⤷ Mark jealous and a little scared, Mark crying (a little), Mark stalking you
⤷ neutral pronouns
➤ Mark is afraid you'll leave him
ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ɪɴᴠɪɴᴄɪʙʟᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
Personally, I like it when Mark cries and it's a little pathetic.
Mark loves you, he always shows it, even if he's in another galaxy saving the planet. Mark is an emotional person, something everyone in the universe knows, something you know too. Mark often can't control his feelings, especially when it comes to you. Mark gets jealous easily, even if he won't admit it, even if he doesn't want to be.
At first, he would stay quiet, thinking about you and the other person. You both seem very happy, something that bothers him.
He knows he has no right to say anything to you; in the end, he's not very present, but that doesn't stop him from being bothered that his beloved partner is happier with someone else.
Once you're alone, he tries to bring up the subject.
— Did you have fun? — His tone is dull; in reality, his intention is not to be friendly, he just wants to know if you have a better time without him.
The walk home was silent, but the tension was there.
You thought he'd had a tough mission, so you didn't think much of it.
Mark was nervous. Yes, he's the best hero in the world, but maybe not the best boyfriend.
A lot was going through Mark's head, ideas he didn't even know existed.
When he got home, he decided to confront you.
— Do you think this is funny? — You looked at him, confused. —Do you think I didn't notice? —
The silence was there, but it was fragile.
— I don't know what you're talking about. — You raised an eyebrow.
Mark chuckled.
— Do you want to get rid of me? — His eyes were starting to well up with tears.
— Mark, I- — He raised his hand, interrupting you.
— You and he were really animated. I haven't seen you like this in a long time. — He clenched his jaw.
— Mark, you're tired. — You sighed.
— You're right. I'm tired of you not treating me like your boyfriend. —
— Excuse me? — You laughed indignantly.
— I love you, but it seems like you only want me as decoration. —
You didn't know what to say.
— You know what? Let's talk when you've calmed down. — You went to your room.
When Mark is jealous, he's very unpredictable, but when he wants something, he gets it.
He'd probably watch you from afar, something you wouldn't even notice.
He'd investigate the other person; he's afraid they might be dangerous.
When he thinks things have calmed down, he'll come to see you, wanting to fix things.
— Hey, I just wanted to... — He trailed off.
— Mark — you said, looking at him with tired eyes.
— Forgive me, — he said, taking your hands. — I've been stressed, and the other day... — He started kissing your knuckles.
— I know, Mark, but sometimes you cross the line. — You placed one of your hands on his cheek, and he stayed there, as if it were second nature.
— I'm sorry... — He started to cry.
Mark is very jealous.
Mark is very emotionalHe tried to set boundaries, he tried to believe that you wouldn't cheat on him with someone else
Coincidentally, the other guy no longer appears in your life. Obviously, Mark has nothing to do with that.
In the end, he just wants to be with you, even if the universe tries to keep you apart.
Light Yagami x reader wherein you see firsthand the change in Light when the Death Note returns to him. Something something Light was Kira's first victim.
A/N I ended up writing plot instead of concepts Ahsjsbsjbs. I write in your POV so if you're confused why he's not being evil it's bc he's not being evil to YOU 🫵 Also I don't beta read anything so be warned
Light who you were close with since highschool. Who was that smart kid you knew was going straight to college after graduating. The run of the mill teenager who everyone liked.
Light who you also admired and who was definitely very kind to you. The one with a sense of justice strong enough to insist you report to the teacher when some students were picking on you.
Light who was visibly frustrated when he saw how telling the teacher didn't work. That authority figures weren't doing much and lacked any real power to actually stop things from happening.
Light who you eventually lose contact with near the end of the year and in college when his dad gets busy with Kira investigations.
Kira who begins murdering kidnappers and criminals on the news. The list of deaths increasing. The public unrest of a serial killer but the quiet murmuring that the murderer is doing more to stop crime than the police.
Kira who believes that people don't change. That some people are just naturally born evil. That some people would have definitely been happier if the people picking on them had just died in highschool.
You who stays updated with the news of Kira. Who hears that people from your highschool class get added to the list of victims. The instant guilt you get for feeling momentarily avenged by the fact. The reluctant maturity to acknowledge that high school bullies do in fact change for the better instead of growing up to be criminals on death row.
Kira who had suddenly gone quiet. Who didn't kill for several days before starting back up with a different pattern.
Light who reconnects with you, still kind and gentle. Wide eyes and friendly smiles. Who couldn't help but look for you after getting released by L. Who couldn't fathom or recall why you both drifted away after highschool.
Light who definitely felt something was wrong when he was with Misa while not feeling as strongly as he did with you when you were both younger. Who felt guilty for leading her on but also responsible for roping Misa into the Kira investigations. Who stays in the relationship for now while rebuilding his friendship with you.
Light who talks to you about the investigations, his worries, and the Kira murders. Who agreed that Kira was a lunatic for murdering criminals. That violence wasn't the solution.
Light quietly admitting that he's happy the people who hurt you died.
Light who gets closer to you everyday. Sweet words, altruistic disposition. That same unwavering sense of justice that insists on what's right and very clearly points out what's wrong. The sweet talker that knows exactly what to say to make you fall for him all over again. The guy who was working day and night to find Kira and finally put an end to all these deaths.
Light who tells you there's a breakthrough. That they might finally catch Kira. The same one who forgets himself for a moment and kisses you goodbye.
Light who comes back happier, sweeter almost. Whose touch lingers longer than before. Fingers brushing your cheek that lacks the friendly restraint he'd kept guarded for so long. His words hold more affection, steps over the line of friendship and blurs it under his feet.
Light who confesses his feelings for you, who admits that he's known for a long time how he's felt. Who claimed that after the Kira was caught and died that he finally had the courage to tell you.
Light who still apologizes after confessing because he still needs to clear things up with Misa. The kind, conscientious man who didn't want to stress the poor girl who was implicated in this whole serial killer mystery because she was with him.
Kira who continues the executions even after they were deemed dead
Light who had gotten busier dealing with it all as some members of the task force dies. Who hadn't sent a message in a while. Who hasn't updated you on whether or not he'd spoken with Misa yet.
The feeling of you two drifting off again.
Light returning to you devastated after his father dies. Who clings closer to you now more than when you two reconnected. Who admits he'd neglected you and says he realized how much he's taken the people he loved for granted. Who insists on bringing you into the task force if only to ensure your safety.
Light who becomes head of the task force but makes it a point to come home to you. Who spends all his free time with you.
Light who loves to hear you speak and enjoys debating with you. Who chuckled every time you gave a contrary point. Who smiled in content when you would relent and agree. Your discussions always circling back to Kira and their extreme methods.
"We're at a point in history where people are in constant fear of being the next to die of a heart attack for making a mistake."
"If you're not a criminal, then you won't have to worry. Actually, the crime rate has lowered now because repeat offenders are dead and people think twice before committing crimes."
"Laws and equivalent consequences are in place for a reason, and making it the death penalty for everything takes away the concept of changing for the better."
Light makes a face, the idea of a terrorist rejoining society with a light heart after ruining hundreds of lives almost sickens him.
"Well, there are flaws in anything man-made, that includes the judicial system."
"Which makes it all the more concerning that Kira has all that power alone without anyone questioning their judgement."
"You think Kira is human?"
Light who puts on his typical charming smile but gets increasingly more on edge. A sharper gaze, and long silence deep in his own thoughts. You can't imagine what's going on in his head but you have a feeling a pattern is about to repeat.
You who refused to be left behind again. Who became more active in the task force, joined training, and worked your way to deserve to be by his side.
Late nights looking for any possible clues feel selfishly comfortable. Despite his cold, tired eyes, his words are still so warm when he compliments you. He coaxes you to retire for the night with warmer touches and kisses. Promises that everything will still be the same tomorrow.
Papers go missing in the morning.
More and more people get added to the investigation. It's clear to all of you that it's turning into a race to catch Kira.
A plan is made.
Matsuda pulling the trigger.
A cold warehouse, thirty minutes to wait. A creaking door, a 40-second countdown.
You weren't sure when it happened, how you've come to obsess over him so much to notice the little things. For your eyes to always be on him. His lips twitch as if holding back. Was he scared as well? You never thought such a day would come. You must not have been that observant to miss the fact his lips twitched up.
Your hands are cold when they reach out for his and his eyes finally drift to you. There's sympathy in his gaze as if in apology. Was he sorry for dragging you into this? You kept making excuses for him.
A list of names plain to see on a fake notebook. Yours cleanly written last.
Disbelief, then confusion. Denial then lies upon lies upon lies. Light running like a cornered animal.
"And you," Light turns his unfocused, panicked gaze past Matsuda and towards you. His voice shakes, throat nearly rasping from his angry ramblings after getting shot. "You're ungrateful. I did this for YOU! The people who hurt you are gone. I'm changing the world for you!"
Words escape you in the moment. Things seem much clearer in hindsight.
"You've changed," the sneer in his voice holds so much contempt and venom in contrast to his gentle whispers when you two were alone. Yet it does the same thing in pinching your chest and coaxing you to him.
"You're exactly the same," the pain in your voice at the realization that he wasn't as smart as you both thought he was.
He writhes on the floor and shrieks in a way that's too hard to watch. Pathetically and utterly defeated. He screams for a Hail Mary of names that don't include you.
You know that this would have ended the same way with or without you.
summary: over the past few months, you've reunited with your best friend from college. in the midst of your blossoming connection, he has a special role he wants you to play for him.
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dollification, infidelity
a/n: i wasn't gonna post this till later but i got excited... i love him so bad. he is everything to me. all night. all day. no lube. no protection. i hope my fellow light bulbs enjoy 🙏 and comments and reblogs mean the world to me <3
kinktober slot: day 11 - dollification
"The goddess of the new world. The one I'll keep by my side as I rule. The only being I'll cherish in this reality. That will be you."
The words fell from between Light's lips with ease. To anyone else, they would sound like the absolute truth. After all, he said them with such conviction. But you knew better.
As much as you adore him, you would never call Light someone you trust.
You'd met him at university years ago and had been taken with his intelligence and blunt way of viewing the world. At that time in your life, you weren't sure of anything. You couldn't help but be drawn to someone so absolutely certain of everything.
It was a cult of personality, yet you were the only member. You longed for Light, craved his confidence, which then turned into just basking in his mere presence. You wanted him bad, but the timing just never seemed right between the two of you. He got a girlfriend, and you became swept up in your studies.
Now when he says these words telling you that you're special, you want to believe him. You want him to give you what you yearn for. You want for them to be real so badly, but you still can't fully give in to that hope. Why did he need you so much now when he let you slip away from him for years?
He called you a few months ago, asking to go to lunch. There'd been no reason to decline, so you met up with him the next week to 'catch up.' When you arrived at the small restaurant and took your seat across from him, he smiled at you like you'd just come from your shared lecture all those years ago. You fell into a conversation as if you were still best friends.
After that initial meeting, more followed. You kept seeing him even when he mentioned that he and Misa still lived together. In your head you reasoned that you and him were just friends. It was fine to hang out with your friend. But then your dates started to include lingering looks and fleeting touches. Then soft confessions and stolen kisses. You were no longer Light's friend, but you shamefully continued to come to him time after time.
I loved him first you told yourself.
You found out he was Kira when he confessed several weeks ago out of necessity. Too many people in your circles had died. You couldn't lie for him if you didn't know you should be. He didn't want you mentioning off-handedly that these deaths started happening not too long after your reconnection. Or that they only seemed to occur within days of you complaining about the victim bothering you.
At first, it scared you, finding out that Light had such power. But it also made sense. If anyone you knew could wield the force of death, it would be him.
As with everything else he did, you accepted it. Unlike your compliance with his infidelity, this wasn't your fault though. What was the other option? You didn't believe you meant more to Light than his crusade. Even though he killed for you, he was Kira before your lover. You would die before he lost his war.
He would take a life for your presumed benefit, but you didn't credit that fact to you being special. Your love didn't blind you to his arrogance. More than you, he loved to show off, craved the satisfaction that came with having ultimate power over someone. Or in his case, everyone.
That's why when he proclaimed you his goddess last week at one of your rendezvous, you were still hesitant to accept the words.
He lives with Misa. His speeches about having no love for her ring hollow when half of your bed remains empty each night. Why can't he just commit to you instead of trying to fill your head with ideas of divinity?
Tonight, you meet him in a hotel room. One he booked just for the two of you. It was a nice space. Not some cheap place rife with other affairs and unfaithful couplings. The elevator ride to your floor is smooth and quiet.
He's already inside when you arrive.
You see him sitting on the edge of the bed as you push the door open and enter silently. All the linens were still tucked in place. His eyes lift to meet yours.
"There you are," he says.
His voice comes out softer than usual. Not with affection necessarily. It almost sounds weary.
You pad over the smooth hotel carpet with caution. Light was never weary. Never showed vulnerability. No one was ever allowed to see weakness from him.
"Are you alright?" you ask, tone matching his in its lack of intensity.
Stopping between his legs, you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb swipes back and forth across his smooth skin. His rich brown eyes linger on your features, a whirlpool of emotions storming within them.
"Yeah," he answers in contrast to what you see.
Curling his fingers around the dips in your waist, he sits you on his thigh and pulls you close on his lap. He noses the curve of your neck, kissing the flesh tenderly and breathing in the smell of you.
"I want to try something tonight. Will you let me?" he murmurs.
"What is it?" you ask, your own fingers stroking through his sandy locks.
The question puts a smile on his face and draws a quiet laugh from his lips. "Don't you trust me?"
You mirror the expression with your own mouth.
Do you trust him? It’s a loaded question. One you would think deeply about if it were asked in another context. But here, you do what any person desperately seeking the approval of their lover would.
"Yeah."
"Exactly. So say yes, and let me show you," he says.
Staring into his eyes for a few seconds more, you contemplate the request. You had no clue what he was going to do. Why couldn't he just say it? What was there to hide? Maybe it's more of an embarrassment thing. You still don't know even after thinking it over, but you decide to agree anyway. After all, you said you trusted him.
"Ok," you whisper with a small bob of your head.
Upon seeing your little nod, his smile morphs into a grin.
"Good girl," he says and pecks the corner of your mouth.
He moves you off his lap and onto the bed before getting up. Walking to the chair by the window, he picks up a couple bags. They look like nice ones from luxurious stores, names of brands you'd never even heard of displayed across the sleek laminate exteriors. He sets them down at your feet.
"If I'm going to have you by my side as I rule, I want us to be united. I want you presented as if you were made in my image," he says, voice dropping and the words oozing out a bit cooler.
Your eyes watch him as he speaks. So wide and innocent. The ache for his affection visible within them even if you don't want it to be.
He drags two of his slender fingers down your cheek again. When they reach your jawline, he maneuvers your face around. His hand tilts it to different angles as if studying you.
"You're going to be perfect," he says quietly.
Bending down, he fishes the items from the bag and lays them out next to you on the bed. First a black dress made of sheer chiffon with velvet roses laying over obsidian satin. It's the prettiest thing that would ever be on your body in your life.
Next comes a matching pair of glossy pumps. He drops them next to the dress on the mattress before pulling you to your feet. He positions you in front of him looking down his gifts and rests his chin on your shoulder. You can feel his eyes on your face, scrutinizing each detail for a reaction.
"Are those for me?" you ask.
"Of course they are. Who else would they be for?" he responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
You shrug, your own pupils scanning the items up and down. "They're nice," you continue slowly. This wasn't at all bad, and the pieces were beautiful. They just weren't what you had imagined.
"I want you looking your best when you're by my side," he whispers.
His hands drift down to your hips, and he turns you around. He brushes his nose against yours, coasting his lips by so that they just barely touch your own.
"Let me show you how good it'll feel. Be my little doll for the night," he whispers, his breath tickling your face.
It feels so good being this close. You nod and tilt your head to connect your mouths. He kisses back, palm sliding up to cup the back of your neck.
You get a few more soft smooches before he pulls back.
"Let's get you dressed up then."
He begins to remove the clothes you wore here. Your top is the first thing to hit the floor. It crumples in on itself next to your ankles. You're left bare, little chills erupting over your skin as the cool air hits you. He spins you around slowly and unclasps your bra, letting your breasts fall free.
His hands weave under your arms to come around and cup the mounds. They press into the flesh, absorbing their warmth and savoring the feeling of you. His precious reprieve. His sweetest escape.
Your nipples pebble from the cold and the heat of his hands hitting you all at once. Sighing, you tilt your head back and allow the tension in your shoulders to melt away for now. The same slender fingers that whip a pen around with ease tweak and pinch at the hardened buds until you're whimpering.
After he's satisfied his interest, he lets them go and then removes your bottoms. The button comes undone and the zipper follows. He slides the garment down your legs. To aid him, you step out of it and kick the bundle of cloth aside to sit with your shirt. The move earns you a light pinch to your hip.
"Dolls don't move," he whispers and nips at the skin of your neck, teasing a potential love bite, "They don't do anything on their own. You leave everything up to me."
The words send a chill down your spine. "Sorry, Light," you say softly.
"They don't talk either," he says and kisses up your neck, "They stay quiet and still. Just a good girl for me to play with."
You sink back into him upon hearing that because it's exactly what you want. All you desire is to be good for him. To be the thing he wants to play with. The one he uses to feel safe when everything else is one minute away from spiraling out of control.
He strips you of your own socks and shoes. You're only left in the dainty panties you arrived in, but he ends up taking those too. He drags them off your legs - you stand completely motionless this time, letting him lift each limb to free you of the underwear. After he shoves them in his pocket, it's time to dress you in your new attire.
He picks up the elegant black dress and steps you into it before shimmying the cloth up your body. Slipping each of your arms into the sleeves, he then zips up the back. The fabric clings to your curves, highlighting your figure in a flattering shape. He rakes his fingers up the dark material, feeling it move with his digits.
Next, he sits on the bed. Even now, Light wouldn't crouch or get on his knees for you. He perches on the edge of the mattress and pulls you onto his lap again. Taking one of your legs behind the knee, he bends it up so your foot rests on his thigh. He grabs one of the heels nearby and unfastens the buckle. Sliding your foot into the sole, he clasps in place again and then repeats the process with your other.
Finally, he stands you up and walks you over to the mirror. The feeling of his eyes moving over your body in the new dress and shoes is palpable. His hands stretch across your belly while he holds you there for his appraisal.
Looking at your own appearance, the image standing before your eyes pleases you. The dress fits perfectly, and the shoes gleam beneath them just right. You look like his. Feel like it too with the way his arms cage you against him.
"You look beautiful. Don't you think?" he says.
You wonder if this is a trick or if you're supposed to know how to answer without moving or speaking. But before you can dwell too much on this, he cups your jaw and squishes your cheeks. His hand propels your head up and down in a little nod.
"That's my girl," he praises, smile absolutely sinister across his face.
Even though you didn't do anything to earn that praise, it makes you swoon all the same. His. Maybe it wasn't just a feeling, maybe it was closer to being real. As long as you showed him that you could be good, that you could listen, he would see that you're the better fit for him.
He pulls a chair up in front of the reflective pane and sits down, perching you on his thigh once more. The side table sitting next to the mirror held another bag like the one your outfit came from. This one was much smaller but still chic looking.
Light reaches for it and fetches a few small items from within. On your lap he places a compact of powders, a tube of lip gloss, some mascara, and a few brushes.
"I want those to stay right where I put them. Knock them off, and I won't give you anything else," he warns.
You don't say or do anything, not even a nod. This pleases him, and he pecks your cheek.
Never did you think you'd see the day where Light did your make up. But here you sit in his lap, obediently calm as he brushed dark powder across your lids and coated your lashes in mascara. You open when he says open, close when he directs as much. You hold your position like a statue as he glosses over your lips and swipes away any excess with his thumb.
Watching you sit there without a move or a word has his cock stiffening up beneath you. You're following everything he says down to the letter, treating him with the respect he deserves. He can't get enough. If he wanted your head to be empty, it would be. You'd sit on his lap or at his feet or wherever he fucking asked because the only thing you need is him, and that's so clear now.
When he's all done, he guides your face back in the direction of your reflection. Your eyes meet the pair looking back at you and then cast on the other version of him. He's staring right back.
"I knew you'd be perfect," he says.
You can feel his semi beneath your thighs. Knowing he's feeling worked up has your body responding in kind. You're still bare down there since he didn't bother replacing your panties. You can feel your folds becoming a little damp, but you still don't move, not a single squirm or whine.
He keeps you there, staring at you, taking in what he had made with your body. His hands roam over your curves, digging into your plush flesh.
"Your hair is pretty enough. I won't have to do anything with it tonight," he praises.
He then boosts you to your feet. His body doesn't follow right away. He takes a moment to stay behind in the chair, admiring your ass and leaning forward to hold your hips between his palms.
"Just look at you," he says.
Now he stands. He walks around you, leaving you in front of the mirror by yourself. He goes back to the bed and sits at the end.
"Come over here," he commands.
You suppose since it's an order that it's ok to move. Your first step is hesitant as you find your footing in the tall heels. It only takes you a couple seconds to get used to them though. You manage to walk the rest of the way with ease.
His cock hardens further as he watches you obey without question. You come to him like a well-trained pet. Exactly what he wants.
When you come to a stop in front of him, he pauses and takes a moment to think. He wanted you now. The urge to undo all his work, nearly insatiable. He tries to pace himself though.
"Do you feel pretty?" he asks you.
You hesitate, but he gives you a nod to speak. "Yeah," you answer.
"Yeah? Can you see your place at my side?" he asks, eyes raking over every detail of your form.
"Yeah."
"That's where you belong, hm?"
"Yeah," you say. It almost comes out a whisper.
He chuckles lowly before waving at you. "Come here."
You take the few remaining steps and close the distance between you two. His arms wrap around your waist and twirl you so you fall back on the bed. He climbs on top, grinding his growing bulge against your hip.
"That is where you belong. And that's where I'll keep you for the rest of our days," he mutters.
He leans down and engulfs your mouth in a flurry of kisses. His hands float across the dress, groping and squeezing your body. He doesn't silence the little whimpers and squeaks that come from you right now. Instead, his mouth drifts to your neck, making good on those love bites he teased earlier.
"You won't have to worry about anything, pet. No thoughts in that little head except being good for me," he mutters.
When he pulls back, his eyes are blown with lust. They focus on you with intensity so passionate it's almost frightening. He grabs your chin and holds you in place as he seemingly inspects your appearance once more.
"Fuck, how could anyone not want to worship you when you look like this?" he mumbles.
He rises back onto his knees, pushing down his fly and pulling his cock out. His fingers rise to fiddle with his shirt's buttons before he shrugs it off too. He doesn't bother with his pants beyond pushing them down enough so they're not in the way. Once his cock is available, he strokes it a few times and lets it fill out all the way.
The sight is enough to have more slick collecting between your thighs, which is fortunate since Light isn't the most patient. On his best days, he was needy for you. On his worst, he was inconsiderate. Right now seems to be a mix of both.
Reaching out, he grabs your thighs and yanks you down the bed to him. Your dress bunches at your hips as it catches between your back and the sheets. It works out since he pushes it up the rest of the way.
Seeing you in the outfit he chose, the shoes he bought, with nothing underneath strokes his ego in a way he can't explain. You being exposed now, no barriers keeping you from him just makes it worse. It brings to mind visions of a future where he could have you whenever he wanted. You'd exist for him, easily accessible, his for the taking. And he'd take advantage of it every moment he could.
He slots his cock at your entrance, rocking forward at first and gathering some of your wetness on it. After seeing the glisten of you on his tip, he rotates himself so he's at the right spot to push in. Your tight hole accepts his shaft inch by inch, clamping around him from the first seconds.
You whine as he splits you open, now squirming beneath his body, unable to stay still.
"Feels too good? My little dolly can't hold herself together anymore?" he taunts breathily.
You shake your head in response, and he laughs. It only encourages him to shove more in.
He has you completely full moments later, hips flush against your center as deep as he can go. You don't get any time to adjust with Light. He wants to fuck now, so that's what you're doing. Along with no talking or moving, you're pretty sure dolls don't get a say on this matter either.
More needy sounds pour from your lips, but he still doesn't get on you for it. It drives his confidence through the roof seeing that someone as well-behaved as you couldn't manage anymore when he slid inside.
His hips push and pull, slamming in and out of your cunt with a steady rhythm. He lifts your legs to sit over his shoulders. The heels he bought and paid for and had fantasized about you in for weeks bobble by his head. He grits his teeth as the pure satisfaction from the thought flows through him.
"Everyone will worship you, and you'll worship me like the good girl you are," he moans more to himself than you as his hips speed up a bit.
You get so tight for him when he talks that he can't stop. Words just keep leaking out in an endless stream.
"Gonna fuck you like this everyday. Put you in new pretty outfits and then bend you over in 'em. Make sure you remember you're mine. Every inch of you, all for me," he grunts.
His thrusts get harder. You feel little tears pricking at your eyes from all the stimulation, but you can't cry. You can't ruin your makeup. Not when he'd been so careful with how he applied it. You sniffle and wipe at your waterline, but lucky for you, he doesn't seem to notice what you're trying to avoid.
"No one else can have you. No one else gets to know how good you feel or how obedient you are. You're the one for me, the one I'll keep," he mutters. The pleasure rushing throughout his body and fogging up his head makes half of it incoherent, but you eat it up anyways.
"Light!" you finally cry out and arch your back when his cock rams against the sweetest spot inside you, "I'm all yours. Swear. Don't want anybody else. Just you. Forever and ever and ever..."
You trail off as he fucks all the thoughts right out of your pretty little head. His body comes down on yours again, bending you in half and sliding against you as he works himself all the way inside over and over. You claw at the thin hotel bedding for some form of relief, but there's no escaping him.
Release builds in your tummy, your toes curl and your breaths become ragged. You know better than to finish without asking though.
"Can I cum, Light? Please, need it so so so bad," you beg, eyes still almost teary.
He looks down. A wave of lust crashes into him as he sees how your lip quivers and water rests at the edges of your eyes, waiting to spill.
"You have been so good for me," he says, wanting a bit more pleading out of you before he gives his permission.
"Mhm! Please. I'll keep being good. Just gotta cum cause you make me feel so good," you whine.
He grins and ruts forward particularly hard. "Go ahead then."
And you do. You cum so hard you feel like your body is gonna twist into knots. You squirm and mewl, noises coming out unfiltered and unrestrained. Your vision goes spotty, and all that's left is him. Him pummeling into you, panting above you, not stopping as you crest over the peak.
He grips onto you harder and keeps fucking you through it. His bangs fall across his eyes from all the movement. You're so warm and tight and wet as you release all over him that it only takes a few more strokes before he shoots his load inside you.
A needy moan seeps from his lips as he works it into you. He thrusts it deep inside, he didn't want any of it spilling out and making a mess on your new dress. At least not the first time the two of you did this.
After he finally pulls out, he lets your legs drop onto the bed. They bounce against the mattress that's too springy. Your chest puffs up and down from the exertion you just went through. After taking a few minutes to come down, you yawn and stretch, limbs sprawling outward to reach for him.
But you don't find him. You turn to see why that is and find his back facing you. He sits at the edge of the mattress hunched over - one of his hands clicks through his phone while the other runs through his sweaty hair. You're about to ask what's the matter, but he turns to you and answers that question himself.
"I have to go. There's a problem back at the apartment. Misa needs my help," he says and rises to his feet.
He straightens out his clothes and tries to make his hair look more presentable. You watch in disbelief. He wasn't even going to stay the night?
"But Light..." you say softly and sit up.
As if he can read your thoughts, he reaches out to pet your head.
"I'll see you again soon. It won't be like this for too much longer," he says. You can see the hesitation in his eyes before he makes his next move. He leans down and kisses your forehead. "Keep being good for me. My little doll."
Those are the last words he says before he leaves you there alone.
Flopping back on the bed, you stare at the ceiling in silence. You may have been dressed like a goddess in your expensive get up, but you'd never felt so cheap.
>> ELIMF SAYS HORN IT UP [gn!reader x elimf x odxny]
elimf uses he/him pronouns (bc im pretty sure he's referred to himself as a guy? but that's about all the reasoning), uses they/them for everyone else.
Probably ooc, im still figuring everyone out ;;
smth silly <3 I take requests if this barely existing fandom is alive
lowkey horny elimf for the duo, even if he doesn't realize it for the most part.
tw. drinking; irresponsible drinking especially; kind of dissociation but depends on how u look at it; elimf is technically having a bad fcking day even if it's not stated clearly.
im writing it at, like, 1am n i might not notice most of the uhhh writing errors.
___
El didn't smoke that much lately, but he was sipping lazily a beer while using only one hand to write back in the chatroom. He wasn't sure which beer was it, but he was pretty buzzed at this point.
"Elimf" looked at the words passing his screen with a small smirk. Thrim, bless them, gave them a year of peace. As they learned more and more, they finally decided to try to find them and ask them to join something a bit more like a social groupchat, still hidden from curious eyes if or when they wanted to brag about their possible hacks.
If you'd ask him before thrim, if he'd chat with incri or even wnpep out of his own will for simple fun after they're done, he'd laugh. Now here he was, sending a meme of a staring hamster after pep made the mistake of saying something vaguely sexual.
All he gets is the staring emoji.
He sits back in his chair, a low sound leaving it with the move, almost like a whine. After a few slow blinks and a deep sigh, he finally looks back at the screen.
thrim: lmao stare off, you got this elimf
He should go to sleep.
He should leave the chatting for later today, the clock on his laptop showing 2 AM.
Instead, he slides into thrim's dms, one simple message being sent before he closes his eyes and takes another sip.
He wishes he'd have something heavier to drink.
elimf: wanna have a drink with me?
thrim is writing...
It only takes one more sip for the bottle to be empty and, thus, useless. He hovers with his mouse on the text, asking himself if he'll delete the message, will thrim have enough brain in their head to not mention it. He's too late in the end.
thrim: I'd be down, as long as you're aware that od will be there somewhere in the back
thrim: I mean, they'll probably hear us
thrim: Just wanted you to know
thrim: and also had to ask them if they're okay with it beforehand, so that's why it took a while for me to respond
thrim: in case you were wondering
Talk about not carrying about double- or, well, quintuple texting. If that's a thing. If not, trust thrim to be the one to come up with it.
He calls without answering the texts, his finger slipping once while trying to do so. Maybe he's drunker than he thought he was. He doesn't disconnect.
"Hi there, elimf!"
The way their voice goes softer, slower around his "name" makes him chuckle. They were obviously trying their best at sounding it out. The idea of them trying it out beforehand made him a little heated.
"Just L's fine." he states, noting a green smudge in their background. "How's ya, thrim?"
He wants to stay silent and just watch them as time passes, he wants to reach for them and pull- their hair, their skin, the hoodie that's obviously not theirs, anything.
He tries to take another sip and grimaces when the empty bottle lightly hits his teeth, too light without any liquid. Furthermore, he lets it fall, ignoring the breaking glass as he reaches for another. Thrim doesn't seem to be good at following in his footsteps.
"You're alright?" they have a slight accent, something so soft that it's barely there. "Did the bottle break?"
There's music in his headphones. He doesn't remember when it was turned on, he cannot remember if it was playing before he called.
"Ya didn't answer me." he says it almost childishly, a stupid grin on his face. The green smudge in the back becomes more visible, the person stopping in their tracks.
"I'm alright, would be better if I'd know if you're good too."
He's staring, probably. He lets himself look down at the new bottle in his hand, before popping the top off with his teeth. As he does so, thrim holds a shot glass, already filled. The green wearing person has a fox mask on that looks like their emojis. They also have a shot glass in one hand and their other hand is patting thrim's shoulder.
He knows it's Od, he knows it so well it hurts, but all he can do is think about how much he wished it wouldn't be odxny themselves. How much easier would being jealous be if he wouldn't know them.
How much easier knowing who he was jealous of would be, too.
"Ya'r drinkin' with us, oddy? What a blessin'" his accent is getting the best of him, he should try to fight it a bit more.
He gets a delicate chuckle back, the mask lowering itself with their face, as Od shakes their head lightly at that. He wants to tear it off, he wants it to be an actual part of him.
He feels unreal, his mind is getting sharp even if his vision seems to be worse - there's an ache in his chest, almost like he's smoked too much-
"L? We're drinking or what?"
With the other voice joining in, he finally remembers to breath. He really shouldn't drink another.
"Of course, unless ya'r already chickenin' out." he slightly grimaces at those words, a pained laugh leaving his throat. "That was a bit too incy for me."
Wnpep would've tried to scold him, Incri would've thrown a fit - but the two just laugh with him, odxny lighter than thrim, but still easy to be heard.
As they raise their glasses, the masked one whispers something to thrim before downing their own. Thrim, stars above, Thrim puts their mouth around the rim of the glass and raise their head, letting their whole neck show and their Adam's apple show off its movement. Two swallows is all it takes, before they whip their head back and lay the glass back down.
He wants to scream, the bottle stopped halfway to his mouth, his other hand's nails biting into the skin on his left thigh.
Thrim outright laughs, their eyes squinted and their hair becoming even messier. Od rests their head in the place where the shoulder and the neck connect, an obvious smirk on their lips as they shake lightly with their own laughter.
He's bright red - he realizes, while blinking owlishly.
"You did this on purpose."
Thrim smirks at him, leaning back lightly. A tiny change, yet still a change. Whatever was the trap they laid down, he walked right into it.
"What can we say, we wanted to know if you'll like what you'll see half as much as we do."
He takes the sip he was meaning to before, his eyes following Od's hand, which was playing with Thrim's hair.
As another chuckle left them, thrim sent him a wink. He couldn't handle it.
He let himself disconnect, a smile on his lips as he stood away from the desk, moving the glass slowly with his bare foot to the side, so he wouldn't step on the bigger parts. A shower and a power nap sounds like a dream duo to him right now and those feelings? Those real feelings that he felt at the duo teasing? Well, those are for the rare sober elimf, thank the stars.
❥I know people have written about how he gets jealous…but I don’t really think he does? Or at least not terribly. The scene with Mr. Chopped and the cat ears show that Mr. Crawling won’t pout or get sad at you showing affection to others, just that he wants to gain the same attention (the ear scene…). So jealousy with Mr. Crawling isn’t too bad, just be prepared to shower him with more affection than the person you originally did.
❥On the other hand, I do think his jealousy may increase if you ignore him. Say you give more attention to Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Crawling would get a bit sad and pouty, thinking you don’t like him anymore. If this happens, give him lots and lots of attention and reassurance, he’ll be super grateful. I mean he loves your affection anyways, so might as well give him some extra headpats and kisses. Even better if you only show certain signs of affection with him, it makes him feel special.
❥Overall, not the most jealous, but not completely unaffected either. Make sure he gets his daily dose of attention/quality time and he’ll be as right as rain.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Gap
❥Uh, he gets more jealous than you’d think. Like…his whole thing is he wants to be special to you…in his own strange way. Doesn’t like the thought of someone taking his place as a jokester to you. Also why he brings you things he’d think you like from time to time, just to make sure you still have that special place in your heart for him <3
❥Hates hate hates when you call him bad or not good. He’s good! He swears! Remember how he’s helped you before! Gets all frowny when you call him not good and then call someone else good. He’s good too! Guess he has to prove it, AGAIN. It’s honestly kind of endearing how he has no clue how he actually kind of does like you? But not exactly in a romantic way? It’s honestly hard to label his feelings towards you, so why should I?
❥I’d say he’s the second most jealous in this list of characters, watching on angrily as you praise someone that isn’t him. Be prepared for magazines and books galore when he’s in this mood, trying to prove his worth to you. Kind of strange for someone to try so hard when they claim to not like you…
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Silvair
❥Definitely the chillest one here. Doesn’t really get jealous at all :/ If anything, he finds it entertaining when you’re affectionate with others. Gives him more insight to his lab rats. Yes, he sees everyone as a lab rat. Idk, I can’t really see him get jealous.
❥Maybe…MAYBE if someone else tries doing research on you, or if Ms. Nurse treats you instead he’ll feel a bit off. Like…you’re his test subject, he knows you from the inside out…literally and not in the fun sense. Why would you go to someone who doesn’t know as much about you and how this world affects you? It’s very hard to spot his jealousy, doesn’t even notice it/recognize it himself. He just doesn’t want anyone to mess up his data…that’s all…totally.
❥In conclusion, not really jealous. Doesn’t feel like he needs to be. You’re ‘friends’, doctor and patient, mad scientist and lab rat not many others threaten that balance between you.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Chopped
❥Honestly…Mr. Chopped I’m kinda mixed on how he’d be. Like on one hand, I could totally see him getting jealous if you call others cute or pay too much attention to them. On the other…he could probably care less. He loves himself, you love him, why does he need to get jealous? It’s clear how much you like him with the way you pamper him. I mean we get so many examples where you’re affectionate to Mr. Crawling in front of Mr. Chopped and he doesn’t really bat an eye.
❥Now, I can see if he gets a bit insecure he might get more jealous. Whether it be because Mr. Crawling pats your head or tucks you into bed, Mr. Chopped feels a bit sad. He’d like to tuck you in, you look so comfy. Might be just a bit pouty, eyeing you like a dissatisfied cat. Easily rectified with head pats or even cuddles. Gets side tracked from his jealousy as soon as you give him a sliver of attention honestly.
❥Mr. Chopped is fifty fifty when it comes to jealousy, but it’s never too bad. He’s pretty comfortable with what you both have and doesn’t really feel threatened by others. After all, you did call him cute.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Hugeface
❥I wouldn’t say he gets jealous? More possessive than anything. Like that scene when Mr. Machete stumbles into his little makeshift dollhouse that he made for you and gets all angry that he’s there. It’s more of a ‘you’re not supposed to be here, this is our playtime’ more than actual jealousy. Throws a little fit whenever someone messes up your playtime. Very accusatory lmao.
❥Does not like when you try to escape. Was he not providing enough for you? Were you unhappy? You’re not allowed to leave! You’re his cute human! He can’t just find another one y’know. Mr. Hugeface may be lenient if he sees you happier, you need enrichment after all. Feels extra happy if you come back on your own violation.
❥The most childish out of all the characters on this list. Isn’t afraid to throw tantrums, will also punish you by putting you in a solid concrete cube if he’s really upset. Yeah…not the most healthy of relationships to have…BUT! I do think you could convince him to be a bit better…? Maybe? Only if you put enough work in communicating with him though. Maybe punish him in your own way like leaving for longer if he threatens to trap you.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Mr. Scarletella
❥Uhhhhhhhhhhh. Top of the list when it comes to jealousy. Watches your every move with curiosity and spite. Why are you doing that to Mr. Crawling? Do it to him instead. Why do you look so happy braiding Mr. Chopped’s hair? Style his hair instead. Why are you looking so fondly amused at Mr. Gap? Don’t you find him amusing? You do like him, right? He likes you. He likes you a lot, and he thought he was enough…was he not?
❥Will stare through your skull. It is so intimidating. His smile? Strained, it makes your skin crawl. You have to make sure he doesn’t hurt your friends, he’s so close to snapping, but he knows that would upset you and that’s not his goal. So instead he stands ominously in the background, body staticing in and out while his hand clenches the handle of his umbrella.
❥Not that easily mended. Likes to monopolize all your time and affection. Needs constant reassurance as well, he’s quite needy. If you like constant validation and no social life go for it, just don’t get too upset if he threatens your other monster friends…he can’t stand that you could like someone that wasn’t him.
viltrumite!mark/cuddly!reader. reader, whose usually all over/cuddly with mark is distant and less affectionate. much to his dismay which causes him to try to get his cuddly!reader back
mark isn’t used to lingering touches or the feeling of security, you try to open his walls. he seems to be set and stone on trying to keep you away, mark just didn’t realize how much he hurt you in the process.
“i don’t understand the concept of how you feel the urge to be so close to my body as physically possible.” mark mumbled, his hands going up as he looked down at you. the sight of your body rubbing against his, mark couldn’t wrap the idea around his head that you were trying to show him love through affection. despite being on earth for a few months, there were many things he had to get used to as well, that included getting used to your physical presence. there are days that mark gets annoyed with you whenever he sees you begin making your way over towards him, trying to give him a welcome home hug and kiss. these traditions were never something you’d see on viltrum, you were placed with another strong viltrumite and made to breed. that’s what mark grew up on, yet his perspective was shifted to getting used to your lingering touches. “i don’t think it’s required you be on me all the time, loosen your grip along with your sad attempt at strangling me.” his words were unnecessarily harsh, using his hand he pushed your face away from his chest. the venom struck you like rocks, yet mark didn’t seem to realize how much he’d hurt you with simple words that would be used back on his planet.
mark was grew up with silence, the only time there was sound would be from the weak viltrumites who’d choke on their own blood. the time he spent on earth made him realize how loud this planet was, there wasn’t a such thing as quiet, unless he flew into space. for the first time since he arrived, everything was silent. no sound coming from your phone, your laughter was gone, and the noise you’d make from walking around your apartment was completely gone. mark realized how loud he was being, from every step he took to the way he’d breathed. you weren’t being your usual self, it was like you had been gone for weeks without telling him.
things were awkward, neither of you wanted to admit that out loud. sitting together, far away while you tried to focus on your laptop. you could feel mark staring at you from the desk, he wasn’t even trying to appear like he was reading a book, rather he made things obvious when he continued to look into your soul. “you seem less excited then usual.” it wasn’t a question, mark made a obvious statement as you nod in response, “tired is all, schools been a lot especially with finals.” he could tell you were lying, your heart spiked up along with your eyes darting everywhere on the screen—“why lie?” he questioned, head tilting to the side like an upset puppy. “i’m not lying, i’ve just been busy,” your words seemed weak against him. once mark had an idea set, you can never change his mind, but you loved how stubborn he was. “i miss your affection, if that’s the correct word in using.” marks voice was softer, like he was trying to appear less intimidating and aggressive, and more calm and tame.
his confession left you shocked, lifting your eyes from your laptop as you looked over at mark. his face appeared less angry, he didn’t seem so stotic and more sad. “if my words from a few days ago hurt you, i apologize deeply. i’m not used to your.. planets customs yet, as that’s not an excuse.” mark was trying, everything was still so new to him, yet he makes up for his mistakes by owning up to them. his eyes widened at your motion for him to fly over, and within seconds marks was by your side, shoving his face into your neck and breathing in your scent.
…
“feelings, emotions and thoughts. i’ll work on these three.”
Summary: Mr.Crawling has different ways to love you.
Tags: Smut, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Body Worship, Mutual Mastubation, Female reader, fluff, Spoilers for ENDING 04
Words: 1,8k
MDNI, ADULT CONTENT UNDER CUT
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
Mr. Crawling is someone who craves the comfort of human touch, but he’s always considerate of your boundaries. No matter how much he yearns for affection, he puts your comfort first, often suppressing his own desires to ensure you’re at ease.
Still, he can’t help but get a bit whiny when you return after a long day outside. On the days when you ask him to stay home, he becomes lonely and restless, waiting impatiently for you. He often lies on your bed with his head nestled on your pillow, inhaling your scent to soothe himself until he hears your footsteps approaching the front door.
The moment you step inside and praise him for being well-behaved, he lights up completely. Mr. Crawling has a serious praise kink, and it’s evident. Mr. Crawling is practically addicted to your praise; it’s like his own personal drug. The second you open your mouth and let a sweet, honeyed word slip out, he’s already trembling with delight. He reacts instantly, a visible shiver of pleasure rolling through his body, mouth going wide as he drinks in every syllable. It’s not just about the words themselves but the way you say them—soft and genuine, like you really mean it. It makes him feel so loved, so needed.
He can’t hide how badly he wants it, how desperate he is for your approval. Even the smallest bit of praise, like a simple "Good boy," can have him biting his lip, his breath hitching as if you’ve touched him in the most intimate way. The effect is almost comical; his face flushes, and he looks like he’s on cloud nine, squirming slightly like he can’t quite contain himself. He craves it so deeply that he actively seeks it out, doing whatever he can to earn your compliments. Of course he deserves a treat for his good behavior.
The treat he prefers most is one he chose himself. Nothing satisfies him more than when you settle into his lap and cockwarm him, taking him by surprise as you sink down onto his length. The sudden feeling of you enveloping him never fails to draw out a choked gasp, his hips twitching up instinctively as he tries to control himself. He loves this position more than anything—the closeness, the intimacy of it. He holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging as if you might slip away if he lets go. He’s reluctant to release you unless you explicitly ask him to; he’d keep you there forever if he could.
He savors the way your body fits perfectly against his, the softness of your skin against his cooler touch. He buries his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, his lips grazing your pulse as he shudders at the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock.
He tries so hard to stay still, knowing you need this quiet moment of comfort, but it’s almost impossible for him. His hips shift ever so slightly, his cock throbbing inside you, and he can’t help the tiny, desperate movements he makes, even if they’re unintentional.
He can’t keep his hands to himself either. His fingers are restless, wandering across your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. He takes moments to worship you, pressing his lips to your collarbone, your shoulders, any spot he can reach. His kisses are soft but hungry, lips parting as he drags his tongue over your skin, tasting the salt of your sweat. He lets out a needy, broken moan as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He’s inexperienced, a little clumsy with his movements, but the eagerness behind it is undeniable. He’s trying so hard to make you feel good, his breath coming out in hot, ragged pants as he watches your reactions intently.
It’s not always sexual, at least not in the way he intends. Sometimes he just wants to feel you, to savor the heat of your body pressed against his, to revel in the way your warmth spreads through him. He loves the sensation of your skin against his own, the soft give of your flesh under his fingertips. But he can’t help himself; even when he’s just trying to hold you, he ends up teasing you without realizing it. His hips roll up slightly, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your chest. He’s so sensitive, so easily overwhelmed by the feeling of you wrapped around him, that every little movement you make drives him wild.
He’s not practiced or skilled, and it shows in the way he fumbles, his touches uncoordinated but full of raw desire. He pinches your nipples a little too hard, a whimper escaping his lips when he realizes it, but instead of pulling back, he leans in closer, mouthing at the swell of your breast like he’s making up for it. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your hips as he struggles to keep himself from thrusting up into you. It’s like he can’t decide if he wants to savor the moment or chase after more, and it leaves him caught in this desperate, needy place that only you can pull him out of.
When it comes to mutual masturbation, it’s a different kind of intimacy, one that he’s hesitant about at first but quickly grows to crave. He hates touching himself when he’s alone, but with you, it’s different. You’re right there with him, your hand entwined with his, guiding him through the motions. He watches you, excited and breathless, his own hand trembling as he mirrors your movements. There’s something incredibly intimate about the way you both touch yourselves together, a shared vulnerability that makes his heart race.
He loves it when you talk to him through it, whispering sweet nothings, telling him how good he looks, how well he’s doing. It makes the experience bearable—no, more than that—it makes it beautiful. He’s not embarrassed when he’s with you: he’s not self-conscious or insecure. He’s just caught up in the moment, in the way your bodies move together, the way your breath hitches and syncs up with his.
When your hand finds his, coaxing him to stroke himself while you do the same, he whimpers softly, his fingers twitching against your palm. It’s overwhelming for him, the sensation of his own touch combined with the sight of you doing the same. He can’t stop himself from moaning, a needy, broken sound that escapes his lips as he watches you, completely captivated by the sight. "Me like you." You might whisper, and it takes everything in him to comply, the combination of your voice and your gaze making his whole body tremble.
You can tell how much he loves it by the way he leans into you, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he touches himself with your guidance, whimpering in between. He’s panting, mouth open, like he’s too lost in the pleasure to look at anything else. The moment you reach out and wrap your hand around his, helping him stroke himself, he lets out a desperate moan, his entire body shivering as he clutches onto you. He’s a mess, but he’s your mess, completely undone by the shared pleasure and the feeling of your touch.
Mr. Crawling can be so eager when it comes to pleasuring you in return, that it borders on frantic. He doesn’t always take his time—sometimes, when he’s overwhelmed with excitement and craving you desperately, all of his usual patience flies out the window. He’ll drop between your legs, pulling you closer with a roughness that’s uncharacteristic for him, but it’s not out of aggression: it’s pure, unfiltered need. His hands are trembling as they grip your thighs, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He’s already panting, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, and it makes him that much more impatient.
He dives in without hesitation, his mouth pressing against you hungrily, almost clumsily, as if he can’t bear to wait a second longer. His tongue flicks out, sloppy and uncoordinated at first, but it’s the urgency behind it that makes it so intoxicating. He’s lapping at you like a man starved, the sounds he makes—soft whimpers and desperate groans—filling the room. He’s inexperienced, but there’s something endearing about the way he tries so hard, so eager to please you even if he’s not entirely sure what he’s doing. He’s guided more by instinct than skill, following your reactions like they’re the only thing that matters.
He keeps glancing up at you, his face excited and yet almost pleading, as if he’s searching for reassurance that he’s doing it right. When he sees your pleasure written across your face, it only spurs him on. He loses himself in it, licking at you with a feverish intensity that makes it clear just how badly he needs this. He doesn’t bother with precision: he’s messy, licking you with broad, hurried strokes, his lips sucking at your clit with a desperate fervor. He moans into you, the vibrations sending little shocks of pleasure through your body, and you can tell he’s getting off on this as much as you are.
His grip on your thighs is almost bruising, like he’s afraid you might pull away. He’s whimpering into you, his tongue moving erratically, like he’s trying everything at once, too caught up in his own excitement to settle into any kind of rhythm. It’s overwhelming for him—the taste of you, the feel of your skin under his hands, the sounds you make when he hits a particularly sensitive spot. He’s panting between licks, his mouth never straying far from you, desperate to keep going even when he’s gasping for breath.
He’s a little too rough at times, sucking at your clit with a bit too much pressure, but the enthusiasm in his actions makes it hard to fault him for it. He’s learning from your reactions, his own inexperience showing through in the way he fumbles a bit, but it only adds to the intensity of the moment. When you tug on his hair, moaning out his name, he practically whines, grinding his face into you with renewed fervor. He’s almost overwhelmed by his own need, licking and sucking like he can’t get enough, like he’s trying to memorize every part of you with his mouth.
If you try to guide him, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging gently to slow him down, he lets out a frustrated, needy sound, shaking his head as if to tell you he doesn’t want to stop, doesn’t want to pace himself. He’s too lost in the moment, too eager to please, to care about taking his time. He’s devouring you like he’s afraid this is his only chance, like he’s desperate to prove how much he wants you, how much he loves being here, between your legs, giving you everything he can.
warnings: mark variants: obsessive and possessive, kidnapping, drama, unrequited love, blood, inappropriate language, threats, family-related problems; the reader doesn't have a good relationship with her mother (brief mentions of this), reader has problem with alcohol, alcohol and other drugs.
summary: You're just Mark's forgotten human friend, left aside after his life turned upside down. But was that really all you were in the main universe, and what about in others?
author's note: I couldn't resist, I wrote another fanfic. This one will have a sequel, hehe, and the chapters will be longer.Did I mention I love obsessed Mark? Now imagine multiple versions of him?I hope you like it and sorry for the mistakes, English isn't my first language ;P
❝ IT HAD BEEN A WHILE since you last returned Mark’s calls. Actually, it had been a while since you’d even seen him—and maybe it was better that way.
You were, in the most literal sense, best friends, neighbors, with mothers who were also best friends in the neighborhood. ❪ name ❫ remembers perfectly the first time you saw him, when your mothers were chatting about something absurd:
“This is my daughter,” your mother exclaims, grabbing your arm and pulling you forward. It hurts a little—you grimace when her grip tightens, a silent cue for you to smile. “Say hi to Debbie and her son, sweetheart.”
Your ❪ eye color ❫ eyes settle on the woman named Debbie, who smiles warmly, and then drift to the boy beside her—shorter, hair slicked back with gel, wearing braces, and painfully shy.
“Hi,” you say simply, giving a small wave. The two older women smile as the boy clings even tighter to Debbie’s side, making her laugh.
“Sorry, he’s shy,” she chuckles. “Go play with her, honey.”
And just like that, a friendship began at the age of nine.
There were ups and downs, but you were inseparable. You defended Mark from bullies; he was your safe haven. And even after everything, you always stayed by his side.
Through puberty, when he lost the braces and started getting more handsome. When you found out his father was Omni-Man, or when he awakened his Viltrumite powers.
Or when he started dating Amber—and you cried for days in your room, wondering why seeing your best friend with someone else hurt so much.
Still, you were always there for him. Always.
Especially when Chicago nearly collapsed, when thousands of people died, and when Invincible himself almost died at the hands of his own father.
Maybe that was when everything changed.
You were still part of his life—but less and less.
He didn’t answer your calls or read your messages. Always busy being a hero. You even found out through William that he had broken up with Amber—you tried not to show how hurt you were to hear it from someone else… or how secretly happy it made you feel.
Maybe this was your chance, right?
Until you realized.
Eve and Mark.
Atom Eve and Invincible.
It looked like some kind of perfect fairytale—and you hated feeling that way. A brutal jealousy, an overwhelming urge to tear it all apart—yet Eve had always been so kind that you felt guilty for even wanting to replace her.
It hurt. Slowly, you became less present in Mark’s life. You were no longer his top contact, no longer his main support. You started to recognize your own insignificance, even as Debbie still texted you, asking why you hadn’t come over for lunch anymore.
And your family life? It only got worse. Your mother had always been controlling and difficult, and you had no patience left—until you finally moved out and into a shared dorm room on your college campus.
Full scholarship, but honestly, there was nothing to celebrate.
Rebeccah was a great roommate—party-loving, the kind of woman everyone wanted… And you? Honestly, just a walking disaster, the typical weird girl who reads Seance Dog magazines.
But she didn’t let you stay like that for long.
Living with Rebeccah was easy, and she introduced you to her social circle. Popular. Attractive. You were stepping into a completely different world—and you liked it. No one was there to hold you back anymore.
❪ name ❫ stopped being the ugly duckling and became a beautiful swan. Ironic, right? You had even kissed someone! Sure, without feelings—but still, it was something you enjoyed. Your grades were excellent, you had an internship in your ❪ preferred field ❫, and you balanced it all with parties, drinks, and attractive men.
You had even forgotten about Mark. Occasionally seeing news about Invincible, wondering how he was… but that world was no longer yours.
And maybe it was better that way.
Until that moment.
The loud music pulses endlessly, your head throbbing. The alcohol in your system makes you see stars, and your lipstick feels smeared across your lips, sticky.
“Excuse me,” you mutter, pushing past people, your hips swaying in that ridiculously short, tight dress. Your steps nearly stumble as you make your way into the bathroom.
Dirty. A woman touching up her makeup in the mirror.
You give a slight nod, standing beside her—checking your own reflection. Everything is perfect, except for that slightly drunken look in your ❪ eye color ❫ eyes.
“Are you okay, miss?” the woman asks. Your gaze is unfocused, heavy, but you nod anyway, offering a faint smile.
“Yes, perfectly,” you reply softly.
Your hands reach into your bag, pulling out your red lipstick, still shining on your lips.
The woman smiles—and you can’t quite recognize her face, can’t focus properly—but she reminds you of someone. Someone you’ve seen on TV.
“I suggest you leave here as soon as possible.”
Your eyes widen slightly. Your body moves in slow motion as the woman leaves the bathroom, leaving you alone.
Leave?
Quickly, you follow her, pushing the door open and stepping into the hallway—but there’s no one there. Just the music echoing in the distance, mixed with laughter.
Your breathing stutters. You walk down the corridor, your heels clicking loudly against the floor…
And then—gunshots.
Rebeccah.
Your steps turn frantic, unsteady, but you run toward the sound of the gunfire. Maybe you’re too drunk to think clearly—but you wouldn’t leave your friend behind. You had to find her.
People are screaming, panicked, confused. Many run for the exits. The music keeps playing in a haunting contrast as a familiar, horrifying smell fills the air.
Blood.
“REBECCAH?” you shout, pushing through the crowd. People shove past you. More gunshots. The club’s structure begins to crumble, pieces of the ceiling falling.
The Guardians of the Globe were there—or whatever they were now.
They intercept the attackers with precision, while others focus on evacuating civilians.
Your body tenses as you suddenly feel hands grabbing you, pulling you away—lifting you effortlessly off the ground.
“Hey!” you protest, teeth clenched. “Let me go!”
Whoever is holding you adjusts their grip quickly, securing you in their arms.
And you recognize him by the scent.
Your eyes fix on the blue uniform—still hard to process, but unmistakable. His jaw is tight as Invincible holds you, one arm supporting your back, the other beneath your thighs.
“Mark?” you whisper, dazed.
He doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in him—the clenched jaw, the veins standing out even beneath the suit.
The short flight lasts only minutes. As soon as he lands, you pull away—or try to.
“❪ name ❫?” he says your name softly as you stumble back a few steps. Sirens begin to fill the air. “Are you hurt?”
His voice is sincere. But your mind replays every missed call, every unanswered message. Every time he wasn’t there. Every time he left you behind.
Your throat tightens. You step back.
“Thank you, Invincible,” you say simply.
You don’t notice how he stiffens. How he wants to say something—but can’t.
Especially when he hears Eve calling for him.
And you don’t stay to watch.
Because you’re not part of his life anymore.
In the end, what happened at the club was nothing more than a scare. A few criminals — and you later found out that the woman in the bathroom was one of them — had gone there to carry out an armed robbery and to capture some idiots who owed them money.
Rebeccah just happened to be there at the right time — perfectly — and managed to escape through the back doors.
Once the shock passed, the two of you decided to tone things down for a while. At least temporarily.
That day, Rebeccah had gone to her boyfriend’s house, and you were heading back to the campus dorms, slightly exhausted — your studies were driving you insane.
And you were still thinking about Mark.
Seeing him in person after so long left a sick feeling in your stomach, as if something was hammering inside you — cleverly, you blamed it on the alcohol and promised yourself you wouldn’t down drinks like last time.
The dorms were empty. On Fridays, people usually went home, but since you didn’t have a place to call your own anymore, you spent your days either in the dorm or at some random party.
Your phone buzzed softly in your hoodie pocket, your fingers flexing as you grabbed it — a message. Aunt Debbie.
She still tried to keep in touch with you as much as possible, and you did your best to reply. Debbie always asked about you and your family situation, since you had left home overnight, and your family probably didn’t want to talk about it with the neighbors (even if they were the noisiest house on the street).
Debbie
"Hi, dear"
"It’s been so long since you came over"
"We miss you, especially Mark"
"How about stopping by tomorrow?"
Especially Mark.
You swallowed hard, because you knew it was a lie — that if it weren’t for Mark’s distance, you’d probably be having tea with Debbie right now, or playing video games with Mark or...
Your thoughts spiral.
You
"Hi, Auntie, how are you?"
"I miss you too"
"Maybe we could meet tomorrow, just the two of us, at a café? What do you think?"
You hit send quickly. After all, Debbie wasn’t just Mark’s mom — she was like a second mother to you, and you wouldn’t push her away just because her spoiled, superhero son had abandoned you first.
Not a chance.
Your steps are firm as you head toward your dorm. You take the key, slide it into the lock, and turn it — opening the door quickly, as if all you wanted was your bed at that moment.
The room is just as Rebeccah left it — a bit messy. You still remember her apologizing for not spending the weekend with you, even asking if you wanted to go to her boyfriend’s country house.
Third-wheeling? No thanks.
But you liked the way Rebeccah was — so helpful, friendly, always reliable.
At first, you don’t turn on the lights, because you freeze when you see a figure sitting on your bed.
Damn. You’d recognize him in any version.
Your throat tightens, your mouth parts, and suddenly your hand reaches for the switch — turning on the light and revealing Mark.
But he’s not wearing that yellow suit or the blue uniform you had even touched weeks ago. He’s dressed entirely in white.
His shoulders seem more tense, but it’s still Mark.
"What are you doing here?" your voice comes out a bit accusatory, though that’s not your intention. You’re just still hurt, keeping everything bottled up in a mental box that seems to overflow the moment you see him.
Silence.
"You can’t just break in here." Your steps are firm. "Rebeccah isn’t here, but what if she were? God… I wouldn’t even know how to explain some creep breaking into our dorm!"
For the first time, your eyes settle on his face. Not Invincible — just Mark.
He looks different… his aura, his tense shoulders, his gaze fixed on the window. The moment he looks at you, his dark eyes gleam — and you catch a glimpse of tears.
Tears?
"❪ name ❫," he breathes your name, standing up from the bed. God, Mark seems bigger than you remember. Even his face has changed — more masculine, with a few scars that give him a wild edge. "I finally found you."
Finally found you?
"I’ve always been here," you shoot back, slightly annoyed. "You’re the one who never noticed, or…" You shrug. "Pretended not to."
Mark raises an eyebrow, still staring at you as if you were the only thing making his heart beat.
"He didn’t value you… did he?" you look at him, confused. What? Was he referring to himself in the third person? "In my Empire, you are my priority. Or at least… I thought you were."
"Mark," you call, and he looks at you like a lost puppy. "Did you smoke something? Empire? Seriously?" You cross your arms, rolling your eyes. "God…"
But the step he takes toward you is firm — his hand quickly grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. You stumble forward, instinctively bracing yourself against him to avoid falling.
"Mark!" you snap, feeling his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in. He’s like a wall — solid, unyielding, all strength and muscle.
"I won’t lose you again…" he breathes deeply. "We shouldn’t have gone through with the pregnancy, but now I know it was all part of a bigger plan."
"A bigger plan?!" your eyes widen, your voice turning breathless. Pregnancy?!
"In my world, you were weak… we couldn’t produce heirs," he says, as if the memory weighs on him. "But you wanted it so badly that we went through with it… a healthy pregnancy, at first." Mark — or whatever he is — seems increasingly shaken. "You died giving birth to our son. To Noah."
Silence.
Noah? That was the name you wanted for your child — and damn it, how did Mark know that?! You don’t remember ever telling him that.
"I was on a mission when you died… and if I had been there, you’d still be alive." His grip tightens. "You chose to save Noah. And now… I choose you."
"Holy shit, Mark!" you try to pull away, but his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
"I searched every dimension," he continues. "In all of them, you’re dead… or hurt, or broken. And I found you… here. Dimension 2071, Planet Earth 4003X… strong, stable, with a womb ready for more children."
More children…?
You try to protest, but Mark looks at you as if you’re his entire world — as if everything he’s saying is true.
Suddenly, the wall of your dorm collapses.
Mark shields you with his body, placing you behind him as debris falls over him like it’s nothing.
Your eyes widen. You tremble — actually tremble — when you hear a voice, unhinged… but familiar.
"Well, well… looks like someone got here before me."
Mark?
Damn it, that voice is Mark’s.
Your eyes adjust to the brightness and dust, and you recognize the figure.
It’s Mark… but not quite.
"Leave," the Mark dressed in white orders, firm and strong. "I came to get my wife."
Your ❪ eye color ❫ eyes narrow, confused. The other Mark — wearing the same outfit but without the lenses — laughs, landing lightly on the ground.
please people, since the new recent season 4 episodes, i need nolan grayson fanfics of him rn like in his allen episode 😩 nolan is so hot-good looking, and him turning a big softy while still grumpy it's so charming 🫦
yandere divorcé takes such good care of his gn!reader
manga : sweet delusions of love with my childhood friend
cw : reader is held captive, yan tendencies, fluff, angst, manipulation, codependency
wc : 500+
sparkle divider credit : @anitalenia
it’s almost scary how much he takes care of you.
every morning, you wake up to the smell of breakfast.
something warm.
something sweet.
something made from scratch.
you never have to get up for it.
he brings it to you.
every single morning.
tray balanced carefully in his hands, smile soft, voice softer.
“don’t move,” he coos.
not like you can, with your ankle cuffed to the bed.
he sets the tray over your lap, adjusts your pillows, like you’re something delicate. his fingers always drift down to that cuff eventually, thumb brushing over the skin beneath it.
if there’s even the slightest redness, he notices. he always does.
he massages that poor little sore spot like it’s the greatest injustice in the world.
“i don’t want it hurting you,” he murmurs, frowning at the mark like it personally offended him.
isn’t he just the sweetest?
you don’t even have to like what he cooks.
you can tell him you’re not in the mood for pancakes. or eggs. or whatever he woke up early to make.
and he won’t get mad.
he’ll smile.
he’ll ask, “then what do you want?”
and when you tell him—no matter how unreasonable, no matter how far—he’ll lean down, press a kiss to your forehead, and say it again.
“don’t move.”
like you ever could.
he’ll drive out himself. he won’t trust delivery drivers. he won’t risk someone else touching your food. he’ll bring it back warm, fresh, placed carefully in your hands while he watches you take the first bite.
once you’re done laying in bed for the morning, he always asks what you want to do.
he says it like you have endless options.
like you have freedom.
but every option is a two-person activity.
a walk in the park?
he’s coming.
of course he is. his hand firm around yours, his arm secure at your waist, his eyes scanning anyone who looks a second too long.
playing video games?
he’ll hold you the entire time.
chin on your shoulder. arms wrapped around your middle. watching the screen, but mostly watching you.
doing something mundane, like washing dishes or folding laundry?
he won’t let you.
you shouldn’t worry your pretty little hands with chores.
he’ll guide you gently back into your seat, smile never faltering.
“just sit there,” he tells you softly. “let me take care of it.”
and he does.
he washes every plate.
he folds every shirt.
he makes the bed, fluffs the pillows, vacuums the floors, cooks every meal.
all while glancing at you every few seconds to make sure you’re still there.
still safe.
still exactly where he left you.
the cuff around your ankle sometimes shifts when you move. it makes the faintest little sound.
he always hears it.
he’s always kneeling in front of you a moment later, hands warm against your skin, thumbs pressing gently into that sore spot like he can massage away the reality of it.
“does it hurt?” he asks tentatively, every time.
like he doesn’t know.
like he isn’t the one who locked it.
his touch is so careful.
so attentive.
so loving.
“i’m just taking care of you,” he whispers, resting his forehead against your knee. “you don’t have to do anything anymore.”
he looks up at you with that adoring expression. that soft, devoted smile.
“all you have to do,” he starts gently, tightening his grip just enough to remind you, “is stay.”
This game is made by the same person who made Where Eternity Sleeps and you can tell that someone really loves long haired blonds (not that I'm complaining). This game has beautiful artwork and although it is a demo, does have a pretty good premise of what's to come.
The story starts with the MC (Anon, as default name) waking up on a hospital bed unable to remember why they're there. Dr. Anselm comes to their aid, taking care of them. He tells the MC that they have just gone through a brain surgery due to a traumatic brain injury due to a cracked skull. It seems that nobody knows who caused it, only that people found them unconscious and called for help. Dr. Anselm tells the MC to focus on recovery and MC thanks Dr. Anselm for taking care of them. The MC asks Dr. Anselm if they can call their family, though Dr. Anselm denies this as the hospital is not currently open for calls. While the MC feels suspicious about it, and the MC ends up going to sleep. The MC wakes up in the middle of the night to hear something going on in the room, finding out that something is looking through the door. The MC can try to call out or otherwise ignore it before pressing the call button to call Dr. Anselm. He looks around to see if there's anyone, but when he finds nobody, reassures the MC that they might have just been tired.
The MC goes back to sleep and upon waking up, Dr. Anselm assures the MC that they couldn't find anything in the security cameras, making the MC unsure about what they saw. They can either push for it or let it go. Dr. Anselm allows the MC to call their parents, but nobody responds, making the MC feel saddened. Dr. Anselm comforts them and makes food for them and the MC enjoys the meal. Drinking the coffee he makes you though, the MC instinctively feels something is wrong, as the coffee is the exact flavor as how the MC makes it. Dr. Anselm is able to reassure them and the MC seems to drop their suspicion. Soon after though, the MC grows drowsy and goes asleep. The MC wakes up again to find that their door is open once more only to find Dr. Anselm walking in. He apologizes for scaring the MC causing the MC to be embarrassed at suspecting him. Dr. Anselm performs a checkup on MC, with the MC worried about the different pills that are next to him. Dr. Anselm feeds the MC porridge and starts to feel sleepy.
In the MC's dream, they dream of a never-ending alleyway until they wake up when turning around to the sound of someone following them. When they wake up, Dr. Anselm is right in front of them looking closely at their face. The two scream out flustered at each other and the MC reveals their dream to Dr. Anselm. He looks concerned, but reassures the MC before feeding them some more food. The MC then can ask to either try calling their family again or going on a walk. If asking to go on a walk, Dr. Anselm will refuse, not even letting them walk around the hospital, and if they try to call their family, the MC will notice that there's no reception, which is why the calls aren't working. Either way, they will start to get drowsy again feeling confused as they didn't take any medication before falling asleep. When the MC awakens, Dr. Anselm is in the room again, and the MC asks why they've been feeling so groggy all the time. Dr. Anselm explains that they're likely fatigued because of the injury, yet still feels unsettled. Dr. Anselm will then ask the MC to take their pills.
If they accept, they will take the pills and then falls asleep, but if they refuse, they will snap at Dr. Anselm, declaring they don't trust him. Dr. Anselm tries to calm them down, stating that the medication is to help them, but ultimately decides to not let the MC take their pills. Eventually, the MC is left alone, feeling guilty but also suspicious towards him. The MC tries to go to sleep, but ends up feeling an incredible pain through their skull as they try to call for Dr. Anselm. However, they end up breaking their neck as Dr. Anselm tries to save them. Ultimately it doesn't help as they die and Dr. Anselm desperately cries out to them.
Most of the story takes place in the hospital with the MC in bed, so all the yandere actions are more inferences. Still, it’s pretty obvious that Dr. Anselm is doing a lot of shading things to the MC, including obviously drugging the food, preventing the MC from calling their family and friends by making it difficult to do so and not letting them get out of bed. While there is something shady going on, I do think it's reasonable that the MC trusts him, after all, everything he says is pretty plausible on the surface. But as the story goes on, there are a lot of things that become off putting. There are no other people in the hospital that come to look after the MC, there's someone watching from the door in the dark, the internet reception doesn't work at all in the hospital, the food that Dr. Anselm makes is just a little too accurate to your tastes and you keep on getting sleepy after eating food despite not taking any medication. Dr. Anselm is your doctor, sure, so he probably knows best, but a lot of these things are pretty suspicious to ignore. There's a lot of mysteries going on as well, such as the fact that we don't know if the MC actually suffered from a brain injury, where the hospital is, exactly, why Dr. Anselm likes the MC and what caused them to die in the bad ending. You could wager that it's stress and that's what causes the increased pain that leads to their death, but it is possible that it was Dr. Anselm who drugged them in the first place to cause that. Still, the fact that Dr. Anselm looks genuinely surprised and scared when that happens likely means that it was not planned.
It is likely, at least in my opinion, that Dr. Anselm was the cause of whatever caused the MC to lose their memories about the incident, whether he was directly the cause of the accident or if he is simply just lying to the MC. I think it makes a bit more sense that he has been chasing the MC for a while given that he knows about the foods/drinks that they like. He is mostly rather doting though he gives off the impression that he's very overprotective towards them as well. I also think that the hospital that he's keeping the MC in really isn't a hospital, but rather just the portion where the MC's room is disguised as one. It would make sense why he wouldn't let the MC even walk around and could have a secluded place where the entire building is located given that there seems to be no signal there and there's no other staff involved. It could also be possible that the entire area the MC is kept in is in an actual hospital and the MC is secluded in there with Dr. Anselm (for some reason). It could be his own authority or he could be somehow doing this behind the MC's back. It's hard to say.
Unfortunately, similar to what I explained in Where Eternity Sleep, the artist was accused of using ai art to the point where they are taking an indefinite hiatus, so it really seems like this and Where Eternity Sleep's development is currently in limbo, so we have no idea whether or not this game will return in the future is unknown. I will say though that the art in this is very pretty and I enjoyed the mystery it brings. I think between this and Where Eternity Sleeps, I like the mystery of the latter game a bit more, but they both have their pros and cons. In any case, if you are interested in this game, please give it a shot.
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