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Umbridge Whips For Sex Harry

Dominance Evolution System: Sweat, Sex, and Streetball

[Abandon all hope, ye who enter here] They say the Upperworld is paradise, clean air, real sunlight, and lives worth living. Down here, we've got rust, shadows… and Breakball. A savage fusion of street basketball, bloodsport, and raw spectacle, Breakball is the only way out of the slums. No rules. No mercy. Men and women grind together, shirtless or in skin-tight outfits, fighting for points, pride, and power. Drugs flow. Sex sells. One match can change your life... or end it. And once a year, the rich come down to watch us bleed. The Blood Star Invitational, one shot to rise, or vanish forever. Nash Blaze was built for this world. Quiet. Tactical. Obsessed with winning. A pass-first point ghost who made his trash team look like stars. But on the day of their miracle call-up, his teammates kicked him out. "You're too weak for the pros. Just a ghost on the court." Even his girlfriend left him, right into the arms of the new team ace. Abandoned, forgotten. Nash was ready to disappear. Until something inside him snapped. [REWRITE SYSTEM ACTIVATED] Categories: Body | Mind | Lust | Dominance. Boosts gained through Training, Victory, Seduction. Trait: Erotic Ascension | Hidden Stat: Legacy Now, Nash can rewrite everything, muscle by muscle, stat by stat. From stamina to sex appeal, reflexes to raw size, every conquest pushes him closer to the top. The court made him a ghost. Now he's coming back as a demon. Fame, vengeance, and women are just the beginning. Because when you're born in the dirt… You don't rise. You burn your way up.
Yalatola · 3.6K Views

For Me, For Us, For Everyone

Cigarette smoke curls in the stagnant air, the dim glow of a dying bulb casting twisted shadows against the walls littered with half-torn articles and red-thread connections. Somewhere between the ink-stained papers and the scattered pills, a man sits—silent, unmoving, staring blankly at a stuffed monkey in a clown suit. A detective, they call him. A man of justice, a solver of mysteries. But behind the applause and empty praises, behind the sharp smiles and hollow congratulations, he is nothing but a walking contradiction—one hand holding a case file, the other exchanging cash for little plastic sachets. His mind is a labyrinth of voices, whispers that coil around his thoughts like suffocating vines. His brother grins at him from the corners of his vision, eyes glinting with the truth he refuses to face. His father’s voice is gentle, forgiving—too forgiving. Too much for a man who doesn’t deserve it. Each pill swallowed is another step into the illusion, another moment of stolen happiness before the weight of reality drags him under. He walks the city streets, drowning in faces that admire him, loathe him, see him as something he is not. He is both a hero and a villain, a detective and a criminal, a man trying to outrun the past while shackled to its corpse. And at the end of the night, when the echoes of the world fall away, all that remains is the darkness, the whispers, and the suffocating truth—he can never escape them.
Zeisn · 0 Views
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