#multiple languages in replies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stillwatervoid · 3 months ago

Text

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.

#mark grayson x male reader #alternate mark grayson x male reader #invincible x male reader #invincible variant x male reader #x male reader #male reader #mark grayson x reader #invincible #alternate mark grayson x reader #invincible variants x male reader #gay #male!reader

2K notes · View notes

dollyforever · 27 days ago

Text

something today that reaffirmed my belief that shifting is real :)

i was babysitting the sweetest little girl and her brother earlier today and the girl and I were talking about dreams and such. She's five, by the way. We're chatting and she suddenly tells me "I don't actually sleep much at night because I spend the night fighting in battles". I laughed and said "oh like in your imagination?" (stupid of me to assume that but whatever) and she replied very firmly, "no, no". So I ask her again, if maybe she meant she has dreams about fighting in battles, and she says "no, not dreaming, It's real". She was so sure about her answer. So I ask her, what is it that you fight? She started telling me about these insect-shaped monsters, showed me the size of them and described how she fought them in the streets at night. Then when she finally wins the battle, she can actually sleep. Her brother came into conversation so we stopped talking about it but multiple children I've babysat or talked to always tell me about these sort of stories. They always make it very clear that it's not a dream, that it's different.I feel like children, who barely have any limiting beliefs, can very easily slip out of reality as they wish. english is not my first language so maybe I didn't explain it really well but ugh the synchronicities are crazy

#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifters #shifting blog #anti shifters dni #shifting #shifting community #shifting consciousness #shifting realities #shifting motivation

2K notes · View notes

sparrows4bats · 2 months ago

Text

Damians Lore Drops have to be incredible. And a little horrifying.

Because Damian just does these insane, incredible things and then goes on with his life.

It's a trait he shares with most of his family, but Damian just tells them the most insane things about himself over breakfast on a Thursday in a bored tone like he didn't just admit to that time he and Jon fought a gun touting Batman Tim Drake from the Future. Or that he died at least twice in a murder tournament and told no one! They thought it was a regular fighting tournament.

Imagine he is arguing with Jason, and Jason threatens to make his life hell over the last pancake, and Damian just replies,'been there, done that, it was not very pleasant.' And it's not quippy or anything, just serious and little haunted. Jason freezes, Damian eats the pancake, AND THEN HE GOES ABOUT HIS DAY AND REFUSES TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS.

Like Damian has a lot of weird skills, especially for a kid. The entire batfam does, but like Damian canonically built a flying batmobile at ten like it was a Lego set.

Imagine Dick or Bruce saying that they wished that they had this ultra specific imaginary device, and a few days later, Damian hands it to them completely unprompted. They ask how and why, and Damian admits to having the equivalent to multiple high levels degrees in engineering and mechanics at like, age six, and he would have done more, but his mother killed the tutor.

Dick asks what else he's learnt, but the list is so weird and varied it leaves him shook. Who makes a nine year old study business management and finance?? (This is also canon)

Then there's the weird people and animals Damian seemingly collects. How does everyone react to Goliath? How do they find out about WIGGLES? Why does he have so many friends they have never heard of, and why are so many of them old enemies of Bruce's he met on the murder island? When did you get a cousin? Why did you punch Green Arrow? Huh? Fair.

Wtf Bruce, you let him keep the monkey??

Damian isn't used to communicating anything, so 90 per cent of what they know about him is what he deems revelvant at the time. Like, oh, Ras used to lock him in a box regularly so he knows how to escape this trap. Cool.

Oh, they can't understand a man they are questioning, Don't worry, Damian knows that language.

Oh no, they need voice access to get into this super secret base. Damian can mimic anyone.

Do you need help identifying this very rare mineral? Damian, I could have a PhD. in Geology by now if the tutor survived my mom, has got you.

He drives like an F1 racer and can manage lorry sized vehicles at 13. Studied magic just so he can use some spells in emergencies.

He just doesn't say anything until he needs to.

I think he is like that the rest of his life, though. Like his family starts to expect the weird shit all of them do, and at this point, very little surprises them .

Until Damian starts to date Jon and says nothing.

He just comes to the Manor one day with a baby and proceeds to introduce Bruce to his granddaughter. All happy and completely normal.

Meanwhile, Bruce is having a heart attack and asks who her mother is?

Damian explains how Talia grew her in a tube for him and Jon as a wedding gift. Bruce almost dies from choking on his own spit.

Talia grew him a baby? And since when are you married? And to Jon? Why does Talia know before him? Oh God, he and Clark are in laws.

#damian wayne #batfamily #jondami #batman #batfam #supersons #jon kent #bruce wayne #damijon #dc comics

2K notes · View notes

sinner-as-saint · 1 month ago

Text

dark desire and tainted bliss

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Hiring you as his assistant was the best and the worst thing Bucky had done. He knew he shouldn’t be doing the things he was doing. He knew he shouldn’t have offered you to just live in the tower because it’s easier. He knows that this obsession of his will only breed problems. But the heart wants what it wants. And what Bucky wants, he gets.

Themes: stalker!bucky, dom!bucky, explicit language, smut, mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

“Show me her room.”

He ordered the AI upon entering his own room. Nothing happened in this tower without Bucky knowing about it. Which meant that he had access to everything, every floor, every room. He didn’t have eyes in any of the bedrooms, except for one. Yours.

He never did anything wrong, Bucky reasoned with himself, he just liked to know that you were on your floor, in your room safe and sound. Sometimes he liked to just sit back and watch you work as you replied to emails and calls from your bed. Sometimes he liked to just watch you read. Or watched as you video called your friends, or as you scrolled on your phone and shopped for useless things.

It calmed him down, and he only watched for a few minutes at a time. Just a few minutes wasn’t a crime, right?

Bucky walked over to his desk, placing a palm down on the table, he leaned over and stared at the screen of his computer which displayed the live feed from the hidden camera in your bedroom. Yeah, he knew he should’ve never placed that camera there. He knew it was wrong. But he just wanted to see you all the time. And yes you were almost always around him and the team during the day, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

So he watched. His eyes fixed on the screen as he watched you walk around your spacious room. How you disappeared into the bathroom and he knew you would only step out about half an hour later. So he walked away from his desk, hoping into the shower as well.

It was Friday, so lazy night in for you. You never went out on Fridays, you preferred to stay in and read or watch movies. Bucky knew that.

When he stepped out of the shower, he walked over to his desk again. And saw you disappearing into your walk-in closet.

He let out a sigh. If only he could just be there with you. It would make things so much easier, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t even have to pay him any extra attention, he just wanted to be in the same room as you. He just wanted–

Bucky’s brain stopped functioning all together when you stepped out of the closet. His heart skipped a beat when he realised that you were wearing something really familiar.

His hoodie. Which he hasn’t seen in about a week or so. Bucky frowned, wondering how that could have happened… Maybe laundry got mixed up? But then, why would you still keep it? You must know it was his, you’d seen him working out or going out for runs in it multiple times, right? So why would you still wear it…?

You looked perfect in it too. Hood on and everything. So perfect all he wanted to do was gather you in his arms and savour your warmth. And it was all nice and sweet, Bucky felt all warm inside as he watched you walk around your room, in his hoodie, watering your little plants and tidying up as you went. He should step away now. He thought. He should stop watching. He should.

But he didn’t. He sat down eventually at his desk and watched. Like it was the most entertaining thing to watch you live your life.

And oh was he in for a surprise…

Around your regular bedtime, you slid into bed as usual. And fussed around with the pillows for a few minutes until it felt just right. Bucky smiled as he watched you create your little cosy nest before sliding in there. You left the soft night light on which he liked because… well, it would be hard to see you in pitch darkness.

Anyway, he watched you toss and turn until you lay completely still for a moment. Bucky frowned when he watched you reach for your phone again. You clicked a couple of times and out of nowhere, Bucky could hear soft feminine moans coming from your phone.

His jaw dropped. He’d been watching you for quite a while now and he’d never seen you watch porn. He always just assumed you got your fix from those smutty books you liked. So this was… new. And it tormented him. Because if he was there with you, you wouldn’t need porn, would you?

And he could hear the video loud and clear too. He could make out some words amidst all the moaning and skin slapping. Daddy… bunny… good girl…

Still, he watched. He watched as your hands slid in between your legs. You were under the covers so he couldn’t see much except for the look on your face and the soft movement of your hand under the covers. Fuck… his own hand drifted downward until he had his fingers wrapped around his cock. Stroking it gently. Soft strokes, matching the pace of your wrist.

Bucky watched as your face contorted in pleasure, as your lips parted when you began breathing deeper, how your hips moved along with your wrist, and fuck… he was dying. This was pure torture. His brain stopped working because all he could register was you touching yourself in your cosy, comfortable bed, while wearing his hoodie–

Bucky stopped and stood up. His hoodie, huh? The devious plan formed in his head before his rational part could stop it. It was his hoodie, he should probably go get it back, right?

He was at your door, knocking on it before he could talk himself out of it. What? He was here for his favourite hoodie. He had every right to get it back.

And he had to hide his smirk when you opened the door, looking all disheveled. Panting and eyes wild as you stood there at your bedroom door, wearing nothing but his hoodie. Bucky discretely checked out your legs, but maintained his composure. He didn’t let it show how much he wanted those wrapped around his neck–

“Sergeant Barnes,” Your breathless voice was driving him insane. “What, uh, what can I do for you?”

You never stumbled upon your words. So this was new to him too. He made you nervous and he liked it.

“Hey,” He said, sounding just like he always did. For now, he was able to keep the hungry animal in him caged. Not for long though, not when you looked at him like that. “I think our laundry got mixed up. I was,” He made a show of letting his eyes look down at the hoodie you were wearing, “looking for that actually.” He pointed at the hoodie.

He held back another smirk as he watched you search for an excuse.

“Oh? Oh I didn’t realise… um, you want it back right now? Or…?” You couldn’t even act dumb. You were a smart girl. Of course you realised what you were wearing wasn’t yours. “I could–,”

Poor baby. Bucky couldn’t pretend any longer, so he cut you off by stepping into your room and shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the closed door and gave you a look that had you stammering again.

“Oh come on,” He spoke softly, loving the surprised look on your face. It turned him on actually, seeing you so flustered. “We both know you’re smarter than this. And we both know what you were doing just now before I knocked on your door.”

You gasped, frozen for a moment. “What?”

Bucky quickly added, “Super soldier hearing, remember?”

You tried to hide your face by lowering it, but Bucky grabbed you by the chin and tilted your face up before you could hide.

“So? Touching yourself while wearing my hoodie?” He chuckled, the power he had in the moment getting to his head. “I think it’s kinda mean how you didn’t even offer to let me watch…” He paused before adding, lowering his voice even more, “Huh, little bunny?”

The look on your face was priceless. It only made his smirk grow wider.

“Bucky–,”

He cut you off quickly, “No, no. It’s daddy.”

–

Well, shit.

How did you find yourself in this situation? Yes of course you’d known it was his hoodie. And yes it had accidentally made its way to your room. But it was so soft when you grabbed it earlier. It smelled clean, like laundry detergent and something so manly that you couldn’t resist. So you put it on.

And having the fabric rub all over your naked body underneath, plus thoughts of the hoodie’s very handsome owner, didn’t help at all. It felt like you were in a dream, because Bucky was here. And shirtless. He was actually here and he’d heard you masturbating?

“I’m sorry, I–,”

“Shh,” He cut you off again. “I didn’t say you had to apologise.” He pulled you closer, your body pressing against his bare chest. “Did I, bunny?”

You shook your head immediately. “No.” You whispered quietly. Something in the tone of his voice made you want to rub your face all over his chest and neck and purr like a kitten. What?

“No, what?” He demanded.

You hesitated, but still mumbled a quiet, “No, daddy.”

“Good girl.” He said, smirking. “Now, let’s take care of you, yeah?”

Next thing you knew, you were being pushed down on your bed. Right on top of the pile of pillows you liked to sleep with. He pinned you down by your throat while he stared down into your eyes. His metal fingers cold against your skin.

His eyes wild and ocean blue. “Pull it up, don’t take it all the way off.” He ordered, referring to his hoodie. “Just pull it up. Let me see those pretty tits.”

You did. Tucking the bunched up material under your chin as you let him see your bare chest.

“So pretty.” He murmured, his warm fingers reaching out to tease a nipple. “Why’d you always keep them hidden from me, hmm?” He pinched a nipple, tugging on it. “I wanna see them often, you hear me, bunny? You’ll show daddy your pretty tits every day from now on, won’t you?”

You could hear your heartbeats echoing in your ears. “Yes, daddy.”

“That’s my good girl.”

Bucky held your stare as he pulled away to lower his sweatpants. His hand was back around your throat as he parted your legs and pushed his cock into you without wasting a second, stretching you out. “Got yourself nice and wet right before I got here, huh bunny?” He taunted. “That’s why I’m able to just fucking slide in like you were made for it.”

Your soft whimpers only fueled his desire to fuck you hard and fast, but he waited.

“Does daddy’s cock feel better than your fingers, bunny?” He questioned, knowing damn well you weren’t in a headspace to answer him given his hand was around your throat and his cock buried so deep inside of you that he wondered if you could even think straight.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, little bunny. Stealing my hoodie, and touching yourself while wearing it. And you wouldn’t even tell me about it, would you? You would’ve just showed up to work tomorrow and pretend nothing happened, huh?” He taunted through gritted teeth. Leaning over your squirming body he said, “From now on, I want you to tell me, okay? I want you to tell me each time you touch yourself. You hear me, bunny?”

You nodded quickly.

“Good.” He kissed your nose, “I’m gonna fuck you now, is that okay?”

You whined in need, then nodded again.

Bucky smirked as he dug his knees into the mattress before fucking into you hard and fast.

There was nothing gentle about him. He tightened his grip around your throat as he sped up into you, growling right in your ear, “You feel so fucking good, bunny.” He chuckled, “Look at you, all nice and open for me. You didn’t even put up a fight. You don’t even care your boss is fucking you, do you? Hmm? All you care about is getting fucked by daddy’s cock, huh?”

You were a moaning mess under him. “Yes… please.” It was all too overwhelmingly good, his voice, his weight on top of you, his cock thrusting in and out of you like that was its only purpose…

You whimpered desperately as Bucky moaned right in your ear, the sound of his moan making your heart flutter.

He sped up into you, mumbling, “You’re daddy’s little bunny, aren’t you? Say it. Tell me you’re mine.” He whispered in your ear, in a daze as he pounded into you. “Say it.”

You cried out, “I’m all yours…”

“Good bunny.” He released your throat and placed his hand on your abdomen, pressing down on your front so he can feel himself inside you with each thrust. He stared into your eyes while he sped up into you again. “You’re all mine. And this is where I’ll be every fucking night from now on, you hear me? I want you in bed, with your legs fucking spread just like this for me each time I walk in here.”

You nodded, holding his stare.

He shook his head, “No, no, no. Say it. Say ‘yes daddy, I understand’, come on bunny, say it.”

“Yes daddy, I understand.”

“Good fucking girl.” He moaned as he fucked deeper into you.

Your body squirmed under him, your back arching off the bed, you were burning with need and your body craved him even more.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, swallowing all your moans as he came inside of you. You felt his warm load shooting at your walls as he shoved his tongue past your lips. You cried out as that triggered your orgasm, and your walls clenched violently around him until you came undone as well.

Your brain was a foggy mess at this point.

“Not done with you,” He mumbled.

He flipped you around and pulled you onto your hands and knees and pushed into you again from behind. The pile of pillows keeping you in place for him. You moaned out loud, unable to hold back as you surrendered to him completely.

“Fuck, bunny,” He growled. “You’re so warm… such a pretty girl. I need some more, okay?”

Bucky gripped your hips and slid inside you again.

“Fuck…” He hissed, pounding in and out of you incessantly. You whimpered as both his hands gripped your waist, pulling you into him harshly each time, speeding up until you were a moaning mess again, barely having recovered from the previous round. “All of you is fucking perfect, huh?”

Your voice was strained and hoarse as you moaned and whimpered under him, coming undone again in no time.

Bucky chuckled in a cocky way as he came inside you again. “You come so fast, bunny.” He commented, “What is it? Daddy’s cock too much for you? Hmm? Are you so sensitive?” He pulled his cock out of you and just stared. His cum leaking out of you while you closed your eyes and panted under him, catching your breath.

And you, still in his hoodie. Oh, he loved what he was seeing.

He slipped his fingers back into you and loved the sound you made as he fingered his cum into you again, making you arch your back and whine in pleasure, “Please…” you whined, “Please, daddy… it’s so–,”

“What?” He barked, shoving his fingers deeper. “You don’t tell me how to play with you, bunny. You hear me? I’ll make you come again if I want to.”

You whimpered, “I can’t… please.”

Bucky scoffed. “Fine.” He pulled his fingers away and pulled you up, leaning in to kiss the side of your face, he said, “This stays between us, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.” Obviously, you weren’t gonna tell anyone.

“Now, time for bed. And keep the hoodie.” He kissed your cheek again. “You earned it, bunny.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #thunderbolts

2K notes · View notes

reimenaashelyee · 2 years ago

Text

The Creator's Guide to Comics Devices is OPEN!!! comicsdevices.com

An online library of visual-narrative devices that are used in the medium of comics and other sequential art.

Happy Halloween! I'm really excited to be finally launching* what is maybe one of my most ambitious, largest work yet. This online library is the next phase of a research project that began in May 2020, when I first mused on how comics as a field doesn't have a resource that catalogues devices used in the medium. Like, theatre has devices, so does literature, and film! So why shouldn't comics? I always had an interest in comics studies and analysis. I love reading, making and thinking comics. However most of my knowledge was intuitive - I learned comics from osmosis and experience. This is true for many of my peers. Speaking about comics as a creator is hard, because we don't have a robust system of language. When we had to speak, many of us tend to reach for the language developed for film by film practitioners. If there is language specific to comics, it's either scattered in multiple blogs or hidden away in academic journals. The Comics Devices library is meant to aggregate everything and everybody into a single hub! After exploring some multiple resources, alongside some original, independent research, here is the first edition! * The Comics Devices project is still a work-in-progress! It's not final, nor will it ever be. This is why I am seeking contributors to help build this library. Translations, comics examples, etc. There is a lot of work to do! If you are interested, reply to this post or submit an expression of interest on this page. Have fun everyone!! (Now time for me to melt x_x)

#webcomics #comics #comics devices #resources #good god there is still a lot to clean up even in this public state fhskjfhsd #anyway hope yall enjoy reading through this!!#also please help me build up the library lol

13K notes · View notes

64reprieve · 1 month ago

Text

picture you (e.w.) ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

pairing: butch!college!loser!ellie x femme!camgirl!reader

synopsis: you need promo for your business. ellie’s tuition is due. or ellie’s a college student in her junior year scrambling to get her shit together and desperate to make ends meet with side jobs. you need pictures taken by someone who isn’t a creep from craigslist and won’t kill you. your friend knows just the person.

content: angst, fluff, smut, amateurphotographer ellie!, loser!ellie, butch!ellie, soft dom!ellie, sub!reader, femme!reader, camgirl!reader, therapy session, substance use, dubcon (both parties are inebriated), miscommunication, explicit language, oral sex, pussy slapping, dry humping, cum-eating, spit-play, degradation, praise, gags, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, mentions of aftercare

word count: 5.7k

nsfw, men and minors dni

prologue ➤ chapter one ➤ chapter two ➤ chapter three ➤ chapter four ➤ tbd.

Ellie flinched at the crash of her door bouncing off the wall; sitting up wide-eyed and irritated.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She cursed, facing her laptop screen filled with pictures of you, away.

Riley groaned, flopping on the end of the bed and bunching her space-themed duvet, “She’s not back yet. You can keep me company instead.”

“Yeah, right,” Ellie scoffed, poking Riley’s shoulder with her sock, “I’m kind of busy right now.” She said, placing her laptop on her lap.

Riley scowled, poking Ellie’s eyebrow, “When did you do that? Joel’s gonna kill you.”

Ellie hissed, smacking Riley’s hand away, “Watch it– fresh piercing.”

Riley tutted, laying on her side, “And you wonder why you have no money.”

“Hey, I know how to save money! I shop at Aldi.” Ellie defended, moving her cursor around mindlessly.

“Yeah. So you can spend the rest on tattoos and stupid shit,” Riley commented, “And I looked in the fridge. There’s a case of five dozen eggs, some ground beef, and like two rotting bell peppers.” She cackled at the absurdity, “Dude, what the fuck are you eating?”

“There’s milk too,” Ellie sighed, licking her teeth unamused, “Where’s Dina?”

“With Jesse. She said she’d be here soon.” Riley shrugged, hitting her vape.

Ellie clicked out of the folder of your photos to check her buzzing phone.

Riley sat up to lie down by Ellie’s legs, “Oh, so you do know how to answer texts!”

“Shut up.” Ellie said, smiling as she typed.

Riley quirked an eyebrow, eyeing Ellie’s phone.

“None of your business.” Ellie replied coolly, letting her phone rest on her chest.

She flipped her phone over as it pinged again.

“Are you talking to someone? Done with abstinence?” Riley joked.

“I’m not talking to anyone.” Ellie protested, lightly kicking Riley’s leg.

Riley nodded with disbelief, “Uh huh.” She smirked, “Who is it?”

Ellie sighed, locking eyes with Riley, “I don’t have time for that shit anymore.”

Riley nodded slowly, pursed her lips then grabbed Ellie’s phone from her side; her smile dropping when she read the contact name.

“Dude, what the fuck– don’t do that!” Ellie scolded, snatching her phone back.

“That’s not who I think it is.” Riley blurted, pointedly staring at her.

“You tell me.” Ellie challenged with a cocky grin.

“El, I love you but I’m serious.” She insisted, “Leave her be.”

“Calm down, it’s just work.” Ellie replied, patting Riley’s shoulder.

Ellie’s gaze didn’t waver as she stared back. Riley squinted, taking a hit of her vape before blowing the banana-scented smoke in Ellie’s face.

“Asshole.” Ellie exhaled, closing her eyes.

A loud thud from outside of the room caught both of their attention. Riley slipped off the bed, sticking her head out of the open door.

“Di? Are you okay? What happened?” Riley pleaded.

Dina whined loudly before running into her room, “We broke up!”

“Oh fuck.” Riley said, hurriedly following Dina into her room.

Ellie shook her head, listening in on the two. She heard a sob followed by shushing.

She mumbled under her breath, opening her laptop, “Again?”

────୨ৎ────

“Hello?” You spoke into the phone pinned between your cheek and shoulder as you drove.

“Boo. Where are you?” Riley asked teasingly.

“I’m driving.” You answered, pulling up to a red light.

“That’s perfect. I’m at your place, so I’ll see you soon.” Riley claimed.

“What? Why are you there?” You questioned

“I’m waiting for you so we can leave.” She quipped.

You sputtered, “What? To where?”

“A friend’s. Sleepover at dorms– Dina got dumped.” She explained.

Dina. You remembered her. One out of many of Riley’s friends you’d met in passing. The last time you’d seen her was at Abby’s going away party. She’d drunkenly complimented your shoes when you came in before she threw up in a patch of Gardenias, and a taller guy ushered her elsewhere.

You arrived at your apartment with a hazy mind, digesting the session with your therapist. Rarely did you live outside the words spoken in her office, but you could meet with a semblance of normality, if only briefly.

“Hi, hot stuff,” Riley greeted, sitting at your kitchen island with a steaming mug. Of course, she’d made herself at home. You lived through her boldness at times.

“Make sure you pack a toothbrush.” Riley called out, as you brushed past to your bedroom. She came in seconds later, sitting at your desk and testing your perfumes on her wrist.

“I thought you had class today.” You noted, hanging up your jacket.

“I do.” Riley confirmed.

You breathed out, hopelessly staring into your trashed closet, “What do you think I should wear?”

“Anything,” Riley replied, using your sticky notes as sample strips, “We’re probably just gonna eat and watch something.”

“It’s not gonna be– do you know how many people are going to be there?” You ask, picking at your cuticles. You were trying.

“Barely anyone,” She reassured, catching your tension, “It’ll be us, Dina, of course, and Ellie. Cat might come but she hasn’t responded yet.”

Ellie? That piqued your interest.

Your head snapped to look at her, “Ellie’s gonna be there?”

Riley turned away, “Yeah. They’re roommates.”

Any plans to show up in your pajamas went right out of the window. You showed up freshly plucked and in your best dress with a pair of new shoes straight from the box. You wore a butter-yellow dress partnered with brown ballet flats and white knee socks; your curly hair pinned back with deep red, cherry pins.

Riley had taken one look at you and called you the funniest person she knew when you emerged from the bathroom.

Out of courtesy, you asked her to stop by a flower shop on the way over.

Dina thanked you profusely and set the bouquet on the kitchenette counter.

“Riley, who did you–” Dina groggily groaned, brightening when she spotted you behind her, “Oh, you– thank you! This is so sweet.” She whined, letting you two in. You slipped off your flats, noticing a familiar pair of tattered Converse by the door.

Dina wiped her nose, filling a vase with water. Her oversized shirt stained with water which splashed from the sink as she stared off emptily, hair tangled and cheeks blotchy.

From what Riley told you in the car, this wasn’t their first breakup.

You wouldn’t be able to tell from her appearance.

The afternoon flew by with insurmountable details of their relationship exposed and cases of overly sweet seltzers from the fridge.

Riley sat behind with Dina between her legs, detangling her hair as she nodded along and encouraged her rants.

“–And he was like, ‘We’re fighting too much and it’s not healthy’." Dina mocked his deep voice, wiping a stray tear, “What does he know about healthy? His parents are divorced!”

You lay on the rug, listening in awe and occasionally switching the music on the speaker but you couldn’t stop your mind drifting to Ellie’s whereabouts as more time passed. There wasn’t a chance you’d bring it up to either Riley or Dina given the gravity of the situation, so you kept it to yourself, counting down the hours without her presence.

Internally, you scolded yourself; you were here to provide support, not see Ellie.

There was a muted shame growing within you since you two had met, abated by an undeniable truth; you liked her.

Whether it be out of desperation for human connection or divine destiny, you didn’t care. You convinced yourself it was okay because you had no plan to pursue her, but it became harder to believe after you’d gotten off to the thought of her on your last stream.

A lot of sleep was lost that night and you didn’t log in again until two days later. You were mortified.

Indiscretions were naught the minute Ellie returned to the dorm; holding two large plastic bags, “I’m back with food.” She called out.

She didn’t look over, setting the bags down on the counter beside the flowers, “Who died?” She joked, grabbing cans of soda from the fridge.

Dina clicked her tongue, tilting her head and looking between you two pointedly. Ellie understood the hint, spotting your figure lying on the rug.

You looked adorable!

She bit her cheek, hiding her face by busying herself with unwrapping the food, “They smell nice.”

Don’t fucking blush, stupid, she thought to herself.

“What’d you get?” Riley queried, stretching as she stood up from the couch.

“Taco Bell.” She answered, tossing the empty bags into the trash.

Riley grabbed the cans and food with Ellie, bringing it over to the coffee table.

Ellie plopped a box of chocolates and lotion-infused tissues on Dina’s lap, “Here, Di.”

She found her way to the beanbag in the corner, manspreading as she took a bite of her burrito, distracted by her phone, feet inches from yours. You peered at her from your peripheral; her blue jeans had shifted lower on her lips, black boxers peeking through. There was a stripe of ink poking out, and you clenched your teeth. She wore a white wife beater, abs printed beneath and revealing her muscles. More tattoos teased under her clothes, on her collarbones, and littered her bare arms. Ellie wasn’t necessarily big but she was built.

You sat up, grabbed something from the pile then tucked in.

“It took you long enough.” Dina teased, “Did you forget about me?”

“I stayed back to ask my professor a question and I bumped into Cat. She’s not coming by the way.” Ellie told.

“Hm. Why?” Dina chewed, cupping her hand to catch her food.

“Her car wouldn’t start so I gave her a jump. She called her dad after.” Ellie shrugged.

Riley clicked through movies on the TV, tossing the remote on the coffee table, “Fuck it. I don’t wanna look anymore.”

“Smoke?” Ellie offered, shifting her legs.

“Please.” Dina sighed, kicking off her blanket.

Dina stood up, opened the windows then went into the bathroom. Ellie went into her room, returning with her backpack. She tossed it on the couch, rifling through it. Riley sat up, looking over.

Ellie smirked, “You don’t wanna do that.”

Riley faked a gag, sitting back and catching the Ziploc bag Ellie threw into her lap.

You watched as they moved methodically; Dina returned from the bathroom with shower caps, placing them over the smoke alarm.

“Backwoods.” Riley groaned, opening the bag, “You’re a monster.”

Ellie hummed, sitting between her and Dina, “I can put them away instead.”

Your eyes fixed on the blunt between her lips, the tip burning orange as she breathed in. Her eyes met yours.

Dina and Riley passed theirs back and forth, while Ellie had her own.

“Do you smoke?” Ellie piped up, smoke billowing from the corner of her mouth.

“Not really,” You paused, “But I can.”

You’re not sure why you said that. You could drink, but you couldn’t smoke to save your life.

“Do you want your own?” She asked, already holding the bag.

Riley gave you a strange look, shaking her head before looking up at the ceiling. Dina fidgeted with the remote to find a movie, the constant clicking sound in the room.

Ellie waved you over with two fingers, “You can share with me.”

You moved over, sitting between the couch and the coffee table. Her hand lowered, passing the blunt to you. It felt odd between your fingers. You said a prayer in your head before taking a hit, replaying the first time in high school when Abby had taught you how to smoke. You cheered internally when you were able to hold it without coughing, tucking your dress over your legs.

I should smoke more, you thought to yourself after a while, gaze fixed on the bright screen ahead of you; some cheesy romance at fault for Dina’s sniffling.

The room was dark aside from the light leaking out of Dina’s room and the glow from the TV.

You leaned back, sitting between Ellie’s legs; her knees surrounding your ears. Her gaze burned the back of your head, hand wrapping around to hold the blunt in front of your face. You leaned in, taking another hit, smaller this time. The smoke pricked your throat.

“Do you want more?” She drawled a whisper from above you.

You shook your head, fighting a shiver, as you whispered back, “No, thank you.”

The credits rolled, and you moved away from the couch, stretching with a yawn. Riley groaned with Dina, following her into the bathroom. Ellie stood up wordlessly, disappearing into the same bathroom before returning with a handful of things. She flicked on a small light, brushing her teeth at the kitchenette sink.

Sluggishly, you stood up and found your bag. Riley squeezed your arm and mumbled a good night to you, stumbling into Dina’s bedroom, complaining about the brightness. Ellie turned the sink off, brushing past you and into her bedroom.

You squinted, swaying into the empty bathroom, cleaning up and changing into a white slip, your eyes squeezed shut. You felt like a zombie as you made your way to the couch. You should’ve known better than to gauge your limit off of how normal you felt sitting in the dark.

Floorboards creaked, grabbing your attention.

Ellie leaned against her door in soft, red plaid pants, arms crossed against a black t-shirt.

She spoke hoarsely, “You don’t have to sleep out here, come on, it’s fucking creepy.”

Too mentally preoccupied and relieved to argue, you entered her room. Ellie set up a makeshift bed on her floor. Through the blurriness, you felt a sense of delight. She glanced at you, tilting her head toward the bed, “The bed’s yours.”

“I couldn’t–” You doubted.

“I’m serious. This is better for my back anyway.” She insisted, tossing a pillow on the carpet.

You didn’t have it in you to disagree, tucking yourself into Ellie’s bed. Your head met the pillow first, like an anchor. The sheets were a thick, dark blue weight over you. They smelled of her, and you pulled the sheets under your nose for more, closing your eyes. Ellie turned off the lights, switching on a fan; the flicker through your eyelids disappeared. You muffled a groan, head spinning.

Ellie stirred, whispering gravelly, “Are you okay?”

Another groan when you tried to speak, words dragged down by a flood of nausea. Your heart was in your ears. You heard some shuffling, then saw the gleam of the bedside lamp.

Calloused hands cupped your face, thumb brushing your cheek as she looked down at you worriedly.

What was happening to you?

“Do you want to sit up?” She asked worriedly.

Your eyebrows twitched. If you lifted a finger, you might throw up.

Ellie’s hand slipped into yours, squeezing lightly, “Hey, squeeze my hand for yes.”

It sounded like you were underwater. You held your breath, squeezing back; you were going to be sick.

The back of her hand pressed against your forehead, “Think you’re just greening out.”

The dip in the bed disappeared for a minute; your panicking rose.

Ellie sat you up to sit behind you. Your back met her chest and she pushed the fan toward you with her leg. She reached over her nightstand for water, the other hand rubbing your arm in an ataratic motion.

“Take a sip, you’ll feel better,” Ellie suggested, resting her chin on your shoulder to be close.

You drank slowly, chest stuttering with uneven breaths. She shushed you, “It’s just a feeling. I’ve got you. Deep breaths.”

It was a good thing you weren’t sober, otherwise you’d have melted through the floor out of embarrassment long ago.

Your body cooled, your carousel of a brain slowing. Ellie rummaged through her drawer, holding a peppermint against your lips, “You just have to suck on it. The sugar will help, I promise.”

You conceded, taking the sweet into your mouth and letting it melt against the roof of your mouth, “I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

“Don’t be.” She answered.

Silence passed before your body allowed your reprieve.

Your back left her, rubbing your eyes with deep breaths. When you looked back, she gave you a tired smile.

You smiled back, turning to face her, “Thank you. That’s never happened to me before, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She repeated, leaning against the headboard and looking over you.

“I fucked up your sleep.” You blurted, sheepishly.

“You didn’t. I take forever to fall asleep.” She reassured.

You nodded, looking away. The embarrassment was setting in. You spit the mint into the trash bin beside her bed.

“Sure, sobered me up though.” She joked.

You smiled small, “I don’t think I can go to sleep after that.”

“Me either.” She agreed.

You shrunk into yourself awkwardly, disguising it as a stretch. Ellie patted the spot beside her, placing her water bottle in your lap.

“Is Dina going to be okay?” You asked, tucking your legs under the blankets.

Ellie nodded, turning her neck to look at you with a half-lidded gaze, “She’ll be okay. They've been breaking up for the past two years.”

“Oh.” You responded.

“Something like that.” Ellie nodded.

Her room was quaint, as expected from a dorm but it was thoroughly decorated, space naturally taken up through the past few years. Her laundry bin was overflowing, and her dresser was messily painted with and scratched with doodles. A knife stuck out from the top where it stabbed beside a small TV crowded next to a console. Her skateboard propped up against the wall adorned with posters of bands and video games, a neat stack of books piled underneath her desk.

“You have a lot of tattoos.” You mumbled shyly, fixated on her arms.

Ellie hummed, holding her arm out to you and turning it over, “I hardly notice them now.”

“When did you get your first one?” You asked, watching her fingers prod at a patch on her forearm.

“This one,” She pointed out amusedly, “I had a friend do it for my sixteenth birthday. Luckily, she had experience— not that I knew.”

Your eyes widened, eyeing where ferns met the moth, “That’s a big commitment for sixteen.”

She let out a short laugh, “Tell me about it. My dad nearly ripped my arm off.”

Your insides bloomed warmth at her laugh. A moment ago, you’d been a mess, convinced you’d never live tonight down, now you were having a first proper conversation with her.

“Do you have any?” She asked, scanning you briefly.

“No.” You smiled, sheepishly, “But I like yours.”

“Thanks, pretty.” She slipped out, “I like them too.”

If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you would have caught it.

She cleared her throat, “Did the pictures turn out well for you?”

“Yeah, they’re perfect. Thank you. You did me a huge favor, you have no idea.” You chirped.

“Good, good.” She paused, “Hope your boyfriend appreciated them–otherwise you might turn out like Dina.”

You tilted your head. Boyfriend? Where did she get that idea from? Did she not know–

“I don’t have a boyfriend or anything.” You interjected, stuck on the word.

Ellie’s eyes met yours.

“I’m a lesbian.” You blurted.

An awkward pause blanketed the room.

Ellie cleared her throat, “That’s– cool. Me too.”

You bit back a smile, raking over her appearance, “I mean– yeah.”

The corner of her mouth tugged up, feigning offense, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” You defended, gesturing toward her appearance, “You know, you’re just so–”

Ellie cut you off. She shifted resting her arms over her knees, “I’m so?” She drawled.

You inched back out of instinct, holding your breath. Ellie followed naturally, green eyes searching yours gently, “Hm?”

Your expression softened under her gaze, discreetly clenching your thighs. Ellie’s eyes flicked down to your lap, knowingly, cupping your knee.

Your chest tightened with anxiety; alarm bells sounding off in your head.

This wasn’t you.

Thorns crowded your throat, tightening in punishment; don’t fuck this up, don’t compromise yourself, you don’t know what this is, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re both just high and drunk, you’ll regret it by morning.

You begged yourself, for what, you weren’t sure.

Ellie’s voice grounded you, hushed, “Should we call it a night?”

How much longer could you live, backing yourself into corners and never coming out? Holed up in your apartment for two more years, sitting in your car and talking yourself down for an hour before you could enter the grocery store. Lying to therapists, doctors, and your best friend then breaking down when your reflection turned unrecognizable. The monster wasn’t chasing you anymore, yet you pushed yourself to run until the asphalt bled beneath.

You’d been a shell this whole time, and you just wanted to be whole, even temporarily. You wanted her to be the one to do it.

Ellie’s eyes widened when you pressed your mouth against hers.

The sound reverberated within your bones and you dissolved just as she caught you; holding your waist and guiding you closer.

She tasted of whiskey and smoke, melting into the sugary sweetness that clung to your tongue. You weren’t sure where to place your hands.

The silk of your slip dress tickled your sides, fingers palming the material and riding up further when she lifted you over her thigh.

Your eyebrows knit, breathing against her as she pressed gentle kisses to the corner of your mouth, murmuring, “Tell me you want this too.”

“I want this.” You whispered back, shakily, hands finding solace on her shoulders.

I want you, Ellie thought to herself.

Her pouty lips trailed down your jaw and neck, to your collarbones, painting it with flowers of purple and pink like the canvases she slaved over in secrecy. You bit your lip, drawing a sliver of blood. Her head pulled back, kissing it off like a second thought as if you weren’t to blame.

For once, you were in the present— not floating through the minutes, turned to days, turned to weeks as you’d always done. You felt every breath flow through you. You were someone again.

You inched further into her lap, straddling until your knees kissed the headboard behind her.

Hands roamed, feeling the ridges of Ellie’s abdomen over her shirt before slipping beneath the fabric. Her skin burned upon your palms. You pressed further, eager to see her.

Ellie peeled off her shirt as if she read your mind. You leaned down, kissing between her tape-plastered chest until your lips tickled against the fuzz of her happy trail, drawing a shaky sigh from the woman. A firm hand carded through your hair, bunching it. You paused, mouthing over the bulge in her pants, looking up at her.

Gentle fingers stroked the back of your neck, her smile growing at your appearance. She let out a low breath, stomach twitching as you stained a wet patch on the fabric. A free hand tilted your chin up, two fingers slipping into your mouth. You latched on, moaning around them.

Ellie watched in disbelief, lips parted as a blossoming flush spread to her neck. Her fingers pressed down, opening your mouth. Drool gathered at the corners of your lips, dripping on her hips as her fingers stroked the muscle, milking your tongue for more until your chin was thoroughly soaked in spit.

“Fuck.” She cursed under her breath, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Ellie.” You whimpered, catching your breath.

“Come on, pretty.” She said, arm hooking behind your thighs to pull you closer, “Let’s take care of you.”

You straddled her lap once again and she pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling your dress up to your waist. Her finger hooked into the band of your underwear, tugging your ankle to slip the fabric off entirely. Your blue ruffle panties lay discarded on the duvet and you hissed at the cool air exposing you, thighs trembling as you held yourself up over her lap.

Ellie’s hand gripped your face, kissing you tenderly.

“You want to ride me, baby?” She asked, huskily.

Your neck could’ve snapped with the force you used to nod.

She called you baby!

“Yes.” You confessed, melting into the hold that positioned you over her.

Ellie’s hand smacked your thigh lightly, urging you to sit. Your center met her bulge with a whimper; she shifted you so the patch of saliva you’d left previously, soaked against your clit. It was warm and unavoidable, and obscene. You were going to cum before you even moved.

“Please, what?” She taunted, smirking at your reaction.

You whimpered, pressing your hips down, “Please, daddy.”

Her eyes widened in a fleeting moment, schooling her expression into neutrality. She didn’t expect you to say that, but she could work with it.

“Yeah? Give daddy a kiss, baby.” She whispered.

Your spit-soaked chin knocked into hers carelessly, tilting your head to be closer as your lips locked. You wanted to blend, to live in her skin, and never leave her.

Veined hands eased your hips against her, rocking you back and forth. She swallowed your moans, letting out a choked laugh.

Was this happening? She was so fucked.

“Please, please, please, please.” Hurried from your lips as though you were possessed.

A heat pooled in your stomach, pulsing dangerously with each brush of your clit, sending shocks up your arched spine.

“Good girl,” Ellie praised, “I’ve got you, darling. Just hold on to me.”

Your arms wrapped around her shoulders, tucking your face into her neck to muffle your whimpers and obscenities.

“Feels good?” She panted, squeezing your ass as she guided you.

You nodded, choking on your words as you groaned against her pulse, sweat building at your hairline, “I’m close.”

Ellie peppered your shoulder with kisses, paying the creaking bed no attention, “Soak my lap, darling. Show me how good you can be.”

Your stomach tensed, sensation swirling thickly as your toes curled. You bit down on her shoulder as you came, drawing out a mumble of curses. You bounced feverishly, bumping her packer harder against her clit as you rode your high with greed.

Ellie’s eyes fluttered shut, nails digging into the crease of your thighs, “So fucking good— keep going. Shit.”

She came shortly after, taking it out on your neck as her teeth nipped and marred the thin skin with bliss. You sank into her, cheek resting against her freckled shoulder.

Ellie moved you as a ragdoll, whispering praises in your ear when she turned you around on your knees, pressing flatly at the bottom of your spine to deepen your arch. Your elbows weakened, and you whimpered. She placed a pillow over her legs for your head to rest on, rubbing the front of your thigh.

You leaned into every generous touch, reveling in her tenderness.

A cry tore from your lips when you felt her fingers tease your wet cunt, smearing your release around your clit with her thumb.

Ellie shushed you, pinching your hip in warning, “Don’t be rude, keep it down. Everyone’s asleep.”

She stared at your center before spitting on it. Her saliva dribbled, running down the back of your thigh in a mixture with your cum. You moaned, gasping when her tongue licked to catch it; pulling the wetness back up and pushing it into your entrance with a squelch. Ellie’s tongue prodded desperately, lacking restraint. You twitched with each lap to your folds, slick noises rang in your ears, echoing within your skull like a mantra.

A slew of pleads and soft cries left you. Ellie pulled her head back with a sigh, grabbing your discarded panties. They brushed against your trembling lips in greeting, and your mouth parted to take it in.

“There we go. Just needed some help quieting down, right?” She cooed, “Always so polite.”

Her arm hooked around your thighs once again, locking you in place before resuming her ministrations. You sobbed freely, muffled by the fabric gagging you. Hot tears pricked your waterline at a harsh slap to your clit.

“Prettiest fucking pussy.” She exhaled, moaning at your taste, “How’d I get so lucky, hm, angel?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, toes curling and hands fisting the duvet as she ravaged you. Tears slipped down your burning skin and leaked into your ears.

Ellie took notice, staring with adoration before mocking you, “It’s that fucking good, huh? Come on, don’t be selfish. Give me one more.”

You would give her anything— anything she asked for.

Whimpers clawed at your vocal cords, shaking at the oversensitivity coursing through. Ellie kept working you; sucking on your clit and flicking at it with her tongue, only holding you tighter without forgiveness the more you attempted to twist around for relief.

“Ellie, Ellie, Ellie!” You pleaded around the makeshift gag.

She hummed against your cunt in response, pulling a groan from you. It was happening again, building up tenfold. Your vision blurred. You shook your head as you reached back for her. Ellie’s hand interlocked with yours, taking out your gag with her other hand and replacing it with her cum-soaked fingers.

Pacified by how much of her you felt; you went lax.

Ellie groaned when you clenched around her tongue, flooding her mouth with release, vision turning white and tensing suddenly. Your orgasm tore you apart, placing pressure as far as your lungs in a manner you couldn’t stray from. Your legs numbed, your thighs trembled, and your mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Ellie cleaned you up with her tongue until you came to as a limp, twitching mess.

You whimpered, earning a kiss on the back of your thigh. Ellie moved carefully, barely making a sound; she pulled your dress back over your lower half, gathering your sticking hair from your sweaty neck. She rubbed your back until you sighed, observing your disassociated expression.

The lamp shut off with a flick. Rough hands kneaded your wrists with an unexpected tenderness. Faint kisses sprinkled your spine, then lifted you to her as she laid down. Your cheek squished against her chest and you hummed softly at another kiss to your temple. Ellie held you firmly, folding the blanket over both of your legs.

She stared at the ceiling without blinking, rubbing your arm with soft, attentive strokes, breathing you in until you fell asleep in her arms.

What happens now?

────୨ৎ────

Apathy weaved within you in the most inappropriate moments. To abscond the numbness, solitude is currency to imagine what could be. Four walls relentlessly alchemize to hermetic traps. You’re forced to resurrect before your feet can leave the ground. You’re always almost there.

“Have you considered what we discussed in our last session?”

You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, numbly, “I have.”

“Great. Did you find an opportunity to practice or are you still deciding?” Brooke asked, crossing her legs in the sofa chair across from you.

It’s your fifth try. You’re grateful there aren’t legal repercussions to ghosting therapists, otherwise you’d be out of insurance. You chose a psychotherapist this time after an impulsive search on WebMD and managed to charm her well enough with your issues to earn yourself two sessions per week. There are weeks when you only attend to see the fish tank in her office; she’s unaware of this.

“I don’t think I’m ready. Sorry.” You mumbled, snapping the loose thread.

The ceramic scraped against the side table before she took a sip of her coffee. Steam fogged her glasses; she tucked them in her hair.

She nodded, “There’s no need to apologize. Is there a specific aspect you’re struggling with?”

“No. I just need to think about it more.” You lied.

Brooke clicked her pen, scribbling. “You mentioned dinner out with friends. How was that?”

“It was good. My friend asked me to go and I knew most of the people there. It wasn’t very big, there were five of us at this Italian place I’d never been to, it was nice.” You divulged flatly.

“I’m glad to see you getting out of the house. Did you do anything fun after?” She asked.

“No. My friend dropped me off at home afterward.” You sighed.

She hummed, “Is this Riley, the friend?”

You hum back in agreement, attention flicking to the clock.

“Outside of class and routine errands, have you socialized with anyone else since?” Brooke questioned, tilting her head.

You bit down on your lip, “Yes. I had someone come over. A friend of a friend. I saw them again after–with other people I know.”

“That’s good to hear.” She shifted, folding her hands together, “You invited them over? What was the purpose?”

“I hired them to take pictures for work. I didn’t know them. We weren’t hanging out or anything.” You explained, withholding certain details.

“I see. How was the experience? Were you able to connect with this person?” She inquired.

You exhale, shaking your head, “It was good– I think. I wasn’t as nervous as I thought I would be, probably because she was a girl. She was pretty nice to me.”

“And this person was aware of your line of work, correct? You were comfortable sharing that with them?” She pondered, the spoon clinking against the edges of her cup.

“I mean, yes. I assume my friend said something. It was pretty obvious considering what I asked of them.” You disclosed, chewing your cheek.

Brooke hummed, pausing, “Why do you think it is that you struggle with casual tasks, but were able to invite this person into your home in a considerably vulnerable situation? ”

You bit your tongue, weighing your words carefully on what you could tell her and what she wanted to hear. That you gave up for a moment to act out of exhaustion and impulse to prove something to your detriment?

A symbol of deliverance flags your need for fortification. You wanted reassurance through devastation; your neuroses to be justified. Kindness would’ve been easier to grant yourself in this way.

You’d opened up to the world’s wrath and received Ellie instead.

Why the fuck did you meet Ellie instead?

“I mean– I was scared at first. I almost backed out but it happened so fast, I couldn’t say no. I–I don’t know. I think it was her. It made it easier that it was her. And my friend knows her so I think it’s easier to–to feel that way.” You stuttered, picking at your nails.

“And what way is that?” Brooke replied.

You swallowed thickly, “Safe?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ hiya, guys! i'm half asleep uploading this right now so i apologize for any overlooked typos. i really appreciate it when you guys leave feedback. it helps with improving my writing and many of them are so kind. also what's smut without fluff? anyways, enjoy the calm before the storm!

thank you!

taglist: @sweeterthing @orphicsun @edenspoem @crystaksack @honeylovee @elliesngirl @sewithinsouls @corpsebride25 @sulliefimmie @vahnilla @elliesangel444 @pussyeatercunt @starryrae @snuffphiliaa @stardropsblog @morticeras @spiidergwenn @ruevu @ellabssweetheart @rbnvrnxoxo @starrdelight @violetszn @nut-button-baby @thalchmy @ferxanda @kuv1ras @moonabs @crucifiedfem @blossom-teablog @eclipcee8 @onlyasp3nn @wandanaswhxre @fortunatelyfurrypaper @trueellivingx @madsxh1022 @artemisdreamfairie @liztreez @ellensmithxo @2against3 @sevshaven @julesotb @pariiissssssss @starryeyedlovergirl @ellieshothousewife @winkybun @adoreasellie @eleanorsghost @the-sick-habit @cloudyorgy @elliepoems @ellieputellas @vintage-karma @ndksksjasnsbs @ellieswrldd @moonabs @kuv1ras @rhyrhy @angelsvirtualarchive @iadorefineshyt @natsheretic @iowahawkeyes22 @nightmare1m00n @btwitsevelin @coconutnco @vamp1reg1rrrl @dreamypinkprincessworld @sapphinc @vampirebrewsss @leeidk87 @hyperbabes @sqandroct14 @httpsiluvizzy @elliesbabygirl @yashirawr @rhian88 @soodle-noup @masclover111 @camcam-yass @elliesfavtoy @ramiiroll @m5334 @abouchlaire @lealy03 @moonystoes @megsvante @spoilmyfun @missrot @surrealistims @abbyanderswife @haerinsmable @vamp-kitty65 @jazzyxox @williamellieslilho @chappellroankisser @keseqna @macysz @vigilanteashit @loaksdeadbrother @bumbercar @leysol @252ineedu @vicluvsu @jajsnjz @mingitheii @ruelezz @aliendustpee @yasmilks

#ellie williams #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us #the last of us 2 #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #tlou part 2 #butch!ellie #college!ellie #loser!ellie #butch!ellie x femme!reader #tlou2 #tlou #lesbian fics #ellie williams x reader #𔓘 jammy's fics

1K notes · View notes

norrisainz33 · 6 months ago

Text

ski trip || ln4

☆ summary: annual ski trip with lando, max and p! ft. down bad bf lando

☆ pairing: lando norris x private!nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none and suggestive and minor bad language- you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: nope!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by landonorris, ln4, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell, yourbff and 1,238 others

ynuser: and that’s a wrap on the 2024 season! congrats again to the mclaren team and my little gremlin boy 🧡

view all 56 comments

landonorris: AWOOOGGAAAAA

ynuser: 😘🤍🫶🏻😔👏🏻🫣🥹

oscarpiastri: i was so scared he was going to drop it

ynuser: you and me both osco

muppet4: AWOOGA THATS MY GIRL

ynuser: not the priv too 😭

muppet4: had to make sure you knew i thought you looked hot

carlossainz55: simp 🫵🏻

ynuser: that’s him your honor

maxfewtrell: did you swipe me one of those ornaments

ynuser: yes multiple dw

lilyzneimer: prettiest girl at the party

ynuser: no baby that was you

oscarpiastri: 🫣

ynuser has posted to their story 🔒

view all replies

landonorris: thanks for not posting the strip poker pic 🫣

ynuser: HA i didn’t but i wouldn’t put it past max

maxfewtrell: let’s gooooooo

yourbff: yeeeeee i’m so excited for you

ynuser: eeek me toooooo

pietra.pilao: huge agree 🤍⛷️

ynuser: missed you sm bestie

carlossainz55: where was my invite amiga?

ynuser: mi amigo it was sent but someone said they were busy 🙄

lilyzneimer: wish we were there with you!!! next time 🤍

ynuser: next time pleaseee!! i know i just saw you at the holiday party but my god i already miss you

pietra.pilao has posted to her story

view all story replies

maxfewtrell: what about me???

pietra.pilao: what about you?

maxfewtrell: 🙄

ynuser: my girl 🫶🏻🥹😍😘

pietra.pilao: i love you long time

pietra.pilao: can you just move to london with max and i

ynuser: i love you more 🤍 ill work on getting lan to move to london asap 😍

user2: serving so hard it criminal

landonorris: NO!!! that’s the love of MY life!!!!!

pietra.pilao: get in line

landonorris: god dammit i knew i should never have introduced you two

pietra.pilao: bc she likes me more?

landonorris: yes 😔

user1: omg mothers are mothering

yourbff: god i’m so in love with you both

muppet4 posted to their story

view all story replies

elmatador55: this angle makes you look tall

muppet4: thanks mate! i grew a few inches 🙂‍↔️

maxfewtrell: can’t believe you made me take this to only post it on the priv ?!

ynuser: i wish we could stay like this in our little snow bubble forever

muppet4: same darling. id love to be able to spend every single second of all my time with you but it makes the time we do have that much sweeter 🤍

ynuser: very true sweet boy

muppet4: plusssss you’re coming to more races next season so it wont be as bad i promise

ynuser: starting my full time wag duties 🫡

oscinha: keepin it pg i see

muppet4: always

m4xlol: my eyes 😭

muppet4: close em 😘

landonorris has posted to his story

view all story replies

iamrebeccad: as you SHOULD!

user4: any day that we get y/n crumbs is a good day

ynuser: thanks for the bag baby 😍

landonorris: anything for my world 😘

ynuser: i love you 🤍

landonorris: god say it again

ynuser: i love you forever

landonorris: mm yeah you do

landonorris: i love you too ❤️

maxverstappen1: she deserves it 😩

landonorris: you right 😔

user18: lando can you fight?

yourbff: this is the richest and bougiest thing i’ve ever seen

landonorris: lv in snow is next level

ynuser has made a post 🔒

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, iamrebeccad, yourbff, muppet4, maxverstappen1, and 989 others

ynuser: how lucky i am to live this life with you 🤍

view all 57 comments

yourbff: cutie patootie

ynuser: 🥹🤍

carmenmundt: the perfect couple

ynuser: says you and georgie

landonorris: man don’t make me cry

ynuser: ur a cute crier

landonorris: it’s just bc i love you sm

maxverstappen1: he’s the lucky one y/n/n

muppet4: unbelievably lucky mate

maxverstappen1: 👏🏻

pietra.pilao: snow angel 🫶🏻

landonorris has made a post

liked by carlossainz55, mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, lancestroll, georgerussell63, and 657,235 others

landonorris: would give anything for break to never end

view all 644 comments

maxfewtrell: heard the real estate prices are cheaper here than monaco

pietra.pilao: no it’s better in london pls

ynuser: yes lando london is quite nice this time of year i hear

landonorris: yeah no it’s not y/n

maxfewtrell: it’s actually horrible this time of year

user12: god you two are perfect

user23: Y/N CRUMBS YEEEEEE

ynuser: you and that puppy makes me want a puppy

landonorris: i can make that happen

ynuser: 👀🫵🏻🐶

mclarenf1: going to pretend we didn’t see this! you gotta get back on track soon!

user24: y/n is literally so gorgeous how did he bag such a baddie

user19: if my man don’t post me like this i don’t want him

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

2K notes · View notes

bangchanwifey · 5 months ago

Text

‘stuck with me’ - choi su-bong (thanos) / player 230 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

not proofread! read at your own risk!! i wanted to put my own spin on thanos bc everyone makes him so mean and aggressive so i hope i did this justice !!

pairing(s): ex bf!choi su-bong (thanos) x female!reader

warnings: femme reader, language, smut, fingering (r!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, normal squid game gore

summary: what happens when you reunite with your ex who did you dirty in a game where everyone is fighting to survive?

it has been almost a year since you and your ex boyfriend choi su-bong had broken up. you would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him practically everyday since then. but the two of you ended things for a reason and you knew you shouldn’t want him in the way you still do but you can’t help it.

su-bong had gotten caught up in some sort of crypto scam and he made you believe it in so much that he even convinced you to pitch your own money into it. of course it didn’t end up working out so that’s how you got where you are today almost 2 million won in debt.

you hated him for dragging you into this but you hated yourself more for trusting him and getting screwed over yet again.

you had been going about a normal day about to head back home for the night when a strange but attractive looking man approached you with an odd looking briefcase by his side. he made a promise to you that if you could beat him in a couple rounds of a silly game he would simply pay you. you were desperate so you played multiple rounds with him until you were fed up with him slapping you for losing. when you finished the man handed you a strange looking business card that you shoved in your pocket until you made it home.

so that’s how you ended up in a room with 455 other strangers. you were awoken by loud music blaring and lights coming on to see your surroundings. you looked down to see you had been changed into a green tracksuit with a small number ‘240’ in the corner of the jacket.

you had sat in your bunk for a while not sure what to do until finally a herd of guards with masks and pink outfits came through the doors. they had explained the rules to everyone and made you line up to go take photos for whatever reason before the first game begun.

“señorita? oh my god! is that really you?” you heard from a distance. you could recognize that voice anywhere. you turned around so fast you were surprise you didn’t get whiplash. there he was just a couple feet away from you, your ex boyfriend, choi su-bong.

you stared in shock as you took him in. he looked the same except he had gotten more tattoos and had freshly purple hair. you couldn’t deny that he looked good even in that ugly green tracksuit.

“what the the hell are you doing here?” you ask looking him up and down. he does the same back to you, “i could ask you the same.” he replied making you roll your eyes.

“well i’m actually here because someone made me lose all my fucking money for a scam.” you said sending him a glare before looking down at the ground. seeing him again after all this time had you feeling all sorts of emotions at once, especially anger.

“oh baby cmon! you’re really still mad about that?” he asked moving closer to you to get a better look. you hesitantly looked back up meeting his eyes once again. “of course I am! do you not understand that you made me go broke? i had to move back in with my parents for fucks sake!”

he just stared at you not knowing what to say next. you took that as an opportunity to get away from him, getting in line to take your photo. you posed for the camera giving a slight smile and throwing up your middle finger. you watched how su-bong practically did the same thing making you remember just how similar the two of you were.

once everyone had finished you were now all walking into a large field that looked like it was outside. the first thing everyone noticed was a giant creepy looking doll on the other side staring back at you.

you heard an automated voice call out to you and explain that you were going to be playing red light, green light. it explained the rules before everyone lined up in front of the starting line. it seemed simple enough. right?

before the game started you all watched how a man with the number ’456’ on his jacket screamed about how if you moved after red light was called you were going to be shot. he had to be crazy right? but his words stuck with you and once the game started and the voice finally called red light you stayed stiller than you ever have before.

everything seemed to be going just fine for a while as the man was guiding everyone and telling us when to go and stop. that was until the woman standing right next to you had a bee land on her neck. you heard her scream and before you could even process what was happening she had been shot, just like the man at the beginning had said.

when the voice called out green light yet again you stayed in your spot too taken aback to even move. you heard su-bong yell out to you, “hey you have to keep going. stay behind me.” so you did just that staying close behind him till you both reached the end.

once the game had concluded you found yourself back in the same bed from before laying down and staring at the ceiling. you had so many thoughts running through your mind. you knew you shouldn’t have come here in the first place. you knew there had to be some sort of catch, and now your life was all the line just to win some fucking money.

you heard footsteps approaching but you didn’t have to look to know who it was. “hey babe. you alright?” you looked over at su-bong wanting to ignore him but instead you sat up and faced him.

“don’t call me that su-bong.” you replied bluntly as you felt his gaze on you. he put his hands up in defense before sitting down next to you. “please stick next to me in here, i wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happened to you and i didn’t help.” you heard him say.

it made you smile a little. despite how much you hated his ass you knew deep down he still and always would care for you. he noticed this and it made him smile too. “also i would really like if you called me thanos.”

you scoffed and looked at him with a shocked face realizing that’s why he had the purple hair and colored nails. “you’re serious..? that’s the dumbest fucking rapper name i’ve ever heard.”

he laughed at your response noticing how you did a little too. “oh come on you know you love it.” you just stared at him not really knowing what to say but you honestly loved how he always came up with dumb shit like that and it suited him perfectly.

you two sat there for a while trying to catch up before you were interrupted by the guards once again. they had come in to congratulate the players who were still alive and said we would be holding a vote to stay or leave and split the money that had been accumulated so far.

you watched as the others voted one by one and when it was finally your turn you pressed the red ‘x’ with no hesitation. you watched thanos go shortly after you and to your surprise he had voted to stay. you watched him walk to the other side sighing as he smiled like it was no big deal.

as the voting was nearing an end you were sure you were going to make it out of there until the final voter, player ’001’ had pressed the blue ‘o.’

you stood there in disbelief for a minute before heading back to your bunk not wanting to be apart of the arguments that were already starting. you noticed thanos following close behind and you felt him grab your wrist.

you stared at him and his hand lingered on your arm not wanting to let go. “why did you do that?” you asked gesturing to the blue patch on his jacket. he looked at with an almost hurt expression. “oh come on baby you know i need the money. you do too. if we work through this together we can get that shit and get out of here safely.”

you just rolled your eyes at him trying to explain how putting your lives at risk wasn’t worth it but he didn’t seem to care. instead he pulled you to the bathrooms before you could stop him.

he pulled the two of you into the women’s restroom making you confused. “what the hell are you doing?!” you yelled trying to get out of his grip but he held on stronger.

“baby.. i’ve missed you so fucking much. i hate myself everyday for what i did to you and i know you do too. will you please work through this with me? we only have to do one more game and i promise i will make it up to you when we get that money and get out of here.” you heard him confess.

you wanted to scream at him for what he said. you wanted to tell him no and that he was wrong and you knew he was lying. but you didn’t. no, you couldn’t. instead you found yourself moving closer to him and before you knew it your lips were meeting his for the first time in almost a year.

the feeling made both of you let out soft moans and when you felt him move his hands lower onto your back you couldn’t help the noise that slipped out of you.

you pulled away for a second, your forehead still touching his and looking him in the eyes. “please don’t make me regret this. i want to trust you.” you whispered as he stared at you.

“i promise sweetheart. i want to make it up to you and i want to make you the happiest girl in the world. i will never stop feeling that way.” his words made the two of you smile before your lips met once again.

before you knew it the kiss was becoming more intense and full of need. thanos decided to pull you into a stall just incase someone had decided to walk in on the two of you.

you giggled as you felt him pick you up as if it was nothing. your lips never left his as he pushed you up against the door while holding you. “god i’ve missed this..” he whispered into your ear sending shivers down your spine.

“me too su-bong.” you let out as you felt him start to place kisses down your neck. this made you tilt your head back allowing him more access as you ran your fingers through his purple locks.

“can i take this off?” he asked holding onto your jacket while looking up at you. you nodded quickly and he practically ripped off your jacket as well as the t-shirt underneath.

you moaned softly as he placed kisses to your chest before ripping off your bra as well. he cupped one of your tits in his hand before placing his mouth around the other one.

“please don’t tease me baby.” you whispered which made him only suck harder on your nipple. you could already feel how wet you were becoming as you saw him smirk at your words.

“just wanna take my time with you sweets.” he said before trailing kisses down your stomach. when he got to the waistband of your pants he slipped them off in a matter of seconds leaving you in just your underwear.

“you’re so fucking beautiful.” he moaned as he took in the sight of you that was in front of him. you smiled at him before removing his own shirt and pants so you were now both in the same position. your mouth practically dropped at how good he looked and he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction.

he removed his boxers before removing your own underwear leaving the two of you naked. it had been so long since you saw each other like this and it made the both of you blush slightly.

he moved closer and placed your lips together yet again. the feeling of your tits pressed up against his bare chest made the two of you moan, aching for more. you felt his hand trail down to your already soaking wet pussy and he stuck a finger in without warning making you moan again.

he kept his eyes on yours as he watched your reaction to his fingers. before you knew it he was adding another before moving his mouth to your tits again. the pleasure was staring to become overwhelming as it had been too long since someone had you like this.

your moans became louder and you knew if anyone walked into the bathroom they would know exactly what was going on. but to be honest, you didn’t care. you yelled out as you felt him pick up his speed encouraging you to cum on his fingers.

you did just that making him smirk at you again before he picked you up once more. he held a firm grip on your sides letting you know he wasn’t going to drop you.

“i love you so much su-bong.. i’m sorry for leaving.” you admitted to him looking into his eyes. “don’t apologize my girl. you had every right to do what you did. i was so shitty to you but i really hope you can forgive me. i just want to move forward with you and give you what you deserve. i love you.” he confessed.

you kissed him again this time a little more aggressive not wanting this moment to end. he held you tight and you could feel his erection against your stomach making you feel even wetter than before. “i need you baby…” you moaned out while looking up at him.

he wasted no time lining his cock up with your entrance. you both moaned before he pushed his length inside of you causing you to throw your head back. he held onto you as he trusted himself up into you never letting go once.

“fuck! you feel so good baby.” he moaned into your ear, resting his head on your shoulder. your nails met his back scratching lightly as he thrusted into you over and over again.

“faster thanos please!” you yelled out wanting more of him. he did what you said thrusting into you even quicker. he would be lying if he said you calling him his nickname didn’t turn on even more. he absolutely loved the effect you had on him.

the speed of his thrusts and the sounds of his soft whimpers in your ear was enough to send you over the edge. you were close and you knew he was too.

“‘m so close baby.” he whispered slamming into you even harder than before.

he wrapped a hand around your throat knowing how much it turned you on. you moaned louder than before at the feeling and you knew you were done for. “i’m gonna cum!” you yelled feeling your orgasm getting closer.

“that’s it baby let it out, cum all over my cock.” he said causing you to do just that. not long after he was releasing inside of you painting your insides white with one last thrust into you.

he pulled out of you before cleaning the two of you up carefully. when the two of you were dressed again you couldn’t help but laugh a little. “what?” he asked looking at you confused. “i can’t believe we just did that here.” you replied smiling big at him causing him to do the same.

“i’d do that with you anywhere!” he said causing you to lightly smack him on the arm. you rolled your eyes before giving him another quick kiss. “i love you.” he said.

“i love you too su-bong.” you replied as you felt him kiss your forehead before opening the stall door for the two of you. he grabbed your hand before heading back to the others.

little did you know what was coming your way.

⇾ be sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed! any type of interaction is appreciated :,)

⇾ thank you for reading all the way through <3 so excited to be posting my first thanos fic!! i want to write for more squid game characters so pls send me requests if you have any!!! i love y’all 💝💝

1K notes · View notes