#stealing glory from afar

[dorylinae-supremacy]

DSBI WIP Snippet Dump

8 snippets from different fics, all are around 300 words from my different series that I have going on.

Ask For Nothing Snippet

Henchman Chaper 3 snippet

Stealing Glory From Afar continuation

Four Seasons - Technos yoinking

Rabbit Hutch - Phil centric horror AU where Techno is a cryptid

Fundy Visit - Set in BFOB and explores Fundys relationship with the others

Hadal Zone - Wilbur centric mer AU where he gets yoinked

Spider in room - set in BFOB and is just another slice of life thing

[mrwavellswaps]

Who would you Swap, Hypno, TF? Jens De Fries, Jordan Torres, and Eric Janicki

Now this one I don’t even need to think about!

For who I’m going to switch bodies with, it is on sight with Eric Janicki. I’m stealing that body as fast as humanly possible. Do I even need to explain why! Dude is a fucking monster! Built from head to toe with thick heavy muscle and a stunning face to cap it off. Yep. That body is mine. But how would I steal it is the question? Luckily I already have a plan.

First of all I’ll need to find out where he lives and which gym he goes to. After that I’ll track him down to said gym, waiting until he inevitably arrives for his workout. When he does I’ll watch him from afar, admiring the massive body of his as it starts to glisten with sweat while he pumps his muscles. Eventually I’ll follow him to the changing rooms as subtly as possible once he’s done working out. Now the next pet is gonna be tricky. I’ll need to steal at least one recently worn piece of clothing from Eric. But doing that without him catching me would prove challenging. It’d need to wait for the perfect opportunity. It’ll probably take multiple days of following him to the gym before I finally pull it off. However he would eventually go off to talk to one of his buddies after getting changed out of his gym clothes, leaving his gym bag completely unattended. That would be my chance. I’ll dash over as fast as possible and grab the first thing I see inside the bag. And wouldn’t you know, I grabbed Eric’s large sweaty tank top.

As soon as I’m home, there’s no doubt that the very first thing I’ll do is press my nose into the tank top and inhale Eric’s scent while jerking off. Can you blame me? But once I’m finally finished, the ritual could commence. For it to work the caster needed to be wearing at least one recently worn article of clothing belonging to whoever they wished to become. Hence why I’d have Eric’s tank top dropped loosely over my body as I performed the ritual. Once completed, there would be a strong flash of colourful light and before long I’d be out cold.

When I finally wake however, the biggest grin would spread across my face as I immediately see that I’m laid in bed in a room that certainly isn’t my own. It was Eric’s bedroom. Without a second thought I’d toss the bed sheets off myself with glee shortly followed by my brain hardly being able to comprehend the sight below. Looking down at myself I saw the enormous herculean body of Eric Janicki… now completely under my control! It wouldn’t seem real. Goliath sized legs. Enormous hulking arms. Massive meaty pecs. All moving and bulging to my whim! I was a fucking unit! Yet despite all that I wouldn’t be able to keep my attention off the fat throbbing erection between my legs as Eric’s cock head peered out from the bottom of my underwear.

Eric’s morning wood would be the biggest and hardest if ever experienced perhaps part due to the swap but whatever the case I’d be tugging my underwear down in no time and wrapping my hands around that thick weapon. Moaning to myself in Eric’s voice and flexing my gigantic muscles while a jerk my fat new cock like crazy. Loving how even my dick was massive just like the rest of me was. Not being able to stop jacking and flexing until I finally erupted a massive hot load all over my new body.

Thankfully Eric would have some tissues to clean up with on the nightstand as my penis returned to a more modest size. But that would only be the beginning. It wouldn’t be long before I was jumping out of bed to get a proper look at my new self. Waltzing over the bedroom mirror and beaming from ear to ear when I see the face of Eric Janicki staring back at me. I’d check myself out immensely, groping and admiring every inch of my form. Probably almost busting another fat load on the spot when I finally get to a chance to see and squeeze my thick new muscle ass in all its glory. And I’m sure as you can imagine, I’d soon start hitting every pose I could think of to the mirror with perfect fucking form thanks to this body’s muscle memory. And no doubt it’d be a hot fucking sight to see.

Once I’m finally able to tear myself away from the mirror I’ll likely explore my new house for a bit. Strolling around in my underwear and checking out the view from the balcony but eventually there’s no doubt I’d wander into Eric’s walk in closet, seeing the huge array of clothes he had stored away. You better believe I was going to have fun trying on almost everything he own.

Fuck. I’ve been so absorbed into Eric that I nearly forgot I have two other men here! Well between Jens De Fries and Jordan Torres the one I’d have to hypnotise would be Jens for sure. He’s a hot hairy beast of a man that never ceases to give me a hard on and having him around would certainly be ideal.

Since I would already have Eric by this point it would once again just be a case of tracking down Jens. I have a feeling it might be a bit harder than it was to find Eric but I’m sure I’d be able to figure it out sooner or later. And once I’ve figured him out, I’d make a little trip down to see me. Maybe make some videos for Eric’s Instagram as well while I’m at it. Once again though it would probably be a case of finding the gym he goes to and following him inside. That said there’s a good chance he might recognise my hulking body and handsome face which if so could make this even easier. Get to chatting with him, maybe do a few sets together and what not. Act like gymbros and what not.

However as soon as we head into the changing rooms together, that’s when I’d strike. Wrapping him up in a huge bear hug with my enormous size and muscle. He’ll be too shocked to do anything naturally and won’t be strong enough to break out of my grasp before my magically enhanced pheromones do their work. It’d already been subtly working on him as we worked out together. Me working up a sweat and my scent wafting up his nose. Weakening his mind. And now he couldn’t escape it. Now his mind was swiftly being chained down by my powerful aroma and pheromones. Before long Jens would stop struggling and instead would continue to inhale my scent voluntarily, only pulling him deeper and deeper into being my hot hairy slave. Only fit to do my bidding and worship my body. Not to mention being my new fuck toy. And hey maybe I’ll even let him fuck me as well. No sense in letting a fat ass like mine go to waste.

I suppose after all that, all that’s left is Jordan Torres. I’ll be totally honestly, though Jordan is a hot dude, he isn’t totally my type. That said I can still put him to good use with a bit of TF! But what to turn him into I wonder?

Honestly it’s difficult to decide. Should I turn him into another gay man that’s more my type for me to fuck? Should I turn him into something inanimate for me to wear? But in the end I’ve decided to do something bizarre.

The moment I’m able to track down Jordan, the first thing I’m gonna do is pull down my shorts and underwear and whip out my fat Eric Janicki cock. Before he can react I’ll grab one of his hands and force him to touch my cock. The mom he does he’ll find himself unable to pull away as he loses all of his strength. No doubt he’ll be panicking but there’ll be nothing he can do as his body shrinks and gets fully absorbed into my cock. In the process I’d hopefully end up stealing his muscle mass and adding it to my own body while Jordan becomes nothing more than the fat cock between my legs. Now he’ll have the pleasure of being fucked into Jens’ hairy asshole every night, his only purpose now being to shoot my load 😈

[hanselate]

Paper Wishes

Clarisse la rue x Fem!reader

i have like no confidence in my writing and this took forever to finally finish, also not proof read.

In which reader keeps a paper of wises written down in her pocket and it goes missing.

Warnings: none that i know of its just a cute little story

Dividers not by me

In the hustle and heat of Camp Half-Blood, amidst the clang of swords and the laughter of demigods, it seems you'd lost something of value. A tiny, folded paper with little words, words written like a hopeful incantation. It had things you wished for and prayed for. Always stuffed in your pocket for Goodluck, name written on it and all, to name just a few.

1: The glory that many had hoped for at Camp Half-blood.

2: Clarisse La Rue, the tough-as-nails daughter of Ares.

She was someone you admired from afar. Her strength, her determination, and even her gruff exterior held a strange allure for you. You'd never admit it, nor, would you ever dare to approach her, content with stealing glances whenever she passed by.

One day, however, fate intervened, or perhaps, mischief had its hand. As you reached into your pocket to retrieve your folded paper fingers brushed against emptiness. Panic surged through you as you realized the tiny piece of paper was missing.

Frantically, you retraced your steps, scouring the training grounds and the mess hall, hoping against hope that you might find your lost treasure. But as minutes turned into hours, your desperation grew, and the weight of disappointment settled heavily in your chest.

Just when you were about to give up all hope, a familiar voice called out your name. Startled, you turned to find Clarisse La Rue, standing there, holding the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she approached, her expression unreadable.

"What's this?" she asked, her tone gruff but not unkind, unfolding the paper to reveal your scribbled thoughts.

You stammered, at a loss for words as you watched her scan the words written in your handwriting. Each sentence laid bare your deepest desires, including your unspoken admiration for her.

Clarisse's eyes softened imperceptibly as she finished reading, a hint of something tender flickering in their depths. Without a word, she carefully folded the paper once more and handed it back to you.

"Keep better track of your stuff," she grumbled, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and something else you couldn't quite name, but still a bit of pink dusted your cheeks. As she turned to leave, you mustered the courage to speak.

"Thank you, Clarisse. I appreciate it." you'd muttered loud enough for her to hear.

She glanced back at you, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips before she continued on her way.

If yall find who the divider are, by just notify me so i can give credit

[maralovesescapism]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Basically the end of the world was done my the Empire, and the clones are the equivalent of what zombies are to the genre, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug, Trauma, Everyone has it here, i want to make my babies suffer, driving around in a truck, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Padmé Amidala Lives Summary:

It has been several years since the mega-corporation Empire rose up to the status of ruler after dropping nuclear bombs on several countries, and releasing a clone army to conquer the rest of them. About half of Earth’s population was killed in the bombings, and many others were killed in the riots and by the clones.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, still reeling from the events that led up to the end of the world, now travels around America helping everyone who is left. He despises Empire and the clones that helped to end civilization. That is, until he finds one injured in the forest near Naboo.

Now, while they travel together, the have the opportunity to change the world, and heal themselves in the process.

** I wrote it! A while ago I made a post about a Fic idea that I had and a few people expressed interest which is literally all I needed before gently shoving aside my other WIPs and starting this.

@imparrot @moopieboop @do-we-sink-or-swim @tearfulsolace @local-arsonists @plodimsocks @allyunabridged and all the others who left words of encouragement, thank you. I had a lot of fun and I hope that I did the idea justice.

[zodiactalks]

These 5 Zodiac Signs are the GREATEST SHOW-OFFS

Everyone likes attention. Whether it’s quiet admiration from afar or a bold, in-your-face, and praise-me-now approach.

Today, we are discussing the latter types. Bold, demanding of your attention, and not afraid to put themselves out there for all to see.

It can be entertaining to watch these displays of skill. Signs who are naturally bold are captivating to watch. It’s a head-turner for sure. Until they steal what was supposed to be your moment of glory.

Keep reading to find out the 5 zodiac signs that are the greatest show-offs. And discover how the desire to show-off can impact their relationships for better or worse.

#1. Aries

It’s no surprise to find an Aries showing off their skills. Especially if it has to do with sports. Aries are known for their physical energy and use it to excel beyond what is expected of them. Big or small, Aries will excitedly show-off their latest accomplishment or interest.

Aries can be pushy, demanding others pay attention and give them praise. Everyone in earshot will become their audience.

Aries could do well to take a breath and give others a chance without making everything a competition. Not all zodiac signs enjoy being challenged at every turn, and it may result in resentment from others.

#2. Leo

Leo is known for loving the spotlight and is prone to being a show-off. They can’t help it, they have so much of themselves to share! Creative, bold, and charming, Leo may not realize others may not enjoy being outshined.

Leo is right, of course. They have much to offer others. They can be a great source of support and encouragement. But have a tendency to take credit for the accomplishments of those they supported. They should be careful to not take the mic away from others, even if they built the foundation for their mentees' success.

Leo is ruled by the sun, so of course, they want to be seen! They are at the center of the universe (according to them), it only makes sense for them to shine.

#3. Aquarius

Always on the lookout for someone to listen to their newest theory, Aquarius could keep others captive for hours. Aquarius loves to show-off their knowledge and unique perspectives. Often, they will go on long-winded, one-sided conversations to prove their knowledge on any given topic.

They best be wary of not keeping an unwilling audience. Aquarius has a tendency to talk over others when they try to get a word in.

Some zodiac signs may be willing to engage Aquarius in their deep dive theories, while others may back out instantly. Knowing who they are speaking to is key. Not everyone is ready and willing to hear all the things Aquarius has to say.

If your Aquarius friend gets passionate about the topic of conversation, buckle up! The topics will be vast and the hours will fly by.

#4. Sagittarius

Jack-of-all-trades Sagittarius is always on the move. They are fast-moving, fast-talking, and fast at finding a new hobby. Sagittarius becomes absorbed in their current fascination and has to share it with others.

Displaying their newest skills can unintentionally intimidate their audience. Not every zodiac sign will appreciate Sagittarius's enthusiasm and instead see it as them being a show-off.

Sagittarius should be careful with whom they share their latest passion project. Many zodiac signs (especially fixed ones) will get annoyed with Sagittarius’ lack of follow-through. Leading to harsh comments that may destroy their current interest’s appeal. Though this is usually if the person is close to them, they are not dissuaded by people whose opinions they don’t value.

Then, they are onto the next big new thing.

#5. Virgo

Perfectionists to their core, Virgo takes pride in the finalized work they share with others. This could easily lead to other zodiac signs with less dedication to believe that they are a show-off.

Virgo is a zodiac sign that will hide all the mistakes they made with intensity. They don’t like to be seen as anything less than perfect. That’s why when they do deem a project worthy of being shared, they are loud and proud about it. Showing it to family, friends, co-workers, acquaintances, sometimes even strangers.

Virgo should try to be more reserved with whom they share their work with. Not everyone will see it as perfect, and like with Sagittarius above, can be completely wrecked by a negative comment. Unlike Sagittarius though, Virgo can get upset enough at a negative comment from literally anyone to throw out the whole project.

So, careful, Virgo. As hard as you worked on perfecting that project, not everyone will love it. Be selective with who you share your project with instead of showing it off to anyone.

[aamaranthiine]

( @draconxs liked for a starter~ )

Trumpets bray and drums beat, a rising exaltation through the dense woodland that startles birds and sends beasts scurrying to their dens. Banners and bells held by men astride horses, the steel-bright flash of swords catching dappling sun through the trees. Dogs scatter and add to the cacophony of noise, howls caught by the wind to fill the air with frenzied energy. The Hunt had been called for again - a fifth time now - its magnificence and flamboyance all for the glory of their prize.

Four times hence the men had been sent out into the wilds of Wano Country in search of a living fable. Only twice had they glimpsed the white flanks of their quarry yet it drove them into a fervor. The promise of fame, of power and recognition - the legends of wishes granted and lives long lived spurred them on even through the failures. (There is too, underneath, the threat of retribution for another defeat.) They gathered such splendor, as tales bespoke only the most opulent displays could lure their prey close enough to be caught.

Amalthea thought it all quite ostentatious, truthfully. Perhaps that is the appeal of it? A Hunt so grandiose and sublime that she could not resist but watch its procession wreathed in shade and elusive magic. She had dared to be spotted enough to keep them slavering for another glimpse of her. Unicorns, after all, were said to steal some part of man that had always been missing. Make that empty, hollow sliver of them ache and throb with desperate want.

She could never say if it is true or not but she does have a reason for inciting such frenzy. It was all to draw out the esteemed King of Beasts himself. The unicorn could never truly be caught by the lavish Hunt but she knew, if she evaded them long enough, her opportunity would show itself. So she watched from afar as the cavalry with their banners and instruments, and the dogs fled from the mere whisper of her presence, waiting to see if this might be the day.

[mallowbees]

🎧

"We all are guilty of importance (Playing like it's ours) A borrowed body and a Porsche (Stealing glory from afar) But we want it We need attention here Or else we're just like everybody else Is that wrong?"

Great Vacation - Dirt Poor Robins

[duskys-dreams]

There were four children living in a basement, under the supervision of what we assumed was their grandmother. Beyond the walls, there lived a secret society of witches.

The witches were planning a heist to steal three of the children, leaving the eldest child. Eda was to sneak down the stairs and drink the invisibility potion from the black sippy cup, so she could then move unnoticed through the basement. She was warned that it would make her teeth hurt, but it was a price she was willing to pay.

She asked if she had to mimic the way the grandmother walked down the stairs, but the other witches said not to worry about it. The stairs were insanely creaky and very long, and everyone had woken up by the time she was almost to the ground. The other witches went to work leading the children away, and the grandmother woke up to see what all the fuss was about.

Eda led her away and tried to drink the invisibility potion, but she wasn’t sure how much she needed. The grandmother was getting angrier, and she was chasing Eda around the basement.

The other witches were inside the tiny portal and frantically gesturing at Eda, but she went into the short dark corridor nearby. The grandma thought she had the burglar cornered, but Eda just hit her head with a massive metal tray. We went down like a sack of potatoes.

Before leaving, she took the two dogs, Ferdinand and Clover. They followed her happily into the witching world, leaving the eldest child all alone. He swore vengeance.

Eda led the three children and two dogs to her home. They were confused and didn’t know what was going on. Eda explained that they were witches now, and would take classes here; she was their new guardian now. She helped them set up cots one the ground.

Years passed. Meanwhile, the eldest child was searching for a way to save his sisters. He managed to break through the portal, and the other witches went to go deal with him. One of the children watched from afar, and asked if he was Hunter because their voices were identical. Eda said no.

The children were learning quickly. They had multiple teachers, and made friends with other students who were under the card of different teachers. Their favourite teacher was Glory from Wings of Fire

Today they were going to learn how to set up a tiny farm, in small boxes lined up inside a rust-orange tent. One child pulled out thick wires and started setting up a sort of fence, and her sister asked where she got them. She shrugged.

There were a lot of large bugs in the soil, like earwigs and beetles. They stopped sitting in it.

They finished the fences and properly tilled the soil. Eda was proud of them.

[talktomeinclexa]

Tackle My Heart

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Status: One-shot, but I might had chapters later

Summary: Clarke and Lexa are two young professional football players often pitted against each other on the field. It’s a good thing the two enemies have found a way to relieve some of the tension growing between them.

***

The whistle blast marks the beginning of the 90-minute all-out war taking place on a strictly delimited battlefield. Cheers echo around the stadium as the 22 warriors lunge forward, ready for blood and glory.

Clarke Griffin, captain of the blue and white Eagles, Arkadia’s football team, takes a deep breath to steel her nerves. She owns this field; she has earned her position and her comrades’ respect. A quick nod from her part is all it takes for Zoe Monroe, the right midfielder, to pass the ball to Octavia Blake, their centre forward. Game on.

Arkadia sets immediately on the attack, hoping to rattle their opponents. Ideally, scoring in the first few minutes to increase their chances of winning. But the red Grounders — Polis’s pride and joy — close ranks, showcasing the defense skills that made their legend.

Zoe passes the ball to Harper McIntyre, the right defensive midfielder, who sends it back to Clarke when Polis midfielder Echo Winter crowds her. Octavia runs left and right, trying to find an opening despite the centre back Caris Campbell sticking to her like gum to a shoe.

With her forward and both side midfielders being suffocated, Clarke takes advantage of the space in front of her and dribbles toward Polis’s penalty area. She can see Luna Waters tense and lift her hands, ready for a save should the blonde attempt to shoot from afar. She has done it before and scored more than once. The curly-haired goalie knows better than to underestimate the number 19’s accuracy.

Clarke feels her before she can see her and slows down, the ball niched between her feet in a more defensive position. Alexandria “Lexa” Woods. Number 10, centre midfielder, and captain of the Grounders. As lethal on the field as she’s beautiful, with her smoldering viridian eyes, pouty lips, and athletic figure. A thorn in Clarke’s side for four years, ever since they met at the best football academy Trikru has to offer.

The two girls competed for the centre midfield position, the captaincy, the number of girls they brought back to their rooms… A natural-born rivalry that increased tenfold when they signed with Arkadia and Polis, respectively. Two cities an hour and a half away by car and ferocious competitors for decades. In the small European country known for two things: its timber industry and exceptional football players, that meant fierce loyalty and deeply rooted hatred.

 Lexa runs at her from the side, prepared to steal the ball at the first mistake. Clarke feints left and dribbles right, outflanking the other woman. She has brought herself some precious seconds, but the number 10 is already adjusting her course. She never stays behind for long.

The defenders have repositioned themselves to block her path, and Clarke is still too far to line up her shot. Luckily, Octavia managed to shake off Caris, and Emori Oliveira — the other centre back — is too far to intervene. Not stopping lest Lexa tackles her, Clarke aims and kicks the ball over Niylah and Reese. The trajectory is perfect, and Octavia controls it without difficulty with her chest and thigh.

The young forward spins around, all her attention focused on one thing: scoring. The number 11 can be hot-tempered. Volcanic even. And unstoppable when she puts all that rage into her legs and runs. She leaves Caris in the dust and enters the penalty area at full speed. Before the defender can catch up, she lines up and kicks, a cry leaving her throat as the ball soars in the air.

It spins on itself incredibly fast as it crosses the space between Octavia and the red goal. Perfectly aimed at the right center part of the net, it flies and flies until gloved fists punch it out of bounds. Corner. Damn Luna and her light-speed reflexes.

As the best shooter on her team, Clarke takes place by the corner flag, alone. Closing her eyes, she lets it all in. The cheers, the other players’ shouts, the thump of her heart in her chest. All the sounds fill her until her eyes blink open, squinting into focus.

The ball flies and lands in the middle of the group of Arkadia and Polis players. Clarke aimed for Harper or Mel, the tallest among them and their best chance at a header goal. Unfortunately, Echo — a chronic pain in Clarke and Harper’s asses — beats them to it. The tall brunette jumps higher than any of them, a good 30 centimeters above Octavia, and headbutts the threat away and before the feet of Callie Cadogan.

The red left offensive midfielder takes off like a rocket, leading a potentially devastating counterattack. With most players still by the Polis goal, only Raven Reyes and Trina Babcook — the centre backs — stand between her and the net protected by Fox Buechner. Even though she knows that it won’t make a difference, Clarke is running back at full speed. It’s her team; she won’t let them face the threat alone.

The pressure increases as the fans shout louder. Callie approaches, focused on her objective. She dribbles past Trina with a nutmeg, not so much as slowing down. Only to be forced to stop when Raven jumps in front of her, hip-checking her with just enough control not to trip her. Destabilized, Callie loses the ball, and Raven kicks it to Fox. Safe.

Keep Reading

[cloudbattrolls]

We all are guilty of importance

(Playing like it's ours)

We borrowed 'cause we can't afford it

(Stealing glory from afar)

But we want it

We need attention here

Or else we're just like everybody else

Is that wrong?

[dorylinae-supremacy]

I was gonna head to bed since its almost 3am but fuck it tonight you're all getting polled I'm in a surverying type of mood.

Whatever one has the highest % throughout the day is the one that I'll work on. After the 24 hours I'll dedicate the rest of the week to having whatever chap you guys pick ready for Sunday

[spectres-fulcrum]

Um Zistalmu, darling, is everything okay? Cause you switching up and calling Thurfian Venerante threw me for a loop. One of those deep sinking loop. Not one of those Thrawn get your shit together and let Thalias love you but a what’s going on loop.

But I don’t think this is about the ship attack. I think they were raised as rivals who stole a clandestine friendship over superficial reasons-hating Thrawn, really?- in the March of Silence to hide their true feelings that ran deeper(cause that argument scene had so much more subtext that borders on a break up). And it was a good excuse to steal time, steal secrecy, to watch each other grow from afar. And then, late one night, their story is hijacked, Thurfian is made patriarch.

He no longer can have his own agenda. He must think first of the Mitth. What brings them glory. What relationships makes the most sense. They can no longer discretely meet after a long work day, in person meetings come with the disapproving look of an aide.

And where does that leave him, he must wonder late every night in his apartment alone. An Irizi. A secret, for all intents and purposes. People see them together, but no one knows why.

When will Thufian stop being Thufian and just be His Venerante?

And so he has to start putting up those walls. The reminder of both their titles and their families. That means the loss of Thurfian will hurt a little less, when he starts going against the Irizi. Because he will. But it does. But it doesn’t change the pain he feels over the betrayal in Thurfian’s voice and face when Zistalmu deals the first blow first.

(I’ve had to go through something similar. Story got hijacked. He did the first blow, but I reverted back to formal address to protect myself. Maybe that’s why my mind suddenly was like this is why Zistalmu is being an ass. He’s hurt and scared of the patriarch hurting him)

[doycngs]

mark lee. | stranger.

summary. the weight you’re been carrying, loving a man and loving a society that forgets you, inevitably washes away like waves carrying sand back deep into the sea when he’s here with you.

pairing. y/n x nct’s mark 

genre. destined lovers to strangers!au 

word count. 5k

warnings. afab!reader, swearing, smut, unprotected sex (don’t be dumb unless you’re intentionally trying to pop a kid out), drinking, angst, writing angst again because i think i did a bang up job at it, fluff ig…, reader is really in love with mark it’s really sad LOL, at this point i say not proofread to disguise the fact i badly proofread ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ at least i’m honest about it… enjoy y’all

inspo. general concept from The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

songs. still don’t know my name by labrinth and stranger by tove lo (blue lips album)

|—————|

THERE HE IS. In all his glory, his jet-black hair parted and the ends poking at his eyes slightly. You can see that his fingertips are swiping at the annoying locks he complains about often as he talks to Johnny. His best friend is hanging on his shoulder, gesturing toward the crowd, telling the younger boy the number of fish to catch in the sea of Manhattan. 

He was right. The district had a bunch of fish to catch but you knew Mark had a picky appetite. It was funny that he always managed to reel you in, despite the anguish it inevitably brought you in the end. Leaving the next morning from his cluttered apartment never did not sting, the space scattered full of unfinished pages of lyrics and songs he didn’t even know were truly about you. 

You had settled for watching from afar a bit, wanting to delay and pregame a little before going about being so shameless in your desire but Mark catches the sight of you first. It doesn’t happen that often so you’re not too surprised, his umber-colored eyes catching in the blue-ish light in this underground party still making your heart beat a little faster. 

Johnny looks your way as well, slapping a non-subtle hand to Mark’s back and chugging at his beer. Jaehyun is back from the bar, handing Mark his usual first shot of tequila for tonight. He downs it all, cute scrunched up face glancing your way once before briefly conversing with Jae. 

You’re tempted to move towards him, impatience getting ahead of you but talking to the other two boys who came with Mark this Friday didn’t seem so appealing. No matter how many times you’ve talked to them, introduced yourself, and then walked away, doing the same cycle all over again, the naive and innocent expressions you got coming back didn’t wound you any less.  

Not liking where your thinking is going, you turn to order another shot for yourself. You were particularly tired of the aching hole in your heart today— for no particular reason. Nothing stressful or straining happened; no getting caught red-handed stealing or odd people irritating you today. 

You were just… lonely. Like usual.

The longing for that view that sat on top of Mark’s apartment pulled behind your eyelids. And that family-size box of cocoa cereal Mark had hidden in the back of the kitchen’s top cabinet churned your empty stomach too. You could never fucking find that brand, no matter what grocery store you searched all of Manhattan for. That includes his blanket too, which was irreplaceable when his natural smell was an appealing factor of the stupid comfort.

Or maybe just his body heat would do. Mark’s closeness and proximity can singularly pull all the other minute desires from the front of your mind— store it all away for another night.

The patrón stings soothing down your throat. It burns less than how it usually does and you take it as a sign to stop for tonight. The blurring of your brain was a good level and you were coherent enough— ready enough for this night to continue just the way it always does on Friday nights. 

Jaehyun elbows Mark when he catches you pushing through the crowd, heading straight Mark’s way. With that, Johnny hands him his beer and the two scatter to the dance floor, immediately getting tangled into dancing. 

You suppose Mark isn’t that buzzed yet; the nervous quirk to the right corner of his lip is endearing. It always is. 

“Hi!” You yell over the music. 

“Hi!” Mark returns the sentiment, grinning big when he believes he isn’t heard over all the ruckus in this cramped gathering. 

Leaning closer, you shake your head ruefully. “It’s alright, I heard you. What’s your name?” 

Mark. 

“It’s Mark! You?” Mark squints, standing in the way of your wide view of the dance floor’s crowd to hear you better. 

“Y/N!” 

Pretty name. 

“That’s a pretty name!” Mark’s eyebrows raise, “You know, you look really familiar! Have I seen you somewhere before?” 

“I don’t know, have you?” The shrug of your shoulders feels heavy to lift. It’s always the same lies. 

“I work at a uh— instrument and vinyl shop in the middle of Manhattan. It’s called Valentine’s Company. Ever heard of it?” 

Yes. I go to see you and Jae almost three times a week. 

“I don’t think so!” 

Mark nods, saddened. “It was a far shot. My buddy Jae owns the place! I came here with him actually. You alone?” 

Yes. I always am. I can’t help but be. 

“Yeah, I am basically. Came here with a friend and they’ve bailed me already. Probably to be in some bed with a stranger tonight!” 

Mark’s eyes widen, his hands scratching at the back of his neck. He’s reluctant to ask his next question but does it anyway. He can never filter his words well as alcohol starts seeping into the blood of his veins. 

“Looking to do the same tonight?” 

You grin, hearing the inquiry well, despite the way Mark looks like he wants you to not have. “Maybe. Are you propositioning me right now?”

Liking the adorable red that coats his cheeks, and not from the tequila he just downed, Mark shakes his head. An embarrassed hand rubs at the back of his neck before playing with the tips of his hair. “No, no! I’m not, just curious.” 

You hum, even when you know Mark won’t hear the sound, and nod before offering a hand. “Want to dance?” 

He places his hand into yours gladly, hoping not to make a fool of himself. As much as Mark will deny it if he needed to say it aloud, you were alluring. In an attractive, mesmerizing way that he couldn’t interpret all that well. Something in the pit on his tummy said you were good for him. His gut may be wrong sometimes but he’s confident in this one. In you. Maybe he never would know if he kept on drinking tonight and blacked out. But he hopes not to, to learn more about you.

Little does he know that he never will. He never does and he thinks the same thought every Friday you approach him; thinks the same thought every time you go to the vinyl shop. And nothing ever changes, no matter how much you wish for it to. 

You don’t stray too far from the area you and Mark just left behind, only heading ten feet into the moving mass of people before wrapping arms around Mark. It’s a sensual song with thumping bass and Mark places his hands respectfully at your sides. They slide a tiny bit lower as the seconds tick by and heat licks at the contact he makes on your body. 

You wished you weren’t so wired up to desire him all the time. Weren’t so pliant and easy to fall into his arms any time he offered them open to you. Mark made it too easy to fall in love with him, even if he could never grow to fall in love with you if he wanted to. 

Sighing, your head rests in the crook of his shoulder, soft lips pressed to his collarbone. The heat of the club doesn’t stop the shiver that wracks Mark at the proximity you boldly breach. You were a complete stranger to him but he still felt the pull of familiarity deep in the pit of his stomach. You were far too comfortable in his hold to not be acquainted with him. 

“Are you sure we don’t know each other?” You wholly ignore his question, pressing deeper into his body.

Running your hands at the strands near the nape of Mark’s head, his back muscles relax. The chaos around you fades in this small pocket of peace, even if it seemed impossible to understand from your shared surroundings. He melts in your embrace, the scent of your perfume filling his lungs. He blindly and innocently yearns to bathe in it, just for a little while as his subconscious sings. 

His own lips press to the skin of your neck as Mark’s inhibitions let go, fading as the song changes into a slower, heavy rhythm. Drawing away from hesitation, your eyes shine in the neon lights with vulnerability etched in plain sight. 

“Will you bring me home?” Your voice is ever so soft in the mess and cacophony of sound. He catches what you say and yet pretends not to for you to repeat yourself. 

“Bring me home. Please.” Pinning your mouth to his, Mark bends at the connection, nails digging into your waist as hunger drips from your lips. You’re acting as if he’s your only lifeline and the latter thrives being the object of your affection. He felt lucky to be the one you chose out of all the people here.

As if you would ever choose anyone else when there’s Mark Lee. With all his boisterous laughter, wire-rimmed glasses, basketball shorts, late-night guitar sessions, and overflowing passion for his music. With his love for his friends, his loyalty, and his need to impress. With his humbleness and shyness at compliments.

How could you ever possibly choose anyone else but him? 

Your chest heaves with the effort to keep him glued to your body. Desperation flows through every cell that makes up the space you fill on the dance floor. Mark rocks with the tight hold you have on him, returning the favor to quench your thirst.

“You want my place?” He throatily tries to confirm. You answer with a chaste peck to the corner of his lips before pulling him in the direction of the door. 

“Wait, I should tell my friends that I’m leaving.” Mark halfheartedly searches the crowd. 

You nod toward the two he came with and Mark follows the gesture. “They’re busy, just text them.” 

Mark gives in after a few seconds of deliberating, following the confident lead you have. Your warm hand is enveloped in his own and peering down at the sight, his heart lurches in childish like. Throwing back a look to make sure Mark was still with you mentally, your eyes meet, understanding mutual eagerness. 

Before you know it, Mark’s apartment door is thrown open. He doesn’t question how your feet seem to know which door to stop at, not when you hungrily paw at his cotton tee, shoving at the zip-up that hides his lean body from your determined touch.  

He pushes you against the wall of the hallway, climbing down your body with peppering kisses. Your hips push off the surface, back arching for more, more, more. The whine that escapes your lips is completely involuntary, Mark’s darting eyes squinting at the pleasant noise. He wants more of that sound. 

Warm palms snake around your thighs to widen and spread your legs, accommodating for his shoulders. Hooking one onto them, deft fingers stop before brushing at the hem of your dress, hiding what he truly wants. 

“Are you sure you want to continue—?”

Your hands curl in his hair, yanking his head away. Mark’s concern is quick to show itself. 

“Bed.” You simply exhale, taking the leg you have placed on Mark to bend and pull a heel off. 

“Allow me,” Mark says in relief, glad you’re not pushing him away. A sudden desire to go slow seeps into him. He presses a soft kiss to your calf, sliding the other shoe off your foot. Taking your hand, he leads you to his bedroom, all blue-tinted from the city lights. 

You halt his finger from flicking a light on, willing for the streets lamps and fairy wires from adjacent apartments to adorn you two tonight. Mark sits at the edge of his bed, arms supporting his body upright. You slip your dress to hit the soft carpet beneath your feet, not nervous of exposing. He’s seen it all before and never remembers, yet marveling at the bare sight of you every time. It flatters all the same.

His hands unconsciously drift to splay at your tummy, running up and down. Placing your hands at his shoulders, he caresses your body silently, appreciating the art of your curves, the marks, the stretches, the dots, and the uneven textures and color. 

The two of you are unusually slow in your pace this Friday and your heart jumps into your throat at the care that shines in Mark’s eyes. In the dark recesses of the club, it’s difficult to distinguish between lust and love. Deep down, it’s always been lust. 

So why do his eyes show you like an open book it’s love this time? 

“You didn’t drink a lot, did you?” You ask, just to ask when you know the answer. The brain in your skull is telling you to confirm, even if you were watching him the second he entered the club. It didn’t seem real, the look in Mark’s gaze. 

He falls out of his reverie with your pretty skin. “No,” Doubt begins to drip into his voice, “Are you regretting this?” 

“No, I could never.” 

Climbing onto his lap, you help peel off the zip-up and the shirt. And then you’re unbuckling his belt and his calloused fingertips halt you there, gripping your chin to liplock once more. Mark grabs a tight hold of your right thigh and the back of your head before twisting your conjoined bodies to the left, gently laying your back down onto the bed. 

He kneels on the mattress and then focuses down on himself to rip the belt from the loops of his dark jeans, his pupils swallowing the umber-colored irises you adore. 

“You sure you want to continue?” There’s a roughness to the voice you’re used to and clasping your thighs together at the timber, you nod. 

Mark always asks this before. As if your body wasn’t humming for him already. 

He pushes your flush legs aside to the left, rubbing a hand from the crevice created at your touching knees to the apex of your thighs, slowing to a stop. “I want you to say it. Vocally, please.” 

You sigh silently. Always so polite, your boy. 

“Yes. Please, continue.” 

Mark’s thumb presses to your nub, lips skimming your knee. He pushes you further up the bed to comfortably sit between the thighs he forces apart. You can tell by the gaze he sets at the mess you’ve made of yourself, he appreciates you more. More than he could already, seeing how prepared you are for him. 

Hips bucking at the firmer pressure he places on your swollen clit, Mark’s middle and ring fingers spread your lips. You try to bite down the pleas but they claw their way up to your throat before you can help it. 

“More,” You cry, tugging at the hand between your legs. Mark marvels at how his hand can just envelope and hold your delicacy all at once. And he does exactly that, coming up to muffle the whines climbing up from your swarming abdomen with his lips as he fights for space between your legs. 

Collecting your wrists together, he whispers, “Hold them here,” pinning them above your head before sucking bruises at your neck. The pace kicks up as he reads the thrumming heat from your body grow hotter in impatience. 

A shuddered exhale escapes into the heady air between the two of you, watching as Mark makes his way down your chest. His knees just barely dig into the edge of the bed, the rest of his legs hanging off. Pinching at your nipples for a split second, your hips buck up to contact his neck. 

Marks moans, breathy and quiet at your boldness. It gets to you, wanting to get more out of his pretty mouth. Your right hand twitches, digging in the palm of your left to obey what Mark wants. You so desperately want to tug his waist to yours though. To just rut at each other since he was still going too slow for your liking. The time he was taking made the ache in your chest keep growing. You weren’t sure if it was healthy for your already too-big heart to handle. 

“Hey,” Mark calls out, “Behave.” 

The tone is final and you look back up to the ceiling, closing your eyes. 

He moves in your slick easily, the moisture you’re created making salacious noises like music to Mark’s ears. Wedging a blunt fingertip to your entrance, you moan at the enticement. You shift to insert him deeper but Mark throws a lower forearm over your abdomen, stopping your wiggling. 

“Please. No teasing, I can’t stand it.”

A raspy chuckle. “So greedy, aren’t you?” 

Humming in a high tone, his middle finger begins to push deeper, petting your insides. Everything stirs at that, head hazy. You quite literally feel your world spin, reminded of your empty stomach, praying that it won’t rumble in complaint. 

Your toes curl and Mark is fond of that, licking down the inside of your thigh. He sucks at the skin, rubbing it raw as he pumps his skilled finger in and out, readying you for a second. With how wet you were, you doubt it would be any difficult. 

“Another, more. More.” Begging, Mark finally listens for once and adds his ring finger. He curls them just right— like he was born for knowing the nooks and crannies of your body. Every time, you doubt whether the universe just simply wipes his memory of everything but how to treat you correctly in bed. 

Mark feels your stomach go taut, his thumb running circles around your belly button like an afterthought. You pray he’s nice tonight, not willing to deprive you of an orgasm. You know he’s eyeing your expression like a hawk, always a good judge as to when you’re right on the cusp of the edge, tip of your tongue itching for that release. 

His soft lips suckle around your clit and it adds fuel to the fire. A guttural moan vibrates your body, bringing you just that much closer. Mark is kind tonight, letting your walls tighten and eyelids screw shut. 

White lights dance behind your closed vision, cerulean and cyan weaving into there. You’re gasping, hardly able to control your body as your hands finally disobey and grasp at Mark’s hand and hair. 

He gives in for your comfort before your high dies down and your eyes open for Mark to run up and kiss you more breathless. Not allowing you to rest a little, his thumbs hook at his jeans and boxers. He throws them both down at the floor, thick thighs caging your hips. 

Mark practically folds your body in half, chest brushing against your own as he licks into your mouth. Dominating quickly, your tongue is fast to give to his will and Mark’s stomach sucks in at the submissiveness you ooze. 

“Fuck, you’re so good to me,” Mark growls out. Hands at his shoulders, he’s suddenly reminded of your broken rule, slamming them above once more. He assures himself that they stay there by planting one of his hands to keep them interlocked, while the other lines himself up to you. 

You moan as he rubs his tip at your clit, a smug smile sitting on Mark’s lips. Confidence looks good on him and you itch to run your fingers down his body. You keep shuffling your hips at the pleasure, Mark halting everything at your misbehavior. 

Abandoning his tight grip on your wrists, Mark squeezes at your waist, tugging you down onto his cock instead. Swearing at the gratification that zips up your spine, Mark adjusts the two of you higher up the bed until your head hits the pillows. 

Both legs of yours are swung to hang off his left shoulder before he’s bumping all the way in. Your walls clench at the deep groan Mark automatically lets out. Rutting and circling his hips, you cry, trying to practice discipline and not touch. Half-moons surely decorate your palms by now. 

He pumps himself slowly in and out of your tight cunt, loving the sight of your pussy swallowing him so eagerly. Mark wants to commit the memory to his head; sear it into the brain so he’ll never forget. Because how could he forget somebody as perfect as this? Lips twitching up at the fucked-out expression you have on, noises all meek in hums, Mark commits that to memory too. 

Finally, planting his hands beside your head, Mark snaps into you properly. Red hot desire has your head spinning once more and grabbing at the pillows, you take what you’re given. 

Mark fucks like he’s giving punishment, banging his pelvis against yours, and you love every second. The bruises in the morning are a nice but painful reminder of how much you need him to breathe and live. And the lines get you going too.

Lips brushing yours, he hoists your legs higher, “This what you wanted, hm?” 

You mewl in agreement, trying to steady your shaky legs that keep sliding off his shoulder. You’re too weak to hook them there and place any strength in them to do so. You’re battered from cumming just several minutes ago, walls always fluttering from how diligent Mark works your body. 

“Fuck, please! I’m gonna’—” 

“Already?” Mark noses at your jaw, “My sensitive girl…” 

He keeps up his pace, drilling into you with rhythm. As soon as you let go once more, Mark is commanding your lax limbs. Airy moans escape your gaping mouth as pleasure drowns your body. Pressing ever the closer to your chest, you’re almost bent in half and shuddering as he chases his own orgasm after so long. 

Even spent, you try and flutter around Mark. Swearing into your collarbone, he sags, releasing deep into you and raggedly gritting into your pussy. He leaves you feeling empty, collapsing by your side and laying a heavy arm around your middle. Legs finally flopping down, Mark presses them to lean against his hip, your body turning pliant in the movement as you face him entirely.

Sweat collects at his hairline, smooth skin all sheen in the moonlight that bathes him. He’s ethereal trying to catch his breath, eyes closed and concentrated in the action. Even in the same state of exhaustion, you’re focused on recording this image to your head. 

When Mark has a pleased noise exhaled out, you timidly run a touch down his arm. His eyes open and you’re smiling so softly at that. His heart lurches. 

“You’re staying right?” He breathes, scared to go above a whisper like it will scare you away. 

Getting out of the thrones of passion always scared Mark to death. The uncertainty of communicating left his anxiety going haywire. And he really wants you to stay. 

The corner of your mouth curls up higher than the other and it gives him the answer he wanted. “I’ll stay.” 

Mark sighs happily at that, carefully and slowly leaning over you. You close your eyes, unexpectedly getting a kiss on your forehead instead of pressure on your lips. A finger unconsciously pokes at the mole on Mark’s right cheek and he giggles at your clouded eyes. 

His duality never failed to make your throat constraint. He’s climbing off the bed, going to get a towel from the bathroom. Panic seizes your body, throwing you upright and latching onto his upper arm instantly. 

“No!” Mark’s eyebrows fly up at the shock of clinginess. He thought you were suddenly hurt. Chest heaving at the thought of him letting you leave his vision, you shake your head. 

“I’m just going to the bathroom. To clean you up.” His naive voice is full of concern and you shake your head again. 

“I’ll do it, just… don’t leave my sight.” Mark blinks hard at that. He sits back down at your incessant pulling, practically falling onto the bed as you pull yourself up with the momentum. 

Grabbing tissues from his bedstand, you attempt to wipe yourself down, trying to calm your heart down as well. He was so close to letting you out of his sight. Your hands are shaky at the thought of Mark coming back from the bathroom, all confused at you… all vulnerable and naked and scared without a clue as to who you were. 

“Hey…” Mark gentles grasps your unsteady fingers, “Let me.” 

He molds your knee to bend, bringing it to place your weight down onto the bed. Kissing the love bite he made to the inside of your thigh, Mark takes the tissue and with a featherlight touch, cleans you with care. He tosses the wipe away once done.

You melt, taking a deep breath. When his pupils reveal those umber-colored irises again in the gridded city light, Mark is open and unguarded. You’re the same, supple hands cupping his face. 

Shoulders relaxed, he swallows harshly as he presses his face into your stomach and your knee falls away from the bed. Something tells him deep in his bones this closeness— this connection— was not normal. Who feels this way after a hookup? 

“Am I going crazy?” Mark doesn’t realize his inner question is voiced aloud and your belly tenses at the question. The hold he has around your torso tightens. 

“No,” You mutter, running your hands gently through his hair, “You’re not.” 

“You know me, don’t you?” 

It hurts the most to lie to him. You’re never hurt more doing so, even within the centuries you’ve lived on this beautiful earth, roaming every corner and talking to so many humans just like Mark. Though you doubt they are as ever intricate and amazing as him. 

“No, I don’t.” 

He whimpers his next words and your head flounders, not expecting such honesty. “You’re lying, aren’t you?” 

Fingers become standstill in his hair. “I’m staying.” 

“I don’t know why you’re lying…” Mark’s hands curl, fingernails digging into the skin of your bare back. 

“I’m staying, Mark.” You repeat a little heatedly as if it’ll erase this sudden revelation Mark is getting at. You’re terrified of what is happening, not sure what he’s getting at. In the years you’ve found Mark and fallen for him, he’s never questioned anything like this. 

“I have pages and pages of lyrics I don’t finish, all of the same person. And I can’t remember who it is ever, no matter how hard I try—”

“Mark.”

“A-And now that I think about it, they all just sound like I’m describing you. It’s only been— what? Two hours since we’ve met and I-I can’t explain the gut feeling I have that—” 

“Mark.” You pull at the nape of his neck for him to stop, the droplets escaping your eyes warbling your voice. 

He finally checks up at your expression, face crumbling at the story you’re saying silently. “No, no. I-I know I’m right. I know I am, right? I feel a deep pull in my stomach,” He pats himself, “right here. And I know it. The second you—” 

“Mark, stop.” You’re fully crying now, muscles too weak to continue standing upright. 

Mark grips your hands, tucking your hair behind your ears as you sob into his knees. “The second you fucking met me, I—” He chokes, not willing to say anymore. 

You understand everything Mark doesn’t speak aloud. Everything he’s too afraid to say— too broken to say. Bricks clutter off your entire being, the weight you’re been carrying, loving a man and loving a society that forgets you, inevitably washing away like waves carrying sand back deep into the sea.

Mark pulls himself down to you, cradling your head as he sobs. Something fastens deep in his soul, having you here with him. And he knows that finding you in the ocean of people at the club was not a coincidence. Nothing was a coincidence with you. 

Because the scribbles of grasping memories out in his living room have been telling him that. The mysterious disappearances of his clothes and his food, the scent of your perfume have been telling him that. The warmth of your smile and the normality of being so intimate with you tells him that. 

Everything points to you. 

You don’t have to tell him everything verbally because Mark knows, far in the recesses that make him him, that you were what he was looking for. But for how long you’ve been suffering all on your own, living and loving him all on your own…

The two of you cry for time lost. Because time is the most precious thing the two of you could have departed with. Mark codles you to his chest, folding his knees up and willing you to curl into the space he creates. And you two cry for time lost. 

“Will I forget you if I sleep?” His raspy, broken voice concluded after a while, knowing you didn’t know the answer. 

You don’t know why the universe has allowed Mark to suddenly understand. Maybe to punish you further by letting him truly see you for the first time, only to snatch you away into the darkness of Mark’s head again. Being pessimist bites. 

“Yes.” 

Mark presses his forehead to yours. “Then I won’t sleep.” 

“You’ll sleep eventually.” Your worn-out voice is unrecognizable even to you. 

“I won’t. I won’t, not without a fight.” 

Your eyes prick at the determination in your lover’s words. “You’ll sleep, Mark.” 

Mark huffs, angry at whatever force doing this to you. And then he asks the question that began your hell, and you’re allowed to start explaining. The force that usually oppresses you to never explain… allows you to. When you’re done, he presses the strongest, most potent kiss to your lips. 

“We’re fixing this.” 

“You can’t fix me.” The world spins when you close your eyes this time, pushing the tears out to spill down your cheeks. 

“I will. I promise, I will Y/N.” Mark wills you to look into his steady eyes. 

You almost believe him. So you placate instead, nodding. 

He runs with it, the devout and grave expression that’s glued on giving you some reprieve. He doesn’t know that you have tried everything before. Nothing works. As time continues passing by, the more persuaded you become that the universe is playing another cruel trick on lonely old you. 

In the next few hours, Mark is up and running. He makes sure you never leave his line of vision. 

Making a cup of coffee with Johnny’s press. Scouring the Internet on your phenomenon. Brainstorming ways for him to remember you. Every futile attempt weakens his spirit, just a smidge before the results are multiplying by the end. 

He pulls at the black tendrils on his head. And his eyes grow desperate, failing to see your defeated expression, yet fond at the fierceness Mark will fight to keep you here with him… but you know. 

You’ve always known. 

Eventually, when the coffee is out and the crash is incoming, his body gives in. And the sobs wrack his frame once more. Holding him tight, he’s falling apart in your arms. 

Mark wills himself to calm down, breathe, and breathe in the presence of you, only to catch the paper lift of a half-finished lyric page. Or the crumbs of cereal on the coffee table. Or the blanket behind laid on the couch that smells of you. He falls all over again. 

“I should go. Before you microsleep on me.” 

He shakes his head, blinking. “No. I won’t. Stay.” 

So you stay on the couch with him, despite your heart trying to protect you. His arms grasp you tightly but they loosen from time to time. 

You’re solemn in accepting this fate. 

And Mark loosens once more. Everything freezes. 

Even with your hope, it freezes. So when you shift, Mark awakens. 

The universe laughs one final time as his next words hurt you. They hurt more than lying to him because even within the centuries you’ve lived on this beautiful earth, roaming every corner and talking to so many humans just like Mark… they were never as ever intricate and amazing as him. 

“Who are you?” 

[maralovesescapism]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Basically the end of the world was done my the Empire, and the clones are the equivalent of what zombies are to the genre, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, CC-2224 | Cody Needs a Hug, Trauma, Everyone has it here, i want to make my babies suffer, driving around in a truck, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Padmé Amidala Lives

I got chapter 2 up at a record pace for me!

[lovelytarou]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞

character – jason todd

genre – fluff

word count – 886

summary – bored at one of bruce's parties, jason couldn't get his eyes off of a particular guest. before the night ends, he'll make sure he'll put a smile on their face and have the best dance of their life.

note – purely self-indulgent stuff because i've been on a jason todd brainrot for days now and i just had to write him !! so sorry if i didn't get his character right, this is my first time writing him. and, i also did some adjustments on my writing and the format! n e ways, enjoy!

he's been staring at you the moment you entered the room. you didn't seem to notice the numerous heads that turned whenever you passed by, or the eyes that followed you longingly from afar. 

or in this case, you haven't noticed jason todd stealing glances at you from across the room, admiring your face and the clothes you wore for tonight's ball. 

as soon as speeches were made and the audiences clapped, the band played a song and everybody dispersed in the middle to dance with their partners.

jason saw you standing in a corner all by yourself, sipping your cherry wine while smiling and respectfully declining anyone who offered to dance with you.

taking a big gulp of the same wine he's nursing, he skillfully made his way over to you, dodging moving bodies that are dancing to the beat of the music, almost crashing on a staff or two. finally, he's only two steps away from you.

“hey, didn't think i've seen you around here before.” he smoothly struck up a conversation. 

your head turned to the deep voice that spoke and almost spilled your drink to notice that one of the infamous host's sons came to talk to you. it was jason todd in all his glory – dressed in black tux and a red shirt underneath, you noticed he wasn't wearing any tie with a few buttons popped open on the top. his hair is neatly styled but a few stubborn white strands fell in front of his face.

your breath caught in your throat. he was ruggedly handsome. 

“oh! yeah,” you chuckled nervously, “this is my first time attending the party. i gotta say, it's pretty impressive.”

jason couldn't agree more. bruce always outdone himself when it comes to parties and balls like this, and tonight is no different.

“how are you liking it so far?” jason raised his eyebrow, idly swirling what's left of his drink in his glass as he slowly walked closer.

“um, pretty great. lots of people. great wine…” you trailed off.

he nodded. he can clearly tell you're bored out of your mind in this party. who could blame you? he's been attending these parties for years and it's always the same old thing.

“do you wanna dance?” once again, you were brought out of your stupor because of this fine man in front of you. with such an enticing offer, how could you refuse?

with a nod of your head, jason offered his hand to you, leading you both to the middle of the dancefloor.

carefully placing your hands where they need to be, jason took a step and you followed. it was clumsy at first but you didn't even need to worry when you heard jason chuckle – clearly amused by you and your efforts, before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“don't worry. i'll lead and you follow. trust me, okay?” with another feeble nod, you let your partner sway you to the beat, heart pounding rapidly inside your chest as you stared at the boy in front of you.

“my name's jason, by the way.” he said after a beat, turning you on the other way.

“yeah, i know you.” you smiled apologetically before saying your name.

“so, y/n, what do you think? am i a great dancer?” the corners of his lips lifted up in a smirk, the hold he has on your waist bringing you close to him.

“i don't know, jason…” you teased him by pretending to think, “you have to prove it better than that.”

he raised both of his eyebrows as if to say, oh so that's how it's gonna be?

“i'll show you 'better', sweetheart.” he winked and as if on cue, the music changed into an upbeat one and before you know it you're catching your breath trying to catch up with jason and his impressive moves.

who knew he could dance like that?

he spun you around, and you swear you got dizzy – exhilaration and the adrenaline are the only things keeping you upright.

you ended up with your back pressed against his chest, feeling his heart pounding through your clothes the same way yours did and for a moment, you turned your head to his, only a hair's breadth away - catching his eye and you both shared a breathless laugh. 

your eyes landed on his wine colored lips, licking your own in anticipation. you seem hypnotized, finding yourself being pulled into him even more. but before you could get any closer, the music stopped and jason pulled away with a cocky grin.

after dancing, jason thought he'd give you a break and led you to an empty space where the both of you can have some privacy.

“was that 'better' enough for you?” you heard before you saw the smile on jason's lips, from where you're almost crouching down from exhaustion.

jason had caught two new glasses of wine and offered one to you. you took it gratefully from him and downed it unceremoniously.

“fine, you're the best dancer ever. are you happy now?” 

“not if we get to know each other first and you let me take you out on a date.” jason sipped his wine.

“as long as we get to dance like that again. then why not?” 

[gyllenhaalstories]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO

summary: a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending whose side you’re on) events brought you to mandripoor seven years ago. it was fun, dangerous and exciting for the most part. a lot has changed, but you are back in high town in the hope of purchasing a rare monet painting, and reuniting with an old flame.

warnings: tfatws spoilers, alcohol, established sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, smut (daddy kink, dom/sub/switch dynamics, choking, hair pulling, blowjob, fingering, both degradation and praise kinks, spit kink, cum play, marking, unprotected sex). 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 2685

gif credit: pedropcl

notes: this (very long) fic is brought to you by zemo’s #1 hoe. for the sake of the fic, zemo’s daughter and wife have never existed. i get it zemo is the bad guy daniel is not your typical hottie but let me live my fantasy and reclaim my crown as the original zemo fan. listen to off to the races by lana del rey and let no man steal your thyme by the pentangle if you want to fibe with me! i hope you guys will enjoy it!!! <3

“If you keep staring at me like this, I’ll mistake you for the Mona Lisa.” You took the last sip from your glass, which was immediately filled by the man standing behind you. You had felt his familiar presence a long time ago, but you were too mesmerized by the rare painting trapped in a cage of glass to bother notifying him. “Your glance has followed me around the room. In other circumstances, I’d find it creepy. Now, it’s just very flattering.”

You heard him laugh through his nose. You saw his reflecting in the glass, lit up by flashing blue and pink lights and vibrating ever so slightly to the sound of the loud music.

“You’re like a Monet painting. From afar, you are clear as cristal and easy to read like an open book. From up close...” You marked a pause and stoodby straight. Your eyes never leaving the work of art you had been scrutinizing for the past hour. Water Lilies in Bloom, it was called, an incorrect translation that always brought a grin to your lips. “You are a mystery.” You swallowed thickly the bubbly liquid, recognizing the peculiar taste of champagne.

“It is arrogant but right to think of myself as the pure definition of mysterious.”

You chuckled, throwing your head back in disbelief. Some things never changed.

“After all these years... I managed to find my way back to you. Now that’s a mystery.”

You turned on your heels as you spoke. “Is it, though? Tell me, Daddy. Is it really that hard to believe you’d recognize your property even after all these years. I heard they put you in a pretty little cage. Didn’t have much else to think about than what you missed most?”

He took you in, just how ethereal you looked under the colourful neon lights. You had your arms pressed against your chest, the shiny material of your matching bracelet and necklace twinkled. He squinted slightly, his lips curled into a smirk while he looked down your body, the one thing that kept him sane after all these years in jail (that and the thought of destroying symbols like super soldiers and make the world a better place once and for all). “Nice dress.”

“My Sugar Daddy got it for me.” You did a twirl, showing off your outfit innocently. “You like it?”

He reached up to his neck and pulled on the collar of his purple sweater, like it was a tie he could loosen up. “So you received everything I sent you.”

You clicked your tongue. “Not everything...” Your head turned to look behind you, where your most priced possession was glowing in its full glory — soon to-be yours, you should say.

“Use your words, Princess. Say it and it’s yours.”

It was your turn to analyze him, to take every ounce of cockiness and pride. “You’re playing with fire.” You walked closer to him, erasing the distance but increasing the tension between the two of you. “All the money in the world won’t get you everything you want.”

He was quick to move, his soldiers instincts never left his body, clearly. His delicate hand wrapped around your throat so effortlessly. It tightened, forcing you to manage your breathing. “Money got me everything I wanted already.”

“What is it, Daddy? What is it that you want so badly?” You clenched your jaw, holding his glance which was filled with lust, instead of rage and grudges.

“You never looked so beautiful.” He leaned closer too, whispering the words to your ear. It was liked the loud club music turned into white noise. He could not care less about the stares and the words strangers exchanged as they witnessed the scene. High Town was not his playground.

But you were his plaything.

*~*~*

History repeated itself, in one way or another. Icons rose and fell. Symbols mattered and vanished into oblivion. Originality turned into plagiarism. Winners would lose it all, losers would dig their graves deeper into the abyss.

History repeated itself. The sight before your eyes was the same one as seven years ago, when all that was on this man’s life before meeting you was this stupid Mission Report of December 16 1991. You met him at a party like this, in High Town before he was banned from the land. He caught your attention doing his ridiculous dance moves, sharing his knowledge about the art pieces showcased around the room. Then he brought you to a hotel, the ones so fancy they had multiple rooms and a vintage record player as part of the decor. Only, it worked, and he put on his favourite Édith Piaf records. Rien de Rien, Le Petit Homme, La Vie en Rose, song after song, you were diving deeper in your memories.. He was popping yet another bottle of champagne open and pouring some in flutes you would never touch for the rest of the night. The same night, seven years ago, it changed your life. At the second you regretted setting foot in Mandripoor, he changed your mind and gave you the best months of your life. You would ride around Europe in vintage cars, dine in gigantic mansions you called castles. You admired the old paintings of his royal family members while he brought you a silk bathrobe to change into after a steamy shower.

You’d get lost in your thoughts, he’d get lost in his ambitions. You two were one and the same, in one way or another. That affirmation sent shivers down your spine. You could not tell if it was a good or a bad thing, a shy voice in your head was reassuring you it was the former.

“They call me Baron again, I guess I’m not doing too bad after all.” His voice snapped you back to reality. He was still wearing that obnoxious trench coat. You hated it, it made him look like a pimp. Although that was not too far from the truth, as the mountain of luxurious jewelry and clothes in your closet proved.

“Do you like being back here?”

“I love it here.” The emphasis on the last word was audible. You nodded in agreement. This place was heaven on Earth for some people, hell for others. For both you and Zemo, it was somewhere in between.

“You’re certainly not here for me.” You laughed, setting the still full glass on the nightstand.

He shook his head, mouthing a negative response.

“What is it, this time? Mission report February 32?”

“Something like that.” He answered, after another silent laugh.

“If only you had made me your mission, your life would have been easier.”

“Yours would have been, too.”

You shrugged. You agreed, but you did not need to say it. He knew. The two of you knew that this warmth washing over your bodies was the answer to all of your problems. Yet, you were fighting the urge to surrender and give in.

History always repeated itself.

All it took was for him to set his hand on your exposed knee. You got flashbacks of the numerous times his hand rested there while you two drove deeper in the country side, in some old Chevrolet, Ford, or any other European brands he could find and buy.

“Say it, Princess. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallowed thickly and fell on your knees. He sat straight, as straight as he could on the comfortable mattress, and spread his legs wider. “I want to go back in time.”

He leaned foward and you opened your mouth, your tongue poking out. He spit in your mouth, and you swallowed. The giggle that followed your actions sent blood to his hardening cock. “Just as eager as I remembered, right? You’d do anything to please me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Daddy.” You repeated, the confession left you breathless.

“That’s my good girl.” He brushed your hair with so much tenderness for a moment, you let out a content moan. He changed the mood real quick when he pushed your head closer to his crotch and unbuckled his belt at lightning’s speed.

Your mouth was watering at the sight, a sight that was tattooed in your memory forever. Whatever relationship you two had went beyond fancy presents and sex, it was a connection that tickled your souls and left you a different woman than when it first started. You wasted no time, stroking him a few times as you spit on his blushing tip. You smeared the spit over his sensitive spot and pulled the sweetest moans out of him, which grew louder and more intense when you finally wrapped your lips around his head.

No one compared to you, to your attention to details, to the way you were taking him all in, inches by inches like you were made for his cock and his cock only. No one compared to how blissful you looked pulling back, choking on your own saliva and the lack of oxygen. “You look so beautiful, Babygirl.”

His praise made you bat your eyes, hoping to receive more compliments. You flattened your tongue, licking him from the base to the top before you deep throated his cock again. You never left him untouched, your hands were massaging his walls or exploring his thick thighs while your mouth almost brought him to the edge.

That was when he pulled on your hair and demanded you went back up on your feet. “I bet you’re soaked. All you need is to see a cock to wet your panties.” You nodded as one hand reached up to cup your face, the other to cup your core from under your dress. He could felt the ever growing wet patch. He discarded of your panties in one effortless pull and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against your sensitive clit. He circled it, studying your reaction.

“Daddy...” You breathed out. “I need you.”

“I’m proud of you for using your words,” his finger slipped inside of your entrance, you moaned out his name. “So greedy and needy and easy for me, like the good whore that you are. Is that right? You’re Daddy’s perfect little whore?”

He was two fingers in, all the way to the last knuckles. He pumped in and out of you slowly yet roughly. You smirked when he finally touched that spongy spot inside of you. “I’m Daddy’s. I’ll always belong to Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

He brushed his thumb over your clit, his fingers stopped fucking your hole to abuse the bundle of nerves until tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Be a good baby.” You looked at him with doe eyes, sucking his thumb between your plump lips. “Do what I want.”

And you reached your high. You had nothing to hold you up, except for your shaky legs that threatened to give in under your weight and the intensity of your orgasm. You sucked on his thumb harder, hoping to quiet some of your moans but your screams escaped your parted lips.

In a blink of an eye, you were pushed against the bed and bounced against the body that blocked your every movement. His pants were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of your respective clothes. Your finger tips brushed over the skin of his shaven cheeks, down to his neck and chest. The intimacy, you had craved it all these years.

“I bet that sweet cunt of yours missed my cock.” He spoke, chuckling mockingly when he pushed himself in your stretched hole. You both let out a long moan of satisfaction. He rested inside of you, adjusting to your warmth and tightness. “I was right.”

“You’re always right.” You flattered his ego, and earned a sloppy kiss in return.

His lips moved down to your neck where he sucked hickeys and left small bite marks as he picked up the pace of his hips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to bring him that much closer, and deeper, into you.

Zemo pinned your wrists above your head and pumped his cock inside of your tight pussy like his life depended on it. “So fucking wet for me,  gonna make me cum, Baby.” He had tried so hard to hold back, not to mark you and claim you again.

“Wait for me.” You begged him, and he brought one hand down to your neck again. He squeezed it, choking you deliciously until your eyes rolled inwards. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and he felt it, he felt the way your walls fluttered around him.

He thrusted inside of you, his hips snapped against yours and the sound of your skin slapping echoed in the bedroom. “Cum for me, Princess. Cum with Daddy.”

And you did, your body exploded in fireworks when you felt his release planted inside of you. He kept moving, rocking back and forth. He leaned back, leaving your neck to rub your clit once again. He was a moaning mess, the overstimulation made it almost painful to keep going but he did not want it to stop, not until...

“Fuck, Daddy!” And a second wave of pleasure hit you hard, it left you panting and shaking even more than before.

Zemo had to pull away quickly, and already missed the feeling of being inside of you.

Your fingers reached between your bodies, dipping into your folds and moving up to your lips as they were covered in his seed. You painted your lips with his white cum, before you licked them and your fingers clean as he watched, completely amazed and mesmerized. “Taste just as good as I remembered.”

He laughed, he was always one step ahead of everything and everyone, but you always managed to take him by surprise. You were just that great, that perfect. He rolled to the side and fell heavily on the bed. His skin was glistening under the light of the chandeliers from the thin layer of sweat.

You pressed your legs together, clenching around nothing. You hoped you could keep his load inside of you, as a proof this had really happened and it was not just one of your daydreams where you two would be reunited.

“I missed this.” You boke the silence with a small voice. Your fingers brushed over the bruises on your neck, and you hissed at the sensitive skin.

He turned on his side, worried for a second that he went too hard on you. The smile and joy on your face proved him otherwise. “I missed you, Princess.”

“I missed you so much, Daddy.”

*~*~*

The sun hurt your eyes, he noticed. He slipped out of the bed to pull on the curtains only to hurry back to you so you could lay your head on his chest. You were still wearing your bracelet, he started playing with it.

His mind was racing, just like his heart. You could feel it rumble in his chest like a loud engine. Something was bothering him.

“Oh, Zemo...” You caressed his cheek, looking up to study his features. “You can fool the smartest people in the world, but you’ll never be able to lie to me.”

“I’m coming home, Baby. I’m coming home now.”

You looked down again, taking a moment to answer. “Let me guess, you’ll take me to a fancy house like Rebecca’s Manderley and Jane Eyre’s manor at the Rochester’s. You’ll show me around, make me feel like I belong. And you’ll leave, high and dry. Again. All the money and presents from your people won’t erase the pain I felt. Not this time, not ever.”

He pressed his thin lips together. Pain, suffering, he was used to it. He had his fair share of it, caused even more to other people. The thought of hurting you, however, was unbearable.

“Every kingdom needs its king...” He paused and moved you, so you were resting on your elbows and your face was closer to his. “And an even greater queen.”