#received so many lovely messages and i have not

[thetarotyapper]

how will your future partner/spouse feel and react when you dominate them for the first time (18+)

paid services 18+ paid services tarot community ko-fi

(how to pick a card? observe the given images and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. scroll down to read your message!! remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

જ⁀➴ pile I

your person has literally been WAITING for the moment when you will dominate them babe like i'm not even kidding😭. they've been patient and they've been holding back from suggesting this idea because they don't know how you'd feel about it. and to be honest, they don't mind being the giver, but they wouldn't mind being the receiver either you know👀. for some of you, i'm seeing that your person might have been bored or exhausted at some point because they have always been the dominant one, but once you take the lead - OH THEY WILL LOVE IT. AND I'M SEEING THAT YOU'LL LOVE IT TOO AKJSAKAKKAKA. like their reaction is going to be so….. satisfying. you’ll find yourself wanting to dominate them over and over again because of the pretty faces they make before they will - well…..you know….reach climax. you being dominant is going to bring a new thrill and excitement into this relationship. this is like the missing piece in your relationship because once y'all realise you like to switch roles and be 50/50, your relationship is only going to progress for the better. 

there's going to be so much passion - IT'S SO HEATED. like i'm not even kidding when i tell you that your person is going to remember this moment FOREVER babe, like mark my words!! this experience is going to be so spiritually transformative for them, there's no going back. 

your person is literally going to melt in your hands and i’m seeing an image where they are “sacrificing” their life for you. basically, they'll let you do anything you want to them lol and they won’t protest. they'll love the thrill of you taking control and putting them in their place. they also love the view when you're on top of them🤭. i'm seeing here that your person has mustered up all the courage and asked you to take control over them. BYE SUDDENLY I HEARD THEM SAYING “use me”. UM SIR MA'AM I GOTTA GO Y'ALL DO YOUR THING I AINT COMING IN THE WAY KAJSJAJAKAKA. and oh, use your strength on them. manhandle them - they really like it. ANYWAYS BYE I'M LEAVING JJJAJAJJAHAHAJ. 

just kidding, obviously i'm not gonna leave just yet hehe. i'm having too much fun doing your reading, pile 1 hahaha. 

i'm seeing here that you are actually good at dominating them and taking the lead, like you're so confident - your confidence is literally gonna make them WEAK. they're going to be a complete mess at the end of the day. and oh how y'all love it (Y'ALL ARE SUCH FREAKY FREAKY PEOPLE, PILE 1). your person wants, and by wants i mean WANTS to be used by you like a toy. they might even be into BDSM because i see them wanting to try literally so many things with you - like please chill out, you can't try out everything at one time😭. they're so needy for you, and you know what pile 1? honestly this is goal’s because you're gonna love the way they are going to beg for you (pile 1, i see what you're doing here👀). 

y'all are going to be so experimental and honestly speaking, HOW DO Y'ALL HAVE SO MUCH ENERGY. like the passion is so strong here, i don't think this is going to be a one-time-thing. this is literally the BEGINNING of something better and deeper. i'm seeing that y'all will also come up with your own creative ways in making your person reach climax faster. i see you learning their weak points and what turns them on. they will even tell you what they want you to do to them. 

expect a lot of whimpering and begging from your person hahaha. they'll like it when you tease them and make them beg in order to reach their climax. the thought of you having the power over when they can feel good turns them on so much *COUGH COUGH* Y'ALL NEED A ROOM I'LL GIVE Y'ALL SOME SPACE WKSMNSMAMA BYEEEE.

જ⁀➴ pile II

babe let me start off by saying that your person is VERY SMART. like this all seems so pre-planned - i’m actually speechless 😭. i'm seeing here that your person will purposely make you mad so that you can dominate them and put them in their place. UM PILE 2’s PERSON???? WHAT HAPPENED TO HELLO?? WHAT HAPPENED TO HI?? WHAT HAPPENED TO HOW ARE YOU?? it's so funny to me because while i was doing your reading, this is the first energy i got from your person like okay sir/ma'am i see what stunt you're pulling here👀🤭. i literally hear them thinking, “YES, MY PLAN WORKED!!” when you get mad and put them in their place. 

i'm not even kidding when i tell you this, pile 2 - your person gets off at the thought of you taking control over them. like it just does something to their brain, i see their happy hormones releasing when you dominate them. they're going to love it when you go slow at first, being gentle and loving - caressing their cheek and all, but then BOOM - they're going to go crazy when you increase your pace and put them in their place. i see their eyes rolling back and them biting their lips. they're going to try so hard to bite back their moans but they're going to fail so miserably. i see them acting like you didn't do a good job and to prove them wrong, you're going to be more intense AND THIS IS THEIR PLAN - and you're also pretty adamant huh, pile 2. you ain't gonna give up THAT easily. you keep on falling for their traps all the time😭. and to be honest, i don't see any complaints from their end, nor from your end - so y’all are DEFINITELY enjoying this. and one more thing i gotta add pile 2, you know exactly what you're doing. it doesn't matter if it's the first time you're being dominant, YOU KNOW THE WAY. it seems like you've studied them before and you've noticed where they like to be touched and you're going to use this to your advantage. your person is not even going to make any particular requests, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO. 

and i see that maybe y'all will even switch roles in between. like when you dominate them and make them reach their climax, they're going to dominate you immediately after that so you can feel good too. it's basically like, “if you make me feel good, i'm going to make you feel even better”. OH MY GOD i see y'all like tryna compete and see who’s better at making each other climax first and your love making can go on for hours just to prove y’alls point - this also seems like another one of your persons tactics 😅. i'm seeing here that your person might have a mommy kink. they might even have a degradation kink. 

they will like it when you reward them for their good behaviour. they'll like to listen to you and i see them being so obedient - it's like they don't want your mood to change 😭. they don't want to miss out on this good opportunity and will literally do their best to keep you in this “dominant zone”. i'm also seeing that y'all will like to spoil each other after everything is done. 

there's this elegance in the way you move and make them feel good, i literally don't know how to explain it. you will just look really good while making them reach climax. maybe it's your dedication or maybe it's the way you will remove all your frustration on them because they made you mad - but like there's just something about your face that made me stop for a second. i see your cheeks turning rose pink while making them feel good. it almost looks like you're a natural when it comes to this. and your person is going to LOVE this about you. 

i see a proud look on your face when you make them reach climax. it's like your job here is done. your priority was to prove them wrong and show that you can easily make them melt under your touch, and when they do submit to you - you've won. it's all you ever wanted - to see them a complete mess, begging for more.

જ⁀➴ pile III

your person is someone who is very shy and might not communicate their urges to you. they might feel embarrassed and reserved. but here's the thing, they're open to trying it. and when i tell you that this experience is going to be life-changing for them, I MEAN IT. 

for the longest time, your person might have had this mindset that the “man” should be the “dominant” one (my readings are flexible and can apply to any gender and sexual orientation - but in this reading i’m getting the feeling that your person thinks that the masculine energy should be the dominant one and the feminine energy should take on the submissive role. and here, your person is the masculine energy, that is why they are feeling like this). but i would be lying if i said that they haven't thought about being dominated by you. they've definitely thought about being dominated, but it feels so wrong to them. but at the same time, it feels so…. right?

i’m seeing here that the both of you will have a discussion about trying to switch roles and you both will mutually agree on it. AND GUESS WHAT???? Y'ALL ARE GOING TO LOVEEEEEE IT. i feel so many emotions right now and this is exactly how y'all would feel - nervous, overwhelmed, but also excited. your person is going to LOVE it when you praise them and they might be hesitant about this idea at first, but oh they're going to ENJOY IT. there's going to be so much love and trust here, i feel so emotional. like the feelings here are so genuine and there's genuinely so much love here i feel like crying. your person is a sweetheart and their nature is very reserved and shy. they take a lot of time to trust someone, so when they let you take control over them - that means they really really trust you. 

i’m seeing that both of y'all would experiment and see what you like and don't like. in terms of intimacy, you both seem inexperienced and this is a great opportunity to understand what y'all prefer. Y'ALL ARE ALSO CREATIVE OH MY GOD. like y'all will find ways in making each other feel good - and your person is going to LOVE it when you talk them through it. i literally see them covering their face because they're embarrassed and didn't know they'd enjoy being so submissive. I’M LITERALLY GIGGLING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THEIR REACTION IS SO CUTE. also, from the beginning of your reading i've been getting the feeling that your person might wear glasses and when they're covering their face, their glasses will get in the way and it'll be fogged up and their face will be red - LIKE THE VIEW IS SO PRETTY.

being submissive will make them feel like they are losing a part of their masculinity (according to your partner) and you will have to reassure them that there are no such toxic expectations from your side. i feel like your person might come from a very conservative and misogynistic background and you can't even blame them because that's how they're raised. but the only difference here is that your partner is willing to try out new things and that is because they love you. i can't get over the emotions they feel for you. they're more than willing to change their ways and their thoughts for you because they love you so much. your love is going to change them. and i'm so proud of you, pile 3 - because you gave them a space where they can truly be themselves and break away from all the stigma.

your love is so deep, i literally see y'all building a family together. you both know that you have found the one and you're ready to settle down. your person is comfortable being intimate with you because they know that they're going to settle down with you someday (and even marry you). they're not open to everyone and they aren't the type to mess around. when they reveal their naked and true self to you, it means that they really trust you and they have a lot of faith in you. y'all are destined to meet. your destiny was already written. your relationship with this person is going to change the perception of love for many because in this day-and-age, love has lost its meaning. but when people look at your relationship, they will understand what true love is. 

my lovely pile 3, i'm sorry if this reading wasn't fully centred around the main theme - but what i found so heart touching about your pile is that there is genuine love and true feelings here. i'm not even kidding when i tell you that i felt so emotional throughout your reading. i'm so glad you're here and the world deserves more people like you. never stop being you<3 

hi loves!! i hope this reading finds you in good health and i hope you are doing well. i would be so glad if you could like my post and re-blog it, and please let me know which pile you picked - i would love hearing your thoughts!! take care of yourself and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

(note: tarot & oracle cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, feelings and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)

જ⁀➴ all credit for the pictures and dividers goes to their rightful owners and creators

[baksuz-art]

please read the warning, in case you might be sensitive to any of the following: mentions of poverty, non-graphic mentions of health issues, non-graphic mention of a dead animal, people being asses to others in general. sorry, this isn't very live laugh love of me, but it's important. i will keep it short and simple, and i'll try to keep it gentle too. no people, places, sites, etc will be named. lately, i'm not very happy with how some people are treating me. the asks you see on my blog are filtered, of course - you only see me answer to people who are at least able to say please and thank you, aka: decent people. i never have and never will expect anyone to kiss the ground over which i walk, but i don't think it's too much to expect basic manners. what you don't see are tons, and i mean it when i say tons of people who barely treat me like i'm a human. they demand i create for them as if it's my duty to do so. they are very rude in their messages, often requesting things i don't even do. they try to hurry me up, as if i don't have my own life or if i can't be doing something else. they demand i push them forward in the queue. they rudely ask 'where the hell is it already'. some were quite insensitive in their messages when they request i draw their cats - telling me how they don't love their cats, or were thinking of getting rid of them, or prefer some other pet over their cat, etc, which was all enough to pretty much ruin my day. one motherfucker sent me a photo of their (?) dead cat... as if that's not enough, even though i am a small creator, i have seen people reposting my art without credit, and i have seen one (at least?) person redistributing my colouring pages of all things, which i was sharing for fucking free+. i wanted to be kind and to make people smile. but it seems that some people confuse that for me being an art dispenser. i hate to say it, but i won't be able to keep doing art for free. it's not financially sustainable - it's not just art that i won't be able to do if i keep skipping meals or if i keep missing doctor appointments because i can't afford them, or if i end up unable to buy next T dose. it's also not sustainable for my mental health. imagine how shit it felt to sit with 5$ on my card while people treated me like i'm a machine and sold stuff that i was sharing for free+. imagine someone walking up to you, telling you that your work is worthless, and then taking it anyway. sure, this may change nothing in the end; but even if i never get a single commission again or a single tip, at least i'll be poor while doing whatever i want and without listening to people treat me like dirt. to those who haven't received their askbox drawing - sorry; i don't even know how many of you there are exactly or who everyone is, because there's just... so many of them, man. this isn't easy for me to say, but i will have to be more careful with how i share my art, and i have to value my time and effort the same i value everyone else's. to those who have supported me, even in small ways - thank you, you have no idea how much it means to me.

[celestialtarot11]

𝜗𝜚 What will they tell you? How will things move forward?

Hi friends! Welcome back to another PAC! Any and all likes, reblogs comments are appreciated! Do enjoy <3 let me know if ya’ll want an 18+ spicy tarot reading 👀

astro pt 1 || astro pt 2. || pac readings || 🤍

𝜗𝜚 Pile 1

knight of swords, the sun, 2 of wands

Hi there pile 1! Your person wants to message you right away. You two could’ve been talking about vacation, a getaway, traveling to see each other. Or in laws is what I heard. Meeting the family. Your person is super excited about this trip and to be planning it. If you haven’t heard from them it’s a yes! I see plans moving forward really fast so expect there to be a sudden rush of energy from your person. Maybe you two live at a distance right now and you two are planning a meeting. Maybe you guys want to talk about “where are we heading with this relationship” kind of talk. They are open to it and want to make this relationship go deeper <3. They are open to working with you. I don’t know if you or your person have a different cultural background, but there’s a lot of admiration here for it and a sense of “im learning so much from you” thats so cute 🤍 they are thinking of buying you flowers for those of you who are physically together with your person! They just are worried “omg so many flowers which are their favorite” 😭🤍 its so cute. They’re a little anxious in an energetic way, they have trouble sleeping because they’re so excited. I feel like this person is so nostalgic and sappy but in a cute way lol. Or—for some of you—you’re being told you received the father’s blessing of some kind. Whether in marriage, or the father approving of your connection, or an enthusiastic relationship with the father :) there will be good news and welcoming arms! Thanks so much for being here ya’ll I appreciate your support!

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

𝜗𝜚 Pile 2:

justice, page of cups, 2 of wands

okay pile 1 also got 2 of wands lol, but hey! Welcome to your reading 🤍 your person is thinking of reaching out—some of you may be in the early stages of this connection, or not much has happened in terms of hanging out or moving things forward. Some of you went on a few dates but it sort of fell off, due to each others schedules being different is what im hearing. Its a busy time. But you’ll be receiving a text soon about “hey, dinner?” And plans :). There’s this warm feeling, they miss you. They see this moving forward and now their schedule has cleared up. I dont know if you two are going out in a group setting or a party, but there will be an opportunity to celebrate here. Could be your birthday, or theirs, or a friend of a friend! But either way you two are excited. I see a sense of “yay I’m happy to see them again!” And its quite cute. They may surprise you with how well they can dress. I feel like your person usually is composed and put together, but with you they’re a simp. Total simp. Lmao. They can’t help it. They truly miss your energy! I also got a spicy message: “dont stop doing what you’re doing, keep doing what you do. Do you. Do you like the way I put it down on you?” It’s do you by Jay Sean. They really wanna put the moves on you!! They also really want to take their time and not mess anything up with you, i feel as though this connection is authentic to them and speaks to their inner child. Expect there to be flirtation, playfulness, making plans, etc. Thanks to everyone who helped me and this blog come a far way! <3 feel free to comment, like and reblog!

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

𝜗𝜚 Pile 3:

The emperor, 9 of pentacles, 10 of pentacles

Holy mommy & daddy energy. Lmao. Hey guys, right off—yeah you two have a really big dominant energy. I feel like you two are seen as a very strong couple, or have very strong potential to be a couple. But you two value your independence! This is not something you both want to compromise, and this is something you both agree on. Your person wants to continue building a stable life and relationship with you, and they may be telling you about a promotion they got at work :) either that or, “we hit xyz amount of savings we can afford a house,” or to move out! Very happy, good news. This is coming in fast, this message. I feel it’s something you both already knew would happen because you two are financially set and stable, and now its just a matter of saying yes. This could be you two moving to another place together, traveling, getting married, engaged (i didn’t wanna ruin the surprise if this is the case for ya’ll) but the big rock seems more and more likely…😂 if ya’ll aren’t going to be married yet, i see your person and you at least putting your foot down on a living space and actively working together to create a sustainable life. You two have worked so hard. I feel that they may want to take the stress of your shoulders by cooking you a nice meal, having a romantic dinner night with wine (if you drink) and food. They want to take charge for the night and show you that you don’t have to do it alone. Orrr this could be a conversation about kids. Maybe a family business. Having pets 👀 but anyway, thanks so much for being here ya’ll! Appreciate all your support.

Craving more insights? I do personal readings too—deep, detailed, all about you. Tap [here] to get your own magical reading today! Limited spots, and I love tuning into your energy.

[dramalove247]

Heesu In Class 2 gives these queer moms hope

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Heesu In Class 2 isn't targeting the BL audience, it's queer representation in a Kdrama and that makes us excited. This difference means that the struggles of being a queer youth were expertly contrasted against those living a het normative life, wrapped it all up inside a cute kdrama, and delivered it to a much wider audience. An audience that may not have seen this perspective before. And the messages Heesu In Class 2 delivers to this audience are both powerful and important.

Love is Love. Mutual love is a precious gift and should be celebrated in all forms.

There were so many great messages during this series, but that felt like the final thought of Heesu's story. One that Heesu made when he said:

"Such insignificant tiny beings like us manage to find each other amidst countless specks of dust. How great of a miracle is that?"

The struggles of Heesu's sisters gives us all the evidence we need to see how precious it is to find someone that returns our feelings.

There were lots of other incredible messages/moments throughout the series that we were obsessed with. We already talked ourselves out of rewatching the series just to collect more evidence for this post, so we will try to be satisfied with only listing the ones we remember off the top of our heads.

A quick list of epic moments Heesu In Class 2 delivered to a wider audience:

"Maybe everyone can see what I am trying so hard to hide." Starting off the series by showing Heesu's fear of someone discovering his crush.

Constant contrast between queer vs het experience/acceptance. TWICE calling out the difference in difficulty and risk for a queer person to confess a crush. "I'm pretending not to know."

"Before my secret swallows me up. Before I fall into this dark hole forever." Heesu talking about the danger of secrets in episode 9.

Seung Won talking to Heesu about his mom being with a woman after ending her unhappy marriage to his father, "They live together 'cause the like each other. It's much better than living with someone you don't like."

Heesu finding comfort when he learns that Seung Won sees nothing wrong with being queer:

"At least Seung Won wouldn't hate me just for being myself, or get mad because I'm different. The moment I thought that... the weight on my mind was lightened by the weight of just one person."

Seung Won's mom's willingness to lie to spare him from the judgement of others. Seung Won choosing the truth over the constant work it would take to live in a lie.

Heesu's fear of being outed when he receives that threat. The disgustingness and cruelty of someone being willing to out him for revenge.

We HATE Heesu and Seung Won trying to play off their relationship as a "bromance" in public. But we also LOVE it because once again it is in direct contrast/comparison to the het couple and including this bitter pill is both realistic for their story and shows the audience the inequality, fear and pain in not being accepted by society. So we hate that this poisoned our happy ending, but we hope it gives the larger audience something to think about.

Series like these plant the seeds that change hearts. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

We sincerely hope this series reaches as many people as possible with it's important messaging. We have even decided to make a MyDramaList account just so we can support this series. Our hope is that this story moves some people. Causes them to stop and think. Gives them a new perspective. And hopefully finds it's way to some lonely Heesus out there and gives them hope.

[meganx]

Just One Weekend // Lando Norris x OFC // Part Five

Summary: Alice has been a Formula One fan all her life. When the opportunity came up to enter a competition that could mean attending an actual race, she pounced on it. When the news finally came that she had won, she was cautiously optimistic about what the experience would hold. Lando, on the other hand, would rather eat fish than spend an entire weekend entertaining a stranger.

All My Works

Series Master List

Previous Part

Next Part

Part Five

Alice blinked at her phone.

Unknown number: The team is going for dinner in the city. Meet in the lobby at 7p.m. It's a fancy restaurant, so dress nicely.

She blinked again before quickly typing out a reply.

Alice: Sure, no problem!

She stared at the chat. She absolutely detested receiving messages from unknown numbers. It left her confused about how she was meant to reply - or even if she should.

Alice: Is this Oscar?

Another blink. But, no reply. With a deep sigh, she slid her phone back into her jean pocket. For a moment, she considered trying to find Lily and asking to borrow another outfit for the dinner tonight. Before she could decide, a knock echoed into her hotel room.

Her socks silenced the sound of her footsteps on the tile floor as she approached the door.

"Hi?"

The porter looked at her with the classic customer-service smile. "Evening ma'am."

Alice's eyes caught on the bright pink suitcase he had placed next to the door. Immediately relief flooded her veins.

"I have a suitcase for Miss Richards."

"Yes, that's me. Thank you so much."

"My pleasure, enjoy your evening ma'am."

Alice smiled as her hand wrapped around the handle of her suitcase. For the first time since she landed, she felt like she could breathe again. She rolled it into the room and closed the door. The wheels squeaked as she pulled it over to the bed, but even that sound seemed to settle something inside her.

She quickly flipped the suitcase open and sank to her knees next to it. This was her stuff. The make-up bag Rory had given her. The white-and-blue dress she liked so much. Her comfort hoodie.

Her eyes drifted down to the clothes she was currently wearing. The polo Lando had forced her to change into was covered up by the McLaren hoodie he had given her before they left the garage. It was drizzling, and she was getting cold, and as if it was second nature, he pushed his own hoodie into her arms.

It hung loose over her frame, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands. Somehow, her old comfort hoodie didn't feel the same.

She looked back at the suitcase. She hadn't quite realised just how out of place she'd felt walking around in borrowed clothes in a foreign city full of foreign faces. But this? Her stuff? It grounded her.

She changed into real clothes. Her clothes. The black, classy-looking jumpsuit hugged her curves in a way Rory had called 'delicious'. It was only then that she realised she and Rory had made a mistake. She had lovely clothes, yes. But shoes? They forgot about shoes.

So she sighed and went with her only option. The white sneakers.

She swiped on a bit of mascara. Her lips were pulled into a wide smile purely because she had her mascara. When she looked into the mirror, she could still see a tired girl who had survived an airline disaster and a media ambush - but at least she felt like herself again.

Carefully, she folded up the polo to return to Lando, and she put everything Oscar had loaned her in the duffel bag. But that McLaren hoodie was folded neatly and put in her suitcase. Lando had so many, surely he wouldn't notice.

It was nearly time for her to make her way back to the lobby when she heard her phone buzz from where she had put it on the nightstand.

Unknown number: Not quite. Media debrief is over, so we're heading back to the hotel now. You still alive?

Okay, so not Oscar then. Lando?

Alice: Barely. But my suitcase arrived, so morale is improving.

Unknown number: Good. You were starting to look like a walking lost-and-found.

She was typing her reply when three dots appeared on the screen and a second text came through.

Unknown number: I want my shirt and hoodie back. I'll pick it up from your room after dinner.

Definitely Lando. Her heart squeezed at having to return the hoodie. She didn't understand the sudden attachment, but she couldn't deny it either.

Alice: I don't know. That hoodie is too soft. I think it's mine now.

Again, there was no reply. But it was time to head down to the lobby anyway. She grabbed the small purse she had tucked into her suitcase and mentally prepared herself for what lay ahead.

__________

The restaurant they were sitting in was beyond anything she had ever experienced. Even the chairs they sat in seemed like they would cost more than she earned in a month.

They sat at a table next to a wall made out of windows. She could see the entire city from where she sat.

"I thought you said this would be a team dinner," she said, glancing at Lando with her head slightly tilted.

"It is. Oscar is my teammate. That makes this a team dinner," he said matter-of-factly.

Dinner passed in a blur of conversation. It was mostly Lando and Oscar talking, and Lily adding a comment here and there. Alice kept quiet, just listening and enjoying.

Once they were back at the hotel, Lando walked with her to her room as Oscar and Lily disappeared to their own. The elevator doors closed quietly behind them and began the ascent up to the fourth floor.

"You were quiet tonight," Lando remarked.

Alice glanced at him for a second before looking back at the doors. "I'm always quiet."

"Not true. I mean, sure, you don't talk a whole lot. But mate, you were dead silent."

Alice sighed. She was thinking of how to explain everything to him when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. She carried on thinking as the soles of their shoes thudded against the carpeted hallway to her hotel room door.

She swiped her keycard and pushed the door open. Her plan was to go in, grab the clothes, and bring them back. But before she could say a word in explanation, Lando stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Is it because of what happened today?" he asked.

Alice squeezed her eyes tightly before she looked back at him. "Okay, sit," she said and pointed to the small sofa at the end of the bed.

Lando kicked off his shoes, leaving them at the door, and sat. Alice sat on the opposite side of the couch, leaving as much space between them as she could.

Lando looked at her in expectation, and she started speaking. "When I was a lot younger, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. It took a while, but eventually I got to the point where I could manage it, even if sometimes I need a little help."

Lando nodded but didn't say anything, so she continued. "I guess I was struggling to manage it without all my stuff, and today felt a bit overwhelming. When I'm overwhelmed, I'm not so good at the socializing thing."

"What does it feel like?" Lando asked.

"What does what feel like?"

Lando met her gaze and with a soft voice, almost like a whisper, he clarified, "The anxiety. Panic attacks or anxiety attacks or whatever."

Alice's head tilted in confusion, but the vulnerability in Lando's eyes pushed her to answer.

"Well, there's a slight difference between the two. Panic attacks are more sudden and really intense. For me, my chest gets really tight and I feel like I can't breathe. My heartbeat skyrockets, and I get this feeling like I'm losing control. Like, I could die."

Alice shifted slightly in her seat, tucking her feet under her. "I don't get them a lot, though. I get anxiety attacks more often. It's like the anxiety builds up and keeps building until eventually it has no choice but to escape. To me, it's more emotional. It constantly feels like I'm waiting for some end-of-the-world event. Usually it'll last a few days, longer if I deal with it alone."

She looked at Lando, trying to gauge if he was satisfied with her answer. But he just sat, staring at the space between them on the couch, fiddling with his fingers.

"Why do you ask?"

Lando looked up at her again. "I think I've been getting them. The panic attacks, I mean. It's like my lungs stop working, and I'm having a heart attack at the same time. And I'm sobbing while begging my body to just take a deep breath."

Alice felt her heart clench as she listened to him. His voice got more desperate as he spoke, almost like he was shocked someone was listening and needed to get as much out as he could.

"Do they happen a lot?" she asked.

"Almost every race weekend this season."

Her breath caught. "Lando, you need to see someone. Anxiety disorders like that just get worse if you don't get help."

"It just feels so stupid. Like, I'm supposed to be a professional athlete. None of this should be getting to me." His eyes shut, avoiding the truth that he just spoke.

"It's not stupid, Lando. You're under so much pressure."

He let loose a breath that he was holding and nodded his head. "I'll find someone when I'm back in Monaco. I just need to get through this weekend."

"If it happens again this weekend. Come find me, yeah? I'll sit with you until it's over."

"I don't want to be a burden," he admitted. Voice so broken and eyes watering.

"You're not a burden, Lando." She could still see the uncertainty in his eyes. And the determination to deal with it on his own. "Promise me that you'll come find me?" she asked. She brought her hand up between them and offered him her pinky.

Lando let out a shaky laugh. "Are you really trying to pinky promise right now?"

"A pinky promise is a sacred vow. Unbreakable," she explained with a serious look on her face.

Lando nodded and hooked his pinky through hers. "I pinky swear I'll find you if I feel like I'm having a panic attack."

Feeling satisfied with their agreement, Alice got up and walked over to her bed. She picked up the shirt first and then carefully took the hoodie out of her suitcase before walking back to the couch. She placed both next to him.

"There you go."

Lando looked at the clothes like he was trying to solve a mystery. He looked up at her, standing just in front of the couch, and smiled. It was small, but it was real. "They're yours now."

"But, you said you wanted them back?"

"Nope. Keep them. Let's say it's a thank you for talking to me tonight."

Alice's expression softened. "You don't need to say thank you. But, I will keep them."

Lando stood up from the couch and tucked his hands into his pockets. "I'd better get back to my apartment. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"See you tomorrow."

Lando offered her another smile and let himself out. Warmth bloomed in her chest. She couldn't explain it, but she felt a quiet victory. Somehow, she had managed to get Lando Norris to smile again.

That warmth stayed with her as she showered. As she changed into sleeping clothes and the McLaren hoodie. As she climbed into bed. And as she fell asleep, that warmth transformed into something else entirely. Something that felt a lot like pride and friendship.

[tvdismylife]

Jason Todd ‘Red Hodd’: ABC

Warnings: mentions of smut and curse words

A (aftercare):

He’s not really good at it, but, he’ll try his best to make you feel comfortable. Some water, snacks and cuddles are his maximum

B (Body Part):

His favorite body part of yours has to be your tits. Not just in the sexual way, he’ll just have is head on your chest while you scratch his head. During sex tho? He’ll go crazy, he’ll suck, kiss and lick, while you moan his name mixed with blasphemies.

His favorite part or his? Abs. Why? 1) he’s proud of himself for how defined they are; 2) when you kiss him there he loses his mind. You want him to moan out? That will do the trick

C (Cum):

He isn’t really particular with it, but he’s not a big fan of coming inside of you. He’d rather make a mess on your tits

D (Dirty secret):

He’e in love with role plays. Especially cop/criminal ones (he adores those furr handcuffs)

E (Experience):

Not that much but knows how to please. He did mess around a bit. Not so much tho. You know, with all the training and Wayne stuff

F (Favorite position):

Missionary, a classic. Jason doesn’t really like all the complicate ones. And, he gets to look at your tits you.

G (Goofy):

Usually, he is fooling around, making jokes and not being serious. But, if he had a bad day, he’ll be more serious.

H (Hairy):

Doesn’t really care, he’ll ask you how you like it and that’s it.

I (Intimacy):

It may start as casual fucking, but oh boy. He’ll fool around, but still, he’ll be sweet.

J (Jack off):

He’ll probably jack off whenever he wants, if the situation allows it. You can’t even remember how many times you found him jack off in your shared bed, not that you mind.

K (Kink):

Bondage. He loses his fucking mind whenever you’ve got your fuzzy handcuffs.

L (Location):

Everywhere. Not even kidding. You can not forget that time when he convinced you to fuck him on Bruce’s couch (and how you almost got caught). So yeah, pretty everywhere

M (Motivation):

Lingerie, handcuffs, praise and degradation. He can’t decide if he likes better when you compliment or insult him.

N (No):

Crossing boundaries, that’s just a no. And traumas (this one explains itself)

O (Oral):

He loves giving, but…. receiving wins. It’s one of the hottest things you can do.

P (Pace):

Quick, no doubts. I can’t really imagine him being slow, he isn’t that patient

Q (Quickie):

Always. He lives off by them. X-mas at Bruce’s? Living room. Weekend-long hangouts with the Titans? His room. Bar? Bathroom. Let’s just say, he loves them

R (Risk):

Oh, he lives off by it.

S (Stamina):

Okay, I guess. He can go 4/5 rounds, then will tap out

T (Toy):

Isn’t really a fan, but is willing to try them on you

U (Unfair):

Loves it. Seeing you moaning while begging him to fuck you? Uhm yeah, he lives off of those moments

V (Volume):

He is really vocal, he doesn’t think it’s un-masculine, he likes letting you know how much you’re pleasing him

W (Wild card):

He l-o-v-e-s cuddles and PDA. You can’t remember how many times one of your friends told you to get a room.

X (X - ray):

He’s big but medium-length

Y (Yearning):

He yearns. A lot

Z (Zzz):

He needs some minutes to relax himself, but will fall asleep pretty easily (if you’re there, of course)

I’m begging you, request something. I’m having zero ideas, so, yeah. Drop a message in my inbox

[w1ld-wr1t3r]

I'm not even 15 minutes into rewatching Interstellar and I think there is a chance my imagination is running wild again . . .

I have at least half a loose fic plot already hELP.

[rosicheeks]

i have been following you for years and years, and some of those pics i have never seen before! thank you for sharing these wonderful pics! all of you is so wonderful! your tits and ass, of course! but also, your legs and thighs! UNF! your cute tummy deserves all the kisses! and i FUCKING LOVE that you have kept your beautiful face up on your pinned post! i check multiple times a day to see if it is still up. sometimes, fantasize about kissing your adorable face over and over!

thank you for blessing us with all your heavenly content!💕

[vaxxildamn]

very happy Matt decided to clarify his stance on the genocide of the Palestinian people rn. Pretty unhappy with the way he worded it, who he centered in his video, and disappointed to see the responses to it on Twitter.

kinda scared to even post about it bc CR fans can get so defensive about their favorite white people that they can often leave little room for criticism or nuance. but man I have thoughts.

[corrodedcoughin]

okay so your trans art binge-reblog spree yesterday kinda synced up with me having Intense Gender Feels so please allow me the liberty of gently knocking at your inbox again bc I feel a mighty need to unleash some trans!Eddie headcanons on you >.>

imagine the sheer emancipation of Eddie growing out his hair again after he had cut it short when first moving in with Wayne but this time long hair feels different and so, so much freeing bc it's no longer a stupid social expectation rooted in sth that isn't even true about him but instead a personal choice, one deeply connected with the music that comforts and inspires him like nothing else

imagine the freedom of him first realizing he's trans and how things — maybe not all things but at least some of them — suddenly fell into place from just knowing who he is, even if back then he had no opportunity and no safe place to as much as think about trying to socially transition. just feeling like his authentic self for once, without the weight of others' preconceptions about all the arbitrary ways he's supposed to be. he might've been unable to tell anyone at that time but simply having that knowledge to himself was liberating from the years of having felt like there's sth wrong with him. liberating bc now he knew for a fact that there wasn't. how can this be wrong if it made him feel like himself for the first time maybe ever?

imagine him hesitantly knocking on his uncle's door in the middle of the night when he had no choice but to run away from home. imagine the surprise on Wayne's face and all the unyielding unquestioning trust and comfort he's got for him, so thorough and genuine that it only takes him a few days to come out despite the fear. and then Wayne's silence breaks into a question of what name his nephew would like to called then. the words startling soon-to-be-Eddie into a impulsive hug, which is returned with utmost care and with quiet thinking-out-loud rambling of whether Wayne's got any clothes that would fit his nephew and that he would feel comfortable in

imagine the joy when Eddie gets a fake ID from Reefer Rick one day

imagine him making friends with the rest of Corroded Coffin guys and, when he gathers the courage and trust to come out, being met with support, ranging from confusion and a promise to eventually get how any of it works and to respect Eddie's pronouns etc, to deep understanding that hardly needs words bc you know you're being seen for who you actually are

imagine Eddie working on his voice and ending up achieving some success partly thanks to singing along to his favorite songs and trying to learn harsh metal vocals and at first scaring everyone around by going over the top with them until he figures out ways to train his voice to be more masculine sounding without resorting to that kind of harshness (and developing multiple fun vocal stims on the way)

imagine Eddie getting together with Steve and as a bonus gaining the perfect person to get advice from when it comes to figuring out a workout routine for his purposes

imagine the relief of knowing there are multiple people who you can be your authentic self with and who love you for this and would never change a single thing about what makes you yourself

oof well, I kinda carried away "a bit" (meanwhile the Feels have only intensified further whoops) and these are in no particular order but I really hope you'll like this humble offering. have a restful fulfilling weekend💜

LIAM!!!! LIAM!!!!! I am always ready for transing the narrative (been in some gender struggles too so let’s be in this together 🤝) I’m going to be running commentary replying so if it’s incoherent or accidentally cover something said later I’m sorry!!

- the hair!! YES!!! I feel like he had long hair before and felt pushed into have short hair in order to be taken seriously in his identity but what he always really wanted to be was ‘just a boy with long hair’ and the more it grows the happier he gets becuase THIS!! THIS!!! Is who he feels like he should have always been!!! This feel RIGHT! When it gets past the length of being ‘acceptable’ for a boy and starts brushing his shoulders he hasn’t never felt more strongly that he is Right. That this is Who He Is, this is Eddie Munson and Eddie Munson is a societal expectation-dodging BOY

- THE ACCEPTANCE AND REALISATION!!! What if he was going around as a child saying kid stuff like ‘when will I grow a beard?’ And being hushed by his elders (before Wayne). Going along with what was given to him, be it toys or clothes because his family didn’t have a lot so he’s not going to ask for more but knowing that they didn’t feel right. That he was performing a character for these people and hoping it would be enough for them, for himself. It’s not, something still feels wrong and he can’t figure out. But then, then he gets the keys to the kingdom, he moves in with Wayne and Wayne gives him some money and sets him loose in the thrift shop. At the start he sifts through the girl’s rails but all of the sizes are wrong for him. So wayne just suggests the boys racks because hey it’s just T-shirts and we need to get you stuff that fits. He guides eddie to the plain T-shirts, not thinking much of it. Not thinking it’ll be a Realisation in the young mind of his nephew. Eddie goes home with 2 boys T-shirts that day and from then on gravitates to exclusively wearing them. Next thrift shop visit eddie makes a beeline to the boys section and doesn’t look back.

- AHHH WAYNE AND COMING OUT I LOVE YOUR VERSION!!! What about Wayne passing a couple of shirts on to Eddie? A hat too? And a belt because god knows Eddie’s buying the jeans that hide his hips and needs something to hold them up. Wayne starts calling eddie ‘son’ and ‘boy’. Every time it’s like Christmas lights have been turned on behind his eyes. He feels dizzy with it, can’t contain himself, has to clench his fists to stop himself from shaking becuase this? This feels right. It fees Correct and knowing Wayne is here with him is the ballast he needs to secure himself on this unpredictable ride.

-CORRODED COFFIN SAYING ITS SO METAL OF HIM. (I personally also hc Gareth as trans so I like to think that Jeff and Freak are always ready to be Boys and show them Boy Stuff. Like alongside band practice they had Boy Practice at the start and now they can burp the alphabet in harmony and can armpit fart guitar solos and play fight and are just GOOFY)

- eddie going to a gig or band practice and then the next morning waking up with a slightly wrecked voice that he /loves/. He surreptitiously tries to maintain it, shouting lyrics in his room and just screaming sometimes but it starts to get painful and he accepts he has to find a different way. He listens to the radio with Wayne, asks to go with him when Wayne’s work friends plan a couple of drinks in one of their yards. Eddie gets to go to a couple, gets to listen to Wayne’s country and rock radio stations. Gets to hear these men talking and tries out phrases he hears when he’s on his own, records them on a tape deck he found in the thrift by luck one day. Records and re-records until he gets it right. Until he can prank call principle Higgins and get shouted at down the phone ‘I’ll find out who your father is boy! He’ll have your hide!’ The peak is when he goes into scoops and gets everything he wanted ‘hey man, how’s it going?’ From the offensively cute sailor with the big hands and strawberry sweet smile

- WORKOUT SUPPORT STEVE. YES. YES ABSOLUTELY!!! Steve showing him that he can’t just hit upper body every day, that he has to get everywhere. That he needs to make his core thicker if he wants that boy look. That working on his quads and calves will help, he promises it won’t leave him a big butt and tiny waist. (Not unless he wants Steve’s routine, that boy is going to work on his ass-ets okay?) eddie doing his first full push up with Proper Form and feeling the muscles in his back move and thinks yes. This is Good. God knows he’s not great at sticking to it but when it serves a purpose and it means he gets to ogle his boyfriend? Kind of a win win

- TBE LAST POINT!!! Yes!!! Eddie living in subconscious fear for so long that he pushes the very notion of being a Boy down. so far Down and Away that he won’t ever let it see the light of day. Or so he thinks. He tells himself that he is fine, that this is fine. But it isn’t and he doesn’t know what feels wrong. Until it slowly starts to change at a glacial speed. He tries different things. Starting only in his room, makes jokes that he thinks he can get away with in front of Wayne. Pushes it further, does more Boy things with corroded coffin. Sees that it’s okay? They are okay with it? With how he is? Sees that Wayne just nods at him and doesn’t make a fuss? That Wayne’s friends don’t bay an eye somehow? (Sure some guys at work do, but Wayne makes sure they know where their opinions aren’t wanted. That Wayne and his group aren’t to be taken lightly on the topic of Wayne’s nephew)

Eddie experiencing so much acceptance and love and there being so venom in it. No ‘waiting’ for it all to pass and Eddie to go back to ‘normal’. Eddies never been normal and that’s a badge he starts to wear with pride. With defiance. Knowing that he has everyone he could ever need how could be not?

[agent-sarahwalker]

Anna! If you really are leaving this blog, I just wanna say thank you! Thank you for the all the entertainment you provided! From those chaotic uswnt and orl pride games to wlw media and of course the legendary masterlist! Your blog was somewhere I would go to when I wanted a pick-me-up. You’re a true legend ⭐️

Thank you so much!!!!

[prkhaven]

warnings: smut minors do not interact, unprotected sex, profanity, brother’s best friend!jay, spit, creampie, breeding kink, petnames (baby, bad girl, good girl, nasty girl) — wc: 1.2k

JAY promises his best friend time and time again that he isn’t seeing anyone because how can he even begin to admit that he’s fucking said best friend’s sister behind his back.

well simple, he doesn’t.

he admits nothing and denies any attempt of prying into his life by his best friend. that’s what happened just 5 minutes ago at the gym during one of their sets.

because he’s supposed to be cooped up in the gym with sunghoon, the best friend, for another hour but instead left the moment he got a text from you.

the dragged y of his name as you sent a picture of the soft pout he loved and his overstretched collar shirt daring to peak out your breast was more than enough for him to leave.

forced to give some poor excuse to sunghoon, he knew his friend didn’t believe but he didn’t have time to worry because you were waiting for him.

and that’s how he finds himself in your bed, ramming into you like no tomorrow, his cock dragging out of your soapy self with ease, droll trickling down your chin as your back arched with soft whines.

losing count of how many times you’ve came from the moment he entered your room to now, everything blurred together.

his calloused hands grip your hips to hold you in place, his breath hot against your skin, “so fucking needy baby, what am i going to do with you?”

you blabbed and blabbed incoherently and jay softly cooed at the state, his hand stroked your cheek in a manner that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

he continued to piston himself into you, the wet warmed confinement was pure heaven that he could never part from it. his mind reeled watching how your mouth fell open with moans and whines leaving it.

the way your tits bounced with each thrust, his marks littered all over your body made his chest swell. your harden sore nipples on display, he flicked them between his fingers and twisted the nubs making you wail.

“couldn’t wait for me to finish my workout huh, just needed me to fill your lonely pussy”

“you’re such a bad girl for interrupting me” knowing that it was far from that because he could’ve easily ignored your message and stay with your brother

but instead he came running straight to you the moment you called.

you clenched around him making him groan, “knew you loved it when i talk to you like this” your hands reach for his biceps, your nails digging into the bulging flesh for support, jay stifles a strained noise as his free hand comes up to your throat

“talk to me baby, y’know i love to the hear that pretty voice of yours” he slurs and you weakly moan while throwing your head to the side

“jay. jay. jay! please want more” you chant his name like it’s the only thing you’ve ever know and his heart hammers against his chest at your weak pleas

his hand grips your chin, his thumb traces over your bottom lip before sliding in and pressing down your tongue. a small gag leaving you as you looked up at him to see the hooded darkness casting over his eyes.

he grinned but his hips never faltered, they slowed down for a second, each thrust sending him further and deeper into you. able to feel his tip protruding into your cervix, the stretch opening you up just for him alone.

neither of you broke contact as he brought your head up. stopping his movements as you lol your head back and jay hovered over your face.

with the perfect calculation, he pulls his thumb back to pull down on your bottom row of teeth as a glob of spit trickled from his mouth and inched closer to you.

sticking out your tongue to receive it, you darkly hummed and lightly chuckled when jay released your mouth. “such a nasty girl, but you’re my nasty one” he whispered making your pussy grip tighter around his length

his side grin only grew more, gripping your jaw to crash his lips onto yours. you squeaked at the sudden roughness but melted right into it. the slightly chapped lips scratching against yours but you loved it. your hands racking up and gripping onto the collar of his tanktop.

you pulled at it but instead of getting mad at it, he helped pulled it further down for you to stretch it out. his cold chain hitting against your hand, your mouths slotting perfectly together.

loudly moaning into the kiss, he drank up all your sounds. yet, holding onto his tanktop tightly when he thrusted up into you.

“jay move” you slurred against his mouth but he pressed harder down on your lips

“be nice now baby, how am i gonna breed your pussy when you’re being so mean to me” he joked making you roll your eyes when he pulled away

a string of saliva connecting the two of you making his mind hazy. looking at you, your eyes sparkled at him making his chest tighten in itself, he sticks out his tongue and lathers it over your mouth before swallowing your mouth back into his.

jay’s thrust grew erratic when you started clenching harder around him. “need to have you leaking for me. make you wear panties- the black lacy ones, my favorite… to plug my cum inside of you”

“if anything leaks out i need to fuck it back into you and even give you more to make up from the loss” he groaned loudly, his mind reeling as his breath grew heavier “have to fill you up- need to make sure you know you’re mine”

the possessive words fluttered something in you but the thought melted away as your strained moans grew louder, your hand gripping tighter onto his bicep as your body arched off the mattress.

jay scoffed as you came over him but his thrust didn’t stop. he continued to push his cock back in to slide out and repeat the motion, his finger traced over your clit before rubbing down at the bundle of nerves.

“jay- sensitive” you gripped his wrist yet he only slammed his hips harder into you

“take it for me baby- be a good girl and take it. this is what you wanted isn’t it?” he gritted through his teeth to look past the tightness around his shaft

wrapping your arms around his neck to drag him down and flush his body ontop of yours, he jolted at the closeness but his rough hands held your waist, slowly down his pace.

his thumb creasing at your side as he continued to hilt his hips upwards until you felt the twitch inside of you and he let out a low huff into your ear.

your fingers dug into his built back as you felt sudden warmth fill you. “take it for me baby- my sweet girl” he murmured while painting the velvet walls white of him

digging your head into the shell of his neck as he held you closely, he planted a soft kiss onto the side of your head and rubbed his hand up and down as he felt you flutter around him.

“jay” he softly hummed at the weak call his name but before you could say anything more, you heard the slam of your front door and the call out of your name

you both pulled away from each other and stared with wide eyes at the realization that sunghoon finished his workout earlier than expected or the two of you just took way longer than anticipated.

hurriedly, you both pulled away from each, tripping over another to grab the discarded articles of clothing. “uh- just a minute!” you yelled for your brother as you shoved jay’s headphones towards him

putting on the forgotten clothes and straightening yourself out to look decent in the mirror, you looked over to jay struggling to put his pants on.

but before he could fully put them on, he stopped midway when the door busted open and sunghoon’s ramble came to a halt as he stood at the door with wide eyes and horrid expression.

“what the- are you fucking my sister?!”

——

[tahani-family]

GAZA 😭😭🇵🇸🔗⬇️

support us we lost our home and our workes😔💔

My children are sick from the cold and the spread of diseases, and they are all in pain. I have been displaced with my children many times, and each time we had to bleed her precious evacuation money to buy transportation and transportation.

These conditions are absolutely catastrophic. It's the end of the world. No child, no mother, no person should have to go through this.

You can help by donating and sharing so we don't have to struggle anymore. All we are hoping for is to get enough money to evacuate to Cairo so we don't have to rely on the black market for simple things like food anymore.

You can help. 

Please take time out of your day to donate to my family, our campaign is moving very slowly and we need your help.

Please help my family get out of this hell. We, like all human beings, deserve safety, comfort, and warmth, and now you have a way to help provide these things for us.

https://gofund.me/5770752d.

Dear, please don't let me down, we deserve life and we deserve your generosity and kindness towards us, you are our lifeline and with your generosity you give us life even a little, but you relieve us of injustice and the cursed war, you are the hope and life once again, be side by side hand in hand, we will make a big difference with faith, strength, will and determination, we will reach the goal, we are very close, I hope you participate and contribute if you can. 💜🇵🇸🍉🍉💐💐.

I am a mother of three beautiful little girls, Sana and Hanan. Hla has been sick recently and Hla needs to be vaccinated very soon, but I can tell you that the situation has been very difficult in Gaza and the campaign has been slow lately.

Thank you to everyone who donated and participated from the bottom of my heart, but my campaign needs more support and interaction. I think that my campaign did not receive the required interaction and attention. It is not my fault that I am Palestinian so that I do not receive support. I think that other campaigns and non-Arab campaigns take momentum from interaction and support. It is not my fault that a Palestinian is marginalized for the sake of my children, humanity, and children's rights. Help m🙏🏻🙏🏻💔💔.

My name is Tahani, I am 30 years old from Gaza and I have three very young children, Sana, Hanan and my youngest, Hala, who grew up during the war. Our house was destroyed, I was displaced several times and I am currently separated from the rest of my family - my husband, brothers, sisters and parents. I cannot tell you how stressed I am.

@xxx-sparkydemon-xxx @lampthehealthminister @baandar @doug-dimmadumb @astronotesstuff @prokyon @the-bitch-isback @aceofrage @intheindustrynow-blog @horrorcore2002 @thescavenger29 @yvening @springcres @meowmaids @akaratna @ezras-turtleneck-blog @fagarlic @grandpom @omens-augury @pianta @kingtransgender @friendlizard @intricatecakes @marbirds @error-core-animations @block-swing-perry @br-eddrolls @kraigerzz-blog @daily-click-reminders @commissions4aid-international @anneemay @tumkaafiho @balaclava-trismegistus @ripley-stark @mangocheesecakes @bees-fantasies @girl4pay @turtletoria @rikebe @esperantoauthor @starless-gaze @frehsca

I am doing my best to take care of my children by myself, despite facing hunger, thirst, disease and the threat of death. The other day, there was heavy shelling near me and another family close to us was killed. Life in Gaza is now hell and I tell you that we are living as if we are waiting for our turn to die.

I am Tahani from Gaza, I am 30 years old. I stand before you as a person trying to maintain my family. I am married and a mother of three children: Sana, who is seven years old, Hanan, who is five years old, and a girl named hla. She grew up during the war and in very harsh conditions that no human being can bear. I moved from the hospital directly to the tent. I cannot describe the extent of the suffering and difficulty of living in the tent.

But I need help. The situation in Gaza is very bad right now, with the IDF preventing aid from entering and the food, water and medicine that is available are very expensive. Please share and donate to help me and my children survive and eventually leave Gaza.

Thank you all. I hope you will support me to save my life and the lives of my children🇵🇸🍉🍉.

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸.

We are trying to survive in miserable conditions in tents in Mawasi Deir al-Balah, south of Gaza. It is difficult for me to find the words to describe what we face every day in Gaza. No food, no medicine, no clean drinking water, oppression, helplessness, psychological pressure, doubts and daily trauma due to the loss of loved ones. In Gaza, it is not only hunger, disease and fear; it means actual death.

We have been forced to move more than 7 times, and my house has been completely destroyed, and I cannot provide enough milk, diapers, medicines, and vitamins for my children.💔🍉🇵🇸😭

Now, I find myself in this difficult situation, and I strongly and humbly ask for your help to save the lives of my family, especially my children, by getting us out of Gaza. The situation in Gaza has become unbearable due to slow death as a result of hunger, thirst, displacement, the spread of diseases and continuous bombing.🍉🇵🇸💔

The past months have been full of hell and horror. This war has gone on for too long, and our mental health and lives are constantly at risk. We have reached a point where there is no hope anymore in Gaza, as if we are waiting for death. Even if a ceasefire is reached, the devastation in Gaza in all its forms cannot be quickly repaired

Please help me and my children to get us out of genocide🍉🇵🇸💔.

Your help will contribute greatly to alleviating our suffering. I hope you will share my story with your family and friends.💔💔

I will be forever grateful for your kind assistance in this difficult time🇵🇸🇵🇸

Thank you for your kindness and generosity❤️.

Donation link 🇵🇸👇

https://gofund.me/5770752d

1. Verified using Butterflyeffect Project font (1153)

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #275 )✅️

[stillwatervoid]

Now nothing’s the same | Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Summary: You know it isn't your Mark the moment he steps into your room. The blood on his suit isn't his. The way he looks at you isn't right. The things he whispers aren't things your Mark would ever say. Yet, you let him stay. And more.

Pairing: Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, frottage, overstimulation, rimming (R receiving), belly bulging, unprotected sex, spit as lube.

Tags: any Mark variant, Reader is lowkey not okay, and he’s a virgin (so prob unrealistic sex?), Unrequited love (for original Mark), Top!Mark, Bottom!Reader.

w.c: 12.2k  |  a/n: English isn’t my first language. This is the first time I write smut so it probably sucks, but hey, I wrote 12k? How did that happen? Yikes… Feedback is appreciated—as longs as is respectful. Also, I wrote this with no particular Mark in mind, so feel free to imagine your favorite variant! The only exception is Mohawk Mark, since his unique hairstyle would immediately reveal he's not the mainstream version at the very beginning (unless you prefer to imagine the reader being dense and oblivious to that glaring detail...).I guess it doesn’t really matter. IMAGINE ANY MARK! And enjoy!!!

You're here | Part 2

Ever since the news broke about cities around the world being destroyed by multiple versions of Invincible, you’ve been hiding. It’s the only logical thing to do—for someone powerless like you, there’s nothing else to do. You can only wait for the nightmare to end, for the heroes to rise victorious. For Mark to rise victorious.

So you stay in your home, clutching your phone, waiting for something—anything—to change. A day passes, and Mark still hasn’t answered your messages. He’s busy, you tell yourself, burying your face in your pillow to stifle the ache in your chest. Of course he’s busy. How could he not be? His hands are full with the weight of the world on his shoulders—fighting, saving, surviving. The news keeps reporting on the Invincibles’ rampage, updating the world daily. A stupid text message—of course Mark doesn’t have time to reply.

(You try not to think about how Mark has been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasn’t looked at you the same. How you should’ve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. But you didn’t, and now nothing’s the same.)

So you wait, trapped within your four walls, your chest heavy with worry for your friends—your hero friends—who are out there risking their lives. You cling to the news like a lifeline, watching as the Invincibles tear through city after city, leaving thousands dead, all while they smile like it’s a game.

So you wait, and pray. Anxiety coils tight in your chest, pressing against your ribs until it feels like you might burst. But eventually, hunger forces you to move. You drag yourself to the kitchen, hands trembling as you fumble with the bread. You barely register the motion, your mind drifting to every terrible, unlikely scenario where Mark—your Mark—doesn’t make it. The thought alone makes your throat tighten.

It’s not good. You shouldn’t be this negative. But there are so many Invincibles, and if they’re anything like the Mark you know, then even the strongest heroes must be struggling. People will die. People you care about. And you try—God, you try—not to think about who, who, who.

Maybe that’s why you don’t hear him.

Not that there’s any particular sound to warn you. No footsteps, no creak of the floorboards. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of the curtains by the open window.

One second, your eyes are on the bread on the counter, and the next, an unexpected voice brushes against your ear.

“Found you,” he whispers.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and you freeze, the knife slipping from your hand and clattering to the counter. Your breath hitches as you turn your head slowly.

(Vaguely, you think about Mark fussing over you like a mother hen, that familiar crease forming between his brows. “You really shouldn’t leave your window open like that,” he’d chide, voice laced with exasperation. “Anyone could get in.”

But you’d just laugh, brushing off his concern. “It’s a sixth floor, Mark. And you’re the only weirdo who does.”

I’ll always leave my window open for you, you wouldn’t say.

I’ll always be waiting for you to come, you couldn’t say.)

And then, there he is.

“Mark?” you breathe, relief crashing over you in an overwhelming wave. You don’t notice the differences—how his suit is wrong, smeared with fresh blood and viscera that drip onto your clean floor. How his eyes are too wide, too unblinking, something wild lurking behind them. You don’t see any of it. All you see is Mark standing there, safe, alive. “Oh my god, Mark.”

You rush to him without hesitation, arms outstretched, wrapping him up in a desperate embrace. You’ve been so worried, so consumed by the gnawing anxiety of losing him, that just hearing his voice, just seeing him, shatters any rational thought.

For a moment, he stiffens against you. But then, his arms lock around you with a force that nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. It’s too tight, too much, an intensity Mark has never held you with before. That should have been your first warning. But as soon as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, you forget about everything that seems wrong. You forget about the blood, the wild look in his eyes, the way his grip feels almost possessive. All you can focus on is the way he inhales deeply, as if he’s been starved of this—of you.

You shudder, heart pounding for reasons you can’t quite explain, and then he sighs, low and satisfied, the sound vibrating against your skin.

(“You smell really good,” Mark would murmur, crowding into your space, his nose nearly brushing your neck as he inhaled deeply. “Like, really good.”

You’d shove at his chest, face flaming despite yourself. “Christ, Grayson, you’re not a dog. Back off.”

He’d laugh—that stupid, sunshine-bright laugh that always made your pulse stutter—and lean against the lockers with infuriating ease. “Just being honest… Hey, you could tell me what perfume you use. Maybe then Amber would actually like me on our next date.”

Your chest would tighten, eyebrows knitting together before you could stop them.

“Can’t help you there, pretty boy,” you’d say, slamming your locker shut harder than necessary. When he raised an eyebrow at you, you’d flash a razor-thin smile. “Turns out it’s natural. One hundred percent me.”) 

“It’s you…” Mark whispers, his lips brushing against your neck. You hold your breath, trying to suppress the goosebumps rising on your skin, but it’s futile. His voice is low, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He squeezes you tighter, his arms like steel bands around you. “Oh, it’s you.” 

“Mark?” you ask hesitantly, confusion laced in your voice. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 

You try to push yourself away, hands pressing against his shoulders to create some space—because you can’t do this. You can’t handle him holding you like this, his voice hoarse and low against your neck, his breath hot enough to make you weak. You’re friends. Only friends. He’s made that much clear, and this—this isn’t fair.

But you barely manage to put a few inches between you before he whines, a sound so raw and desperate it catches you off guard. In an instant, he pulls you back in, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his grip unyielding.

“Mark?” you whisper again, voice trembling.

“Not yet,” he replies, his tone pleading. “Let me hold you one more minute.” 

And you don’t have the strength to refuse him.

Yet, as the seconds tick by and he keeps clinging to you like a child afraid to let go, you can’t help but notice the things you’ve been ignoring.

Why is Mark here? Why would he suddenly show up at your apartment when he’s supposed to be out there, saving the world? Why would Mark—the same Mark who’s been keeping you in this strange, distant limbo for weeks, who barely speaks to you beyond polite conversation, who’s been looking at you with a mix of discomfort, guilt, and something else you can’t quite place—be holding you so desperately right now?

Then your attention drifts to his clothes. His suit, but not really his suit. The blood—the thick, dark blood that, now that you’re truly paying attention, doesn’t belong to him. And it’s a lot, pooling around your feet, staining your floor, soaking your clothes.

A sickening weight settles in your stomach, curling, twisting, nagging at the back of your mind. Your arms go slightly limp around him, hesitation creeping in where relief had been just moments ago. Your brain, which had felt so light, so grateful just a minute ago at the sight of him safe, suddenly flashes back to the news. The destruction. The Invincibles terrorizing the world.

And you wonder.

Finally, he exhales—a slow, steady breath, like someone bracing themselves. Then, he lets go, his hands lingering on your arms as if he’s reluctant to break contact entirely.

“Y/N…” he whispers, a wide grin stretching across his face. It’s an unusual smile, unnatural, amused when it shouldn’t. “Here’s where you’ve been hiding, huh?”

“Hiding?” you ask, unsure. “Well—I can’t really do anything else, can I?”

Mark smiles spreads. But his eyes—there’s something in them you hadn’t noticed before. Wide, almost frantic, something raw burning behind them. The dark circles under them make him look exhausted. His hair is a mess. And yet, his expression softens as he studies you, gaze tracing over every feature like he’s trying to memorize you. It’s so intense, so intimate, it nearly steals your breath away.

“What—What are you doing here?” you ask, glancing away, flustered. “Is it—is it over? The fight?”

He coos, a gloveless hand reaching for your chin to tilt it back toward him with a grip that’s firm, almost possessive. “Oh, it’s over. There’s nothing to worry about anymore,” he says, voice light, too light, too nonchalant for someone who just came from a battle. Mark doesn’t speak like this after a fight—he’s never so casual, so detached.

(Mark’s hands would dig into his hair, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I’m just—I keep fucking up.”

“You’re not,” you’d tell him, hand pressing warm circles between his shoulder blades. “You save people, Mark. Every single day—”

“Bullshit!” He’d jerk upright so fast you’d recoil, chair screeching against the floor. “More people die than I save!” He’d pace, fingers twisting in his hair. “Stop—just stop telling me I’m not fucking up! Stop trying to—to make me feel better! You don’t understand how I feel!”

Your chest would tighten, fingers curling into empty air where he’d been. “I know I don’t.”

“Then stop!”

“However—” you’d stand up as well, eyes locking onto his as you caught his face in your hands, palms pressing gently against his cheeks. Mark would freeze, his breath hitching, wide eyes locked onto yours. “However, I know the world would be worse without you in it. Just thinking about the possibility of not having Invincible on our side—it scares me. Because you’re the only one strong enough to protect us. The only one who can stand up to the worst threats.”

Your thumb would brush over his cheekbone, touch impossibly gentle.

“And I’m sorry you have to carry that responsibility, Mark. But you’re not failing. Not to me.”

His expression would crumble, his eyes glistening with unshed tears before he’d pull you close, burying his face in your shoulder. His breath would shake, and you’d feel his fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt.

Your cheeks would burn, heart stuttering, but you'd swallow your feelings and offer only the comfort a friend should.

“I’m sorry,” he’d murmur, voice thick. “I’m sorry.”

You’d breathe in, closing your eyes. “Don’t be.”)

Your cheeks burn as he tugs you closer by the chin, forcing you to look straight at him. Your hand instinctively reaches for his wrist, but you don’t pull away. You should. But you don’t. Yet, you can’t stand the weight of his stare, so intense, so close, it feels like it’s peeling back layers of you, exposing everything you’ve tried to suppress.

“Nothing to worry about?” you force the words out, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face and the fluttering sensation in your stomach. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he nods, his voice low and steady. Then, without warning, he leans closer again, his face burying into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply like he just couldn’t get enough. “Oh, shit. How I missed this.”

“Mark?” you ask quietly, voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it. His breath is hot and electric against your skin. The warmth blooming in your face spreads down, coiling through your body. “What are you doing? Jesus—this isn’t like you.”

“Oh, really?” he hums, lips ghosting over your pulse. The brush of them—so soft, so deliberate—makes you shudder. “Not even a little?”

“No…” you exhale, shivering when his arms snake around your waist, squeezing hard enough to make you squirm. “No. Mark. What—what are you doing?”

Your hands reach for the counter behind you, gripping the edge tightly, desperate for something to anchor you. But Mark—his scent, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his breath burning against the most sensitive part of your throat—makes it impossible to focus, impossible to think. It’s like everything around you is spinning, and you can’t make sense of any of it.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks, his tone amused and teasing, like this is all some game to him.

And that finally makes you scowl, the heat in your cheeks now burning with a mix of anger and humiliation. You inhale sharply, trying to regain your senses, but an ugly feeling of shame and hurt settles heavily in your chest.

You lift a hand and push him, or at least try to, your strength no match for his. Still, he complies, pulling away with a reluctant sigh, an annoyed expression flickering across his face as he finally tears himself from you.

“This isn’t funny, Mark,” you say, glancing away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. “Stop it.” 

“Stop what?” he complains, his fingers digging into your waist as if he’s reluctant to let you go entirely.

“That,” you snap, gripping his wrists and prying his hands off. “You can’t just—just ignore me for weeks and then suddenly show up and treat me this way. It’s—it messes with my head! It’s not fair, Mark!” your breath comes heavy, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to form the words. Your eyes drop to the floor, and you add quietly, “Just stop.” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you can feel his gaze burning into you, searching, analyzing. His head tilts slightly, as if he’s trying to piece something together.

“We’re not… together?” he asks after a beat, his voice incredulous, like the idea is absurd.

The question makes you flinch, and a fresh wave of anger surges through you.

(“I’m sorry,” Mark would mutter, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours. “I just—don’t see you that way.”

You’d glance away, your lips pressed together in a tight line, trying to hold back the sting of rejection. “I’m sorry too.”

“It’s just—there’s someone else I wanna try it with.”

“I get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you sigh, wanting Earth to swallow you whole and disappear forever. But this is Mark, and you couldn’t bear living without Mark. “We’re still friends, right? This doesn’t have to change anything.”

He’d smile at you, his eyes creasing at the edges in the way you adored. “Yeah—Friends!”)

“Of course not!” you snap, voice rising. “You made it very clear you—you love someone else!”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between you and his overwhelming presence. Was he mocking you? Playing some cruel joke?

But then again, as you pace around the kitchen, trying to hold yourself together, your eyes flicker to his odd suit, to the blood clinging to him, to the confused, almost baffled look on his face. And you think again—why is Mark here? Why, really?

Is he even Mark—

“But Y/N—” he whines, trailing after you like a lost puppy, his voice pleading, “—I would never, and I mean never look at anyone else but you!”

You frown, shaking your head. “I can’t even believe you’re saying this to me right now,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady. “Did you hit your head too hard fighting those lunatics?”

You don’t notice the way he tilts his head at your words, don’t catch the way his eyes darken, flashing with something unreadable.

“If you don’t have anything better to do, then just leave,” you huff, bitterness lacing your tone. “I don’t wanna—humiliate myself any more than I already have. You had your fun. So go away.”

You turn on your heel, heart pounding as you stride toward your bedroom where your phone is charging. There’s a gut feeling gnawing at you, a sensation you can’t shake, and you need confirmation. You need reassurance.

Is the Mark standing behind you even your Mark at all?

Your gut twists violently, but you can’t shake it. The second you step into your bedroom, your hand fishes for your phone, fingers trembling as you scroll through your contacts and press the button.

But Mark hasn’t left. He follows right after you, moving with an easy, unhurried stride, and when he realizes what you’re doing, a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.

“O-ho?” he hums, amusement dripping from his voice. “My, my, Y/N, why’re you calling me?” 

His hand moves, effortlessly covering yours, fingers warm and firm over your knuckles. The phone rings—once, twice—and Mark leans in, his breath brushing against your ear, voice low, teasing.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “You don’t need anyone else.” 

Your breath hitches. The sound of the third ring barely registers before he plucks the phone from your grasp with unnerving ease. You don’t even resist—your fingers tremble as they slip away from the device. Not that it would have done anything, anyway. The fifth ring echoes into silence, then clicks to Mark’s familiar voicemail. Useless.

The air in the room shifts, heavy and overwhelming. You watch, frozen, as he casually places your phone on your desk, just far enough out of reach.

Then, the moment your eyes meet his, you know.

This isn’t the Mark you know and love.

Mark hums, content, utterly unbothered as he slides back into your arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He sighs, pleased, like he belongs there, like nothing’s wrong.

Maybe you’re in shock. Maybe it’s fear, or disbelief, or survival instincts.

Because you let him.

Your arms fall open, letting him settle more comfortably against you, his weight pressing into you as he nuzzles closer. His warmth, his scent, the way he holds you tight—it’s all too much. And you—weak-kneed, breath unsteady—let him.

“Are you going to kill me?” you can’t help but ask eventually, voice quiet, barely a whisper.

He makes a confused sound in his throat, the vibration brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. “Hmm—not yet.”

Not yet. You should be terrified. Every nerve in your body should be screaming for you to run, to fight, to do something other than stand there, frozen, pliant in his grip. You know he’s dangerous. You know he could snap your neck without a second thought.

Yet—a curious thing happens in your brain.

You’re not afraid. You can’t be.

Because when your eyes settle on this Mark—and he looks exactly like the Mark you know, the Mark you have feelings for—something just… doesn’t click the way it should. Fear doesn’t come. Disgust doesn’t rise in your throat. Dread doesn’t tighten its grip around your chest.

Because he looks so much like Mark. And duh—he is Mark. But not yours, and that alone should be enough to make you want to bolt. Yet—as he nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath tingling against your skin, his solid body pressing into yours with a firmness that feels both grounding and overwhelming, and the way he called you ‘sweetheart’—it all makes you want to give in to him.

The feelings you’ve buried—the ones you’ve shoved down since the day Mark rejected you, since the day you forced yourself to be okay with just being friends—are clawing their way back to the surface, stronger, faster, more consuming than ever.

“Oh yeah, you don’t have to worry though,” he says, his lips brushing against your pulse in a way that feels deliberate, calculated. “It’d be such a waste to kill you so fast. I came here for you, after all.”

His lips trail along your neck, slow and purposeful, and despite everything—despite knowing this isn’t right—you sigh, shivering at the unfamiliar, intoxicating affection. He moves upward, lips ghosting over your skin until he reaches your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

“Mark…” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut, body melting under his touch.

“Ohh, I know, baby,” he mutters, voice thick with amusement, dripping with smug satisfaction. You can feel the smirk curving against your skin. “I know everything you like. I know every inch of you. Let me show you.”

Your body betrays you.

Your mind knows better—knows that this Mark isn’t yours, that the weight of his body pressing into yours should send alarms blaring through your head. But when his fingers skim your waist, when his breath fans hot against your skin, when he sighs like he belongs here—your body doesn’t fight him.

It welcomes him.

Your hands twitch at your sides, uncertain, but you don’t push him away.

“I can’t believe this universe’s Mark wouldn’t date you,” he muses, fingers wandering, exploring, curling behind your back before cupping your ass and squeezing. A choked sound catches in your throat as heat floods through you, your knees nearly giving out. “I mean—look at you.” His voice dips, teasing, triumphant. “Barely resisting.”

You bite your lip, swallowing a sound you refuse to let escape.

He laughs then—open, mocking, and so, so cocky. “And here I thought I’d have to fight this Mark over you, but—” his grin widens, wicked and pleased. “I don’t think I have any competition, sweetheart.” His lips brush against your jaw, his grip tightening possessively. “You’re all mine.”

He starts to push against you, forcing you to walk backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress. You fall onto the bed, breathless, your heart racing as he looms over you, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Just mine, okay?” he growls, his voice low and dripping with possessiveness. “I wouldn’t let anyone else touch you—not even him. Not even this universe’s pathetic version of me.” He scoffs, his hands gripping the hem of your t-shirt and tugging it off with a harsh, almost desperate motion. “Loving someone else? When I have you? He’s a fool. He doesn’t know what he’s missing. Y/N—you have no idea how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve—” 

He groans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark, his eyes raking over your exposed skin like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can satisfy him. You shiver, a deep blush spreading across your face. It’s too much, too fast, and you feel utterly exposed as his gaze devours every inch of you. His expression twists, a mix of desperation and adoration, as if he’s memorizing every detail of your body, committing it to memory so he’ll never forget. His fingers twitch, hovering over your skin but not touching, like he’s savoring the moment, stretching it out just to make you squirm.

It’s too intimate, too intense, and for a fleeting second, you forget that he’s dangerous.

“Stop staring,” you weakly complain, turning your face away.

“Oooh, oh-ho-ho, yeah, baby, you’re just like I remember...” he laughs, his breathing uneven, his voice shaking with a wild, almost manic energy. “Yeah—I’ll never let him have you. Never let anyone else even look at you. You’re just mine—holy shit.” 

And then he dives.

His lips crash into yours, claiming rather than kissing, his entire body pressing you down into the mattress, forcing your legs open. It’s desperate, feverish—starving. His tongue pushes past your lips, stealing your breath, and you moan into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you struggle to keep up with his messy, frantic rhythm. He kisses you with a ferocity that leaves you dizzy. He groans and growls against your lips as his hands roam your body, gripping and groping every inch of exposed skin. His fingers brush against your nipples, teasing and possessive, and you can only take it, breathless and overwhelmed, your mind spinning as he claims you in every way he can.

“Yeah, baby, keep making those sounds for me,” he murmurs against your lips before diving in again, swallowing every breath, every whimper like it fuels him. “So, so good. Fuck, you have no idea—it keeps me going.”

Your breath stutters as his fingers pinch your nipple, hard enough to make your back arch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. His free hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat as he grinds his hips down. Your legs part without a second thought, welcoming him, urging him closer until he’s right there, pressing into you, slotting himself between your thighs.

“That’s it, spread wider for me,” he pants, voice dripping with dark approval. “You’re still so good, fuck.”

Your lips burn, swollen and tingling from his kisses, and when you blink up at him through your lashes, you catch the glint in his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, the usual warm brown of his eyes swallowed by something feral. That smirk—all sharp teeth and predatory hunger—should terrify you. Because the Mark you know has never looked like this before. This unhinged and unsteady. It’s a sharp, gut-wrenching reminder—this isn’t your Mark. This isn’t the sweet, awkward Mark who you fell for, the one you trusted. This Mark is wrong, a twisted mirror image, and you should be fighting him, shoving him away, clawing your way out even if it’s futile—

But then he leans down and presses the softest, faintest kiss to the tip of your nose.

And your mind blanks.

Because holy shit—Mark, the man you’ve been pining over for months, years, is kissing you. And it feels so good, so intoxicating, it messes with your head, scrambles your thoughts into something dangerous.

You know it’s wrong. You know this isn’t him. It’s like pouring your feelings into a stranger, a shadow wearing his face. But fuck—this Mark grinds against you, slow and deliberate, and you feel him, the hard press of him against you, thick and aching with want.

You gasp, body tensing, startled by how badly he wants you.

“Ohh, baby,” he whines, voice thick with desperate need, like he’s been starving for this moment for lifetimes. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, marking you as his. “Let me—” His hips roll again, dragging his thick length against your own, and you choke on air. “Let me make you feel good. Let me make you come, please, baby, please.”

Teeth scrape along your jaw before finding that sweet spot beneath your ear—the one you didn’t even know was sensitive—and you arch off the bed with a broken moan when he sucks harshly at the skin. His lips, his tongue, his teeth—he maps every inch of you like he’s memorized you, like he already knows every single weak spot before you even realize them yourself.

“Please? Please?” he keeps begging, voice so raw, so desperate, so utterly pathetic it makes you dizzy.

And you—you’re still too caught off guard to react properly. Because Mark—your Mark—never looked at you like this. Never even wanted you like this. But this Mark? He’s rutting against you like an animal in heat, his massive cock straining against his suit as he whimpers your name, making your head spin.

It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. Because Mark rejected you. Because you told yourself you’d be fine with just being friends. Because this isn’t even him—just the evil, dangerous version of him.

(Mark would slip into your open arms, his body heavy with exhaustion.

“I just—I’m scared,” he’d admit, voice muffled against your shoulder. “Scared of turning into my father. Scared of hurting people. And after everything with Angstrom…” his voice would trail off, fingers twitching against your back like he’s afraid to hold on too tightly.

You’d run a soothing hand along his spine, grounding him. “What do you mean?” you’d ask, gentle, coaxing him to keep talking.

“He—he talked about me like I was a monster,” Mark would whisper, voice tight. “Like there’s a version of me out there who destroyed everything. A version of me who’d kill everyone I love. A version of me who’d… destroy you.”

A slow, quiet exhale would leave your lips. “But you’re this Mark,” you’d remind him. “You’re my best friend. And you’d never do that.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, slowly, Mark would sags against you, burying himself deeper into your warmth.

“Yeah,” he’d murmur, barely more than a breath. “Never.”)

But when you move—when you grind up into him, your body answering before your mind can stop it—he makes a noise, something between a groan and a sob, and it’s so wrecked, so full of relief it makes your stomach twist.

Your arms loop around his neck, dragging him closer, pressing your bodies so tight together you can feel his heartbeat hammering against your own. And when his teeth sink into your throat, sucking so hard you know it’s going to bruise, a sharp, broken sound escapes your lips.

The room burns around you, filled with the obscene sounds of his desperate whines and your shaky gasps, the slick friction of fabric between your joined bodies.

“Yeah—” you gasp, nails raking down his back as pleasure coils tight in your gut. “Fuck, Mark, just—Do it. Do it.”

He groans, deep and guttural, a sound so full of possession it sends a sharp pulse of heat down your spine. Then his teeth sink into your neck again—hard enough that you know he’s breaking skin. And when his tongue licks the wound, sucking the blood like he owns you—you know he’s got you.

Your mind fractures into white-hot static as every rational thought—the blood crusted on his suit, the madness in his eyes, the thousands he’s slaughtered, the fact this isn’t your Mark—dissolves into primal need. Nothing exists but the electric pleasure coiling tighter in your gut with each desperate grind of his hips.

“Mark,” you sob, voice breaking as your body arches against him of its own volition. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him closer. “Oh god, Mark. Fuck. Mark.”

A guttural snarl vibrates against your throat as he claims your mouth again, his tongue pushing past your lips in a violent mimicry of what his hips are doing against yours. The growing dampness between your thighs should shame you, but all you can focus on is the delicious friction, the way his teeth scrape your bottom lip when you moan too loud.

But it’s still not enough.

Not with these fucking clothes between you, not with the way you’re both rutting against each other like wild animals, frantic and insatiable. It’s maddening. You need more.

Your nails claw at his back, at his suit, needing to feel his skin the way he’s feeling yours.

“Get it off,” you manage to gasp between feverish kisses. “Please, Mark.”

With a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine, he rears back just enough to grip his suit’s collar. The fabric shreds like tissue paper beneath his strength, revealing sweat-slick skin you immediately map with trembling fingers. His pupils blow wider at your touch, chest heaving as he crushes you back into the mattress.

“Oh yeah, Y/N...” he purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingertips trace the dark marks blooming across your neck like bruises. Proof that you belong to him. “Bet this universe’s Mark never made you feel this way, did he? Never touched you like this?” his grip tightens suddenly, making you gasp. “I’m the first, aren’t I? The only one who’s ever had you like this?”

You whimper, nodding without thinking, legs locking tight around his waist, keeping him close, keeping him there.

His grin stretches, wild and triumphant. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” he murmurs, his hand trailing down with agonizing slowness—down your neck, across your heaving chest, brushing over your sensitive nipples, gliding down your stomach... Until, finally, his fingers settle between your legs, pressing against the thick, aching bulge in your sweatpants, squeezing just enough to rip a needy moan from your lips. “Look at you,” he breathes, eyes wild with possessive hunger. “So fucking perfect for me. So ready to be mine. Does your Mark know what a desperate little thing you are? How easily you fall apart under my hands?”

His smile tilts, both awestruck and predatory. Then, he leans in until his lips brush yours, his hand working you through the fabric with rough, perfect strokes that have you trembling.

“So hard just for me,” he murmurs against your mouth. “He could never make you feel like this. Never touch you like I do.” His teeth graze your bottom lip. “He could never compare. I’m better, I’m stronger—”

He peppers kisses along the corner of your mouth, your flushed cheeks, tender and teasing, a sharp contrast to the way his pace quickens—faster, rougher.

“—I could make you feel even better,” he purrs, pressing his lips against your ear, voice so low, so filthy it makes you shudder. “Make you scream my name, so loud and clear, maybe the other Mark could even hear you.”

Your breath stutters, a deep moan slipping from your lips, body twisting under his touch.

“Ohh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” he chuckles, breath warm against your neck, teasing, taunting. “You’d love to let him watch. Love to let him see you break for me. Let him realize what he’s lost—what he’ll never have again.”

His voice dips lower, sinking into something darker, something twisted.

“You’d let me fuck you in front of him, wouldn’t you?”

Your body jolts, heat flashing through you in a violent rush, shame curling in your stomach like a vice.

“N-no—!” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut, face burning with humiliation. “No, I wouldn’t—”

But your body betrays you. Trembling, surrendering, completely giving in—your hips rut desperately against his hand, your pre-cum soaking through the fabric, staining it.

“Liar,” Mark breathes against your swollen lips before crushing them again in a kiss that’s hot, rough, and bruising. “I can feel how much you want it. How much you need it.”

His thumb presses cruelly against the head of your cock, rubbing slow, torturous circles through the fabric, making you see stars. Your whole body jolts, a strangled gasp tearing from your throat.

“Maybe I should drag him here,” he whispers, grinning against your lips. “Make him watch as I fuck you so good, you forget he’s your Mark Grayson. Make him see how perfectly you take me—how you were always meant to be... ours.”

You shake your head frantically, words lost between your ragged gasps. “No—”

But your back arches, cock throbbing obscenely against his palm. The more he whispers these filthy fantasies, the harder you get, hips stuttering, desperate and eager, seeking more, more, more, as his words sink deep into your brain, filling you with something forbidden, something wrong—something you like.

The pressure builds unbearable. His fingers move with ruthless precision, stroking, squeezing, dragging you to the edge, pulling sounds from you that should be humiliating—but you can’t stop.

Then you think about it. About your Mark. The one who’s still out there, fighting, struggling, exhausted and worn down. You think about what would he think. What would he do if he saw you like this. You imagine your Mark’s confused face watching—the horror in his eyes as he sees you come apart under his doppelgänger’s touch, moaning and whimpering like some cheap slut desperate for any version of him.

“Mark,” you sob as waves of shame and pleasure crash over you. “Mark, Mark—”

Mark exhales a breathy chuckle, eyes dark with fascination. “Oh-ho-ho. That’s it, baby. I’m here. I’m right here.”

And then it hits you.

White-hot pleasure blinds you completely as you spill in your sweatpants like some untouched virgin, his name tumbling from your lips in a broken prayer. Your body arches violently, convulsing as your legs clamp around his waist like a vice. Your hands claw at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him, to this moment, to reality itself.

“Jesus…” he exhales, almost in awe, his grip tightening possessively. “My god… so perfect.”

You’re reduced to a trembling, gasping mess—shaky legs, toes curling, vision whiting out as the aftershocks rip through you. Mark watches it all with a smug, hungry smirk, his eyes locked onto your face, drinking in every twitch, every quiver like he’s trying to memorize it, to brand it into his mind.

“Yeah—let it out, Y/N,” he whispers, voice thick with satisfaction. “I did this to you. I made you feel this good.”

(“Does that feel good?” Mark would mutter into your ear, his hands still working awkwardly at the knots in your back.

You’d groan, face mushed into the pillow. ”Yup. Feels good. Really good.”

“I still can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he’d grumble, brows pinching together.

You’d stifle a laugh, eyes fluttering shut. ”You lost the bet, Grayson. Now keep massaging my back. My muscles are still wrecked from all the damn work you put me through covering you at Uni.”

“William never complains.”

“Because William sucks at covering! The only reason you’re not suspended is because I’m just too good at lying—Oh! Yeah! Right there, don’t stop,” you’d sigh, melting into the mattress. ”Oh my god, yes…”

His hands would freeze, fingers pressing hesitantly into your skin. ”…Can you stop making those sounds?”

“What sounds?” you’d murmur, half-dazed.

Mark would be quiet for a beat, then resume with a sigh. “Never mind. How about this? Does that feel good?”

“Mmmh, holy shit—yes!”)

Finally, you sink into the mattress, chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven breaths as your climax wears off. Your head falls back against the pillows, glazed eyes barely tracking Mark’s movements. His fingers leave the bulge in your sweatpants, moving to your waistband, fumbling briefly before tugging your sweatpants and underwear down, inch by inch.

“Just let me take care of you,” he mumbles, dazed. “Always gonna take care of you.”

The cold air bites at your oversensitive cock as he yanks it free, his pupils blown wide as he stares at what’s his. Before you can even process the exposure, Mark flashes you a wicked grin before his lips wrap around your cock, hot and wet and devastating. Your hips jolt, body convulsing at the sensation. His tongue swirls, savoring, exploring, a deep groan rumbling in his throat as he tastes you. The overstimulation is unbearable, electric. A strangled, pathetic cry rips from your throat as your hands fly to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, trying—failing—to push him away.

“Mark!” you jolt, thighs snapping shut around his head, trembling, squeezing, clutching. “Oh my god. Oh my god—oh my god. No—”

A deep, satisfied groan rumbles through him, vibrating against your cock and making you yelp. His hands pin your thrashing hips down, holding you there, making sure you take it.

“Mark—”

“Mine,” he snarls between filthy, wet sucks. “Gonna taste every fucking drop.”

The overstimulation borders on painful as he works you ruthlessly through your sensitivity, your cries growing increasingly broken. And yet, somewhere beneath the overwhelming pleasure, a traitorous part of you preens at being so desperately wanted.

Wanted. By Mark. Not your Mark, not the one who’d gently rejected you, but a Mark all the same. A version from some twisted reality who’d torn through dimensions just to claim you. And it sickens you—the satisfaction curling in your gut, the twisted pleasure of knowing that somewhere, in some reality, Mark has always wanted you. Craved you. And if he’s here, willing to ruin you, to unravel you with nothing but his mouth, then who are you to stop him?

His tongue works you over with filthy precision, hot and wet and perfect in ways you’d never dared fantasize about. You writhe beneath him, sheets twisting in your fists, as your gaze drops to where he’s sucking you off—Mark Grayson, on his knees for you, eyes close in joy. The sight alone punches a broken noise from your throat.

“F-fuck—!” you arch violently, tears spilling as pleasure crests into near-pain. “Fuck, I can’t—Mark, please, I can’t—!”

Finally, he lets you go with a slick, obscene ‘pop.’ He pants, breath heavy, lips red and wet as he leans over you. You’re gasping too, your chest rising and falling in erratic bursts, your body trembling like you’ve run yourself into the ground.

Mark watches you, gaze trailing over your flushed skin, your wrecked, tear-streaked face. And then he grins.

“I love you like this,” he murmurs, voice rough. His thumb swipes at the wetness on your cheek. “Love it when you cry.”

(“I hate when you cry,” Mark would say, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. ”I hate it even more when it’s me who made you cry.”

You’d slap his hand away, face twisting into a scowl. ”Shut up, Grayson. How dare you—how dare you act upset.” Your voice would shake, anger sharpening every word. ”You can’t even say sorry. Can’t even fake an excuse for why you’ve treated me like this, ignoring me for months… And don’t try to deny it—William noticed too!”

He’d wince, eyes darting away. ”I can’t—I can’t say it.”

“That you’re sorry?” you’d scoff, disbelief dripping from the words.

Mark would bite his lip, shaking his head desperately. ”No! Of course not. It’s—the reason.”

“The reason you’ve been pulling away?” you’d snap, swiping the back of your hand across your wet cheek. Then, it would hit you—heart lurching. ”Is it… because I confessed? I thought we were past that. That we’d still be friends no matter what…”

Your voice would crack, gaze dropping to the floor.

Mark would flinch, shoulders slumping in defeat. ”It’s part of the reason.”

“I don’t understand,” you’d murmur, voice breaking. ”You said it didn’t matter. You promised it wouldn’t change anything.”

“I don’t understand either,” he’d admit, hand scrubbing roughly through his hair. ”Just—just give me time. I need to… figure some things out.”

“You won’t even tell me?”

Mark would press his lips into a tight line, guilt flashing across his face as his gaze caught on your tear-streaked cheeks. ”I can’t.”)

A helpless sob rips from your throat as he surges forward, capturing your bruised lips in a desperate, feverish kiss. He moans into your mouth, deep and needy, and you can taste yourself on his tongue—hot, salty, intoxicating. The realization only makes you burn hotter.

Then, a moan rattles in your chest as his free hand trails lower, fingers teasing where you’re most sensitive. Your gasp is sharp when one presses against your entrance.

“W-wait—” you huff, shaky hands pressing against his broad shoulders. “No… I’ve never—never done this…”

Mark freezes, his expression shifting from surprise to something terrifyingly euphoric. “Oohh, Y/N can you get any more perfect for me? My god—not even in my universe were you a virgin.” He chuckles, low and dark. “Were you saving yourself for him? Hoping he’d finally see you the way I do? He’s such a fool—But I will make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so good.”

As he speaks, his hands roam, gripping your thighs with an iron hold before pushing them up—forcing you open, leaving you vulnerable beneath him. Your face flushes with embarrassment and arousal, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets tightly at the sheer obscenity of the position. He flashes a playful grin, his breath warm against your ass, causing you to gasp and breathe unevenly.

“What— What are you doing?” you stammer weakly, squirming uncomfortably, peering down with shame as Mark leans over your hole, a wide smirk across his face. You realize a second too late was he’s up to. “Wait, wait—Oh my god!”

Your back arches, mouth letting go a deep, throaty groan and your eyes rolling back when Mark inserts his tongue, licking and lapping at the inner walls of your hole, sucking and nibling and kissing. Your head throws back against the pillows, skin burning so hot you swear you’ll melt into the sheets. The sensation is overwhelming—Mark’s hot tongue delves between your cheeks with shameless enthusiasm, licking and probing with obscenely wet sounds that make you squirm uncontrollably. You writhe in delicious contradiction, torn between pulling away and pressing deeper into his merciless mouth.

“Mmh, look at you—” Mark pants between greedy licks, his voice thick with arousal. “That’s it. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You’re beyond responding, your hips stuttering and your asshole clenching and unclenching with the unfamiliar, yet intoxicating sensation. The pleasure is so intense you bite your lip raw trying to contain the filthy sounds fighting to escape. It’s useless, though, because Mark keeps eating you out and it only takes a few minutes of this sweet torture until you start whimpering and mewling like a little whore.

“F-fuck—!” the curse tears from your throat as your toes curl and back arches off the bed. Your cock stirs back to full hardness, dripping pathetically against your stomach. “Fuck—Mark, my god! Don’t stop, fuck—Oh my god—”

You’ve never been touched like this before—it never even crossed your mind, not even in your wildest fantasies. But damn, it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Who would have thought that being pleasured like this could feel so incredibly good? You might just climax right then and there with Mark’s warm, skilled tongue working its magic, and you’d die happily. Your erection is unbelievably hard, leaking pre-cum onto your stomach, but you don’t dare touch yourself because you’re too busy gripping the sheets for stability.

But then Mark pulls away, and you moan and whimper with need, trying to tighten around him in an attempt to draw him back.

Mark smirks and chuckles, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at your own lewdness.

“God, baby, you’re so perfect for me,” Mark rasps, pulling back just enough to loom over you. His lips glisten with your taste, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “Look at you—already falling apart just from my mouth. Think you’re ready to take me, sweetheart? Think that pretty little hole can handle my cock?”

You hadn’t noticed before, too lost in the haze of pleasure—but Mark’s hips have been moving restlessly the whole time, fucking the air with desperate, instinctive thrusts as he devoured you. Now, as he looms over you, you can feel him, hot and throbbing, grinding against your thighs through the thin fabric of his suit. And fuck—he’s massive. Even through the material, you can feel the sheer size of him, the way he twitches with every needy thrust. And yeah—his mouth has left you slick, loose, ready to be filled—but shit. Viltrumites have monster cocks, and it scares you.

And yet—and yet, as Mark moves against you, teasing, testing, making sure you feel the sheer girth of him even through fabric, all you can feel is hunger, a desperate need.

So, huskily, with glazed eyes, you whisper, “Yes, Mark. Yes.”

He doesn’t make you beg twice. One hand tears the remaining suit away like tissue paper, his cock springing free—thick, veiny, and already leaking. The flushed tip bobs against your thigh, leaving a sticky trail as your breath catches.

“Fuck, Y/N—” Mark’s voice breaks as he strokes himself, his wild eyes drinking in every tremble of your body. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. How many nights I dreamed of this moment. You—here, with me again.” His breath shudders, his grip tightening. “Had to find you. Had to make you mine again. I missed you. I missed you.”

His feverish rambling sends your pulse into overdrive, and for one fleeting moment, you wonder about that other life—what version of you could make a man this desperate, this feral with need? What was their relationship like? How did it end? How did Mark end up here, in your universe, searching for you? But then Mark’s strong hands are spreading your thighs wide, his body settling heavily between them, and all coherent thought evaporates in a rush of dizzying arousal.

Shit, shit—Mark Grayson, the boy you’ve been in love with since eighth grade, is about to fuck you. And shit—that thought alone makes your cock ache, your hole clench with anticipation, even as your mind screams that this isn’t your Mark. Your real Mark is probably fighting for his life somewhere. Maybe even dying. And here you are, letting his evil counterpart have you—willingly.

That makes you a horrible friend. You’re disgusting. A traitor. You’re giving in to every dirty fantasy you’ve ever had, every longing you’ve buried for years, all because this Mark—the wrong Mark—looks at you with the hunger you’ve always dreamed of seeing in your Mark’s eyes.

It’s sick. It’s twisted. You’ll never be able to look your Mark in the eye again. Guilt twists in your gut, heavy and suffocating.

You should stop.

You should have never let it go this far.

But then—

“Shh, baby, I got you,” this Mark whispers, shattering your spiraling thoughts. His voice is soft, almost reverent, as he lines himself up. “I got you. Gonna make you feel so good.”

You shiver, heat flushing your skin as his cock presses against your entrance, thick and hard and real. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, locking behind him, pulling him in.

Mark groans, deep and satisfied, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he grins down at you.

“Fuck, yes,” he hums appreciatively, running possessive hands along your trembling thighs. “You’re so good, Y/N. So good.”

His fingers dig deep enough to leave bruises as he drinks down every gasp, every shudder of your oversensitive body like a man starved. And just when desperation coils in your gut—when the teasing pressure at your entrance becomes unbearable—Mark sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust.

“Fuck—!” your cry shatters the air as your body bows taut, back arching off the bed. The stretch burns, his thickness forcing you open in ways that make your vision whiten at the edges. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

He’s massive, painfully so. You can feel every ridge, every vein as your body struggles to accommodate him. It’s too much—you’re certain he’ll split you in two.

And yet... The fullness is intoxicating. It burns. It aches. But it also satisfies something deep within you, a primal need you hadn’t even realized was there. Tears prickle at your eyes as you clench the sheets, overwhelmed by the sheer reality of Mark Grayson buried inside you.

“Fuck...” Mark’s voice is guttural, dripping with satisfaction as he bottoms out. “God, you’re tight.” His hips grind deeper, wringing a broken whimper from your throat. “Taking me so perfect—fuck, you feel incredible. Like you were waiting just for me.”

And then, slowly, oh so fucking slowly, he begins to pull back out, dragging a wrecked moan from your lips. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something solid, something to hold onto as he sets a rhythm, each movement sending heat curling through your veins.

“That’s it,” Mark pants against your neck, his breath scalding as he inhales your scent like an addict. “Just like that… you’re perfect. Nobody else could take me like this.” His teeth graze your pulse point possessively. “Only you. Only mine.”

The next thrust is deeper than the last, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your hips jolt up instinctively, a surprised sound catching in your throat.

“Oh god, Mark,” you whine, nails digging into his back, voice breaking on a breathy moan. “Ah—ngh—fuck—”

The agonizingly slow drag of his cock has your vision swimming, pain and pleasure blurring into one overwhelming sensation. He’s so thick, so long, so heavy inside you. Every time he pushes in, it feels impossibly deeper, stretching you, filling you—until it makes your stomach bulge slightly, a small bump appearing in the flat plane of your abdomen.

Mark groans, eyes going wide, his hand settling at the base of your belly. “God, look at you,” he breathes, awed. His fingers press into the bulge, tracing the outline of himself inside you. “Fuck, I’m buried so deep in you. Right here, Y/N—you feel that? That’s me claiming you. Oh-ho-ho, goddamn, look what I do to you.”

His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin even as awe colors his voice. He punctuates each word with a punishing thrust, fingers digging into the visible outline of himself inside you like he wants to brand the shape of his possession into your flesh. And you can’t look away either—because holy shit, this is the first time you’ve ever felt anything like this, and it’s almost too much. Too intense. Too consuming.

Tears streak down your flushed cheeks as your legs tremble violently. The initial pain has melted into overwhelming pleasure, your body adjusting to his impossible size with desperate, shameful eagerness.

“More,” you rasp between gasps, arching up shamelessly. “Faster. Harder. Please—”

Mark chuckles darkly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. “Gonna make you feel good. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

The dark promise in his words should terrify you. Instead, it sends another pulse of white-hot pleasure straight to your aching cock. Then he moves—harder, faster—tearing the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and reeling. Your body clenches around him, every nerve alight as a broken whimper escapes your lips.

“Mark—Mark—” you mumble his name between gasps, unable to form anything else. “Mark, ah—Mark—mmh—fuck—”

A sharp cry rips from your throat as Mark shifts his angle, hitting a spot inside you that sends a violent shudder through your entire body. Heat surges down your spine, forcing you to arch off the bed, toes curling, every nerve alight with raw, electric pleasure.

“Fuck! There! Mark—ngh—fuck!” you moan, biting down on your lip so hard you taste the faint tang of blood. Mark growls, his movements deep and unrelenting, each thrust pressing you further into the mattress. The bed creaks beneath the force, your skin burning where his grip tightens. “There! Keep going! Fuck, it feels so good—Mark!”

Then—through the haze of heat, through the sinful sounds of skin against skin, of your wrecked moans and his low, animalistic groans—something intrudes. A sharp, buzzing vibration. Your ringtone.

Your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, flickering toward your desk—just a few feet away, where Mark tossed your phone. You’re aware the screen glows, the sound ringing in the background, before another brutal thrust wipes all coherent thought away. Let it ring. Nothing matters except the way Mark’s splitting you apart, remaking you as his with every snap of his hips.

The phone rings and rings… then stops. And you don’t even notice when it goes silent, too preoccupied with the drag of Mark’s cock inside you, the way your nails sink into the broad expanse of his back, leaving behind deep, angry marks.

“Perfect,” Mark rasps against your ear, his voice wrecked and reverent, “Taking me so fucking good, Y/N. Made for this. Made for me.”

Your thighs shake violently around him, toes curling as his filthy praise reduces you to nothing but lustful moans and pleading whimpers.

Then—your phone starts ringing again.

This time, Mark notices.

He stills inside you with a low snarl, his body tensing as he straightens slightly, casting an annoyed glance toward the device. But when he reaches for it—his cock still buried deep inside you, making you whimper—his expression darkens with wicked amusement as he reads the caller ID.

“Well, well,” he purrs, looming over you once more, planting one hand beside your head while the other dangles the phone just inches from your flushed, dazed face. “Take a look at this.”

Your stomach drops at the familiar name flashing on screen. It’s Mark—your Mark—calling you.

“Should we answer it, baby?” he muses, tilting his head as his lips curl into a smirk. “Let him hear what you sound like when you’re properly fucked?”

“No—!” you gasp, wrecked and breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs as you reach for the phone, desperate to snatch it from his grasp. “Mark—”

But he’s quicker.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, lifting a single finger in mock reprimand, effortlessly keeping the phone out of reach. His other hand tightens around your hip, keeping you pinned. “You need to get your shit together first, Y/N. Wouldn’t want him to know what you’re doing, now would you?” His eyes gleam with wicked delight. “With that pornographic little voice of yours—so wrecked, so needy for my cock…” He leans in, his breath fanning over your ear. “I bet he’d figure it out immediately.”

A shudder rips through you.

Your vision blurs—tears welling at the edges, cold fear twisting deep in your gut. But worse—worse—is the way your body betrays you. The way you clench around him involuntarily at the thought. At the sheer humiliation of it.

Of your Mark listening on the other end. Unaware. Oblivious. As his variant fucks and ruins you.

“See? I know you,” he murmurs, his voice syrup-thick with satisfaction as he strokes your cheek with unnerving tenderness. His free hand cups your face, his thumb dragging over your lips. “I know exactly what kind of fucked-up little thing you are.”

His grin widens as he watches your lips tremble, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants.

“I’m glad you’re the same here as you were in my universe, Y/N. I adore you like this.” Then, his tone dips lower, velvet wrapped around something dangerous. “Now—try to keep him distracted while I take my time with you, yeah?”

Before you can react, he thrusts—sharp and sudden—just once, but it’s enough to steal the air from your lungs. A strangled gasp escapes you, body reacting on instinct, pulse hammering as he stills once more.

Mark leans in, his breath hot against your parted lips, his amusement dripping with warning. “Otherwise, he’ll keep calling,” he murmurs. “And I don’t want him interrupting us.”

Your stomach twists in knots of anticipation and dread. The phone is still ringing, still just out of reach—Mark’s name flashing on the screen, a second away from being answered. And all the while, this Mark remains inside you—hot, solid, pressing deeper with each second of silence.

“Okay...” you breathe, forcing air into your lungs. “Okay.”

Mark’s smirk turns predatory as he brushes a featherlight kiss to your nose before tapping the answer button, offering you the phone back—and as soon as you grab it and press it to your ear, he immediately resumes his slow, deliberate thrusts that make your toes curl.

“Y/N? Y/N!” The real Mark’s voice—familiar, concerned, kind—crackles through the speaker. He sounds breathless, frantic. “Are you okay? You called and I couldn’t answer but then—but then I called back and you didn’t pick up, and I’m—I’m worried—”

You squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip, fighting so hard to keep quiet. But the Mark above you doesn’t make it easy, his hips moving with cruel precision, his smirk deepening as he watches you struggle.

“…Y/N?”

“I’m here,” you choke out, voice miraculously steady despite the way your body arches into each thrust. The not-yours-Mark’s eyes glint with dark amusement as he increases his pace. “I’m... okay.”

Your voice wavers. You can’t help it. A shaky sigh escapes when he ducks his head to nip at your throat, his hot breath raising goosebumps across your oversensitive skin.

“Thank God,” your actual Mark exhales, the relief in his voice almost painful to hear. “Listen, Cecil just— he lost track of a variant. Said he was heading your way, Y/N.”

The not-yours-Mark stills inside you, his expression shifting to something dangerously intrigued. “Oh?” he murmurs against your pulse.

“Y-yeah?” you blurt too loudly, praying the real Mark didn’t hear him.

Your fingers dig into the sheets as the not-yours-Mark begins moving again with renewed purpose, each thrust calculated to wring helpless sounds from your throat while you struggle to keep your breathing even.

“Yeah,” your actual Mark replies through the phone, his voice strained. “I’ll—I’ll come your way. Or the GDA will pick you up, but—it’s dangerous to stay in your apartment! Please, just—just leave. Right now.”

You choke back another gasp, barely holding yourself together. No—you can’t let Mark come here. You can’t let the GDA get involved either. The humiliation would be unbearable—agents witnessing you like this, being taken apart by the same monster who probably leveled cities and slaughtered thousands before claiming you in your own bed.

“No!” you blurt out, voice cracking under the weight of too many emotions. “No, nngh, fuck—you can’t!”

You’re losing control. This Mark—the wrong Mark—is hitting your prostate with every brutal thrust, his teeth sinking into that sensitive spot on your neck while his fingers twist your nipples mercilessly. Stars explode behind your eyelids as another lewd groan escapes you. Virgin or not, there’s no way you could stay quiet under this assault. You realize with dawning horror that he doesn’t want you quiet—he wants you loud, to moan, to let your Mark hear you. To let him know.

That yeah—he’s here.

And yeah—he’s fucking you.

For a moment, there’s only silence on the other end of the call.

Then finally, Mark speaks again, slower this time. “This—this isn’t negotiable, Y/N,” he says, though there’s something off—a hesitation, a shift in his tone as your breath stutters audibly. “Are you… okay?”

No. You’re not okay. You’re overwhelmed, wrecked by pleasure more intense than anything you’ve ever known, losing your virginity to a twisted version of the man you love. Hot tears of shame spill down your cheeks as a sob tears from your throat.

“...Y/N?” Mark’s voice sounds distant now. You can barely hear him over the rush of blood in your ears, over the slick sound of skin meeting skin, over the obscene, broken whimpers falling from your lips.

“Mmmh, fuck,” you gasp as the pressure builds unbearably inside you. “Fuck—Mark—”

“That’s it, baby,” not-your-Mark whispers in your ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “You wanna come, don’t you? Wanna scream my name?”

The dam breaks. “Yes! Fuck, yes, yes!” Your voice shatters with each punishing thrust. Dignity forgotten, you arch desperately against him, meeting every movement as you beg mindlessly. “Mark—I can’t—oh god, please, please...!”

The line goes silent for an agonizing moment, the static crackle carrying more weight than words ever could. You squeeze your eyes shut, shame and guilt and disgust warring with the pleasure coiling tight in your belly—but it’s too late now. Far too late.

“Y/N...?” his voice comes through the receiver—your Mark’s voice—strangled and low, thick with realization.

Your stomach drops. He knows. Oh god, he knows. He fucking knows.

Not-your-Mark lets out a pleased hum against your neck, his fingers lazily plucking the phone from your trembling hand while his hips snap forward, forcing a needy moan from your lips. The wet sound of skin on skin is unmistakable. There’s no way your Mark could mistake what’s happening.

Not-your-Mark’s eyes glint with something wicked as he presses the phone to his ear, smirking.

“Too late, dickhead,” he says, just as breathless as you, his voice dripping with smug victory as he punctuates each word with another brutal thrust. “He’s already mine.”

Mark’s furious roar bursts through the speaker. “You—!” you close your eyes, mortified, tears falling down your cheeks because this is the moment Mark realizes you’re a horrible friend. “I’LL FUCKING KILL YO—”

But the sound is cut off with a sickening crunch as not-your-Mark’s fingers tighten, phone shattering, fragments falling like dust.

“Oops,” he pouts mockingly, tilting his head with feigned innocence before his expression darkens. His hand snakes around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but firm enough to claim. “Now where were we, sweetheart?”

When he slams back into you, you arch off the bed with a broken scream, your legs spreading wider of their own volition. He chuckles darkly, hands sliding under your thighs to fold you nearly in half, opening you up so completely that each thrust punches the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growls, pace turning erratic as his control fractures. “Look at you—taking me so perfect. Tell me. Tell me how much you love this. How much you love taking my cock.”

“I love it,” you gasp without thought, your mind obliterated by pleasure. “Fuck—I love it. I love you.”

A deep, guttural moan tears from his throat, his grip on you tightening as he nods frantically. “Yeah? Love me? Fuck— I love you too, baby. I love you so fucking much.”

And you know he’s not your Mark. You know your real Mark is probably flying at full speed right now, minutes, or even seconds from bursting through your window. But Christ—hearing those words, in Mark’s voice, from his lips, with his face twisted in raw, desperate worship—it makes you dizzy. It makes you happy.

“I love you,” you say again, fingers twisting into his dark hair, dragging him down until your panting mouths brush. “I love you. Always have—fuck—since—since before you even got your powers, Mark!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! Ah—fuck, yes!” The words dissolve into moans as you kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips sliding messily against his. “When you were such--a nerd! Loved you since we were kids. Love you now. I always will—”

He groans, swallowing your words with a feverish kiss, his hands squeezing your cheeks until your mouth falls open, surrendering completely. Tongues tangle, breath mingles, and he moans right into you—

“I love—” he pants, his movements growing erratic. “I love you, Y/N. Fuck—Gonna take you home with me. Gonna keep you forever. Steal you from that idiot...make him see what he threw away—”

Then—suddenly—his hand wraps around your cock.

It’s been untouched this entire time, leaking wildly against your stomach, and the moment his fingers curl around it, a sharp, broken whimper escapes you. Your hips jerk helplessly, legs trembling as pleasure rips through you.

“Fuuuuck,” you sob, shuddering against him. “Don’t stop—don’t stop. I’m gonna—”

“I got you, baby,” he growls, stroking you faster, fucking into you harder. “Gonna make you feel so fucking good. Gonna take you away. Gonna own you!”

And God help you—his words don’t sound like threats when you’re drowning in white-hot ecstasy. In this moment, you’d let him drag you through dimensions, would beg him to claim you completely—because he wants you. He loves you. He craves you in a way you’ve always ached to be craved. And right now—you’d let him take you. You’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.

“Ah—ah, Mark—” Your body locks up, stomach tightening, hole clenching around him as the pressure on your cock becomes unbearable. “I’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

“Yeah, baby, let it out,” he growls against your lips, his hand working your cock in perfect sync with his punishing thrusts. “Come for me. Now.”

You shatter with a strangled scream, body jerking violently as you spill across your stomach in thick, hot stripes. Your vision whites out, every muscle locking and spasming as pleasure tears through.

Mark groans like a man possessed, his thrusts faltering as your hole flutters and clenches around him. “Fuck—fuck—” He slams into you one final time, burying himself deep, and then he’s coming too, hot and thick, filling you to the brim. His grip tightens as he grinds himself deeper, prolonging every last spurt, wringing every aftershock from you until you’re trembling and spent beneath him.

You can’t move. Can’t speak. All you can do is lie there, trembling, as he keeps pumping into you, dragging out your orgasm until you’re sobbing from oversensitivity. His hips grind against yours, forcing every last drop into you like he’s determined to make sure you remember this.

When he finally pulls out, you whimper at the loss, your body limp and wrecked. Sweat and come cling to your skin, your chest heaving as aftershocks wrack through you. Every inch of you is marked—bruises blooming where his fingers, his teeth, his lips claimed you.

You barely register the mattress dipping as he lays beside you, his arms wrapping around your exhausted frame. A soft, lingering kiss presses to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur against your damp skin.

“Shh, shh, Y/N,” his fingers trace lazy circles against your back. “Go to sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”

Even in your dazed, post-orgasmic haze, you understand what “everything” means.

It means your Mark—your universe’s Mark—is on his way. It means a fight is inevitable. It means blood, destruction, the clash of two forces that look the same but could never be. And when that moment comes, you’ll have to face him—face the shame that will devour you whole.

Because how dare you?

How dare you moan his name for someone else? Whisper desperate I love yous to the wrong version of him? Come undone beneath a man who wears his face but isn’t him?

And after you told him it was fine—that you were fine—staying just friends. After you swallowed every aching, desperate feeling just to keep him close. But in the end, you gave in. You let temptation pull you under. You let yourself have him—or the closest thing to him. And now, there’s no taking it back.

You know you’re wrong.

You know time is running out.

And you know that when he says he’ll take care of everything, this Mark intends to kill your Mark—just as your Mark wants to kill him.

But your body betrays you—mind foggy, muscles lax with satisfaction, the afterglow pulling you under. As consciousness fades, this not-quite-Mark draws you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. His breathing steadies, his solid frame surrounding you in deceptive safety.

(And vaguely, you think about your Mark. About how he’s been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasn’t looked at you the same.

“I promise I’ll tell you,” he’d say, a week ago, his eyes avoiding yours in a way that pains you. “I promise I’ll tell you the truth. All of it. And—”

Then he’d looked up, and something in his gaze pinned you there—fervent, almost feverish.

“I’ll—” he’d stop himself, cheeks coloring faintly, and yet he wouldn’t relent his steady gaze. ”I’ll tell you the reason I’ve been acting like such an asshole to you. And I hope...you can forgive me after.”

“Why not now?” you’d ask, puzzled, fingers curling into your palms. ”Why not when I’m asking you, Mark? Right here, and right now.”

He’d flinch, his eyes closing for a fleeting second before opening them again. ”Just—gimme one more week,” he’d rasped. “One more week and—I promise I’ll tell you everything. I’ll—confess everything.”

And as he’d turn around, his broad back to you as he’d take off—not before glancing at you with troubled eyes, an intensity in his eyes you can’t quite place—you’d only guess he’s gonna say he hates you. That he’s gonna say, now once and for all, he can no longer be your friend.

And how you should’ve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. How you should’ve never, ever opened your big mouth and let your feelings spill out.

But you did, and now nothing’s the same.)

“I’ll take care of it,” Mark murmurs again as you drift away, his voice a dark promise. “Never gonna lose you again. Never.”

The last thing you register before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek.

And in the final flicker of consciousness, a single thought drifts through your mind— You wished Mark had told you the reason.

Now, he never might.

[andwewerehappy]

me, walking quickly by a reflective surface: I look hot today

me, stopping to look in a mirror only to be greeted by puffy eyes, bumpy hips, and visible love handles: you sure about that one champ 👀

[cherriicou]

oh my god please write an older bf!mingyu i love ur scoups one sm 💗 (did i mention to put creampie in? did i) 👁️👁️ thank u babes mwah

hehe ofc! glad u enjoyed it mwahaha

olderbf! mingyu x college student! reader (f)

a/n; pls don’t use tinder guys… // word count; 1.2K

content; age gap, size difference, overstimulation, consensual recording, sending nudes, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, spanking, car sex, public/semi-public sex, degradation, praise kink, riding, smut with the smallest amount of plot

OLDER BF!MINGYU who met you through a dating app his friend forced him to go on. he usually ignored all the young girls who sent him thirsty messages and had their bodies on display on their profile. but you were different. only cute selfies, cat pictures, and your interests were shown on your page, drawing him to get interested in you. so he messaged you first!

OLDER BF!MINGYU who noticed your like in art so he immediately suggested taking you to a museum as your first date <3 he was the sweetest man you’ve ever met. yes, he was way older than you but it made everything 10x better. he knew how to treat you well, he made you feel safe, and he even dropped so many compliments on you that day it made you squirm in your seat.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who noticed you staring at his arms every time he helped you pick up something or every time he extended his arm out to pay for your meal. his ego was boosted then, making sure to flex them every once in a while when he saw you looking. you looked so adorable, your pretty face blushing, thighs squeezing together while admiring him. he needed you.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who, at first, tries to be soft with you. you were so much smaller than him, he was almost scared he’d break you :< that was until you started playing little games. bending down when you decided to wear no panties under your dress or skirt, fingers grazing over his crotch while you had dinner. all while giving him a innocent look. oh, he was tired of playing nice with you.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who has you salivating all over your chin and tits. he’s fucking your face so roughly, your makeup is completely ruined and you have no thoughts whatsoever as he holds your face firmly with his hands. ‘fucking brat’, as he stared straight into your eyes, groaning from the tears that started to fall down. he was not afraid to show you that he was enjoying the way your mouth was taking him in so well.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who loves to overstimulate you. he knows you love it despite your whines, ‘g-gyu no more,’ as you try to push his head away from your sensitive pussy. but he just continues licking and sucking on the spot he knows drives you crazy. you don’t even realize it, but you start grinding on his mouth, feeling the smile form on his lips. ‘doesn’t seem like you want me to stop, baby.’ god, he could taste you all fucking day while having you squirm over him. lapping your juices for being such a good girl the other day while you took his cock in your mouth <3

OLDER BF!MINGYU who takes and picks you up from college; his expensive car catching the eyes of others as you happily walk to greet your boyfriend. glaring through his window to any of the young guys looking at you get into his car. oh, and his favorite thing is take your mind off the stressful day that just passed. panties shoved to the side as he plunges his fingers in and out of you while driving home. 'that's it, princess. use my fingers,' your moans and whimpers take over the entire car as you hold onto the arm that he is using to pleasure you in the passenger seat. his eyes directed towards you every once in a while to see the fucked out expression on your face. he doesn’t care if people can see the lewd scene from outside, as long as you’re taken care of!

OLDER BF!MINGYU who LOVES to fill you up. 'where you want it, baby?' sweat glistening on his forehead as he continuously rams into your sweet spot, orgasm right on edge. 'i-inside, please,' he already knows you want it in you, but he just loves hearing you say it while he's fucking you. his grip on your hips gets harder, making you squirm in both pain and pleasure. his thrusts get stronger as he finishes inside you, making sure all of it is released in your abused hole. 'fuck, look at that,' his breathless groans let out as he pulls his cock out of your sensitive cunt. he takes his phone from the bedside table, and you hear the sound of the record button as he spreads your ass out. both of your cum leaking out of your pussy so nicely. you think he's done until he uses his fingers to take as much fluid as he can to shove it right back inside your hole :3 'ah g-gyu..,' you let out. he smiles at your coos, landing a playful smack against your ass before pulling you up to kiss your lips.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who is annoyed at this stupid meeting his employees set up with him. he just nods away, eyes locked on the presentation, mind spinning faster than he could organize his thoughts. ding! he reached for his phone to find messages from you, as well as a video linked to it. 'miss you <3,' he smiles at the cute text, then opens the video to find himself growing hard and smiled swept away. it's a video of you, one hand holding the phone to show your naked body while the other hand is rubbing your clit. he turns down the volume completely before your moans can be heard in the basically quiet conference room. he's livid. you're at home, smiling at the 'seen' notification on your phone. it wasn't until time passed you started to worry, not a single message was sent back from him. you're screwed.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who has you bent over his lap, fingers messing with your pussy for what seems like hours. your ass was practically red and bruised from the amount of smacks it has taken. all while you plead, 'mm sorry gyu please,' he smiles. you think he is going to give into you fully, ready for him to put you in missionary or on all fours. but no. instead, he lays down with a cocky look on his face at your confused, needy expression. 'come sit on it, doll,' he can't be serious. he puts his hands behind his head, eyes never leaving you as your legs tremble. trying to put as much energy as you can to climb on top of him and fully sit on his cock. the pleasured look on your face almost makes him fold, he wanted to take care of you himself but you needed to learn. learn that needy girls don’t get awarded.

OLDER BF!MINGYU who almost feels bad for you. you're struggling so much to grind on dick :< the burn your thighs are feeling is insane, and he is just staring you down. 'g-gyu,' you whine while fighting for your life to continue riding him. 'hm? gonna cum, already?,' you nod, hands placed on his chest to try to help your body stabilize. your eyes meet his again and you give him the biggest pout, gasping as he finally thrusts into you once roughly, 'gonna make a mess on my cock like some needy slut?,' his hands grab onto your hips. he's being so mean but you know you'll love it later.

OLDER BF! MINGYU who thinks you've been punished enough and plants his feet flat on the bed, then immediately starts to fuck up into you. the tip of his meanly thick cock repeatedly slamming into your cervix. his hands frantically touching you all over your body, from your tits to your neck, to even putting his thumb into your mouth as you struggle to take what he's giving you. 'mm my sweet girl,' you salivate around his fingers as you feel yourself about to cum. you should take more pics often..