venu-5

[venu-5]

𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨🌼wc. 681🌼୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

"Are you ever gonna offer to get on top?"

Mark's brows bunch into a scowl, his elbows braced on either side of your head.

The late afternoon sunlight pours in through your window, streaks of golden light dance over your bare flesh, his carved hips pressed firmly against yours. His brain fuzzy with how your fingers feel, tangled in the raven hair at the nape of his neck and you scoff, letting out a huffed breath.

"Fuck no."

"Dude, I literally just came from space. I was on a whole different planet for like, two months."

"Yes, and?" You huff. "You literally ghosted me for two months, came back with a purple baby."

Mark tucks his face into the curve of your neck, his chest flush against yours, and he shifts, muscles shifting beneath his flesh as he wraps his arms around you, calloused fingertips curling around your waist and digging into the softness of your body.

His Thraxan garb tossed messily onto your deskchair, your clothes scattered across your room and your panties ripped to literal shreds.

"For the last time: he's not mine." Mark groans into your neck.

"He has your eyes." You argue.

"Because he's my brother." He deadpans. "Do you really think I'd cheat on you? Like, do you actually think that?"

And you purse your kiss-swollen lips, your nails tracing patterns over his sinewy back, your legs shifting and your thighs wrapping snugly around his hips.

"With an alien? Definitely. You popped a boner during Fifth Element."

And he whines. "She was an opera singer. It was a totally different thing. Unrelated to the alien thing."

Mark lifts his head, shifting until he's resting his chin on your sternum, peering up at you with those big brown eyes, lashes fluttering and you watch the honeyed sunrays form a bronze halo on the crown of his tousled hair.

He looks at you like you're his whole world and it makes you weak.

'Fuck.' You suck your teeth.

"Please, baby." Mark sighs, pressing a kiss against the valley between your breasts, trailing his lips along your chest in those sweet, shy pecks. "I'll do that thing—"

"Oh my God, you big baby. Just flip us over." You grunt, and Mark switches your positions with ease, lips curled into a dorky grin as he watches you, his gaze dropping to where you're seated so prettily on his hips, your knees dimpling your mattress and your sheets pooled around your hips.

"Score." He whispers under his breath, eyes nearly rolling back in his head when he feels your hips lift, your hands braced on his broad chest.

And his phone rings.

And his eyes shoot open, and he stares up at you, brows curling in frustration.

"No—no, no— don't ans—"

"It's Mr Cecil." You hum softly, the device grasped between your fingers and you listen attentively.

"He says he needs to see you."

Mark's expression crumples.

"Oh my God," His voice cracks and he lets his head fall back against the pillow, "I hate these fucking people."

And he sits up, his tongue brushing across his lower lip as he stares at you. Soft, pliable and still with his leaky cock buried in you, and he sighs.

"When I get back," Mark's fingers dig into your cheeks, forcing your lips into a puckering pout, "you're on top."

And you snort.

"Wouldn't count on it, pookie." Your lips press a sweet peck against his, before you lift yourself up, and Mark winces as the cold air hits his still wet and still hard cock.

"If you don't, I will, actually crash out." Mark states. "Viltrumite style."

"And the government can't stop me." His dimples deepen.

"Because as you know, I'm—"

"Indestructible." You interrupt. "We get it."

"It's literally right there! The word is right— you know, I'm done. You're on top when I get back." Mark grumbles, already rifling through your closet for something to wear before settling on your robe.

"I'll be asl—"

"Ahhhh," He interrupts, effectively cutting you off, "I don't care. You're on top."

T🌼A🌼G🌼L🌼I🌼S🌼T

@lucky-beheaded ; @queen-of-gotham ; @coldvirginbitch ; @wittyjasontodd ; @a-n-a-n-a1 ; @dearlyya ; @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha ; @jasontoddswhitestreak ; @daydreams-and-peace ; @misstyy12 ; @fruticake ; @httpstes ; @waterflowersblog ; @glowinthedarkjellyfish ; @vm4879bb-blog ; @monaekelis ; @radlovesfics ; @allycat4458 ; @bigbodycity ; @feral010 ; @anesthesia-4rizzle ; @princesstrunkz ; @blackfox774 ; @sh1d0uryus31 ; @your-lovely-rose26 ; @slugstarzz ; @ripcolel0l ; @strawbiemilk420 ; @verysynical ; @kikiiguess ; @missam ; @luvvfromme ; @luvvcharxo ; @alma-ru3 ; @mxvoid26 ; @urfriendlyfrog ; @the-good-kooshe ; @troublesome-nara ; @secretaccountlol ; @syubseokie; @atanukileaf ; @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere ; @i-love-frensh-fries ; @lov3vivian ; @boyofroyo1 ; @tamaranblaze ; @supersecretxreadersideblog ; @etphonehome0623 ; @markgraysonlover ; @icanmeltanigloo ; @itzmeme ; @buckturd

[venu-5]

wildest dreams | multi x reader

masterlist | taglist

cw: multi x reader, college au, cheating, mild degradation, praise, dumbification, fingering, sloppy kissing, frotting, cumming in pants MDNI

synopsis: your current boyfriend is exactly who everyone expects you to be with. but he doesn't give you butterflies or tick all your boxes. someone else does. and surely, you're not cheating if its with the biggest social reject known to man right? right!

over you, the bleachers shake and rattle under the weight of the crowd jumping and cheering on it, and the overwhelming noise of the marching band creates a second heartbeat in your chest, but all of that dims when his mouth slots onto yours.

you're breathless quicker than you anticipated, lips swollen from being kissed for the last several minutes as your hands cling onto the smooth fabric of his jacket. you're still in your cute little cheer uniform, a tight, sequined crop top paired with a pleated skirt that ruffles up with every gust of wind. your hair, once perfectly styled, is now messy from him ruffling it up and tugging on it while he's kissing you, your lipgloss also smudged over both your mouths.

his hands slide up under your uniform top, long fingers squeezing your soft skin, first your hips, then waist, then your tits roughly like he's been dying to get his hands on you. he groans under his breath when he feels how soft you are there, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. "you don't even like him," he breathes against your mouth, voice quiet but arrogant. "y'gonna tell me he makes you feel like this, hm? wanna lie to yourself some more?"

you mewl quietly as his big hands grope your breasts under the lacy white bra you wore on purpose, not for your boyfriend, but for him. the creepy quiet guy with pale skin and dark circles and fingers long enough to get all the sweet spots deep inside you that your small fingers could never reach.

"i-he-" you start, voice all breathy. you try to come up with a good excuse for whatever it is you're doing with him behind your boyfriend's back, but he just scoffs. "exactly." he mumbles, lips trailing down your neck to the flesh of your throat, where he bites marks into the soft skin, sucking on the spot and running his tongue over it to soothe it. "y'don't even know what to say when i touch you like this, do you? dumb girl."

his teeth graze your jaw, and you easily tilt your head back to give him more access. you're so pliant for him, and he feels like he could tell you to do anything and you'd comply like a good girl. he backs you up against a fence, your cheer skirt bunching up around your hips. he's so turned on that you can feel his bulge bumping against you while he clings onto you, kissing back up to your mouth and sliding his tongue against yours sloppily.

"mmh... m-more, please, more," you mewl, hands squeezing his clothes and dragging him closer needily. he groans softly in response, big hands squeezing your breasts firmly, flicking your nipples with his thumbs. "innocent little cheerleader," he breathes against your lips, eyes hazy. "sweet girl meant to be dancing on the field for your meathead boyfriend, and you're back here letting me have my way with you."

you gasp, eyes fluttering at the overwhelming pleasure he's giving you. he knows just how to touch you, the parts of your body that are most sensitive and the best ways to draw sweet little mewls out of you that make his cock throb. "stop... s-stop talking like that..." you beg dumbly onto his swollen lips. one of his hands move down your body to slip beneath the waistband of your panties, fingers grazing your slick pussy between your thighs.

"God," he mutters, leaning back to see the look on your face. "you're so wet. you've been wet since you saw me sitting alone on the bleachers, hm? saw you trip up your cute little routine when i made eye contact with you." you mewl, toes curling in your sneakers. he slides a long, thick finger inside of you, pumping in and out and curling his finger just right.

"and you think he'd be okay with this?" he goes on, staring intently into your hazy eyes. "his perfect little princess letting the school freak finger her under the bleachers while he throws a ball around." you pant, his fingers dipping into your dripping pussy and your walls around his thick digits. He pumps them steadily, watching your face contort with pleasure as he strokes your most sensitive spots, his thumb circles your throbbing clit and rubbing firm pressure on the swollen bud.

your moans get louder and more high pitched, and he has to shove his free hand out of your bra onto your mouth to shut you up. "shh, baby," he whispers. "you're gonna get us caught." he warns, even though you can't help it. you can barely stand upright, back arched off the fence as your legs tremble, his finger twisting inside you to get every angle. he presses the flat of his palm against you so the heel of his hand grinds against your clit so you let out a muffled cry. "sloppy little thing, aren't you. you'd let me do anything to you."

you nod a little too eagerly, whimpering beneath his hand and moaning loud anytime his finger curls just right, louder when he slides in a second finger. you're falling apart and you can't stay quiet no matter how hard you try, your big eyes all glossy with tears, as he watches every second of it with that same fascinated look in his eyes. "this pussy's so pretty," he coos. "too pretty for a dumb jock who doesn't even know what he's got. i'd never stop touching you and kissing you and fucking you if you were my girl."

you moan loudly at his words just as he scissors and pumps his fingers quicker inside you while he relishes in the sounds you make. he loves how you're supposed to be prim and sweet, the little cheerleader everyone loves, and you're back here with him. the guy with no friends, no spot on the football team, no frats. just bruised knuckles from too many fights and messy hair and a huge cock.

He pulls his hand away only long enough to push his fingers into your mouth, and you suck on them immediately with a moan. You blink up at him with those big dumb eyes, lips stretched around his fingers, cheeks flushed and messy.

"shit...my perfect cheer slut," he murmurs, his thumb rubs firm circles around your clit, the bundle of nerves throbbing and swollen from his touch while his fingers plunge in and out of your sopping cunt. you nod, eyes wide and eager. "mm... f-fuck...yours," you whine, pushing your hips up into his hand to grind against his palm. "you gonna cum for me back here? while you're supposed to be out there screaming for the team?"

"yes please, 'm cumming... just want you, please," you gasp, hands clawing at him as though it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. your pussy tightens around his fingers, clenching down hard as he keeps pumping them deep inside you, thumb working your clit with constant pressure. your whole body shudders as a hot, dizzying orgasm crashes over you like a wave.

you moan, hips jerking as your walls flutter and pulse around his fingers, soaking them. your eyes roll back, lips parted around the digits still stuffed in your mouth, drool slipping past the corners as you ride it out. your brain feels all fuzzy and blank.

"that's it," he coos, leaning down to kiss the side of your face while his fingers slow, easing you through it. "just like that, baby. pretty thing, making a mess all over my hand." he pulls his fingers from between your legs with a filthy wet sound and lifts them up to his mouth to clean them off with his tongue quickly, before reaching down to hold you steady once more.

both hands land back on your waist, letting you slump against him while you catch your breath. you can feel his hard cock pressed against you through his jeans, and he plans to pleasure himself just as he pleasured you. your hips roll forward into his clothed cock shamelessly, skirt bunched up around the waist. your panties, once pushed to the side while he fingered you, get tugged down your ankles, then he helps you step out of them so he can pick them up and stuff them into his pocket for later. "such a little liar."

"a-about what? i d-don't lie to you..."

"about wanting him. y'don't look at him like this. y'don't fuck him like that."

then, he grabs and lifts you just enough so your soaked little pussy rubs right against him, dragging across denim dark with slick. he holds you like you weigh nothing, keeping you perched on him while the game continues behind you. you can hear the crash of pads and whistles and the school band roaring as someone scores a touchdown, maybe your boyfriend.

probably your boyfriend.

the crowd screams his name, cheer girls chant it, flipping their glittery pom-poms in the air to sell school spirit while you're tucked in the shadows under the bleachers, grinding like a needy puppy on the weirdest guy on campus. he huffs at you and bounces his knee slightly to help you get yourself off. "Please… don't stop, don't stop!" you cry out, lashes fluttering.

you're whining as loud as he'll let you, kissing him desperately and mewling as the rough fabric of his jeans bumps against your clit. his whole body shudders. He looks like he could cum just from hearing your sounds, and so he lifts your hips so you're grinding less on his thigh and more on his cock. "look at you," he whispers, glaring straight into your eyes. "filthy." your hips don't stop moving despite his cruel words, and you find yourself grinding your soaked little core across his jeans harder.

his hips grind more urgently into yours, his bulge throbbing each time you grind or bounce on it. your slick folds slide and rub against the firm ridges of his clothed erection while he humps into you. his fingers grip your hips tighter as he increases the force of his own thrusts, letting out a pleased grunt. "oh fuck... just like that pretty girl. keep rutting. shit, im gonna cum soon,"

you wrap one leg around his waist to open yourself up further, the new angle allowing your soaked pussy to press more firmly against his clothed cock, the damp patch on his bulge growing with each thrust. you can't tell if its his juices or yours. both of you let out a joint moan, loud and unabashed. seems like he forgot to cover your mouth.

his movements turn more erratic and desperate as he feels his orgasm coming, and with a final rough grind of his hips, he buries his face in the smooth expanse of you throat and bites down hard, muffling his loud groan, while you let out a choked scream, pussy clenching down on nothing as you hit your peak too.

thick, hot cum erupted from his cock, soaking through his jeans and creating a fat stain on his front, while your juices drip down your thighs. he leaves soft kisses on the angry red bite mark he left on you, speaking into your skin quietly.

you twitch with the oversensitivity that comes with two orgasms, face slick with sweat. you're a whiny mess, panties gone, skirt wrinkled and hiked up around your waist, makeup running obscenely. you keep clawing at his arms, terrified he'll leave you like this and make you go back out there. "Shh," he whispers, "you're bein' loud again. what if someone hears you moaning my name like that? huh?"

he grabs your face in his hand and squishes it so your face forms that embarrassing pout, but you're too gone to feel any shame. you nuzzle into his touchy needily, eyes glossy and adoring as he speaks again. "so," he says, "you gonna be a good girl and go finish your little routine now?"

you blink up at him, chest still heaving, curls sticking to your flushed cheeks. you're about to scream no and that you wanna stay with him, when he speaks before you. "or," he murmurs, dragging his fingers down your jaw, thumb brushing your lips, "you wanna come fuck me in the backseat of my car?"

you don't even pause. there's not a single moment of hesitation. even as you hear screaming and cheering to signal that the game is likely coming to a close and now people will definitely be looking for you. all you care about is him. he can tell. he feeds off your little crush on him. big hands wrap loosely around your throat as he admires your ruined face, a thumb moving across your lips to smudge your lipgloss even more. "the car," you whisper, instantly, "please, the car."

he grins smugly. "hm. since you asked so nicely," he says, before dragging you away from the game and out to the parking lot to fuck you stupid right after your boyfriend makes the final touchdown to win the game.

[venu-5]

seeing my man with his canonical love interest 💔💔💔💔

[venu-5]

alfred gave them the sheets

[venu-5]

ㅤ୨୧ tags explicit content slight corruption and size kink, female reader, college girl reader, canon compliant, jax is all soft for her, maybe dubcon?? a little??

ㅤ୨୧ WC 0.3k

ㅤ୨୧ notes i wrote this a few weeks ago when i first started watching SOA, crazy that this is my tumblr comeback. whatever. i love charlie hunnam

࿏

This shit is unacceptable.

It’s not like this is anything new (no, this has been going on for the better part of half a year now), Jax makes it a point to see her at least once a week. For multiple reasons, but the main one being a selfish one—he needs this. Needs it like he needs oxygen, needs water. He’d love to believe it’s nothing more than carnal, that he’s just never happier than when he’s sinking himself inside of her.

But, really?

The love he’s starting to develop for this girl is killing him; killing his commitment to the club, making him softer.

Knowing all of this should get him pissed at her. That’s usually how it ends. He’s never been good with his temper, but for some reason, she makes him want to fix that shit. First time he ever tried to take some bullshit out on her, she slapped the hell out of him. Yeah, she’s the farthest thing from those crow eaters he’s used to. Or used to be used to. Hasn’t been with one of them since he got her. And they’re not even official. Pathetic, right?

But like he said before, he needs her.

“Mm-mm,” he murmurs into the soft skin of her neck, mouthing over the pretty mole there. His breath is hot, biting. He’s got her bent over her desk (God, he’s such a dick—corrupting a sweet, innocent college girl—got so much ahead of her, so much going on in that gorgeous head of hers), homework long forgotten. And he’s so big, he can tell she’s still not used to it by the way she clenches and shudders and presses herself down into the desk, trying to run from the punishment of his hips. “Oh, baby, you can take it,” he coos, the cold, silver metal of his rings prominent as his fingers curl over the expanse of her slim waist.

She whines, and he groans, lifting his weight off of her slightly, only to push deeper. “Don’t cry,” he thinks he’d be so good at acting, because his voice sounds like he’s just so sorry for her. He’s not. “You got it, sweetheart. You were made for me, huh?”

[venu-5]

❦. Pomegranate .❦

Pairing: Viltrumite!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff

Word Count: 212

Inspired by this post

All you’d wanted was a piece of fruit for breakfast.

“Do you think you can peel me an orange or something?” It was a simple request. Easy. Mark blinked at you, expression unreadable. He got up, leaving the room as you sighed and nuzzled deeper into the clean white duvet. A minute later you feel the mattress dip. You peak your eyes open to see Mark sitting beside you, a pomegranate in his hands.

And then, suddenly, he was peeling it open. Fingers curling impossibly into the hard outer skin, the juices already seeping out under his fingernails. He says nothing, and neither do you, as he rips into the fruit and slowly exposes the delicate rubies hidden inside. You’re frozen in place, face still half turned into the sheets, but your eyes are almost wild at the sight. He gingerly plucks one of the small pearls, holds it up in closer inspection before he turns and brings it to your lips. Your mouth parts only a bit, just enough for him to slip the single piece fruit onto your tongue, his fingers following suit just up to his first knuckle.

He watches you, still expressionless, and you stare back. Mark really would do the ridiculous and the impossible, all for you.

[venu-5]

[venu-5]

ft: mainstream!mark and variants (mohawk, viltrum, omni, sheisty, sinister) (invincible) reader: fem wc: 2604 summary: hey siri is it gay to want to crack the female version of my dead best friend? cw: canon typical violence, foul language, and the variants are kinda sorta freaky in this requested by: @sophsthebest

this was so fun to write lowk and I would've been done faster if not for the blood moon event in dbd so err yeah I'm going to go die in a hole now

Life is strange, really. 

One moment, you’re helping refold shirts because some people don’t even have the decency to put stuff back to where they found it, and the next, an international warning tells you to stay inside because there are evil variants of your boyfriend now roaming the Earth with unclear intentions.

You share a look with your coworker, who looks just as off-put by the information, her fingers curling around her phone as her brow dips. Just as her lips part to speak, the first building falls. It’s only a few blocks away, and the ground beneath your feet trembles at its sudden collapse.

You hear the screams of those out on the street, internally debating whether or not to follow suit until a notification from Mark lights up your screen, the ridiculous nickname you’d set when you were twelve a small comfort to your racing heart.

MarkyWarky: please tell me you’re okay

You: i’m fine

You: i’m just scared mark 

You: why are there so many versions of you anyway…

MarkyWarky: i wish i could tell you

MarkyWarky: just stay put alright im otw

The message does little to soothe, and you can’t help but stare at your screen with nothing but apprehension. Your coworker is quick to seize you by the arm when the sound of collapsing buildings and wailing cars draws closer, ushering you into the break room with the floor manager as though the small, unwindowed room would protect you from the raw strength of a Viltrumite.

“Holy shit, we’re gonna die…We’re actually going to die…” The floor manager, Kasandra, curls into herself with tears already welled in her eyes as she chokes back a sob. No one says anything, unable to face the grim reality at steak when debris begins to crumble around you. You all huddle into the furthest corner as your hope in Mark begins to wane.

Small pieces of rubble hit your head as you tuck your head tightly into Kasandra’s shaking shoulder, the lights overhead flickering violently when the ceiling begins to cave in on itself. There’s no use holding back the tears now and you can’t hide your anguished cries, unheard over the collapsing infrastructure.

This is it, you think, mentally saying your goodbyes to everyone you’ve grown to love. Amber. Eve. William. Mark—oh, Mark. The annoying boy next door who grew to be your first love. 

Sparks flare as the light above you finally collapses, but you don’t feel a throbbing pain in your head or death’s cold embrace, instead, you find yourself wrapped in a familiar pair of arms, still clinging to an almost catatonic Kasandra while your coworker grips the forearm wrapped around the three of you.

“I’ve got you,” a voice in your ear says, and you can feel the tears begin to well once more, though, this time out of relief. Mark is quick to shoot from the rubble, hold unwavering before he sets the three of you down and urges you to run to safety.

Your two coworkers are quick to flee, but you stupidly linger, worry etched onto your features at the sight of Mark’s beaten face and tattered suit. In the distance, you can see Eve facing valiantly against a variant, the odd cloth mask adorned on his face his most defining trait. She pants, her palms facing outward to just barely raise a shield against his erratic punches.

Mark pulls your attention back to him, face pinched as his thumb traces your lower lip in an attempt to ground both you and himself. His lips are soft against your forehead for a brief moment before he pulls back, staring at you through his cracked goggles with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“I love you,” you whisper, stroking his bruised cheek softly.

“I love you too. But, you need to go. Now. I’ll check on you soon, promise.”

So, you run as fast as your legs can carry you, doing your best to ignore the ruins and corpses that seem to block every turn.

You don’t get far.

A shadow overhead blocks the sun—its presence so oppressive and commandeering that it freezes you in place.

“Another survivor?” 

You can’t bring yourself to turn despite the way your heart lurches at the familiarity of the voice. Your breath hitches when the shadow lowers—whatever twisted version of Mark this is drawing ever closer like a lion to its prey.

“I thought those other two were the last of them, but what’s one more?” The voice is cold, almost clinical, very unlike the warmth that radiated off of your Mark. A glove is quick to find purchase on your throat, and you glance down to see the red rubber shining beneath the sun.

Blood coats the hand, tinting the glove an even darker shade of red than what you’d first surmised. You try not to think about the warmth of it as his grip grows tighter, making it harder to breathe, but not enough to kill, like he’s messing with you in some cruel, twisted way.

“You’re this dimension’s girlfriend, aren’t you?” His lips press against the shell of your ear, jerking your body to face the fight between Mark and the clothed one from before alongside Eve, who reaches out to you weakly before eventually crashing against the side of one of the buildings. Your Mark wheezes, clutching at his chest when the cloth-masked variant throws him into a nearby building by the hair. “Pathetic.”

The sound barrier tears as another Mark enters the fray, his mohawk wild and unkempt in the wind as he grins at the sight of battle, though there’s no amusement behind his smile. “Who the hell do you think you are running off like that?” For a moment, his wild eyes slip to where you and your captor reside, a flicker of…something flashing through his before it fizzles away. “Keeping hostages alive? Didn’t peg you for the cruel type.”

You barely register the click of the Invincible’s tongue over the roaring beat of your heart, his thumb remaining stationary over your pulse point; a warning. He could snap your neck at any given moment, and you don’t know what’s stopping him, but you’re grateful for whatever’s causing him to hesitate.

“Come on, just put her out of her misery already,” the mohawked Mark goads with a small shrug as he pulls his fist back to punch your Mark into the concrete when the cloth-masked variant throws him in his direction. Cracks split beneath your feet at the sheer force, the ground almost giving way, but all you can do is watch as your Mark slowly gets up from the crater his body had formed. 

He locks eyes with you, something snapping inside of him at the sight of the variant clad in a suit nearly identical to Omni-Man’s wrapping his hand around your throat.

“[Name]!” He calls out, bursting free from the grasp of the two other Marks with a renewed sense of vigor. 

Time seems to freeze the moment your name leaves his bloodied lips, the Mark holding you hostage too stunned to react when your Mark’s fist collides with his jaw hard enough to send him three blocks away. It isn’t long until you’re swept into Mark’s arms, the hold both protective and possessive as he glares at the other two, his chest heaving with each labored breath he struggles to take.

“No fuckin’ way.” The mohawked variant blinks slowly, his lips pulling into a mix of a grimace and a smirk. “That’s unfair on so many levels.” He turns to the Mark in a cloth mask who seems to share the same sentiment, mumbling under his breath about how unfair it is that this version of him gets the hot babe.

Omni-Man Mark merely scoffs when he floats back, his suit still pristine as though he’d never been thrown at all while he crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the way you tremble in this version of him’s hold. You aren’t the best friend he’d killed mercilessly back in his dimension. Here, you were a woman—his woman. And he’d be damned if he couldn’t kill two birds with one stone.

A best friend and a wife. Who would’ve thought?

While he’d never seen the other, male, version of you in a romantic light, his heart stirs at the thought of taking this version of you for himself. It’s not like it’ll take much to kill this Mark; he’s already as good as dead anyway—

“Is everything alright here?” Clad in white and silver, yet another version of Mark descends from the sky like some sort of disgraced angel. 

“Ugh, why are you here?” Mohawk Mark rolls his eyes obnoxiously, his gaze only briefly flickering to the new variant.

“Angstrom sent me to see if you all were sticking to the plan, which clearly you aren’t.”

“Aww, the lil’Viltrum baby can’t do anything without a mission? How sad!” He bats his lashes dramatically before sneering. “What are you gonna do next, bark? Who gives a shit about the plan? You’re acting as if you weren’t gonna kill him after anyway!” 

The Mark in the Viltrum uniform chooses not to dignify him with a response.

Unbothered by his counterpart’s nonchalance, the mohawked Mark sets his sights back on you, spreading his arms wide as if to welcome you in with a hug. “Hey, [Name], it’s just me. Just Mark. Your best friend, remember? We used to play CoD and shit when your parents were out.”

Viltrum Mark’s brows furrow at the familiar name, steady gaze finally paying you mind as you try to sink further into the Mark of this dimension’s arms. You’re a lot…softer than he recalls you being, your form far less filled out; almost feminine. But, that couldn’t be right, right? How cruel would it be for this version of him to have the perfect mate whilst he, while grateful for your prior companionship, was stuck with nothing more than a best friend? One that he’d ultimately killed for resisting.

Surely, his brain is playing tricks on him.

Then he hears it—they all hear it.

The small terrified whimper you let out, the sound almost heavenly as you try to curl into Mark like your life depends on it. Which you suppose it does at this very moment.

A collective groan settles across all the present variations of Mark, all differing levels of arousal. They can practically taste the fear emanating off of you, stalking closer like a pack of deranged wolves.

Disgust pulls at Mark’s lips at the look in their eyes, his arms trembling around you as the last line of defense between you and these monstrous versions of him. “What the hell are you guys on about?” He seethes, only to be met by a suffocating silence.

Viltrum Mark appears in front of you before you and Mark can process his presence, tearing you out of your boyfriend’s arms despite your screaming protests. His grip is firm, but it’s the underlying softness in it that has you trembling with both fear and confusion. One of his hands finds your chin, stroking the contour of your jaw while his thumb gently presses down on your lower lip in a similar fashion that your Mark had done earlier.

“You’re [Name].” His face twists with perplexion as he speaks. “But, you’re so soft.” You feel his other hand fall from your arm, settling on your hip as if to prove a point. He squeezes and prods the fat, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the soft skin underneath, his fingers splaying against your stomach while his nose buries itself in your neck. “You’d be a great mother.”

No.

No.

No.

This can’t be happening—

You’re pulled into another set of arms. These ones leaner yet more possessive than the Viltrum Mark’s. But not yours.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you.” Mohawk Mark’s voice rasps mockingly above you, his arm curling around you and dangerously close to your breasts. You know he feels your heart stop, snorting cruelly as he pulls you flush against him. His gloved hand tilts your chin up to him cruelly, relishing in the way tears well in your eyes.

“P-Please…” You weakly claw at his wrist despite knowing how useless it is in comparison to his innate strength.

Holy fuck, he could get used to the sound of that.

Man, why couldn’t you be a girl in his world too? Oh, the things he would do to you. How he would ruin you. He wonders if you’re similar to his [Name], the [Name] who trusted him to do the right thing only to die trying to stop what’s already been done. Do you play the same sport as your male counterpart? Enjoy the same food? Ah, whatever, you’re still his, no matter his relation to you. Best friend or otherwise.

“Get away from her you fucking freak!” Your Mark’s garbled voice reaches your ears, his fist colliding with the side of the mohawked variant’s head, sending him careening into the white-clad Viltrumite. Mark doesn’t even get the chance to look over you before he shoots into the air with you in his hold, tucking your head into his shoulder as he whispers calming words into the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, baby,” he echoes his prior sentiment, flying as fast as he can with the cloth-mask and Omni-Man wannabe hot on his tail.

A familiar red glove catches Mark’s leg, snapping it easily. Mark screams, his teeth grinding as he pivots his other leg directly into the variant’s face, no doubt breaking his nose before he crashes into the cloth-masked Mark, who yells obscenities as the two of them crash into the city below.

Finally, silence settles between the two of you. Heavy with confusion. Heavy with fear.

“What the hell was that…” You cling to him, trembling like a newborn fawn in his hold.

“I—I don’t know.” He buries his nose in your neck as he lowers into a desolate field miles away from any civilization, breathing in your comforting scent beneath the smell of iron and ash that seem to cling to your skin while he settles against a tree. The field is peaceful; untouched by the destruction that plagues the rest of the world.

“...What about Eve and the others?” You hesitate, palms hovering over his broken leg to do your best to put the limb back together. The bone melds back together grotesquely, it's disgusting snap a sound you think you’ll never get used to.

“Eve slipped away before things got ugly. I’m not too sure about the others…” He lets out a low hiss, his fingers digging into the ground when his skin gets pulled tautly back into place. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I won’t let them get to you, not as long as I’m still breathing, alright?”

“Okay,” you breathe out, collapsing into his chest as you try not to think about everything you’ve lost in such a short amount of time. He kisses your forehead gently, leaning back against the tree for only a moment of respite.

“Aww, what a cute sight.” A patronizing voice overhead has both of you snapping your heads to the sound. Clad in yellow and black with a billowing cape behind him, this version of Mark sneers, his gaze looking between you and Mark. His brows raise beneath his mask, lips forming something akin to a sadistic grin. “Well, well, well. You’re looking a bit different here, aren’t you, [Name]?”

Shit.

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site or run my works through ai

[venu-5]

[venu-5]

this is probably the stupidest fucking thing I have drawn this year that is also Invincible related anyways off to go schedule my lobotomy

[venu-5]

back at it babeyyyy<3

[venu-5]

I will get him pregnant, and leave him a single father

[venu-5]

Ramble?

MDNI! (This post is 18+)

This is about Thragg, do not fret, this is no tagging mistake!

Author's note: This was just a silly thought. I hope people enjoy it because I'm not a professional writer nor do I claim to be a good one! Though I hope this is good for a second start.

Word Count: 516

Content Warnings:

Thragg...{Implied Age Gap}, {Reader is legal}, {Pregnancy}, {Sexcy?} , {Non-monogamous situationship?}, {Brief three-way with two aliens}, {Big dick}, {Maybe unrealistic smut-most definitely because author has never felt the touch of another human AHEM} {Cunnilingus}, {Is it a breeding kink if they do it to repopulate a small population out of necessity??}, {Thragg a freak for Reader} {OOC, duh its fanfic and I may or may not have not read the comics...}

Okay, no, I need more Thragg content and I'm no writer nor someone who's experienced but imagine him with reader who's Mark's best friend, Thragg learns the nature of their relationship and he's quick to take Marks friend because he needs leverage because Mark isn't scared so he needs to make him scared! They're powerless, weak, fragile to someone as strong and big as Thragg. It's no use in fighting him, you should just sit pretty and let him smell the fear that emits from you.

He's intrigued. Why? He wouldn't be able to tell you. Is it the way his hand swallows the curve of your throat? Or maybe it's because he can't help but imagine the way you'd look carrying his heirs? To you it's a medieval way of thinking but to him, oh, to him it's necessary-it's the way of life.

He wants to fill you up with his come. He wants to spend every minute and every second inside you until he's sure he's seen your womb swell with a sign of life. He's fallen to the satisfaction of watching your lower stomach swell and bulge as he slips his thick cock into you. That sweet, sweet symphony you sing for him. The first time he ever breached your walls you swore he'd tear you in two but he didn't. Miraculously you remained intact and to him it was sign enough that you were meant to take him.

His concubines are pushed to the side, filled only when their wombs are empty and their nests are empty. He won't spend a second raising children, it's his concubines' job to raise his children. He needed warriors but you, oh, sweet, sweet you. He filled you even when your womb was full. Even when his palm curved over your belly, he thrusted slowly as he nosed at your neck and groaned lowly enough to make your heart vibrate. You had the best doctors, he ensured that they learned human biology and had the correct instruments for you. Even if you were the only one with that humane biology in his presence, he knew you'd prove him right and give him a fierce warrior on the first go.

If you rewarded him properly then he'd reward you in turn though he did reluctantly wait the six weeks of repose that were mandated to allow your dumb human body to heal properly. Besides, six months for another pregnancy? Stupid, in his opinion.

It was hell to Thragg. So he spent every second with his head between your thighs. You sat on your throne (his tongue) with his concubine fucking herself on his cock so he could imagine it was you he was filling-though the way she clamped down around him never felt the way your gummy walls clamped around him. His concubines would never truly deserve his come the way you do. It's a waste when it's spilled in their wombs. How he wishes it's your womb he spills into.

Mark should just forget about saving you.

How long has it been?

Shit...I think he has.

[venu-5]

˖ ⁺ ✧ Punk tactics !

pairings ✧ : mohawk mark! x reader

warnings ✧ : breast fucking / tit job , groping, degrading, dirty talk ( sex scene is short n sloppy ) fem description.

normal! mohawk mark who is rebellious to his parents Debbie and Nolan, teaching his litter brother Oliver how to cause enough trouble just like him. even gifting Debbie with phone calls at his school reporting that he has gotten into another fight this weekend.

normal! mohawk mark who has some piercings on his face that he had done with a safety pin because his mom and dad wouldn’t allow him to, having at-least near 5 facial piercings ( including the tongue one )

normal! mohawk mark who ALSO has a secret tattoo right above his abdomen that has his initials in a gothic font, hot right? yea well it hurt a lot. bragging to his friends on how it’d be so easy to take a needle down there but nope he was wrong, and he got proven that.

normal! mohawk mark that hits on cute girls like you, naive and sassy. meeting you at one of his friends punk parties, you stood out the most. your clothing attire not even being comparable to these dweebs in the party. he had his share amount of girls and you were on of his favorites. . .

normal! mohawk mark that you cant help but to fall for, people telling you he isn’t the husband type but you could already tell. from the way he had grabbed onto your neck last night to sloppily kiss you told you everything you had to know. not like you didn’t enjoy it but you liked it just way too much.

normal! mohawk mark who invites himself into your house when your parents are gone knowing they’d throw a fit seeing a guy with facial piercings, muscular build, and a mohawk in their house heading to their daughters room. not like he’d care anyways he would still go up into your room while your parents were there.

normal! mohawk mark who caresses your ass while laying in your bed as if not a while ago he had promised he’d be good to you and no touching. he “ couldn’t help! “ it he claimed while giving you those bullshit puppy eyes he had always gave you when he has got into trouble with you.

normal! mohawk mark who’s boner is practically prodding at your ass when he swears up and down its not his dick and is just the remote. but you don’t remember the remote being 8 inches and that girthy, you try to believe him but it’s hard to when every time you shuffle you hear him shuddering or breath being caught in his throat.

normal! mohawk mark who can’t take it anymore violently pulling your blouse down revealing your tits.. which were pierced his eyes widened, this was love at first sight he had thought, a wide smile playing onto his face. “ who would’ve known “ he thought sitting on top of you as if he wasn’t already so big.

“ mmark.. be nice with them i just got them pierced two weeks ago! “ you protested your nipples hardened feeling the steel of his tongue piercings clacking against your nipple piercings. “ fuck, did they hurt baby? “ his words were long and sultry even the thought of the needle piercing through your nipples made him 10x harder! “ of course they did you dumbass.. “ you moaned the feeling of his rough hands squeezing onto the fat of your breasts was enough to send you into a frenzy. mark’s slobber was all on your tits it looked as if someone even poured some water onto your breasts and let it sit there, hearing the sound of cheap baggy jeans unzipping you looked down to see him starting to pull his boxers down “ mark you’re not tit fucking me! “ he was already was squishing you with his weight but no he didn’t want to listen cause he never does. his hard cock was pulsing at the sight of you, he looked like a fucking pervert too the way he wiped his drool from his mouth and smiled down at you “ youre so fucking hot babe.. cant believe i bagged a bad bitch like you “ he moaned out scooting his body further onto your torso to settle his cock between your tits “ you’ll let me nut all over this pretty face yea? “ you were so embarrassed, every word that came out his mouth made your pussy wet and pulse “ just hurry up mark.. if parents barge in i’ll be in big trouble “ grabbing onto your breasts and squishing them against his hard cock he threw his head back “ fuck your parents.. Shitt “ thrusting his member in between your tits that were still covered in saliva the sensation felt so fucking good to him “ mark you’re a pervert! “ he groaned even more the degrading throwing him off edge even more “ yea? im your dirty lil pervert mhmm.. “ speeding up the sensation he would drag your tits against his cock too the soft doughy feeling of your breasts had hypnotized him “ fuck m gonna.. shit let me cum baby pleasee “ his tip was practically red waiting to burst all over your breasts and face “ fine just.. clean m- “ he came immediately. a extremely loud groan emitted from mark making you even feel embarrassed for him, but you couldn’t focus on that.. the hot sticky substance that painted your face and breasts made you look like a pornstar some even getting onto your newly done lashes that you’d just payed for! “ mark!! “ his chest heaving he would crawl off of you “ dont think i’d let this pussy feel neglected and alone did ya? “

[venu-5]

put a bow on it

tags - mark grayson x f!reader, blow jobs, 18+, short drabble

summary - just a little bit of fun between you and mark. You do indeed put a bow on it ;)

cw - MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT

—

"This is so stupid."

"No, no, just humor me, babe."

"I did. I am. and now I'm saying it's stupid." Mark huffs crossing his arms and looking away from you. as if that will somehow hide his blush. Embarrassed. When you had brought it up earlier, he had just made a face and shrugged. He’s getting flustered now. You put a hand on his thigh to keep him still and he sighs, letting you do as you want.

And currently, you're doing exactly that. sitting pretty between your boyfriend's spread legs as he reclines back on your couch, hiding the flush on his cheeks with an exasperated hand. his cock is right in front of your face, thick and pretty and dripping with desperation.

Tantalizingly, it twitches in front of your face as you delicately peruse the soft, silk ribbons you bought specifically for this. The ten dollars costed for this was definitely well spent, you think as you lightly wrap a warm palm around him. Your other hand busies itself selecting a ribbon — pale pink and shimmery.

His eye twitches and you suppress a smirk as the muscles in his abdomen flex. Have you mentioned how good he looks? Have you mentioned the way that gorgeous flush compliments his pale features, dusting his cheeks and the tip of his dick?

“This one’s cute, isn’t it?” You ask, and he presses his lips together, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re enjoying this too much.” He accuses, not answering your question. Still though, he doesn’t move away as you wrap the thin, flimsy thing around his cock. His adams apple visibly bobs as he wrinkles his nose against the feeling. You coax him from softening with a few gentle pumps, earning a low hum from Mark.

“Maybe.” You acknowledge vaguely, neatly tying off the bow. Cute.

His neglected dick twitches when you press a kiss to the tip, and he inhales slowly. Your hand has never stopped it’s relentless up and down, and you know it’s torturing him. A pink tongue darts out to wet his lips and you hear his breath hitch. Hook.

Slowly, you draw your own tongue in a slow, lazy circle, pushing back the foreskin with a quick thumb. Salty, warm, a little soapy from whatever he used to wash himself — you entertain yourself by slowly moving down the shaft. Your cunt aches with every strained noise that escapes him, and you trace the veins arching up the thick flesh. Up and down you go, neatly avoiding disturbing the little bow. His jaw clenches when you take the tip into your mouth. Line.

“Fuuuck.” He whispers, staring up at the ceiling, hands clenched into the cushions. His hips rock up into your hot mouth, inching into the delicious wet heat that has him shivering. Sends ripples down his spine, electrocutes him from the inside out. His brain feels fried — frizzled. He can’t think about anything but the feeling of your mouth on his cock and that stupid bow on his dick that shouldn’t even be doing anything to him —

Shit. You’ve barely taken more than a couple inches, why is this affecting him so much?? It’s embarrassing, the way you unravel him so easily. Maybe it’s the way you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours. Maybe it’s the way you draw up and down his shaft. Maybe it’s the way you’re reaching down to touch his balls and — oh, oh damn.

Your smile is devilish. Sinker.

Suffice to say, the bow doesn’t survive the way Mark thrusts up into your mouth. Neither does your pussy when it comes to its turn.

—

wowza this was sitting in my drafts since 2023 lol. Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I’m not a native English speaker

[venu-5]

— NO GOGGLES MARK IS A N⛧STY BASTARD !

cw. +18, smut, minors dni, fem!reader, obsession, sadomasochism, body horror, pervert!mark, mark is freaky and kinda disgusting. mark is portrayed as an utterly depraved, unhinged, and feral menace with zero boundaries and no concept of morality.

No Goggles Mark who wants to live inside you. Not just be close to you, not just hold you—he wants to be underneath your skin, inside your muscles, crawling through your veins, living inside your bones. He tells you this while holding you close, his breath shaking, his hands trembling against your body, his eyes wild and desperate. He wants to tear you open and crawl inside your ribcage, wrap himself around your heart so he can hear it beating for him and only him.

No Goggles Mark who wears your panties as a mask. He steals them straight out of your laundry, rubs them against his face, breathes you in like it’s the only air he’s ever known. He wears them while he sleeps, fights, eats, touches himself—he wears them like a second skin, because he wants you against him at all times. If you ever catch him? He doesn’t stop. He just grins, drags his tongue over the fabric, and asks if you’re gonna take them off his face yourself.

No Goggles Mark who jerks off to your voice. It doesn’t matter what you’re saying—you could be scolding him, cursing him, telling him you hate him—it only makes him harder. He closes his eyes, fists his cock, and moans your name, imagining your lips whispering filth into his ear, spitting on him, degrading him, breaking him apart.

No Goggles Mark who licks your toothbrush after you use it. He doesn’t even hesitate—as soon as you set it down, he grabs it, shoves it in his mouth, moaning as he drags it over his tongue. The taste of your spit, the remnants of your breath—it’s better than any drug, better than any high, better than any orgasm. If you ever catch him? He just stares, grinning around the toothbrush, sucking on it like he’s trying to absorb every part of you into himself.

No Goggles Mark who wants to chew on you. Not just bite—chew. He wants to sink his teeth into your shoulder and gnaw, leave indentations, bruises, proof that he was there, that he marked you, that he tasted you. He fantasizes about it when he’s alone, his fingers in his mouth, pretending they’re your flesh, pretending he’s eating you alive, pretending you’re letting him.

No Goggles Mark who keeps your hair in his mouth. If he finds a strand of your hair? It goes straight between his lips. He chews on it, rolls it over his tongue, swallows it down so you can be inside him forever. He doesn’t care if it’s weird, if it’s disgusting—it makes him feel closer to you, like he’s absorbing a piece of you into himself.

No Goggles Mark who wants to cut you open just to see what you look like inside. He doesn’t want to hurt you—he just wants to know. He wants to see what your muscles look like when they stretch, what your bones feel like under his fingers, what your insides smell like when they’re raw and open for him. He tells you this while holding you in his lap, his fingers tracing over your stomach, his breath hot against your neck, whispering how beautiful you must be underneath all this skin.

No Goggles Mark who wants to replace the air in your lungs with his breath. He kisses you so deep, so desperately, so hungrily that he wants you to choke on him. He wants your lungs to be filled with him, wants every breath you take to be something he’s given you. He kisses you so hard your lips bruise, your jaw aches, your body trembles—because if he could crawl inside your mouth and live there, he would.

No Goggles Mark who wants to be the only thing inside you. No food, no water, no air—just him. He wants you so full of him that you can’t think, can’t move, can’t exist without him. He wants his fingers, his tongue, his cock, his very existence buried so deep inside you that even if you tried to rip him out, you couldn’t.

No Goggles Mark who cums to the sound of your heartbeat. He loves pressing his head against your chest, feeling the rhythm of your pulse, knowing that your body is alive, that you are real, that you belong to him. And when you’re asleep? He jerks off to it. He strokes himself slow, groaning into your skin, matching his pace to the beat of your heart, imagining his cum soaking into your very existence.

No Goggles Mark who licks your sweat straight from your skin. He doesn’t care if you’re overheated, exhausted, drenched from the summer sun—he’s got his tongue dragging along your neck, your stomach, the dip of your spine. He groans against you, grinding his cock against your leg like a bitch in heat, smearing himself all over you.

No Goggles Mark who would shove his fingers into your mouth just to feel your teeth on him. He watches your lips wrap around them, his pupils blown wide, his breath coming out in shudders as he imagines those teeth digging into his cock, those lips sucking him raw, those soft noises muffled by his fingers pressing against your tongue.

No Goggles Mark who would fuck your thighs like a desperate animal. He doesn’t even need to be inside you—just the feeling of your soft skin, your warmth, your scent surrounding him, trapping him, ruining him—it’s enough. He ruts against you, his hands gripping your hips, his cock rubbing between your thighs, his moans loud and shameless as he fucks himself against you until he spills hot and thick all over your skin.

No Goggles Mark who would fuck himself with your underwear. If he can’t have you? He’ll make do with what he has. He takes your panties, wraps them around his cock, thrusts into them like a fucking maniac, his breath ragged, his moans broken, his eyes rolling back because the thought of your scent, your warmth, your essence surrounding him is driving him insane.

No Goggles Mark who wants to make you cry during sex. Not from pain, not from fear—from being so overwhelmed by pleasure, by love, by him. He wants to see the tears spill down your cheeks, wants to kiss them away, wants to feel them on his tongue as he whispers, “Shhh, shhh, let me take care of you.” But it only gets worse when you do—because seeing you so broken, so vulnerable, so utterly his? It makes him cum on spot.

No Goggles Mark who gets off on overstimulating you until you’re shaking. You say you can’t take anymore? He doesn’t care. He’s still touching you, still licking, still thrusting, still rubbing, watching as your body spasms, as your voice breaks, as you sob from the pleasure that won’t stop. He holds you down, pressing kisses to your ear, whispering how much he loves you, how good you are, how beautiful you look when you’re falling apart for him.

No Goggles Mark who would fuck you while you’re asleep. Not in a cruel way—but in a desperate, aching, worshipful way. He can’t help himself. You’re so warm, so soft, so perfect. He grinds against you, his breath shaky, his hips rolling slow, his cock pressing between your legs as he whimpers against your ear. If you wake up, if you catch him—he’ll only beg for more as he keeps moving, burying himself deeper, moaning about how he needs you, how he can’t live without this, without you.

No Goggles Mark who has a thing for your period. The second he catches the scent of it, his pupils blow wide, his breath stutters, his body shakes because he knows. He knows. He groans just thinking about it, about the way your body is raw, aching, open, needing him. He begs for it—pleads, whimpers, claws at you, his voice broken, desperate, because he wants it, needs it, craves it like he’s starving. If you let him? He moans against you, his eyes rolling back, his body trembling like he’s reached nirvana. He tells you you’ve never been more beautiful, never been more perfect, never been more his.

No Goggles Mark who wants you to hurt him. Scratch him, slap him, choke him—make him bleed, make him feel it, make him remember that he belongs to you. He laughs when you hit him, moans when you dig your nails into his flesh, shudders when you sink your teeth into his skin. He begs for more, begs for you to ruin him, begs for you to make him suffer because he wants it, he loves it, he craves it. If you ever whisper sweet things to him after? He breaks. He cries, shakes, whimpers into your chest like a ruined, pathetic thing.

No Goggles Mark who wants to drink your spit. He opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue, tells you to spit in it like he’s a dog waiting for a treat. He wants it, all of it, every last drop. He moans when he swallows, rolls it around his tongue, sighs like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. If you ever call him disgusting? He just grins, licks his lips, and tells you that he’d drink your bathwater too.

No Goggles Mark who wants to be your personal punch bag. He wants you to use him, break him, push him past the point of no return. He wants you to drag your nails over his chest until it’s raw, bite his neck until it bruises, kick him away just to pull him back. If you punch him, slap him, spit in his face? He moans. He laughs. He grabs your wrist and shoves your hand back, begging you to do it again, harder, worse, meaner, because he loves it, he lives for it, he needs it.

No Goggles Mark who wants you to mark him. Not just hickeys or scratches—he wants scars. He wants to be ruined by you, wants to carry your violence like a badge of honor, wants to feel the sting of your love in every movement. If you ever cut him open, ever sink your nails deep enough to draw blood, ever slam him into a wall so hard he sees stars? He smiles, whispers ‘thank you,’ and kisses you like you’re his god.

No Goggles Mark who wants to be your favorite toy. Not your boyfriend, not your lover—your toy. Something to play with, to use, to throw away when you’re done. He wants to be on his knees for you, under your foot, bruised and battered and desperate, because he doesn’t want to be your equal—he wants to be owned. If you ever ignore him, ever tease him, ever dangle what he wants just out of reach? He whines, begs, claws at your clothes, presses himself against you like an animal in heat, because nothing is worse than being without you.

No Goggles Mark who wants to melt into you. He wants his skin to fuse with yours, his bones to dissolve into your body, his soul to entangle with yours so completely that you’re no longer two people—you’re one. He whispers this against your lips, his voice shaking, his body trembling, his fingers digging into your flesh like he’s trying to hold himself together, because the thought of not being part of you is worse than death.

Because you are his.

Forever.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[venu-5]