Who Is The Author Of Txt Minisode 3: Tomorrow?

Yes Sir: Steamy BL Shorts You shouldn’t want it this bad. You definitely shouldn’t be leakíng just thinking about it. But when the man who controls your apartment / your job / your car keys steps too close and says “On your knees. Now.” your body betrays you before your brain can catch up. These aren’t love stories. They’re short, fílthy lessons in what happens when a younger boy forgets who’s in charge. He pins your wrists above your head. He spreads you with rough fingers first — then with something much thicker. He pucks you until your legs give out, until you’re crying into the sheets/car hood/desk, until you’re so fúll of him that every step afterward reminds you who you belong to tonight. One word unlocks everything: “Yes, Sir.” And once you say it… you don’t get to take it back. Standalone. Addictive. Filthy. You’re going to read one chapter and immediately need the next.

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“Come back to me, Ivy,” the man whom she used to love with all her heart said. “No, no,” Ivy shook her head and backed away from him. Her body trembled as fear consumed her whole being. He was the reason her baby was gone! He was the reason for all her suffering! ---------------------------- Ivy thought she was the luckiest woman in the world - she was married to the man of her dream. But that was just her illusion. On the day she received her pregnancy report, she found her husband in bed with his best friend. Before she had the chance to tell him about her pregnancy, she was forced to divorce and her family was driven to bankruptcy by that one man she loved. Since then, her life went south. She married a governor in another country whom everyone thought was a gentleman. Everyone envied her, but no one knew he was a sadist who loved to abuse her. Five years later, the man she used to love met her by chance and begged her to come back. But would she be able to give her heart again, when all she felt toward him was fear and hatred? Knowing that he was the sole reason her life had turned to be what it was today with endless suffering? Cover art by Rainygraphic.

The cocktail hour had just ended when I picked up a video call in the bridal suite. It was Ethan, three years from now. By then, time‑travel tech had matured enough to let him contact me three years into the past. After enough specific details, I finally believed it. The man on the screen really was Ethan, three years older. I rubbed my aching ankle and pouted at him through the screen. "Ethan, smiling at all these guests is exhausting. But the second I remember I actually married you today, I'm happy all over again." "We're still happy three years from now, right?" He was leaning back against a headboard, and he didn't answer. His face was flat and unreadable. Then I heard it: a woman's voice from his end, low and breathy, asking to be kissed. I froze for a second, then covered my mouth and laughed. "Is that future me? In broad daylight? Get a room." Ethan turned the camera into the bed. My maid of honor was lying there, naked, sprawled across his chest. Her body was covered in hickeys. He looked straight at me as I started to break, and his voice didn't shift at all. "As soon as the reception ended, I told you I had a client meeting. I went to her room instead." "Jo, now you know what's coming. The guests haven't gone home yet. If you want a divorce tonight, you can have one. Up to you."

An app had been making the rounds online lately—one that let you text your future self. Right before the final paper of the SATs, I decided to jump on the bandwagon and fired off a message: [Future me, do I end up marrying Liam Tinsley?] The screen flickered, and a reply from an "Unknown Number" popped up almost instantly: [Yes. You had a big, grand wedding.] I clutched my phone and typed back fast: [And Mia Thompson was my maid of honor, right? She's my best friend!] The response came just as quickly: [She was. But she wasn't just the maid of honor, she slept with Liam on your wedding night.] My smile froze mid-expression. Then a second message hit: [Truth is, you didn't need to go through all that trouble tanking your scores just to match his. He bombed the math section on purpose—so he could end up in the same city as Mia, who was at the bottom of the class.] [He pushed you to turn down that top-tier university—not for your sake, but because he didn't want Mia to feel inferior next to your grades.] The pre-exam warning bell cut through the air. But I was frozen, my body ice-cold, unable to move. One last message slammed into my screen: [If you don't believe me, head straight to the motel behind the school after the test. You'll see the truth for yourself.]

When Michele Barone, the Underboss of the Moretti family, proposes to me, I receive a video call from another version of myself, who's five years in the future. In the video call, my older self is already shaved bald. She's also trapped in the Moretti family's basement. "Don't marry him! You have to get rid of the unborn baby in your belly and get out of here right now!" I throw the ring to the table on the spot before going through an abortion right away. When Michele finds out the truth, he breaks down and cries his heart out. At the same time, he keeps demanding answers from me. All of my family and friends keep blaming and accusing me. They even claim that I've gone nuts. Meanwhile, Michele's childhood friend, Gianna Grasso, hides outside the room with a hand clamped over her mouth as she giggles secretly to herself. "AI nowadays sure is powerful! I can't believe she actually believes that the woman in the video call is actually her future self five years from now!" My lips curl into a small smile. Honestly speaking, I can tell right away that it's just a fake AI video, based on how shabbily it's made. It's quite simple as to why I've done those things, though—I've received an actual video call from my future self for real.