her out of the red room, the chain jingling softly with each step she took. They moved through the mansion, her eyes downcast, her body sore from the previous night's exertions. The sun had barely risen, casting a soft glow over the opulent surroundings. He took her to the back of the house, and she knew what was coming next.

The door to the expansive lawn swung open, revealing a lush carpet of dew-kissed grass. The morning air was crisp, the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass filling her nose. Y/n attached the leash to her collar and gave a firm tug, guiding her down the steps. "Walk," he ordered, his voice low and firm.

Mina obeyed, her legs shaking as she descended into the role he had chosen for her. The cold metal of the leash was a constant reminder of her subservience, the coolness of the metal against her skin sending shivers down her spine. The dew on the grass was like a caress, a stark contrast to the harshness of her situation.

The leash was short, forcing her to move on all fours as he walked beside her, his grip unyielding. She could feel the leather of the collar cutting into her neck, a constant reminder of her new status. She was his pet, his toy, and she would act accordingly.

The world outside the mansion was quiet, the only sounds the distant chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves. The cool breeze kissed her skin, raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the early morning. Each step was a battle against her pride, her body moving in a way that was both humiliating and exhilarating.

He led her around the lawn, her breasts swaying with each step, the cool air teasing her erect nipples. The leather of the collar was already growing warm from her skin, the metal of the leash cold in her palm. She felt the tension in her body, the fear of being caught mingling with the excitement of their secret.

Without warning, Y/n stopped and bent down, his hand slipping between her legs. He inserted the vibrator into her pussy, the buzzing sound filling the silence. She gasped, the sudden intrusion both painful and exhilarating. He didn't stop there, his fingers probing until he found her ass, slipping the second vibrator inside her tight hole. She whimpered, the feeling overwhelming as he turned both devices to their highest setting.

"Walk," he commanded, tugging on the leash. She stumbled forward, the vibrations setting her nerves on fire. The sensation was intense, the vibrations from the toys sending waves of pleasure through her body as she stumbled along the grass. The coolness of the dew on her hands and knees was a stark contrast to the heat building inside her.

Her pussy and ass were stretched wide by the vibrating intrusion, each step sending new jolts of pleasure through her. She felt the grass tickling her bare skin, the sensation a strange mix of pain and arousal. The early morning dew soaked into her, making her feel even more exposed, even more like a wild creature being tamed by its master.

They continued their perverse journey across the lawn, the vibrations growing more intense with each passing moment. Mina's eyes were wide with shock and arousal, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. She could feel her body growing wetter, her juices mixing with the coolness of the dew.

As they approached the edge of the lawn, Y/n paused again, his eyes scanning the surrounding woods. The early light painted the trees in shades of gold, the leaves whispering secrets in the breeze. He leaned in close, his breath hot in her ear. "You're going to cum for me, my pet," he whispered. "And when you do, I want you to scream my name."

The anticipation was unbearable, the vibrations reaching a crescendo as she felt her orgasm building. Her body tensed, her muscles tightening around the toys as she struggled not to scream. But she knew she couldn't hold out much longer, the pleasure too much to contain. And when it came, it was like a dam bursting, her body shuddering with the force of it.

The scream ripped from her throat, echoing through the quiet morning. She could feel the eyes of the forest upon her, watching her degradation. But she didn't care. In that moment, she was free, a creature of pure need and desire. And as she collapsed to the ground, panting and trembling, she knew she would always come back for more of what he had to give.

Y/n's hand tightened on the leash, his grip firm as he pulled her back to her feet. "Who is your master, Mina?" he repeated, his voice a dark thunder in the stillness.

Her eyes locked onto his, the intensity of his gaze like a brand on her soul. "You are," she murmured, the words a declaration of her submission. The words were like a drug, a heady mix of fear and excitement that left her breathless.

They continued their perverse walk, the vibrations never relenting, her body a playground for his desires. The leather of the collar grew warm and sticky with her sweat, the chain a constant reminder of her captivity. Each step sent a new wave of pleasure through her, the vibrations from the toys in her pussy and ass creating a symphony of sensation that was impossible to ignore.

Mina's body was a battleground, her mind screaming for relief while her body craved more. Her pussy was a river of juices, soaking the leather of the collar, trailing down her stomach to pool on the grass beneath her. The sun had fully risen now, casting a golden light over the scene, turning their walk of shame into a macabre dance of submission.

The heat of the afternoon sun bore down on them, turning the dew to steam. Her body was a wreck, her muscles screaming with fatigue. Yet, she continued to follow him, driven by a force she didn't fully understand. The vibrations grew more intense with each step, the buzzing a constant reminder of her predicament. Her orgasms had become a blur, her cries of pleasure now mingling with whimpers of pain.

Y/n's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his grip on the leash unwavering. He led her to a small gazebo in the center of the garden, the ivy-covered structure offering a semblance of privacy. He paused, the leather of the leash taut between them. "You've done well, my pet," he said, his voice a purr of approval. "Now, let's see how much more you can take."

With a flick of his wrist, he attached the leash to a hook on the side of the gazebo. She was forced to stand, the vibrations from the toys inside her unrelenting. Her legs were shaking, her body trembling with the effort to remain upright. "Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent a fresh surge of arousal through her.

Mina obeyed, her muscles protesting as she spread her legs. The vibrations grew more intense, the sensation like a thousand tiny hands caressing her swollen flesh. She could feel the eyes of the forest upon her, watching her most intimate moments. But she didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the pleasure that Y/n brought her, the painful bliss that she had grown to crave.

He stepped back, his hand moving to his belt. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckled it, the sound echoing through the gazebo. "You're going to scream my name again," he promised, his voice dark and seductive. "And this time, I want the whole world to hear it."

The leather strap came down hard across her ass, the pain making her gasp. The vibrations from the toys grew more intense, the sting of the belt sending fresh waves of pleasure through her. Her orgasm was building again, the tension coiling in her belly like a snake ready to strike.

He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving hers. His hand caressed her cheek, the leather of the belt a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch. "You're going to love this," he murmured, the promise in his voice making her stomach flip.

He began to smack her body in a rhythm, the leather biting into her flesh with each strike. Her breasts bounced with each hit, the pain mixing with the pleasure from the vibrators. She could feel her body responding, her pussy growing wetter, her ass clenching around the toy inside her. The sound of leather on skin echoed through the gazebo, a testament to their twisted games.

Mina's cries grew louder, each smack pushing her closer to the edge. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body a tapestry of pain and pleasure. She was his, utterly and completely, and she reveled in the feeling of submission.

The leather met her skin again and again, each smack more punishing than the last. Her body was on fire, the pain a crescendo that built and built. And then, just as she thought she couldn't take any more, it stopped. The vibrations ceased, the world going silent.

Y/n stepped closer, his eyes boring into hers. "You're mine," he whispered, his breath hot and demanding. "And you will always be mine." The finality of his words sent a shiver down her spine, a mix of fear and excitement.

He unclipped the leash, his grip on the collar tight as he pulled her closer. "Now," he said, a cruel smile playing on his lips, "it's time to show the world who you truly are." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, the screen glowing with the promise of a new audience for her degradation.

Mina's heart raced, her mind reeling with the implications of his words. What was he going to do? What would happen when the world saw her like this? The fear grew in her chest, a dark cloud threatening to swallow her whole.

He held the phone up, the camera focused on her tear-stained face. "Say it," he demanded. "Say you're my whore." Her voice was a broken whisper, the words sticking in her throat like shards of glass.

"I'm your whore," she choked out, the admission like a knife to her soul. He clicked a photo, the flash momentarily blinding her. The evidence of her degradation would now be etched into digital immortality, a secret that could be shared with the world at his whim.

The fear grew, a thick, choking presence in her chest. What would Alex think? What would their friends and family say? But even as the dread consumed her, she couldn't deny the thrill that shot through her at the thought of being exposed.

Y/n's hand traveled down her body, his fingers finding her clit, the sensation making her gasp. "Good girl," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now, let's make some more content for your adoring fans." He turned the camera to record, the red light blinking ominously.

Mina felt the panic rise, her body trembling with the weight of her decision. But the fear was laced with excitement, a toxic cocktail that had her panting and begging for more. He began to flick her clit with the precision of a master craftsman, her body responding despite her inner turmoil.

Her cries grew louder as he worked her, his other hand reaching down to remove the toys from her pussy and ass. He tossed them aside, his cock already hard and waiting for her. "Take it," he ordered, pushing her down onto her knees. She opened her mouth, her tongue flicking out to taste him.

The saltiness of his cock filled her mouth, the taste of their previous encounter still lingering. She took him deep, her throat constricting around his length. The camera rolled, capturing every moment of her degradation, every tear that fell from her eyes.

The vibrations started again, the toys in her hand now a part of the show. She brought them to her own pussy, her body responding with a desperate need for release. The sound of her moans and the slapping of his hand against her ass filled the gazebo, a symphony of submission for his enjoyment.

As he fucked her mouth, she worked the toys inside herself, her body a playground for his desires. She could feel her orgasm building, a tidal wave of pleasure that she knew would consume her. And when it did, she screamed, the sound a mix of ecstasy and despair.

Y/n pulled out of her mouth, his cock glistening with her saliva. He grabbed the phone, filming himself as he painted her face with his cum, the hot liquid a brand of ownership. She closed her eyes, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax.

"Now, let's go," he said, his voice a cold command. He tugged at the leash, pulling her to her feet. Her legs were shaky, her knees threatening to give out beneath her. The vibrating toys were still lodged deep inside her, the painful pleasure a constant reminder of her submission.

They began the long walk back to the mansion, her body trembling with each step. The leather of the collar and the metal of the leash were slick with her sweat and his cum, a testament to their depraved play. Each step sent a fresh wave of pain through her, her ass and pussy still throbbing from the belt and his relentless fucking.

"Can you take out the vibrator, Master?" she begged, her voice a ragged whisper. The pain had become unbearable, the pleasure a distant memory. Her body was a canvas of bruises and marks, a map of his dominance.

He chuckled darkly, his hand coming down hard on her ass. "How dare you ask for mercy?" he taunted. She whimpered, the sting of his hand making her eyes water. The vibrations grew more intense, the toys inside her a constant torment.

"Please," she sobbed, her body slick with sweat and cum. The leather of the collar was biting into her neck, the metal of the leash digging into her wrists. But he ignored her pleas, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he watched her suffer.

The mansion loomed ahead, a stark contrast to the serene beauty of the garden. Each step brought her closer to the reality of what she had become. A whore. His whore. The thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, despite the pain.

As they approached the mansion, she could feel the vibrations growing stronger, the toys inside her a relentless tease. Her legs felt like they would buckle at any moment, her body a wreck of pleasure and pain. She knew what was waiting for her inside the red room, knew that her punishment was far from over.

Yet, she walked on, driven by a force beyond her control. The leather of the collar was a noose around her neck, the leash a chain that bound her to him. She was his, and she knew that she would always come back for more of his twisted games.

The mansion's doors swung open, the coolness of the air-conditioned interior a stark contrast to the heat outside. She stumbled through the entrance, her eyes downcast. The sound of the doors closing behind them was like the final nail in her coffin, sealing her fate.

He led her back to the red room, his grip on the leash unyielding. "On the bed," he ordered, his voice a harsh whisper.

Mina stumbled onto the bed, her body a trembling mess of need and pain. She went down on all fours, her eyes searching for his approval. "Please," she begged, her voice a desperate whine. "Give me your dick, my master." The words tasted like sin on her lips, but she couldn't get enough.

He stepped closer, his cock hard and demanding. "Give to me that big fucking black cock," she pleaded, her voice thick with desire. She could feel the toys inside her, the vibrations now a taunting reminder of what she had lost. Her dignity, her self-respect, all of it replaced by an insatiable hunger for his touch.

Y/n's eyes flashed with amusement as he climbed onto the bed, his knees on either side of her. He grabbed her hips, his grip bruising. "You want it, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. "You want me to pound you like the whore you are."

Mina nodded, her voice a desperate whimper. "Yes, master. Please pound me hard." She knew what was coming, knew that she would beg for mercy and he would give her none. But in that moment, she didn't care. All she cared about was feeling him inside her again, feeling that all-consuming pleasure that only he could give.

He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock slick with her juices and his own lust. "Beg for it," he said, his voice a dark command. "Beg me to fuck you."

Her eyes met his, filled with a mix of fear and arousal. "Please," she sobbed. "I need you to fuck me. I need to feel you inside me." Her words were a confession, a declaration of her complete and utter surrender to his will.

Y/n smirked, the cruel glint in his eyes telling her he knew exactly what she was feeling. He pulled the vibrator out of her pussy, the sudden emptiness leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. But he left the one in her ass, the constant buzz a reminder of her submission. He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock thick and throbbing.

With one swift movement, he plunged into her, the sensation making her scream. The vibrator in her ass continued to buzz, the sensation now amplified by the feeling of his cock filling her completely. Her body was a symphony of pleasure and pain, a fine line that she danced upon with each of his punishing strokes.

Mina felt his hands grip her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he began to pound her. Each thrust sent shockwaves of sensation through her body, the vibrations from the toy in her ass resonating with the impact of his cock. She could feel her orgasm building again, the tension coiling in her stomach like a serpent.

Her screams grew louder, her body moving with his rhythm, desperate for the release he had conditioned her to crave. He was her master, her god, the source of her pleasure and her pain. She was his to use, his to abuse, and she loved every second of it.

The room was filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the smell of sex heavy in the air. She could feel her pussy clenching around him, her body desperate for the release he had promised. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Let me cum, master."

He leaned over her, his breath hot on her neck. "You want it?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper. "You want to cum for me?" His grip tightened, his strokes growing more erratic. She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, the world narrowing to the feeling of his cock inside her.

"Then cum," he ordered, his voice a low growl. And with that, she did. Her body convulsed, her pussy spasming around his length. She felt him swell, his cock pulsing with his own climax, and she knew that she had served her purpose once again.

As he pulled out, she collapsed onto the bed, her body spent. The vibrator in her ass was still going, the sensation now one of pain rather than pleasure. But she didn't dare ask for it to be removed. She knew her place now, knew that she was nothing but his whore to use and discard.

The chain of the collar jingled as he pulled her upright, the leather sticking to her sweat-slicked skin. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction.

Mina couldn't speak, couldn't even think. Her body was a maelstrom of sensation, the vibrations from the toys a constant reminder of her submission. She watched through hooded eyes as he strolled over to the wall of BDSM toys, his eyes scanning the selection with the intensity of a hunter choosing its prey.

He selected a set of nipple clamps, the metal gleaming in the soft light of the room. She whimpered as he approached, the anticipation of pain making her pussy throb with need. He attached them to her swollen peaks, tightening them until she gasped. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a low growl. She raised her gaze to meet his, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and desire.

The second night in the red room began with a fierce intensity that surpassed the first. He was an animal, his eyes wild with lust as he stared at her. She felt his hand come down on her ass, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing through the room. Each spank sent a jolt of pain through her body, the vibrator inside her a constant presence.

Her skin was on fire, each smack making her pussy wetter. She could feel his cock, thick and demanding, pressing against her thigh as he worked her over. The pain grew, the pleasure grew, until she could no longer tell where one began and the other ended.

With a snarl, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her onto her knees. "You want this?" he asked, his cock bobbing in front of her face. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and took him into her mouth, the taste of her own juices mixed with the saltiness of his pre-cum.

The vibrations grew stronger, the toy in her ass a constant torment. She moaned around his length, her eyes watering with the effort. His hand tangled in her hair, holding her in place as he began to fuck her mouth with the same ferocity he had her pussy.

The room was a blur, the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of his cock in her mouth, the sound of his grunts of pleasure. The vibrations grew more intense, the pain and pleasure swirling together until she could no longer tell them apart.

He pulled her head back, his cock popping out of her mouth with a wet sound. "You're mine," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "Say it."

Mina could barely breathe, but she managed to gasp out, "I'm yours, Master." The words were a declaration, a promise that she would submit to his every whim, no matter how twisted or depraved.

He leaned in, his breath hot on her ear. "Prove it," he whispered. "Prove to me that you're mine." His hand left her hair, instead reaching for the vibrator still buried in her ass. He cranked it up to the maximum setting, the buzzing so loud it was almost deafening.

Her body convulsed, her eyes rolling back in her head. The pain was exquisite, the pleasure unbearable. Her pussy was a river, the scent of her arousal filling the room. He took his cock in hand, stroking it as he watched her squirm.

"Look at me," he demanded again, his voice a harsh command. She forced her eyes open, meeting his gaze as he stroked himself. The vibrations grew stronger, the pain in her ass now a crescendo of agony.

And then, with a roar, he came, painting her face with his cum. She could feel the hot liquid on her cheeks, her eyes, her nose. The taste of him filled her mouth, mixing with the metallic taste of her own blood. But she didn't flinch, didn't look away. She was his, completely and utterly.

The vibrations stopped, the silence deafening in their intensity. He pulled the toy out of her ass, the sudden absence of pain making her gasp. He threw it aside, his eyes never leaving hers. "Now," he said, his voice calm once more, "we begin."

He unclipped the leash, the metal clanking against the floor. "Clean yourself up," he ordered. She stumbled to the bathroom, her legs shaky from the abuse. The mirror showed a reflection she barely recognized: a woman covered in cum and bruises, a woman who had given herself completely to a monster.

But as she cleaned herself, the pain slowly ebbing away, she felt a strange sense of pride. She had survived the first two days, and she would survive the last one. For Alex, for their future, she would endure whatever Y/n had planned.

The sun had set by the time she emerged from the bathroom, the room cast in shadows that danced with the candles' flickering light. She knew the third and final night would be the most intense, a crescendo to the symphony of submission she had been playing.

Mina lay on the bed, her body a canvas of bruises and marks, each one a testament to her submission. She closed her eyes, willing herself to rest, to regain the strength she would need for the night ahead. Despite the pain, she slept deeply, her dreams filled with images of Y/n's dominance, her mind reeling from the tumult of emotions that plagued her.

When she awoke, it was to the sound of the door opening, the scent of his cologne filling the room. She sat up, her eyes heavy with fatigue, her body aching for his touch. The red glow of the room washed over her, the candles casting an eerie light that painted the room in a bloody hue.

Y/n walked in, his eyes gleaming with excitement. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat from his day's exertions. She watched as he removed his tie, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You've been asleep for quite some time," he said, his voice a low purr that sent shivers down her spine. "I've missed my little whore." He strode over to the bed, his hand reaching out to trace the bruises on her thigh. She flinched at his touch, the pain a stark reminder of her place in his world.

"Please, master," she whispered, her voice a hoarse plea. "I need you." The words were a confession, a declaration of her need for his dominance.

He smirked, his hand sliding up to cup her pussy. She was already wet, her body betraying her. "You're eager, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a dark whisper. "Eager for more of my cock."

Mina nodded, her eyes never leaving his. She was his, completely and utterly. The last shreds of her pride had been stripped away, leaving only a desperate craving for the pleasure he could give her.

He leaned in, his mouth claiming hers in a brutal kiss that left her breathless. His tongue invaded her, tasting her, claiming her. She moaned into his mouth, her body responding to his touch despite the exhaustion.

When he pulled away, she was left gasping for air. "Tonight," he murmured against her lips, "you will truly understand what it means to be mine."

Y/n's eyes were wild with a feral hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. He grabbed the chain attached to her collar, pulling her off the bed. She stumbled after him, her legs still weak from the previous nights of abuse. He led her to the center of the room, the floor cold and unforgiving beneath her bare feet.

"On your knees," he ordered, his voice a low growl. Mina obeyed, her knees hitting the floor with a painful thud. She watched as he approached, his cock thick and erect, the head glistening with precum. The anticipation was unbearable, her body already quivering with need.

He grabbed the two vibrators from the bedside table, his eyes never leaving hers. "You've been a very bad girl," he said, his voice a dark promise. "You need to be punished."

Mina felt the coolness of the first vibrator as he pushed it into her ass, the sensation making her whimper. He didn't stop there, instead pushing the second one in alongside it, stretching her beyond what she thought was possible. The pain was a living entity, consuming her, becoming her. She felt her pussy clench in response, her body betraying her with its need.

With a cruel smile, he turned the vibrators on, the buzzing a harsh intrusion in the quiet room. Her scream filled the air, echoing off the walls. The sensation was overwhelming, the pain and pleasure a tornado that she couldn't escape. She felt him behind her, his hands on her hips, his cock pressing against her slick entrance.

He didn't bother with preliminaries, instead slamming into her with a brutal force that made her eyes water. She could feel the vibrators moving inside her, the sensation a symphony of agony and ecstasy. Her screams grew louder with each thrust, the vibrations setting her nerves on fire.

The world outside the red room ceased to exist, the only reality the feel of him fucking her, the buzz of the vibrators in her ass, the pain of his grip on her hips. She was lost in the maelstrom of sensation, her mind a blank canvas of submission.

He fucked her like he owned her, and she knew he did. Each thrust was a claim, a declaration of his dominance. She could feel her orgasm building, a pressure that grew with each plunge of his cock. "Scream for me," he demanded, his voice a thunder in her ears.

And scream she did, the sound tearing from her throat like a wild animal. Her body convulsed around him, her pussy spasming with the force of her climax. Yet, he didn't stop, didn't give her a moment's reprieve. He continued to pound into her, the vibrations from the toys driving her over the edge again and again.

Her cries grew more desperate, her body a wreck of pleasure. She didn't know if she could take anymore, didn't know if she wanted to. Yet, she begged for more, her voice a broken plea. He was her master, and she would endure whatever he had planned for her, for Alex, for their future.

Y/n's hand kept slapping her ass, each smack a brand that marked her as his. The vibrations from the toys were relentless, the pain morphing into something else entirely. Something that made her body quiver and arch back towards him, eager for more. Her orgasms were like a series of explosions, each one more intense than the last.

His grip on her hips tightened, his strokes growing more frenzied. She could feel him getting closer, his breath hot and ragged against her neck. "MINE," he roared, his voice a declaration of ownership that sent a fresh wave of arousal through her. Her pussy clenched around his cock, her body betraying her with its need for his release.

Y/n pulled out, the sound of her body's protest a symphony in the quiet room. He spun her around, her legs giving out beneath her. He caught her, his arms like steel bands around her waist. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust, her mouth open in a silent plea.

He didn't speak, his actions speaking louder than any words could. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. His cock slammed into her pussy again, the angle hitting her g-spot with a precision that had her seeing stars. The vibrations in her ass grew stronger, the pain a beautiful agony that had her panting.

Mina's head fell back, her mouth open in a silent scream. Her body was his plaything, a toy for his pleasure. He fucked her mercilessly, his thrusts punctuated by the smack of his hand against her ass. Each hit sent her spiraling closer to the edge, the pain and pleasure coalescing into something dark and beautiful.

And then, with one final, brutal thrust, he came. The vibrations grew even stronger, the sensation too much to bear. She felt the warmth of his cum fill her ass, the pressure unbearable. She clenched around the toys, her orgasm ripping through her like a tornado.

Her vision swam, the room spinning. She could feel herself slipping away, the edges of consciousness a distant memory. But even as the darkness claimed her, she felt his hand on her throat, his grip firm but not painful. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a low growl.

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his gaze. He leaned in, his cock still hard, his eyes burning with a fierce hunger. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "Always and forever." And with that, he thrust into her mouth, his cum spilling down her throat in hot, salty spurts. She gagged, her throat tight around his length, but she didn't fight him.

As he pulled out, she felt her body give out. Her legs went limp, her arms sliding down his body. The world went black, the only sound the ringing in her ears. The last thing she felt was his hand on her face, his thumb stroking her cheek with a tenderness that was at odds with the brutality of their encounter.

And then there was nothing.

Mina's world went dark, her body a crumpled mess in the arms of the man who had just claimed her so thoroughly. She felt weightless, floating in a sea of pleasure and pain.

Y/n carefully laid her on the bench in the center of the red room, her legs still quivering from the intensity of her orgasm. Her mouth hung open, cum and saliva pooling on her chin, a testament to her complete submission. Her pussy was still wide, stretched from his brutal use, a slick mess of arousal and his seed. Her body was a canvas of red, the imprints of his handiwork a stark contrast against her pale skin.

While she remained unconscious, Y/n moved with a purposeful grace, his eyes never leaving Mina's limp form. He selected a length of rope from the wall of toys, his calloused fingers running along the coarse fibers. The scent of leather and sweat filled the air as he approached, a silent promise of what was to come.

He began by securing her wrists to the chair, his movements methodical and precise. Each loop of rope was tightened with a firm tug, ensuring she would be unable to move. Her arms were stretched taut, her breasts heaving with each shallow breath she took. Despite the pain that would surely follow, there was a strange beauty in her vulnerability, her submission laid bare for his enjoyment.

Y/n picked up a marker, the black ink gleaming under the candlelight. He bent over her, the tip of the marker tracing the word "slut" in an elegant script across her chest. She flinched at the cold touch of the plastic, the harsh reality of her situation sinking in deeper. With each stroke, he claimed her, branding her as his own. He moved lower, writing "Whore" across her stomach in bold letters. The words stung, but the pain was a strange kind of pleasure, a reminder of her place in this twisted game of power and control.

Next, he marked her thighs, scribbling "Y/n pet" and "BBC slut" with a sadistic smile. Each word was a brand, a declaration of ownership that sent a shiver down her spine. He took his time, savoring the moment, his eyes lingering on the words as if they were a sacred incantation that bound her to him for all eternity.

Mina's eyes fluttered open, the pain from the rope burns bringing her back to reality. Y/n's eyes gleamed with excitement as he took in her wide-eyed terror. "Good," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "You're awake for the grand finale."

He stepped away, his eyes scanning the room before landing on a duffle bag in the corner. He pulled out two vibrators, the size of them making Mina's heart race. They were longer, thicker, and more intimidating than anything she had ever seen. "Time to see if you can handle two," he said, his voice filled with a twisted sense of amusement.

Mina felt the coolness of the first vibrator as he pushed it into her already sore pussy. She bit her lip to stifle a scream, her eyes watering with the pain of the intrusion. He didn't stop, instead pushing the second one in alongside it. The feeling was overwhelming, a stretch that made her feel like she was being split in two.

Y/n's fingers danced over the buttons, the vibrations starting slow, almost gentle. She panted, her body trying to adjust to the new sensation. But he wasn't satisfied with gentle, not tonight. The vibrations grew stronger, the two toys moving in unison, a symphony of pain and pleasure that had her writhing in the chair.

Her mind was a whirlwind, unable to focus on anything but the relentless buzzing inside her. Time lost all meaning, the only constant the steady beat of the vibrators and the pain that grew with each passing moment. She was his, utterly and completely, and she knew it. The pain was a reminder, a brand that seared itself into her very soul.

As dawn approached, the red room grew lighter, the candles flickering out one by one. Y/n watched her, his expression unreadable. He didn't speak, didn't move. He was a silent sentinel, a god of lust and punishment, watching her dance on the edge of sanity.

When the sun fully rose, he finally approached her. His hands were firm as he turned off the vibrators, the sudden absence of noise and sensation leaving her feeling empty. He pulled them out with a slow, deliberate movement that had her gasping for breath. She felt the warmth of his cum inside her, a final reminder of her submission.

"Let's go," he said, his voice a harsh command that brought her back to reality. He fastened a leather collar around her neck, the metal tag jingling against the collarbone chain. She could feel the weight of his ownership, a constant reminder of her role in this twisted arrangement.

Mina's body was a wreck, her muscles screaming for relief. Yet, she managed to stand, her legs shaking with the effort. Y/n's hand was a vise around her arm, keeping her upright as he led her from the room. The cold morning air hit her skin like a slap, her bruises and welts standing out in stark relief.

He didn't speak as they walked through the mansion, his grip on her unyielding. She felt like a ragdoll in his grasp, used and discarded. But there was something else there too, a strange sense of pride that she had survived the final night.

As they reached the front door, she saw her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was a stranger, a creature of need and desire, of pain and pleasure. But she knew it was her, the woman she had become.

Y/n opened the door, the bright light of the outside world blinding her. "Let me take you to your husband," he said, his voice a dark promise. She had no idea what awaited her at home, but she knew she would face it with the knowledge of what she had become for their future.

The drive to her house was a blur, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the steady throb of the collar around her neck. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, too ashamed of what she had done. But she knew she had no choice, not if she wanted to save Alex's business.

When they pulled into the driveway, the sight of her husband standing at the door was like a punch to the gut. He was dressed in his usual business casual attire, looking every inch the successful entrepreneur. But the moment he saw her, his eyes widened in horror. "What happened to you, Mina?" he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n's grip on her arm tightened, his chuckle low and menacing. He stepped out of the car, pulling her along behind him. "Let me show you," he said, his eyes gleaming with a twisted pride. He pushed her towards Alex, her legs stumbling under the weight of her own humiliation.

Alex's face paled as he took in her bruised and marked body. The cum that still clung to her skin, the vibrator that poked out from her swollen pussy, the leather collar that branded her a whore. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, the reality of her degradation too much to bear. "What have you done?" he sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Y/n leaned in close, his breath hot in her ear. "This is what I've made of her," he whispered, his voice a dark caress. "Your little whore, my little plaything." His hand trailed down her side, his fingers tracing the words he had etched onto her skin. "See how she's marked, Alex. She's mine now, in every way that counts."

Alex stared at her, his eyes filled with a mix of horror and anger. "Why?" he demanded, his voice shaking with emotion. "Why did you do this?"

Mina looked at her husband, the love of her life, and felt a fresh wave of guilt. "For us," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For our future."

Y/n laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed through the quiet suburban street. "Don't be so dramatic," he said, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "It's just a bit of fun, isn't it, Mina?"

Alex's hand clenched into a fist, but he didn't move. He couldn't tear his gaze from the woman he once knew, the woman who now bore the marks of her submission to this monster. "Is that what you want?" he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Mina's eyes searched his, desperation in her gaze. "It's what we need," she replied, her voice firm despite the tremble in her chest.

Y/n's grip tightened, a silent warning. "Look at her, Alex," he said, his voice a purr. "Look at how she craves this. How she loves being my whore."

Alex's eyes fell to her body, to the words etched in black ink, the evidence of her submission. He felt his stomach churn, bile rising in his throat. "I can't," he murmured, his voice breaking. "I can't do this."

But Mina's gaze was unwavering. "You have to," she said, her voice steady. "For us."

The finality in her tone was like a slap. Alex knew he had no choice but to accept this new reality, to accept what she had become. And as Y/n led her into the house, his hand a brand on her arm, Alex followed, his heart heavy with despair.

The scene inside was one of quiet tension, the air thick with unspoken words and raw emotions. Mina's body was a canvas of Y/n's ownership, the words etched into her skin a stark reminder of her fate. Alex could only watch, tears streaming down his face, as Y/n proudly displayed her, his laughter a chilling soundtrack to their shattered marriage.

Y/n pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up the room. "Let's get a picture," he said, his voice full of amusement. "For the memories." He snapped a photo of Mina, the collar around her neck, the words "slut" and "Whore" clearly visible. Alex felt his world crumble around him, the reality of what she had become too much to bear.

Mina's eyes never left her husband's, her gaze filled with a mix of apology and defiance. She knew what this was doing to him, but she also knew that it was for their future. The pain of her submission was a price she was willing to pay.

As Y/n's laughter echoed through the house, Alex's mind raced. He had to find a way to save Mina, to save their marriage. But as he looked at her, the marks of her degradation stark against her skin, he wondered if it was already too late.

The tension grew palpable as Y/n's hand slid down Mina's body, his fingers lingering on her bruised skin. Alex's fists clenched, his anger boiling over. "Get out," he growled, his voice filled with a rage he had never felt before. "Get out of my house, and never come back."

Y/n's smile didn't falter. "As you wish," he said, his tone mocking. "But remember, she's still mine." He leaned in, his breath hot against Mina's ear. "And she always will be." With that, he disappeared into the night, leaving Alex to deal with the wreckage of their lives.

Mina looked at her husband, her heart breaking. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice shaking. "I'm so sorry."

Alex didn't respond, his eyes unable to meet hers. He couldn't process what he was feeling, the betrayal too deep to voice.

The silence was deafening as they stood there, the house a prison of pain and regret. They both knew their lives would never be the same again. The bond they had once shared had been irrevocably changed by the red room and the monster that owned her body.

And yet, as she saw the tears in her husband's eyes, Mina felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way back from this darkness. Maybe they could find a way to heal, to forgive, to move forward together.

But for now, she could only stand there, naked and trembling, her body a map of her submission, and wait for his next move. The future was uncertain, but she knew she had made her choice.

For better or worse, she was Y/n's whore, and she would do whatever it took to keep the man she loved.

[harrysfolklore]

the carlos sainz roast

summary: it's carlos' 30th birthday and what a better way to celebrate it than roasting him. wc: 2.8k

folkie radio: happy birthday to the smooooth operatorrrrr. i hontesly LOVED this idea that randomly popped in my head and writing it was sooo much fun, i hope you like it !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Carlos Sainz was turning 30. The big 30.

You wanted to do something special to celebrate it, something out of the ordinary that he would never forget. After spending multiple hours on the internet looking for ideas, a brilliant one came to your mind: A roast.

"So all of you will take turns roasting me? Like making jokes about me?" Carlos asked, looking at you from the couch as you pitched him your idea.

"Exactly, baby, It's going to be so much fun!"

The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of preparations. You sent out invitations, coordinated with the other drivers, and gathered embarrassing photos and funny stories about Carlos.

The night of the roast, you transformed your living room into a makeshift comedy club, complete with a small stage and a spotlight. Each driver that arrived at your house complimenting your effort.

As everyone settled into their seats, you stood up and tapped your glass with a spoon to get their attention.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Carlos Sainz Roast!" you announced, catching Carlos's eye and winking at him. "We're all here to celebrate the man, the myth, the legend... the one who always leaves the toothpaste open - Carlos Sainz Jr. on his 30th birthday. And what better way to show our love than by mercilessly making fun of him?"

Laughter rippled through your friends as Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, "Thank you, amor, that's very nice of you."

You playfully blew a kiss his way before speaking again, "Now, before we start, let's remember the rules: keep it funny, keep it respectful, and try to speak slowly so Max can understand." You shot a teasing glance at Verstappen, who grinned and shook his head.

"First up, we have Charles Leclerc, Carlos's teammate and the only person who can make Carlos look slow on a good day. Charles, the floor is yours!"

Charles stood up, straightening his jacket as he approached the makeshift stage. He cleared his throat dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Thank you for that introduction," Charles began, "You know, when I first heard Carlos was joining Ferrari, I was excited. Finally, someone to make me look good! But then I realized, with his luscious hair and chiseled jaw, he was going to steal all my sponsorship deals. So I had to step up my game."

The room erupted in laughter, Carlos included.

"But seriously," Charles continued, "working with Carlos has been an experience. He's like a Spanish version of Google Maps – always recalculating, never quite sure where he's going, but somehow ends up in the right place eventually. That's why I had no doubt in my mind he was going to find an amazing car to drive next season, my bet was on the Safety Car but he opted for an even slower car, a Williams!"

Everyone erupted in laugh again, making Carlos shake his head with his eyes closed, "That one was low, Leclerc."

Charles took a moment to catch his breath, then added with a grin, “And Carlos, now that you’re 30, you’re officially a veteran in the sport. But don’t worry, no matter how many years go by, you’ll always be the guy who can make a Ferrari look like it's in a constant state of panic. Cheers to you, mate!”

You grinned at Charles as he stepped down, patting Carlos on the shoulder. "Alright, that was pretty good, Charles," you said, "But let's see if Lando can top that. Norris, you're up!"

Lando bounded up to the makeshift stage, his trademark cheeky grin plastered across his face. He adjusted the microphone, clearing his throat dramatically.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the birthday boy, Carlos 'Smooth Operator' Sainz," Lando began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, when I first met Carlos at McLaren, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got it all – talent, looks, charm.' Then I realized it was just his hair products messing with my senses."

The crowd burst into laughter, Carlos included, you ran a hand through his famous locks and he gently grabbed it to place a kiss on your palm.

"If I'm being completely honest," Lando continued, "Carlos taught me so much during our time as teammates. Like how to perfectly time a dad joke in team radio, or how to look devastatingly handsome while finishing P7. Essential skills in F1, really."

The room erupted in laughter once again, with Carlos shaking his head in amused disbelief.

"Carlos, you're one of my best friends," Lando's tone softened slightly, "Even if you did spend most of our time together trying to teach me Spanish pickup lines that work about as well as Ferrari's strategy team."

"But I have a girlfriend and you don't, mate. Even with my bad pickup lines." Carlos jabbed, making you throw your head back in laughter.

As the laughter died down, Lando raised his glass. "To Carlos, the man who proves that you can be devastatingly handsome, irritatingly talented, and still somehow likeable. Happy 30th, mate. May your midlife crisis be as smooth as your overtakes."

Lando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up from his seat to give him a hug.

"Love you, mate," you could hear Carlos say, making you smile.

"Next up, we have Fernando Alonso, Carlos's longtime mentor and fellow Spaniard!" you announced, making everybody clap as Fernando took the stage.

"Ah, Carlos. I've known him since he was just a little karting prodigy. Back then, I thought, 'This kid's going places.' Now, 20 years later, I realize I was right – he's gone to every midfield team on the grid!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Fernando continued, "But seriously, I always thought Carlos had potential, and I was right, he's got the potential to be the second-best Sainz in Motorsports!"

Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his drink.

"But let me tell you something, Carlos," Fernando's tone softened slightly, "You've made all of Spain proud. You've shown that with hard work, talent, and a famous last name, anything is possible in F1. Well, almost anything, winning a championship might still be a stretch!"

As the laughter died down, Fernando raised his glass. "To Carlos Sainz Jr., the man who proves that you can be a great driver, a fan favorite, and still be overshadowed by your dad at family dinners. Feliz cumpleaños, amigo!"

Fernando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up to give him a warm, laughing embrace. As they parted, you stood up to introduce the next roaster.

"Now, let's hear from someone who's known Carlos since their early days in Formula 1. Please welcome to the stage, the reigning world champion and certified cat lover, Max Verstappen!"

Max sauntered up to the stage, he adjusted the mic and grinned at Carlos.

"If it isn't the new old man of the grid," Max began, earning chuckles from the crowd. "You know, Carlos and I go way back to our Toro Rosso days. I remember when we first met, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got great hair.' Then I realized that's all he's got!" everyone laughed once again, "Back at Toro Rosso, Carlos was always so dedicated. He'd spend hours studying my telemetry, trying to figure out how to be as fast as me. Spoiler alert: he's still trying!"

The crowd roared with laughter, Carlos included, as he playfully threw a napkin at Max.

"But in all seriousness, Carlos," Max continued with a grin, "you've always been one of the most hardworking and determined drivers on the grid. You never give up, no matter how many times you've been dropped by your teams mid season."

Carlos laughed, raising his glass to Max in a mock toast. "Thanks for the reminder, Max."

"Carlos, you're one of the best guys in the paddock. With your resting bitch face and all, you're always there with a helping hand. Even if your driving skills are debatable," he added with a wink. "Happy 30th, mate."

Max stepped down, and Carlos stood up to give him a hug, both of them laughing. You took the mic once more, "Thank you, Max, for that trip down memory lane. Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who's known for his infectious smile and his matchmaking skills. Please give it up for Daniel Ricciardo!"

Daniel bounded onto the stage with his characteristic enthusiasm, flashing his famous grin.

"G'day, everyone! Carlos, mate, happy birthday!" Daniel began, "You know, I've known Carlos for years, but my proudest achievement was introducing him to his lovely girlfriend, YN," you smiled at this, feeling Carlos squeeze your hand, "I thought to myself, 'This bloke needs someone who can put up with his golf obsession and his constant need for mirror checks.' And boy, did I deliver!"

The crowd erupted in laughter, with you and Carlos exchanging amused glances.

"I remember the day I introduced them," Daniel continued, "I told YN, 'Look, he's a great guy, but be prepared for endless conversations about tyre management and the perfect hair product.' Little did I know, she'd be nodding along enthusiastically!"

You playfully rolled your eyes as the audience chuckled.

"But seriously, folks," Daniel's tone softened slightly, "watching these two together is like watching a perfect pit stop - smooth, efficient, and occasionally involves someone getting sprayed with champagne."

Carlos pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your cheek as everyone 'aww'ed.

"Carlos, mate," Daniel concluded, raising his glass, "you've found yourself a keeper. Someone who can navigate your mood swings faster than you navigate Eau Rouge. YN, love, you've got yourself a man who's smoother than a freshly paved track... at least when he's not tripping over his own feet trying to impress you."

Daniel stepped down from the stage, approaching you and Carlos. You both stood up, enveloping him in a group hug, all three of you laughing and thanking him for his words.

"Alright, that was brilliant, Daniel. Now, let’s hear from let's hear from someone who's about to get very familiar with Carlos's driving quirks. Please welcome to the stage, Carlos's new future teammate, Alex Albon!"

Alex strode up to the stage with a playful grin, adjusting the microphone as he faced the audience.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my new teammate, Carlos Sainz," Alex began, "You know, when I heard Carlos was joining Williams, I thought, 'Great, someone to help push the team forward!' Then I remembered his time at Ferrari and realized he's just as confused about strategy as the rest of us."

The room erupted in laughter, with Carlos good-naturedly shaking his head.

"But seriously, Carlos," Alex continued, "I'm excited to work with you. I mean, who wouldn't want a teammate who's been through more teams than I've had podiums? Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari... Williams is just the latest stop on the Carlos Sainz World Tour, isn't it?"

Carlos raised his glass in mock salute, chuckling along with the audience.

"I have to say, though, I'm a bit worried," Alex said, feigning concern. "I've seen how competitive you are, Carlos. I just hope you remember that at Williams, we're usually racing against the clock, not other cars. But hey, at least you'll always beat the safety car... probably."

"You know, Carlos, I just realized we have something else in common besides our great hair and questionable career choices. We're both proud members of the 'No Appendix Club'!"

The room burst into laughter, with Carlos nodding in amused agreement.

"That's right, folks," Alex continued, "Carlos and I have both had our appendixes removed. I like to think it makes us more aerodynamic, but let's be honest, in Carlos's case, it's probably just made room for more hair product."

Carlos playfully patted his hair, eliciting more chuckles from the audience.

"But seriously," Alex said, "I suppose this means we're perfectly matched as teammates. We're both down an organ, so when Williams inevitably asks us to give 100%, we can honestly say we're already giving everything we've got - minus an appendix, of course! Happy birthday, teammate, here's to a season of driving a tractor, but at least we'll be together."

Alex stepped down from the stage and approached Carlos, who stood up to give him a hug patting his back.

"Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who needs no introduction, but I'll give him one anyway. Seven-time world champion and fashion icon, Lewis Hamilton!" you said and everyone clapped.

Lewis sauntered up to the stage with his characteristic cool demeanor. "Carlos, my man," he began, "I've got to hand it to you. You've had quite the career. Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari, next year Williams, it's like you're collecting team merchandise,"Lewis grinned mischievously as he continued, "You know, Carlos, I've got to thank you. You've done such a great job warming up that Ferrari seat for me. It's like you were my personal seat heater all along!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Carlos playfully buried his face in his hands, and you rubbed his back comfortingly while chuckling.

"But seriously," Lewis continued with a grin, "You've made that Ferrari seat look good. I just hope I can live up to your legacy of looking devastatingly handsome while trying to figure out what on earth the pit wall is thinking."

Carlos laughed, shaking his head in mock despair. "Thanks, Lewis. I appreciate the… kind words."

"You know, Carlos, I've always admired your ability to stay positive," Lewis continued his roast, "No matter how many times you've been dropped from teams, you always manage to smile for the cameras. It's like you've mastered the art of looking happy while screaming internally. I'm taking notes mate!"

After a few more jabs Lewis concluded his roast, several other drivers took their turns at the mic, each adding their own flavor to the celebration. George joked about Carlos's infamous beach photos, Pierre told some stories about their Toro Rosso days and even Oscar joked about being surprised about being invited since him and Carlos always push each other off the track.

Finally, it was your turn. You stood up, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as you approached the stage. Carlos looked at you with a huge smile.

"Well, well, well," you began, locking eyes with Carlos, "what can I say about Carlos Sainz that hasn't already been said? He's talented, he's handsome, and he's the only man I know who spends more time on his hair than I do."

The room filled with laughter as Carlos nodded in mock pride.

"But seriously, living with Carlos is an adventure," you continued, "He's always talking about smooth operations, but let me tell you, there's nothing smooth about the way he leaves his socks all over the house. It's like living in a minefield of sweaty foot prisons."

Carlos threw his head back in laughter along with the rest of the guests.

"And don't even get me started on his competitiveness. Everything's a race with this guy. Brushing teeth? Race. Getting dressed? Race. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to overtake me in bed yet!"

The room erupted in cheers and wolf whistles as Carlos turned a shade of red.

"But in all seriousness," your voice softened, "Carlos, you're the most incredible person I know. You're kind, passionate, and you never give up, whether it's on the track or trying to convince me that paella is a breakfast food."

You raised your glass, "To Carlos, the love of my life and the smoothest operator I know. Happy 30th birthday, mi amor. May your future be as bright as your smile and your pit stops be faster than your hair routine."

As you finished, Carlos stood up, his eyes shining with laughter and love. He pulled you into a tight embrace as the room filled with applause and cheers.

"I love you so much," he whispered into your ear, kissing your temple softly.

"Well, folks, I think we've successfully roasted Carlos to a crisp," you said with a grin. "But before we wrap up, I think it's only fair that the birthday boy gets a chance to respond. Carlos, amor, the floor is yours!"

"Wow," he began, his accent thicker than usual, "I'm not sure whether to feel honored or insulted. But I guess that's the point of a roast, right?" He paused as chuckles rippled through the room. "First off, I want to thank all of you for being here. It means a lot that you'd all take time out of your busy schedules to come and insult me."

Carlos thanked each of his friends with a blend of humor and sincerity, making everyone laugh. He playfully teased Charles about making him look good on track, jested with Lando about the success of his Spanish pickup lines with you, and expressed gratitude to Fernando for his mentorship while vowing to become the best Sainz in motorsports.

"And finally, to my beautiful girlfriend," Carlos's voice softened as he looked at you, "Thank you for organizing this amazing night, and for putting up with me every day. You're the real smooth operator here."

The room erupted in cheers and applause as Carlos stepped down from the stage. You met him halfway, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug once again.

"Happy birthday, amor," you whispered in his ear, pulling away to kiss him softly.

[nkjemisin]

Fiction is not reality

Got three or four asks lately about an old Le Guin-inspired short story, "The Ones Who Stay and Fight." Did somebody post an article or something? I haven't gotten any alerts that would explain the sudden interest. (Did see one annoying AI-written summary that hallucinated new characters into it and said I'd written it in 1973, when I would've been one year old. Don't use AI for lit crit, folks.)

Anyway, rather than answer them individually, I'll post this as a collective response.

All of the asks were about the story's meaning, in one way or another, so I'll start there -- but. Y'all. The author is usually the worst person to ask about what their work means; haven't you heard that the author is dead? We're too close to our own work to do good analysis. I can tell you what inspired it, or what I was thinking while I wrote it, but that doesn't mean I put all that into the story, or successfully got across whatever did make it in. Pretty often my writing doesn't mean anything; it's just something I need to get out of my head.

The asks seem to center on whether I actually intended Um-Helat to be a utopia, and -- no. I thought it was pretty obviously a dystopia, actually, like Omelas... but then I constantly run into people who describe Omelas as a utopia, so maybe the problem lies with people's definition of "utopia." (Personally I don't believe utopias are possible IRL. Anytime you've got more than one person in a society, their respective visions of an "ideal" society will vary, and sometimes conflict.) I was exploring my own struggle with envisioning a society free of bigotry, and Le Guin's narrative -- which gently pokes at the reader's skepticism and jadedness -- spoke to me in that moment of need. So I decided to do some poking of my own, from a different angle, to see if that helped clarify anything for me. I liked the result enough to publish it in How Long Til Black Future Month, tho it's since been reprinted in many places.

That said, a couple of the asks went to a weird place, and I feel like I need to address it. You folks do know that a story's narrative voice is not the same as the author's voice, right? So for example, in "The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas," the omniscient first-person narrator of the story is not Le Guin. What that narrator believes is not necessarily what Le Guin believes, or vice versa. She didn't tell you about the abused child in Omelas because she thought it was A-OK to abuse kids as scapegoats/representations of the evils of the world. Likewise, I didn't tell you about the traumatized child in Um-Helat because I think it's A-OK to stab possible bigots. The narrator is another part of the story. It's fiction, not an essay, or a confessional.

It feels weird to have to say this, because it seems so obvious to me... but we are on the "piss on the poor" site, after all, in a time when critical thinking is under literal attack from The Powers That Be, so I guess I gotta. I do not stab people, not even bigots. I am not pro-stabbing or pro-childhood trauma. I am somewhat pro-transdimensional-travel, but that's neither here nor there.

Oh -- and sidenote, but I've been ridiculously busy lately, and I'm working through the backlog of asks very slowly. If you've sent in something, I will hopefully get to it within a month or two. Hopefully.