This man…just lie down on the bed and let him look at you. Ten out of ten five star service. After Main Mark, I believe he'd give the best aftercare. He's so attentive that you can tell how much he values you just from the way he touches you. It might even make you cry but don't cry, because he'd immediately panic, thinking he did something wrong and start trying to calm you down.
B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)
His lips because they're the ones that place those gentle kisses on your body, the ones that get to taste your lips every single time.
Everything about you. He wouldn't be able to choose just one thing. If you asked him to pick, he'd probably grow flustered and even if it were just to please you, he still wouldn't be able to give a clear answer.
C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)
If you allow it he'd probably finish inside you but he wouldn't have any issue finishing outside either. Seeing you covered in his release makes his heart race in a way he can't control.
And if you're okay with it, he'd also accept finishing in your mouth. And god when he does, he'll act like he's being held at gunpoint to keep eye contact. No, the embarrassment he feels about finishing in your mouth is something that will probably never go away.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He wants you to ride on his face. He tried to bring it up a few times, trying to gather the courage, but couldn't manage it. He's afraid you'd find it shameless…or perverted.
E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)
If he hasn't been with Amber or Eve in his own universe, then you're definitely his first. That doesn't mean he's a virgin with an innocent mind, though. He isn't exactly pure either he just doesn't try to say those things out loud.
F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)
The most intimate positions. Oh also any position where he can see your face. You could say he prefers more classic ones, like missionary. He'll get carried away with his body and end up pressing you beneath him, almost like he's crushing you under it. Your bodies will be so close it'll feel like they could merge together, lips against lips, both of you breathless. This man would die for your breath.
G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)
To help both himself and you relax, he'd crack jokes and tease you the way he normally does. Sometimes he'll be so focused that you might have to kiss his forehead and tease him a little to snap him out of it. And btw I don't think he'd make degrading jokes about you. He wouldn't choose to throw accusations or insults at someone he cares about.
H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)
Considerate. He makes a real effort to be mindful of you, trying not to bother you in the slightest, mostly because well… he never quite knows when you might suddenly leap into his arms. So he does his best to stay prepared. He keeps his body hair neatly shaved, though every now and then he lets it grow out just a little.
I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
Your sex life is completely built around this. He truly loves you more than anything, and he wants to feel it wants to hear that you love him too. Whenever you say it out loud, Mark's confidence seems to bloom even more. Throughout it all, he'll scatter kisses over every part of you so soft and gentle they almost melt against your skin. Every place he touches feels like it's dissolving under the warmth of his hands…as if he's handling your body like the most delicate piece of fabric.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
I don't think he did it very often before you. Once he's with you, though it might increase a little. It's not really his fault,your beautiful image just refuses to leave his mind. Poor Mark is practically being flashed by his own thoughts over and over again.
Ahem..if you happen to catch him while he's masturbating, he'll immediately stop what he's doing and try to act as if what you just saw never happened.
K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Reproduction and orgasm, he'll keep going until your legs can no longer hold you and you go numb. He also has a wild side when it comes to you pulling his hair.
L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)
Your bed, his bed. Ofc if you want he'll be very careful and try not to get caught doing it elsewhere. Still he tends to prefer doing it in your rooms or in the bed you share. You could say he likes the idea of adding new intimate memories to those spaces.
M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
When you're feeling heated and clearly in the mood. He doesn't really have the willpower to say no to you. If he's wearing his mask, you won't even be able to see how red his cheeks have gotten because of it. And if he isn't wearing it, he'll end up covering the lower half of his face with his arm while suddenly finding the wall beside him extremely fascinating to study.
N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)
Hurting you something he couldn't bear, not even himself. Yes, he's a bad man, but that doesn't mean he would ever raise a hand against you. He also wouldn't agree to fantasies that involve that kind of thing. He hates the idea of rejecting you and hurting your feelings, but he hates the thought of harming you even more. If that's the kind of thing you like, he'd probably always feel a quiet sadness about not being able to give you what you want. He just hopes you won't grow tired of him because of it.
O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)
Could say it's always mutual give and take. If you're not very willing to perform oral sex, he won't bring the subject up again and he won't pressure you about it either. And if you do accept it, he's quite eager to give. He wants to make it feel like heaven for you. If you' re wondering, yes, he's a good eater. Don't underestimate his dedication. He would even be happy to drown between your thighs.
P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)
Neither too fast nor too slow,definitely the very peak of passion. Sometimes he can't quite hold himself back and speeds up for a moment, but that doesn't mean the whole thing will end quickly. He goes crazy for the way your walls tighten around him.
Still his favorite pace is definitely slow. The rest of it, could say, tends to change depending on the moment.
Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
No he actually hates rushed sex. He sees it as something deeply tied to trust and connection, and he wants to treat it with care. Even if you've had sex a thousand times, that view of his wouldn't change.
Whether the pace is slow or fast the goal is the same: to feel you as fully as possible and to make sure you feel him just as strongly.
R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
If you're willing to try new things, he'll gladly keep up with you,sometimes he even takes the initiative and suggests something new himself. Trying new things with you is one of the few things that truly excites him in life.
S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)
Extremely resilient ahem you can probably guess why. Still don't worry, he won't ever hurt you…ofc as long as you don't want him to. He'll go as far as you can handle, and the moment you tell him to keep going even when you can't…ahh he can feel that he's about to lose his mind.
T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
He'll use whatever you wants but…how should I tell it,he seems a little jealous. He wants to be the only one making you feel those emotions, not some damn plastic thing.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Well I can't say he would never do it after all, he is still Mark Grayson. He really will do it sometimes, just to tease you a little when the moment is right. Ofcyou even have a safe word for situations like that.
V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
You could describe them as muffled sighs that sound almost like he's dying from how intense they are. He'll also whisper naughty things in your ear,he finds your embarrassment absolutely adorable.
W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice),
If you're a woman, he'll buy baby booties just to see your reaction and appear with them in the most unexpected way. He wants to know if you'd want to have a child with him, and if your answer is yes…he becomes the happiest Mark in all the universes.
If you're a man, he'll propose in a movie theater. But don't think it's some ordinary proposal,he'll hire the animation team for the final scene of the film, and the two of you will be drawn in that animated style as part of the proposal. (There was actually a guy who did this…it was perfect.)
X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)
I can't say he particularly long compared to other variants, but he definitely makes up for it in girth. Its length is around 11–13 cm. Honestly idkmuch about cocks lol. There are one or two noticeably sensitive veins. While you're inside, you've definitely memorized their positions.
Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
He can feel desire strike at any moment he senses that spark. And regardless of gender, after seeing a family he might end up spending an entire night making love with you once you get home. The idea of building a family with you…
Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
After making sure you're comfortable and all your needs are taken care of, he'll hold you close and listen to your breathing. As you drift toward sleep, he drifts with you,usually falling asleep at the same time or right after you. And his grip…never loosens.
pairing ─ ⋆ mohawk mark, sinister mark, vitrumite mark, lensless mark, full masked mark x fem!reader.
warnings ─ ⋆ MDNI! smut, suggestive content.
summary ─ ⋆ what do the mark variants find the most attractive about you?
notes ─ ⋆ im changing up my post designs a bit, tell me if u like it! also ive never written for the variants before but i hope this is good!! thank u to the user who requested this. this is pretty short sorry
MOHAWK MARK.
─ one thing this freak loves is boobs. whether your boobs are big or small, he loves them. he loves burying his head between them after a long day, pressing kisses to them when the two of you are cuddling, and he especially loves seeing them bounce when the two of you are having sex.
─ when you wear lower-cut tops that show your cleavage, it turns mark on immediately, but he also gets really protective when he sees another guy eyeing you up. because what the fuck is that dude thinking? you're obviously his, and since that guy doesn't seem to understand, he'll teach him. mark just hopes you won't question why he turns up at your home covered in blood. oops.
SINISTER MARK.
─ if you're submissive and treat him like a god, that's what he wants. what do you expect from him? he doesn't want you to be one of those people that does whatever they want, are you crazy? you're his, and that means he owns you. you should be grateful that he's even kept you alive this long. mark could kill you faster than you could blink. why hasn't he yet? don't ask.
VILTRUMITE MARK.
─ his favourite thing is someone who's breedable (what? he needs to repopulate viltrum) and someone who's kind enough to teach him the ways of earth. also, he secretly likes it when you stand your ground and stand up for yourself. it turns him on, honestly, knowing that you're strong too, even if it's not in a physical way.
─ chubbiness is attractive for him, too. it makes you feel more breedable in a way (freak) and he likes it. mark loves picking you up.
LENSLESS MARK.
─ call him a masochist, but he LOVES if you're a bit bitchy and tough. if you degrade him in bed, even better! that man loves being dominated, so if you enjoy doing it, he'll never leave. never.
─ mark loves when you put him in his place. knowing that he's way stronger than you and could easily kill you, yet you're the one seemingingly in charge, it just turns him on.
─ appearance-wise, he loves muscles. if you're strong (for a human, at least) it gives him a boner. back muscles are hot as fuck for him, too. he loves seeing them ripple when he hits it from the back.
FULL MASKED MARK.
─ he just wants someone to hug, to cuddle. someone he can talk to and who will talk to him. he's not picky, mark just wants someone to love him for him and will show him undying affection, no matter what happens.
─ if you're soft, sweet, and caring, he loves you even more. he'll visit you after a rough day and find refuge in your lap, enjoying the sensation of your nails in his hair, and he'll talk. about everything. afterwards, he feels guilty about ranting too much, but you reassure him that it's fine, that you like listening to him.
notes ─ ⋆ ahhh i hope this was okay. i kinda alternated a bit from the request but yeah. also if u guys cant tell i LOVE mohawk mark, that freak is mine 👅👅 i wanted to include omni-mark bc hes so fine but i dont understand his character enough :(
WARNING ➤ Pornographic content mdni! The links all have afab/feminine bodies except maskless mark, do not open in public.
Sinister Mark
Fucking you into the sofa
He loves choking you
bought this skirt just for this
Can’t run away anymore
Main! Mark Grayson
Literally like rabbits (LOADS)
Sock on the door
Virgin! Best friend!Mark who wanted to try something with you
He WANTS you carrying his kid
Full mask Mark
Breeding you full with his babies
Stroking him
Short cunnilingus vid
Got him all tied up
Mohawk Mark
Do y’all see that bulge?? Definitely the way he’d fuck you
How he’d eat his princess out
Normal au!Mohawk mark after taking a drive in his car with you. Couldn’t wait till you got home huh?
His own fleshlight
Viltrumite mark
The eye contacttt
After a long day of viltrum work
Morning sexxx!!
His maid looked hotter today, especially in that skimpy dress you wore.
Maskless mark(MLM)
Riding him in your dorm
You two both got horny while hanging out
Bottom! Mark
Seeing stars
Omni-Mark
loves tasting you
You were a brat in this universe too he had to handle it!
He loves the feeling of your gushy walls clenching around his fingers
You were so desperate to cum :(
Rex Sloan
You play way too much video games
Devouring your pussy
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ NOTE ➤ sorry guys I released this sooo late! The next part of the invincible p!links are going to be revolved around threesomes! If you guys want other p!links with different media I’ll be happy to do it. I want to do a jujutsu kaisen list but I want to see what y’all want first.
WARNING ➤ Pornographic content mdni! The links all have afab/feminine bodies except maskless mark, do not open in public.
Sinister Mark
Fucking you into the sofa
He loves choking you
bought this skirt just for this
Can’t run away anymore
Main! Mark Grayson
Literally like rabbits (LOADS)
Sock on the door
Virgin! Best friend!Mark who wanted to try something with you
He WANTS you carrying his kid
Full mask Mark
Breeding you full with his babies
Stroking him
Short cunnilingus vid
Got him all tied up
Mohawk Mark
Do y’all see that bulge?? Definitely the way he’d fuck you
How he’d eat his princess out
Normal au!Mohawk mark after taking a drive in his car with you. Couldn’t wait till you got home huh?
His own fleshlight
Viltrumite mark
The eye contacttt
After a long day of viltrum work
Morning sexxx!!
His maid looked hotter today, especially in that skimpy dress you wore.
Maskless mark(MLM)
Riding him in your dorm
You two both got horny while hanging out
Bottom! Mark
Seeing stars
Omni-Mark
loves tasting you
You were a brat in this universe too he had to handle it!
He loves the feeling of your gushy walls clenching around his fingers
You were so desperate to cum :(
Rex Sloan
You play way too much video games
Devouring your pussy
˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ NOTE ➤ sorry guys I released this sooo late! The next part of the invincible p!links are going to be revolved around threesomes! If you guys want other p!links with different media I’ll be happy to do it. I want to do a jujutsu kaisen list but I want to see what y’all want first.
Commenter: Can u write some viltrumark n Omni mark. Pleasee. (Special at the end!)
Synopsis: Variants of your childhood best friend spawn across the globe, and you find yourself in the crossfire of their previous lovers. What happens when you experience the parallel pleasure they can offer?
Warnings: Power Struggles, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Morally Grey, Nipple Play, Fingering, Pussy Eating, Overstimulation, Public Sex, Ejaculating Inside, Rough Sex, 69, Car Sex, Switch!Reader, Switch!Invincible Variants, Plot changes for convenience, Matching Freaks, Position Changes, Porn w a Plot, etc.
Invincible Variants x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 6,079
Previously on 'To Be Desired' ...
Helping where you could, you began assisting in fighting off the weaklings who figured now was the best time to attack Earth. Micro tears riddled your uniform as you tore through them mercilessly, all through a look of pity. There were days you'd resent this “job” you'd granted yourself, the little recognition and appreciation you'd receive from the public. How selfish of them and you. You wanted an excuse to have this world fair alone, without a need to rebel when no one would notice. As luck would have it, a voice suddenly dawned behind you, his body floating midair and adorned with the appearance of your dearest friend.
ViltruMark
Gazing upon the malignant figure, his jaw ticked ever so slightly at the sight of you. A mangy mutt of a man was within his grasp—its maw bludgeoned with the imprint of his knuckles. The sound of a body hitting the ground beside you was like a heavy, wet slap, followed by a faint whoosh of air being forced from its lungs. It was a sickening thud—like a ripe melon dropped from a great height, and you froze with a sense of unease.
The impact was startling and violent, and for a moment, you forgot about the raging havoc being reaped around you. The suddenness of it all made your heart race—you were almost certain he could hear it—as every instinct shrieked within. Your body language became defensive, his gaze hardening in response.
"I've killed you once, and I'll kill you again," he proclaimed, yet it held little intent. His uniform was a staple of the Viltrumite Empire—its clad symbol emboldened in the sky’s smoke like a false beacon of hope. "Then get it over with. You won't be the first variant who dies tonight." The snarky remark was met with a confident scoff. His padded feet landed in front of you, his eyes absorbing your features as if to reminisce. "I won’t. That was my first mistake," he replied, his fingers finding themselves tangled in your hair.
It was sudden; you couldn't help but grimace at his words. A Viltrumite admitting their mistakes? Unbelievable. That was until his grip suddenly tightened, cocking your head to the side as he whispered in your ear. "I've come to right my wrongs and take you with me."
The man's grip was a hold of domination, a vice-like clamp that strangled the last vestiges of hope. It was merciless—like that of a warlord who wielded power with an iron fist. Yet the soothing hand around your waist and the calloused fingertips that scratched against your costume told the story of a starved man.
It wasn’t a debate—nor did you intend to argue, as your annoyance with your reality simmered. "Right your wrongs…?" you questioned, a wicked grin slowly spreading across his face as you two suddenly took flight. Tears bubbled at your waterline from the speed, your fingers clinging to him as you could’ve sworn he nearly melted.
You always did talk too much, so he figured he'd show you. The underground vibrations beat against your eardrums as he cradled you. Your gaze was fixed upon a newly formed crater within the valley, only destroyed rubble offering privacy. "We’ll do it here. You’ll be my new beloved and will give me children."
His fingers traced down your abdomen as they tore through the fabric, gooseflesh rising from the exposure. It was a depressing past, really—having to murder you in cold blood so soon due to his agenda—but not this time. You would stay ignorant of his past, and he would provide it, given your indulgence.
His hands grasped the spandex material of your suit, prying it open as his lips began their pleasurable assault on your neck. The wet warmth of his tongue tickled your skin as he harshly nipped the welcoming flesh. Your faint pulse beneath it enticed him to experience what he had yet to. So alive and welcoming.
Head resting against the soft soil, his hardened cock imprinted beneath the loincloth. His body did little to hide his excitement—though his expression remained cold. Once the clothing was peeled from your body, his lips continued their journey south—pausing to lavish attention on your breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth—swirling his tongue erratically around the hardened peak while his hand kneaded and caressed the other.
You moaned at the sensations, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair as his hips ground against your clothed cunt. He didn’t stop. He worshiped your breasts until you were writhing beneath him, the skin tender and reddened from his teeth.
As he traveled lower, you could feel his warm breath on your most intimate area, his pre-cum now staining the cloth of both his and your costume. Just before his lips could reach your sex, he pulled away in satisfaction. All mild waves of pleasure were ripped from you, and a feeling of annoyance bubbled within.
Pressing back against him, your eyes pleaded seductively, a hand resting against his chest. "It’s not fun when it's just me; let me please you," you muttered—watching as the faintest smirk graced his lips. He sat on his knees as you shuffled yourself forward—hands eagerly tugging at his clothing. His costume splintered as it fell from his form, your mouth practically watering at the sight of his swollen cock eagerly awaiting your touch. You leaned in—inhaling deeply and savoring his musky scent. You ran your tongue along the underside of his veins, from the base to the tip—feeling it twitch against your lips. He shivered.
You circled the head with your tongue, dipping into the slit to taste his essence before taking him into your mouth. Instantly, he sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth. The man was more sensitive than expected. As your throat relaxed and another inch slid inside, the soft lining of your esophagus welcomed him so fruitfully that his eyelids began to twitch. His pride had failed to forewarn him, and his temperament began to crumble.
As his hips bucked forward, you gagged—only to see a placid grin etched onto his face as his nose crinkled with restraint. He groaned loudly with every bob of your throat, his dick twitching with each contact. Suddenly, his hand gripped your hair, pulling you back. "Enough," he muttered, his voice carrying enough command to make you pause.
Before you could process it, you were flipped onto your hands and knees, panties being lowered as his eyes devoured the sight of your pussy. "You’re soaked… I would’ve fucked you sooner if I knew you’d be so willing." The mumble seemed more to himself than to you. His tip glided down the skin of your folds, the squelching sound causing his grip to tighten as he pushed your head into the ground. Just as he pressed himself inside, the quietest whimper slipped.
Your eyes met his with a smug expression; he returned it as a warning before your velvety walls swallowed him whole. He sighed—like a man being gifted after a long day of work. He didn’t give you time to adjust—immediately pulling out and setting a brutal pace, pounding into you with a force that rocked your entire body. Each thrust pushed you forward, your hands scrabbling for purchase in the burrow of grass. His balls slapped against your clit with every stroke—sending sparks of pleasure through you.
One of his hands left your hip, wrapping around your hair and pulling your head back, forcing you to arch your spine. He fucked almost with a hatred. With every stroke, your body bounced forward, and you could swear you heard your vertebrae popping. Does he not know what gentle is?! No! He’s a Viltrumite, born and raised!
Unbeknownst to you, the dual stimulation of his balls slapping against your skin and the soft twitching of your pussy had him hunched over. He began to chase his own release—loud growls echoing in your ears as you could barely formulate sound. His free hand rested against your ass—enjoying its recoil as a pathetic whine scratched his throat. He was hellbent on burying himself within you, each thrust deepening with the swivel of his hips. His muscles tightened as his jaw clenched, heavy pants echoing between groans. It was beginning to sound needy—a rough greed that consumed him.
Your moans were muffled, his hearing sharp enough to catch every one, his tactics shifting subtly to bring you the utmost pleasure. God, why did he kill you? He could barely remember as his brain began to fizzle out from the pleasure. “Mphm… Mark… can’t breathe,” you muttered, his eyes finally snapping into focus. In a last-ditch effort, he tugged you back, ripping a hiss from you as your spine curved. Your back rested against his chest, and although the sex was rough, this was a moment of gentleness. “Aah—ugh, mm, fuck, I’m going to fill you,” he whispered, sheathing himself one final time as he came.
You two remained still as his stamina recovered; he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, both of your suits ruined. No matter—he couldn't care less about flying into space naked. It was short-lived as he abruptly readied himself from a voice buzzing within his ear; you remained seated in absolute awe. “How long can you hold your breath?” he asked, a plan to return home brewing.
OmniMark
His gaze remained fixed on you, expression unimpressed as he observed. You had just defeated another swarm of enemies, their blood coating the streets. As you stumbled toward him, your breath came out in labored gasps, and your vision blurred, making it hard to focus on his figure. Mark—or rather, this mysterious figure in similar fashion—seemed to be studying you intently, his eyes piercing through your facade.
The sound of his cape billowing finally caught your attention. Roving over his figure, you observed his costume. A dried patch of blood littered his hand, pink lint from the fabric clinging to it. It resembled Omni-Man's and only struck you with confusion as your mind rang from your probable concussion. "Hey, are these giving you any trouble?" he asked, his body idly bobbing midair as he awaited an answer.
"Who are you, really? If you're Mark, why are you dressed like... well, like him?" You gestured to his costume, a near-perfect replica of Omni-Man's, complete with the red and white color scheme, only missing the distinctive 'O' emblem. He sighed—almost regretfully, as a realization seemed to dawn upon you. Omni-Man in his world was dead; just why did I have to run into this one?! He glided toward you with a strangely disturbing grace.
"I've come to defend you. There are many of us gathering over Chicago." Your question was swatted away like a fly as he continued. His response made you drop your guard—albeit naively—since there was no reason to trust him. He landed in front of you, dark goggles showing your reflection as he contemplated. "Why? What happened to me in your dimension?" you inquired.
He replied with the slightest look of pity and weariness. "She… was like a pet. Served her purpose and got in the way after I killed my father." His words made your heart drop. "I've been looking for you… for a new pet. So, understand me this time, and we can conquer together." The tone of his words was low— almost careful, like it somehow softened the demeaning blow. Every word was woven in silk, but underneath lay a quiet demand. His fingers gently wrapped around yours—his gloved thumbs ghosting over your knuckles.
Truthfully, he hated his dimension's version of you. Such a nuisance, but you were already proving to be more favorable. A glimpse into what you could've been.
"But you have more to offer than she did. She had no powers, no abilities… but she was cute while it lasted." A sense of sadness lingered in his voice as his eyes focused behind you—on the destruction your battle had caused.
"Fine, I'll let you protect me," you said, releasing his fingers.
"It’d be best if we stayed together at all times," he replied.
"I don’t think I could stomach being around you." It was a petty jab, spit with unintentional venom.
"I could change that," he quipped with the cockiness of his father, his palm outstretched to you.
Just how did you allow yourself to be swept away like this? Yes, the Mark you knew was the son of Omni-Man with morals; this one went against every principle you had when becoming a hero. Like father, like son. His words were sensitive—meticulously put together to string you along—not that you cared now, not with his fingers buried deep inside your cunt.
Somewhere along the way, he had flown you to Paris like some fancy vacation. The leveled city burned brightly, the embers painting your skin in a dewy orange that made you look so divine. The Eiffel Tower stood tall, almost as a harbinger of justice—and here you were, on the structure, being fingered by him.
You let out a sharp cry as he started to stroke, his digits gliding through your wetness with ease. The very sight of your cunt had him in a hedonistic trance, his thumb slotting over your clit. He teased and circled—applying just the right amount of pressure to have your hips bucking beneath him. His pace quickened ever so slightly—reveling in the ridges of your pussy that he anticipated to hug him so snugly.
"You like that, don't you? You like it when I touch you like this?" he purred, watching as your face scrunched in pleasure. It wasn't like he needed a response; seeing your reaction was enough. Your abs began to tighten as your orgasm built, and just as your body lurched forward, his hands pulled away, leaving you clenching around air.
"You said that would be it," you whispered, watching as he smiled faintly, almost pleading. "I know, but it would be better this way… I can't monitor with just my fingers." He excused himself, and your eyes rolled sarcastically. "Last thing." It was a harsh spat that crawled from your throat and into his ear. "Last thing," he agreed—when you both knew he was the type to say that while fucking you senseless for the tenth time.
Against the cold metal, he spread your legs wide, his free hand freeing his weeping cock from its confinement. It's been punished enough for now. Clothes were shed quickly, eagerly, until you were both naked and pressed together, skin against skin. He hovered over you, his eyes roaming your exposed body hungrily. Circling his tip around your entrance, he finally pushed in—jaw clenching with a shaky exhale.
His hips began to build into a relentless pace, your bouncing legs wrapping firmly around him to pull him in deeper. He was becoming lost within you—quite literally—as your pussy swallowed him balls deep. No wonder his father remained active with Debbie; this was fucking godsent to him. Perhaps his words from earlier were no longer manipulation but the truth. He would vow to know you on a personal level later.
Moans of pleasure from you both echoed. He was shameless about his noise, enjoying the sound of skin slapping in the air. You could have sworn his particularly deep thrusts sent the tower shaking. Sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated, ab muscles flexing as he withheld his orgasm. Mark loved it here. He would do anything not to pull out. His body began to tremble with restraint, nearly convulsing with the overarching effort. Your bodies shifted with each powerful thrust. Lost in your own pleasure, you barely noticed your head now dangling from the structure.
His attempt at being romantic after destroying a city was dreadful. "Mark…!! Ah! I'm gonna fall, fuck—!" you wearily shouted, and he grimaced slightly, his fingers shoving themselves into your mouth to simulate sucking his cock as he watched you gag on them. "You know better… swearing doesn’t make you cool." He stated it so casually, as if he weren’t balls-deep inside you.
Flying you both into the air, his hands gripped your ass, fucking himself into you. His thrusts grew erratic, his whimpers barely contained. It was obvious—his toes curled in his shoes, his feet flexed, his eyes rolled back into his skull, the veins in his neck prominent. Clasping his chin, you focused his attention on you as your insides nearly squeezed him dry. It was your minute revenge. "T-Take what you… what you want." His lips were caught between his teeth. "I wo… won't stop you."
The words were weak, both of you heaving, breath fanning against each other's faces. Wrapping your legs tighter around him, and with bated breaths, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came with a shout. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he hissed, unable to stop himself. After realizing what he had done, he ironically cursed under his breath.
"S… shit, I should’ve come in your mouth; it would’ve been better," he muttered, disappointed in himself. Wrapping your bare body within his cape, he gingerly kissed you with praise. His lips parted—as if to utter something sentimental, his gaze hardening. Suddenly—he observed heroes gathering within France to save the people. A grimace enveloped his face. He had enough decency to place you securely at your apartment before taking off.
HeadCap Mark
“Oh…? And who do we have here?” he asked rhetorically, one hand resting at his side. His overzealous grin gleamed beneath the obscurity of his features. Not to mention was—was he bald? His appearance was a far cry from his better counterpart. You kept raking over every detail, unsure what unsettled you more.
“I… I don’t want to fight you. You look like my friend… I couldn’t,” you replied timidly, tension stunning your body. He landed without a sound, the silence eerie—like a grinning cat toying with its prey.
There was dried blood riddled through his costume, his demeanor confident as he strutted toward you with his head held high. You were awfully perturbed, not noticing him already in front of you. “Well, this is gonna be fun,” he chirped as he gazed expectantly at you—his amusement only growing. “You know how hard it was to find you? Your friend's bug brother straightened me out on my way here.” A series of sharp, satisfying cracks from his spine echoed through your ears, each pop releasing tension like bubble wrap as they twisted. His octave dropped a notch as he leaned in.
“Now it's time to straighten you out.” The words were of insincere politeness, their meaning striking you upside the head. His fingers curled around your neck as he guided you backward. The cold metal of a now disheveled and crumpled car met your back. “Ah ah ah, don’t even think about it,” he whispered—your ear tingling from its warmth, your fingers relaxed at your side.
The smile on his face was almost sweet as you complied, only begrudgingly allowing his touch. “Then move before I change my mind.” You snorted in response. It was scandalous; you’d never admit that the hand around your neck nearly made you weak. Just how could you reject a man so desperate to have you? He wasn’t going to deny you either; in fact, he felt almost obligated to show you he deserved this.
He shoved you roughly against the hood of the car, his fingers tracing the length of your curves. The loud creak of the vehicle settling, the sputtering electricity of nearby landline wires, and the open air of dust filling your lungs made you feel truly exposed. Even without the removal of clothing. His tongue flicked over his lips, a brief, deliberate motion—like a cat after cream. The elastic fabric of his costume fell down his muscled legs, his hands eager as they jutted forward. It was rushed—he stripped the latex from your body with the urgency of a man digging for gold.
Only then, when he saw the pretty lace covering such delicate areas, did an audible groan of delight scratch his throat. “Pretty,” he teased, his hands reaching into his boxers as they clung to his thighs. His dick was flushed a pale pink—longer than it was girthy—as bulging veins pathed their way to his tip. “Pretty,” you mimicked, legs spreading as he closed in like a moth to a flame. He left your bra and panties on, enjoying the sight too much to tear them off. Instead—he pulled the fabric aside to watch your tits bounce, your pussy lips already weeping.
His tip parted you like a river, his head hanging back as he bottomed out. Your walls fluttered to accommodate his length; if he wanted to, he could kiss your cervix. Your legs crossed over his shoulder, and his hips reared back before driving into you. Each thrust pushed you further up the car's hood, your breasts bouncing with the force of his movements.
Your hands reached to clasp at anything behind you—only to find a shattered windshield to dig your fingertips into. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself as he watched you bounce on his cock; it was something deserving of a painting. His head turned, tongue slithering across the soles of your feet in a gesture of worship. As much as he didn't care about this world—in this moment—he was determined to make you feel like a goddess. His pace quickened, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.
The movements were entirely guided by lust; broken chuckles bubbled from his throat as moan after moan was ripped from him. Your eyes nearly lost focus—every stroke caused a slight bulge to imprint in your lower abdomen.
Your moans encouraged him—urged him to go deeper, to claim you completely. “So… so much is d-different about this world, but this… t-this was made for me.” His lips grimaced as his hips purged through the trembles riddling his body. The car creaked as it rocked violently, his fluid motion throwing you against him in time with his thrusts.
The street fills with the unfiltered sounds of your moans and the slap of skin against skin. You could feel your throat becoming raw; he was practically silenced, communicating with the tightening of your cunt and its impending orgasm.
Propping yourself onto your hands, you leaned back slightly, one leg gingerly switching to his other shoulder, giving him a full view of how you drank him in. His thumb rolled tight circles around your clit, watching as your hole puckered so vigorously around him.
A ring of your juices—mixed with what he couldn’t tell was pre-cum or cum—sputtered against his pelvis. The sight was enough to tip him over the edge. “Come… all over my cock—mmm—like the good l-little ssslut you are!” he groaned, eyes darting between your folds and your eyes as he inhaled your intoxicating scent.
As he thrust into you with increasing fervor, you felt your body begin to tense, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm approached. He seemed to sense it, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.
You cried out, fingernails scraping against the car's metal; his jaw clenched wearily as his knees grew weak. A weakened grin etched across his face once more—eyebrows knitting upward as he sighed shakily. With frantic pacing, he waited until his eyes nearly crossed before pulling out and ejaculating on your stomach.
You were winded, arms giving out as you rested against the car; he stared at you, unnaturally tired himself. But as he watched your juices bubble around your entrance, a new energy suddenly surged to his cock. “W-What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, stroking himself with a strangled whimper. “Mmm, I plan on using every inch of this car while I’m here.”
Hooded Invincible
The momentary silence was deafening; the veiled mask drifted ever so slightly to show the grin lurking beneath. His costume had blood leaking down the front; the amount would suggest he’d been bested—yet he stood defiant and cocky before you. Just how powerful was he to remain standing?
As you readied yourself for another battle, a sigh leaving your lips, his hands suddenly bound together over his head before slamming his full weight onto the concrete road. The rubble cracked beneath your feet, and a strong gust of wind slid you back. It wasn’t nearly as strong as anticipated. He was holding back.
“You won't be enough. You’re not even a fraction of my power!” He enunciated every other word—making the insult feel a little more scathing. “No wonder you get jumped so often, you fucking asshole,” you chided with annoyance. The dull ache in his head was the last thing he registered; the blow landed with a sickening thud—its crack making him stumble back slightly. “Oh, fuck off.” His return strike was swift, a flash of movement followed by a grunt of pain.
You nearly crumpled—the floor rushing to meet you before you regained stability. He was quick to compliment, almost too eager. “Okay… I’ll admit, you’re stronger than I thought.” The feeling of his hands cupping around your wrist—dried blood flaking from his palm. “That’s not why I’m here though,” he finished, his yellow-tinted goggles reflecting off the sunlight, a faint glimpse of his eyes meeting yours.
Just why did they have to have the warmth of your friend's? This was making it difficult to hate him. “Not interested,” you deadpanned, arms tugging within his grasp. He sucked his teeth with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t remember you being this fucking mouthy.” His head cocked slightly to view your expression change like his personal performance.
“Wrong dimension; I’m not her.” Your words made him pause as that grin made its Broadway appearance. “Nah, you’re better; I love it when my girls are a bitch.” He taunted, your eyes searching for an escape route as you mentally dismissed him. “C’mon, give me a chance.” The words dripped from his lips, less of a plea and more of a certainty.
You couldn’t deny he had certainly piqued your interest in more ways than one. Suddenly, a pair of calloused fingertips ran a strip down the center of your costume—the fabric outlining a faint camel toe. His fingers pressed against the indent of your pussy lips—a desired dampness nearly causing him to groan.
“Oh, you’re fucked,” he said with mocking restraint. In almost an instant—you were dragged into an alleyway and—with the weight of a feather—flipped upside down. “Put me down! What are you doing?!” you grit out, but the words lacked conviction, lost in the echo of his ragged breath.
He ignored your plea, fingers now deftly parting your swollen lips, teasing the clit that throbbed insistently through your costume. Your question was more of a criticism of his crassness. “Relax, you’ll like this.” He brushed off every critique, his focus narrowing to the only thing that mattered—his next dessert.
A firm finger dug into the fabric above your cunt before the screeching sound of fabric tearing. It was better than he imagined; his tongue already sought a taste as he admired the view. “That's it. I know you want this.” His tongue flicked out, tracing a wet path from your clit to your swollen opening.
A jolt of electricity shot through you, silencing you momentarily as your hands dug into his hip. He chuckled again, pleased with your reaction. “See? Already loving it.” His response made your pleasure-filled veins run cold.
Returning the favor through shaky moans of your own, your fingers tore through the fabric of his clothing—leaving little time for him to react as your teeth sorted through the pocket of his boxers before his cock sprang out. Its tip was greeted with fervent kisses as a guttural growl rumbled from behind his veil.
His tongue, hot and demanding, flicked out, tracing the sensitive flesh. A gasp escaped your lips, a mix of grit and nascent pleasure. He lapped at you with deliberate strokes, teasing and testing your limits. The fluttering of his tongue grew desperate to draw more sounds from you as you writhed.
That was until his toes curled upon a pair of nails dragging down the length of his swollen, veiny cock. He grumbled a string of curses, his tongue pursuing to ravage you in the wake of this being a competition. With practiced ease, your lips parted, bubbles of spit gathering around his tip as you toyed with him. “Fuuuuck me,” he sighed.
You took him in, the softness of your mouth enveloping him as you began to move, your head bobbing rhythmically. The swirl of your tongue was like pleasant lashings against his cock. Your throat relaxed as your nose met the tightening sack of his balls; he was losing his ability to resist. Every so often, you would flatten your tongue, ruining what might’ve been the build-up of his orgasm.
Your combined groans echoed mindlessly in the alleyway. With a clenched jaw, he flipped you right-side up, your hands dragging across the pavement momentarily. The sight of him frazzled you—his hair disheveled from the clenching of your thighs, and the front of his veiled mask drenched in your taste.
“How do you even have the energy to still hold me?” you asked, bewildered as he chuckled. “You underestimate my power.” His response made your eyes roll, and you both were winded nonetheless. He shifted again, his hands now gripping your thighs, spreading them wider. He positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your clit, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. As he penetrated the twitching valley of your warmth, you both responded to one another with a moan—a sound of pure, unadulterated need.
Holy fuck, was he glad you couldn’t see his face. He was holding on by a thread, eyebrows furrowed with a quivering lip. “You probably… would’ve made me cum a-already if you didn’t keep playing,” he rasped, somewhat annoyed. “Shut the fuck up and keep going.” He couldn’t argue; his grip tightened against your upper thigh. With every drawback, you tightened around him, threatening to suck him in.
Through labored breaths, his jaw went slack as his body nearly locked up on him. “Haa… ha… haa! You r-ready?” he drawled—dick pumping into you with his last shrivels of energy before his dick milked him dry inside you.
You both remained in somewhat of a daze. That’s when the familiar clang of Cecil's reAnimen echoed in the distance. Setting you down with a strange gentleness, he promised his return—leaving you with a hole in your pants. “Fuck.”
Masked Invincible
“Finally…” he whispered; you could’ve sworn his eyebrows creased beneath his mask—the full obscurity of his features made him difficult to identify. “Mark…?” you questioned, his shoulders drooping slightly as a relieved sigh left him. His costume was barely recognizable if it weren't for the signature black and blue; his frosted lenses left little to be discovered.
The instinct for danger—and to fight—was suddenly drained from you as he spoke. “We didn’t all make the same deal.” He approached, desperation weighing down his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter, Mark. You all murdered thousands… I don’t know you. I don’t care to hear you plead your case.”
Your response stunted his movements as the sound of padded feet quickened their pace.
“I—I know, but it was for a good reason, I swear,” he continued with a slight stutter, his hands gesturing to his chest. This somehow felt manipulative. “I liked it here… I came back to bring you and my mom back with me. We can start over.” His hands clung to your shoulders as he spoke, fingernails digging into the flesh.
“And why would I do that?” you inquired, your gaze hardening as you anticipated a response. “Because… because I need you.” The delivery was purely pathetic, a voice cracked, edging his words as he nearly pleaded.
Considering the whole ordeal, it didn’t sound like an awful offer. However, it would be unsafe to assume the woman you once loved in the past was the same in every dimension. His submission might’ve unlocked a new kink you were unaware of, the sentiment tugging at your heartstrings. He was similar to the Mark you knew—emotional—but this one felt far more dangerous, a dog off its leash. You began to lie through your teeth. If it meant having a variant as an ally rather than an enemy, then so be it.
“Okay. I’ll come with you if—”
Your words were abruptly sawed off as his hands hastily lifted half his mask and his lips found yours with fever. He brushed his lips against yours, featherlight, as if testing the moment—savoring it. He sighed into the kiss, his hands cradling your face, drawing you closer, deepening the space between breath and bliss. His fingertips dug into your skull as he was encased in your warmth.
Just how could he have ever let this go? Not this time. No, he would do better. He’d imagined this countless times.
Hands quickly shifting to your hips, he decided your apartment was best. Being on his best behavior would convince you more, right? Landing on the balcony, he slid open the door as you shuffled backward into the kitchen. You both pulled away, erratic breaths dampening one another's faces. Interestingly, as his costume loosened and pooled around his ankles, the mask remained. He seemed truly hellbent on keeping it on—not that you paid any mind.
Slowly tugging each article of clothing from your body, he watched as if hypnotized. It was nearly comical watching him progressively become aroused as seconds ticked by. His mind and body were one. His ragged gasps produced a small cloud of condensation through his mask. His dick a red, irritated mess with smeared pre-cum. Messy. Desperate.
Guiding him into a chair, he manspread to allow you plenty of room once you straddled him, feet hooking against his inner thigh.
His tip pierced through you, giving you little time to adjust as gravity pulled you downwards. Your puffy lips cushioned him between hungry blows, combined arousal leaving a stringy mess in his lap.
Gripping your hips, his jaw clenched as he assisted you in riding him, the pace solely reliant on his stamina.
"Wait, wait, slow down," you gasp, trying to regain control. But he's too far gone, his lust clouding his judgment. He grips your hips tighter, slamming you down on his cock with bruising force.
The pleasure is intense—bordering on pain—but you can't deny how much you're enjoying it. He leans forward, his masked face inches from yours.
"I—I can't slow down," he pants, his breath hot against your skin. "I've wa… wanted this for so long. Needed this."
You can feel him throbbing inside you, his desire for you evident. But you need to take back control, to show him who's in charge here. You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as your ass meets the meat of his thighs from your efforts to ride him.
He groans, his head falling back as you take what you want from him.
"F-fuck, yeesss," he hisses, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing and spreading it. "Take it all; take everything I have to give."
It was his most coherent sentence—just barely—as his voice cracked with a whimper.
Your moans began to mingle until it was a harmony unable to be differentiated. The sound bouncing off the walls sounded ten times louder than it was. His nose scrunched from beneath his mask, jaw flexing with an effort to remain sane.
"I am. And I'm going to use you until I'm satisfied."
He shudders beneath you, his cock twitching inside you at your words. You can tell he likes this—likes being used and controlled by you. After all he’s done, he’d gladly let you go for today.
Your hips slammed against his with every downward thrust. The sounds of skin meeting rang in your ears, a whine of pleasure filling your lungs as unrestrained sounds began to filter. His pubic hair caused delicious friction against your clit as he began to grow sloppy.
He reaches up, his hands cupping the back of your shoulders to hold you in place as he rams into you. The added stimulation sends you closer to the edge, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches.
"C-...Cum for me," he growls, his eyes watching you intently with the goal of watching your face contort in lust.
"Fuck… fuck… fuck, yes! G-Give it to me! Please…!"
His voice nearly gave out as he came with a shout, finally being able to make you his.
You soon followed after, collapsing on his chest as remnants of a moan leave your lips. It takes a while for you two to finally gather your bearings. He pulls his mask down, a smile etched into the fabric, before that damned voice calls out within his ear.
“I’m sorry… I—I have to go. I'll come back for you,” he stutters, reluctantly leaving and flying into the murky horizon.
This was actually fun to type up.
(If interested in Mark's subplot (same scenario), it's linked: here.)
reader is mentioned to have a dick, but can be read as reader using a strap, i did my best to make reader’s sex mostly ambiguous
☆a biter. you’re always covered in bite marks by the end, some healing normally and some turning to bruises. they’re typically to your shoulders and thighs, though sometimes he’ll have a nibble on your neck and hips.
☆he likes giving head because he can torture you with it. he can go slow, he can avoid your sensitive spots, he can edge you or overstimulate you. normally he’ll be nice and will get it over with quickly because he wants to have ‘real’ sex soon.
☆denies what he likes in bed. he enjoys receiving backshots so that he can’t look you in the eye while he’s pathetically grunting and groaning and biting the bedsheets. he feels a rush whenever you choke him, either when you’re riding him or he’s fucking you from above. he likes when you scratch him or try leaving a mark on him—it just won’t stick, but it’s cute you tried anyways.
☆now, he plays off being cool, but he’s still mark. he’ll make you cry and laugh at you before becoming more gentle and kissing away the tears. he won’t necessarily be nice, but he won’t be overly mean. he loves you in his own little way.
☆tried air sex with you. it was mostly him tightly gripping your hips and moving you up and down on his cock while you gripped his shoulders so hard that your knuckles went white. he loved it so much he’ll ask to do it every time he gets horny (spoiler alert, he doesn’t get his way)
☆his grip is bruising. fingers clutching your waist as he pounds into you, nails digging into your thighs as he gives oral, hands pulling your hair as you suck him off. your more often than not covered in bruises or marks or having mild pain in the morning.
☆kisses like a man starving. nibbles on your lip, licks at your mouth and reaches in as far as he can. his hands hold the back of your head in place while his teeth tug on your bottom lip, trying to subtly grind against you.
☆his dirty talking is ass </3 says corny shit just to cut off with a gasp as you rut against him. “i dominated this world, i’ll dominate you too.” he says, cutting off when your hand squeezes his balls, your other tracing the vein running on the underside of his shaft while your mouth suckles on his tip.
☆likes to manhandle you. it reminds him he’s in control and how fragile you are. definitely not also because of how trusting you are of him.
☆there’s this one sound he makes right before he cums. it’s a mix between a growl and a moan, deep in his throat. right after, he cums all over his stomach or all over your back. he doesn’t like cumming inside, because it’s annoying to clean up and this way he can take five seconds before he’s back against your warmth.
☆he enjoys pushing you to your limits. he gets through a few orgasms himself before he’s done, and by then, your mind is all fuzzy and you feel like jello. he mutters something about you being a dick addict, but he cleans you up and holds you close afterwards anyways.
☆just an added thought, he has a fixation on your ass. in my opinion, all mark’s do (that one scene in the comics with eve <3) he’s slapping it as he walks by, as he’s giving you backshots. he’ll hold a cheek when you cuddle or while you walk around the house. he bites it if he’s anywhere in range while eating you out or even through clothes if he decides to use your ass as a pillow.
warnings ᯓ★: rough sex. power play. switching. soft dom/sub dynamics. oral sex (m receiving). creampie. sky/high-altitude sex. begging kink. feeding/power imbalance themes. emotional vulnerability. superhero violence references. mild possessiveness. overstimulation. no condoms. dark undertones. possible addiction to each other’s energy/powers.
pairings: mark grayson x black!reader
Description: mark grayson was invisible in chem class until he wasnt. quiet notes. shy admission hes watched you at burger mart for years. you invite him to “study.” it turns into feeding off his want—then he flips, begs, then dominates. sex becomes constant. he skips school, shows up bruised and stronger. you open up: your powers—flying, energy push/pull, feeding to stay balanced. he shows his as invincible. takes you to the stars, fucks you weightless, kisses soft after. you heal his wounds instead of taking. youre a thing now—no labels, just bodies, powers, bruises. he comes home wrecked, you fix him, he fucks you grounded. the hunger quiets. hes yours. youre his.
mark grayson was never noticed by you. though he sat in your chem class, right near you, close enough that his sleeve sometimes brushed the edge of your desk. you never noticed him.
he’d slide you his notes when you came in late or missed a day, quiet about it, no big production. when you returned he’d already have a clean copy waiting on your spot, or he’d just push his own toward you without a word.
“so what uh,” his voice cracked the silence between you one afternoon, barely above a murmur, “did you study last night?”
he leaned up a little, soft cologne drifting over like something warm left on too long—clean, unassuming, impossible to place.
“hm?—oh me?” your curls dropped as you turned to face him, the motion slow, almost reluctant.
“yeah—”
you spoke so softly you accidentally cut him off, the word slipping out before he could finish. “it’s kinda hard to study, i have a lot of work to do.” and you weren’t lying. you really did.
mark grayson just laughed—quiet, easy, the kind that didn’t demand anything back. “nah i get it—it gets so busy at the burger mart.” he leaned into his desk, shaking his head like the memory alone was exhausting, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“you work at the burger mart?” your lips curved, surprised, the smile catching you off guard.
“why haven’t i ever seen you?”
he rubbed at the back of his neck, black hair falling soft against his forehead, fingers lingering there a second too long. “yeah… no, i’ve seen you plenty of times—you just never saw me.”
you blinked. the words hung there, simple, but they landed heavier than they should have.
he rubbed at the back of his neck, black hair falling soft against his forehead, fingers lingering there a second too long like he was trying to hold the moment in place.
because he wasn’t lying. every single time you pushed through those glass doors at burger mart—pink aeropostale set with the flared pants, white cropped shirt tucked in just enough to show a little skin when you reached for your food.
you’d order the usual double cheeseburger, no onions, fries, vanilla shake. and every time, mark would catch sight of you from behind the counter or the grill line and disappear. straight to the back. stockroom. walk-in freezer.
anywhere but where you could see him. embarrassed? shy? something quieter, something that made his hands shake just a little when he heard your voice order through the speaker.
a smile curved on your lips. slow. teasing. mark grayson had a crush on you. and god, you liked that. the way it bloomed in your chest like warm honey, thick and sweet and ready to be devoured.
you sucked at your bottom lip, letting the motion pull his gaze down for half a heartbeat. “hey… wanna come to my house tonight? to help me study? or i can—”
mark leaned up so fast the desk creaked under his palms, like his heart was trying to punch straight through his ribs. “wait—are you serious? i mean i’ll help you study, i don’t mind. like, at all.”
your curls dripped down your neck, still damp from the morning shower you’d taken just to feel clean before coming here. your eyes hungry now, pupils blown wide, locked on his. you were gonna fuck mark grayson tonight. really fuck him. slow at first maybe, let him think it was his idea, let him tremble under your hands while he tried to keep his voice steady explaining stoichiometry or whatever bullshit chapter you were supposed to be on.
your power hummed low under your skin, patient, coiled. it fed on men, on the rush of their want, the spike of their adrenaline, the way their breath hitched when they realized they were already lost. it didn’t hurt them, not really. they just gave. willingly. eagerly. and you took what you needed until the hunger quieted again.
tonight you were gonna feed.
you tilted your head, letting one curl slide forward to brush your collarbone. “cool. my place. eight? i’ll text you the address.”
mark swallowed hard enough you saw his throat work. “yeah. eight. i’ll be there.”
his voice cracked on the last word, just a little.
you smiled wider, sweet on the surface, something darker flickering underneath, and turned back to your notebook like nothing had happened.
but everything had.
the bell rang a minute later. he stayed seated a beat longer than everyone else, staring at the back of your head like he was already halfway gone.
you didn’t look back. you didn’t need to. he was coming.
and he did.
you laid on your bed in a plain tee and some boy shorts, the house quiet except for the low hum of the ac. your parents were out of town, so the place was yours—no knocks on the door, no questions, just empty rooms and the soft glow of your bedside lamp. you washed up earlier, skin still warm from the shower, and set everything up to look like you were actually studying. textbooks open on the comforter, notebook flipped to a half-finished page of equations, pens scattered like you’d been at it for hours. you were. kind of.
but your body kept betraying you.
every few minutes a tremor ran through you, low and insistent, thinking about how full you were going to be soon. how his hands would feel, hesitant at first, then desperate. how his breath would catch when you guided him exactly where you wanted. the thought alone made your thighs press together. you couldn’t help it—you slipped a hand under the waistband of your boy shorts, fingers finding you already slick, already aching.
you thought about mark. about the way his voice cracked earlier, about how he’d probably show up nervous, hair still a little messy from running his hands through it on the drive over. you imagined him on his knees between your legs, wide-eyed and eager, learning every sound you made. imagined letting him take his time, then taking control until he was shaking, begging without even realizing it.
your fingers moved slow at first, circling, dipping inside just enough to tease. your hips lifted off the bed on their own, chasing the pressure. breath coming shorter. the textbook forgotten beside you.
then the doorbell rang.
sharp. real. cutting through the haze.
your hand stilled. heart slammed once, hard. a slow smile spread across your face as you pulled your fingers free, wiped them casually on the inside of your thigh, and sat up. the tremble was still there, deeper now, hungrier.
you padded barefoot down the hall, tee loose over your curves, boy shorts riding up just enough. didn’t bother fixing your hair—let the curls stay wild from the pillow, let your lips stay a little swollen from biting them earlier.
you opened the door.
mark stood there under the porch light, backpack slung over one shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows like he’d been fidgeting the whole way here. his cheeks were already flushed. eyes flicked over you—quick, then away, then back—like he couldn’t decide where to look.
“hey,” he said, voice rougher than in class. “i, uh… brought my notes. and some flashcards. figured we could—”
you stepped aside, letting the door swing wider.
“come in, mark.”
he swallowed. stepped inside. the door clicked shut behind him.
you didn’t say anything else. just turned and walked toward your room, knowing he’d follow.
the hallway light spilled soft behind you, catching the sway of your hips under the plain tee. you could hear his footsteps—hesitant at first, then quicker, like he was trying to keep up without seeming too eager.
you opened your door and stepped aside, letting him walk in before closing it with a quiet click. the room smelled faintly like your vanilla body wash and the candle you’d lit earlier, wick still warm. you sat on the edge of your bed, legs crossed loose, one foot dangling, the other tucked under your thigh.
mark stood there in the middle of the room, backpack still slung over one shoulder, looking around like he wasn’t sure where to put himself. cute. awkward. cheeks pink under the lamp light. it made you laugh, soft and low.
“you can sit on my bed, i’m not gonna bite.” you teased, patting the spot next to you.
he laughed too, nervous but real, rubbing the back of his neck again. “sorry it’s my first time doing this—”
“doing what? studying?” you cut in, grin widening as you watched him fumble.
“no—” he exhaled, finally moving, “coming to help someone study.” he sat on the edge of your bed, careful, like he was afraid to take up too much space. set his bookbag down between you both and unzipped it, pulling out the chemistry book and a neat stack of notes. pages already tabbed, highlighter marks in careful lines. of course he was the type.
you shifted a little, resting one hand on your ankle while your other leg hung off the bed, toes brushing the carpet. the boy shorts rode up just enough when you moved, but you didn’t fix them. let him notice. let his eyes flick down for half a second before snapping back to the textbook like it had personally offended him.
“so,” you said, voice easy, “where do we start? chapter six? the one with all the mole conversions that make my brain hurt?”
he nodded quick, flipping pages. “yeah, uh, we can go over the practice problems first. i marked the ones that usually trip people up.”
you leaned in closer, just enough that your shoulder almost brushed his. close enough to catch that same soft cologne from class, now warmer, mixed with the faint nerves rolling off him in waves.
you guys studied for a few minutes. flipped pages, pointed at problems, murmured explanations. but your focus kept drifting. you moved closer. slow, casual, like it was nothing. knee touching his now.
your hand resting on the bedspread near his thigh. he kept glancing over, trying to stay on task, but every time your eyes met his instead of the notes, he stumbled over a word. throat working. pencil tapping faster against the page.
he noticed. how your gaze lingered on his mouth, his hands, the line of his jaw. how you weren’t really reading the stoichiometry anymore.
finally he choked up mid-sentence, voice cracking like it did in class. he set the book down, turned to face you fully.
“i’m starting to get the idea that you… want something else?” he tilted his head back a little, brows knit, genuinely asking. “are you hungry?”
the question was so earnest, so sweet and clueless, it pulled a real laugh out of you. your curls bounced as you leaned back against the pillow, head tipping, the sound light and warm in the quiet room. laughing at him—at how perfectly he’d walked right into it—only made his flush deepen, ears going red, eyes darting away then back like he couldn’t decide if he should be embarrassed or hopeful.
you caught your breath, still smiling, lips parted. your fingers found the hem of your boy shorts. tugged them down just a bit slow, deliberate, so the soft pink lace of your panties peeked out against your skin.
“i want you, mark.”
the words hung there, simple and heavy. no tease this time. just truth wrapped in heat.
his breath hitched. loud in the silence. eyes dropping to where your shorts sat low now, then snapping back to your face like he’d been caught. pupils blown wide. chest rising faster.
“you… you mean—” he started, voice barely above a whisper, like saying it out loud might break whatever spell this was.
you shifted closer, one hand sliding up to rest light on his knee. thumb brushing once, slow circle. “yeah. i mean that.”
he swallowed hard. looked at your mouth. looked at your eyes. looked like he was trying to remember how to breathe.
“are you—”
you leaned up, cutting him off, hands sliding to his cheeks—warm skin under your palms, the faint stubble there making your thumbs pause for a second. you pulled him down gently but firm, closing the last bit of space between you. the textbook and notes lay forgotten now, pages splayed open on the comforter like they’d never mattered.
“i want this, mark. kiss me.”
your voice came out softer than you meant, almost a whisper, but the hunger in it was clear. your curls framed your face, brushing his forehead as he hovered, eyes wide and searching yours like he was waiting for the punchline. but there wasn’t one.
he exhaled shaky, breath warm against your lips. then he closed the gap.
the kiss started slow—tentative, like he was afraid he’d mess it up. lips soft, careful, pressing once, then again, learning the shape of you. his hands found your waist, hesitant at first, fingers curling into the hem of your plain tee like he needed something to hold onto.
you felt the tremble in them, the way his pulse jumped under your touch when you tilted your head, deepening it.
you parted your lips, inviting, and he followed—tongue brushing yours in a shy sweep that turned bolder when you sighed into his mouth. the sound seemed to unravel him. he kissed you harder, hungrier, one hand sliding up your back, pressing you closer until your chest met his.
your fingers slipped into his black hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low in his throat. the noise vibrated against your lips, sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly.
your power stirred brighter, drinking in the rush pouring off him—nerves melting into want, awe turning to need, every quick breath he took feeding you slow and sweet.
you broke the kiss just enough to murmur against his mouth, “you’re shaking.”
he laughed, breathless, forehead resting on yours. “i’m nervous…”
you didn’t let him finish the thought. you glided his hands down, pressing his palm right against the damp heat between your legs through the boy shorts. the contact pulled a soft moan from you, muffled against his mouth, hips twitching forward into his touch.
“don’t be,” you whispered, lips brushing his. “take me.”
you crashed back into his mouth, hungry, no more waiting. his fingers dug at your shorts instantly—tugging them down your thighs in one rough pull, fabric catching for a second before sliding free. the air hit your skin and then his hand was there again, bare now, fingers slipping through your wetness, stroking slow then firm like he couldn’t hold back anymore.
this felt different. he felt stronger. like something inside him was overflowing, air thick with it, pressing against your skin. his grip tightened on your hip, pulling you closer, body hard and solid against yours in a way that surprised you. no more shaking hesitation—just need, raw and steady.
you moaned louder when he pushed two fingers inside, curling them just right, thumb circling your clit in messy, perfect rhythm. your nails scraped down his back through his hoodie, legs spreading wider, hips rolling up to meet every thrust of his hand.
“mark…” his name came out broken, needy.
he groaned against your neck, kissing hot and open, teeth grazing. “fuck, you feel so good.”
your power hummed deep, feeding off the surge pouring from him. the quick spike of his pulse, the way his breath hitched every time you clenched around his fingers, the electric rush of his want that tasted sharper now, almost too much. but you took it all, letting it coil tighter inside you.
you tugged at his hoodie, impatient. “take this off.”
he pulled back just enough to yank it over his head, black hair messier than before, chest rising fast. you dragged your nails down his bare skin, feeling muscle tense under your touch. stronger than he looked in class, like he was holding back something big.
l you smiled, wicked and slow, hand sliding down to palm him through his jeans. he jerked forward with a choked sound, eyes dark.
“no, everything mark.” you laughed, and he did too, nervous but real.
you pushed him back gently so he was leaning against the headboard, then slid down between his legs. your fingers dug into the waistband of his jeans, popping the button, dragging the zipper slow. eyes looking up at him the whole time while his looked down at you, wide and hungry.
the bulge of his dick was huge. more than you thought he could have. your lashes fluttered, curls leaning forward as you finally got his pants down his thighs and tugged at his boxers next.
his dick jumped free—pink and pretty at the tip, thick and long at the base, veins standing out under flushed skin. he sucked at his bottom lip hard, black hair a total mess now, falling into his eyes.
you wrapped your hand around him, slow, feeling how hot he was, how he throbbed against your palm. he hissed through his teeth, hips twitching up on instinct.
“fuck…” he breathed, voice rough. “you don’t have to—”
you cut him off with a slow stroke, thumb brushing over the tip, spreading the bead of precum there. his head tipped back against the wall, throat working.
“i want to,” you said simply, leaning in closer. your breath ghosted over him first, making him shudder. then your tongue flicked out, tasting just the head, swirling slow.
he groaned deep, one hand flying to your curls—not pulling, just holding, fingers trembling. “shit.”
you took him deeper then, lips stretching around his thickness, sliding down inch by inch until you felt him hit the back of your throat. you hollowed your cheeks, sucking slow, tongue pressing flat along the underside.
his hips jerked again, small, like he was trying so hard not to thrust. “wait—i’m gonna—”
you pulled off with a wet pop, hand stroking him firm while you looked up. “not yet.”
your power hummed louder now, drinking in every shaky breath, every pulse of want rolling off him. he looked wrecked already—eyes glassy, lips parted, chest heaving.
base, lips tight as you sucked slow and deep. you wanted to torture him—just a little. drag it out until he was begging without words.
his fingers twisted tighter in your curls, hips twitching like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to thrust or hold still. breath coming in short, ragged bursts.
“oh fuck— stop before i cum—”
you laughed around him, soft vibrations humming straight through his dick. his eyes rolled back hard, a low groan ripping out of his throat, whole body tensing under you. he looked wrecked—black hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted, chest heaving.
you pulled off slow, letting him slip free with a wet sound, then dipped lower. tongue flicking out to lick at his balls, slow circles, sucking one gently into your mouth while your hand kept stroking the tip—thumb rubbing over the slit, spreading the slick precum down his length.
he sucked in a sharp breath, abs flexing hard, veins standing out across his stomach like he was fighting every instinct to let go. surprised you, honestly. most guys would’ve lost it by now, but mark was holding on—barely—jaw clenched, fingers trembling in your hair.
“shit… you’re killing me,” he rasped, voice cracked and low. his hips jerked up once, involuntary, chasing your mouth.
you looked up at him through your lashes, curls falling forward, lips brushing the base of him as you spoke. “good. i like you like this.”
you licked a long, slow stripe up the underside, tongue flat, then swirled around the head again before taking just the tip back between your lips—sucking light, teasing, not enough to finish him but enough to make him whine.
his head thumped back against the headboard, groan turning into something almost pained. “please… i can’t—fuck, i’m so close.”
you hummed, letting the vibration hit him again, hand pumping steady while your tongue played. your power drank it all in.
the way his pulse hammered, the sharp spike of desperation rolling off him, thick and sweet. he was overflowing again, that hidden strength pulsing under his skin, feeding you deeper than before.
you pulled off completely this time, crawling up his body slow, straddling his hips. his dick throbbed hot against your stomach as you leaned down, kissing him messy, letting him taste himself on your tongue.
“i can’t believe we’re really doing this—” he broke away, lips pink and swollen, breath ragged. “do you like me?”
your eyes stared into his, holding him there. his breath hitched, waiting, like the answer could break him or fix him.
“i’ve liked you for a while now.” his voice came out soft, barely a breath against your lips. “i’ve liked you for 2 years…”
the words landed heavy. your body reacted before your mind did—heat rushing low, a fresh wave of wetness slicking your thighs. you were full. overly full. his confession hit like a pulse straight to your core, making you clench around nothing. you could almost squirt just from hearing it, from the way his hand slid up your back slow and reverent, fingers tracing your spine like he was memorizing you.
you smiled, slow and dark, leaning in until your lips brushed his ear.
“then—beg for it.”
his eyebrows slouched, soft and needy. his eyes flicked to yours for a second, then dropped to your lips for a long minute, like he was starving. his dick jumped hard against your belly, thick and insistent, leaking against your skin.
he swallowed. voice cracked when he spoke.
“please…” he started, quiet at first, almost shy. then louder, desperate. “please, let me have you. i’ve waited so long—i need you. need to be inside you again. need to feel you come around me. please, baby… let me fuck you. i’ll do anything.”
his hands gripped your hips tighter, thumbs digging in, pulling you down just enough that the head of him nudged your entrance—teasing, not quite there. he groaned low, hips twitching up like he couldn’t help it.
“please,” he whispered again, forehead pressed to yours, voice shaking. “i’m begging. let me in. let me make you feel good. i’ll be so good for you.”
you rocked your hips once, slow, letting him feel how wet you were, how ready. his eyes fluttered shut, a broken sound slipping out.
your power drank it all—the raw want, the years of quiet longing spilling out now, thick and sweet. you were overflowing too.
you leaned down, lips ghosting his.
“good boy.”
you sank down slow, taking every inch until your hips met his, full again, stretched perfect around him.
he moaned loud, head falling back, hands flying to your waist to hold you there while his hips bucked up once, deep.
“fuck thank you,” he breathed, almost reverent.
you started moving, slow grinds turning into hard rolls, riding him steady while he met you thrust for thrust, eyes locked on yours like you were the only thing in the world.
your curls bounced with every drop. his hands roamed up your sides, under your tee, thumbs brushing your nipples until you gasped.
but then something shifted.
mark’s grip tightened, not desperate anymore but firm and controlled. his eyes darkened, pupils swallowing the brown until they looked almost black. the soft pleading boy from minutes ago was still there, but underneath it something else clicked into place, stronger and steadier, like he’d been holding it back the whole time.
he sat up suddenly, one arm wrapping around your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest so you couldn’t move. his other hand came up to cup the back of your neck, thumb pressing just under your jaw, tilting your head so you had to look at him.
“slow down,” he said, voice low and rough, no crack in it this time. “you’ve been teasing me all night. now it’s my turn.”
your breath caught. the shift hit you like heat, his tone wasn’t asking, it was telling.
you tried to roll your hips again just to test, but his arm locked you in place, strong enough that you felt the restraint. not painful. just undeniable.
“mark…”
“shh.” he kissed you once, hard and claiming, then pulled back just enough to speak against your lips. “you said beg for it. i did. now you’re gonna take what i give you.”
your power hummed, surprised but thrilled, feeding off this new edge rolling off him. the soft boy who blushed in class was gone. in his place was someone who knew exactly what he wanted and how to make you feel it.
you nodded small, lips parted.
“good girl.”
the words sent a shiver straight through you. he flipped you both in one smooth motion, your back hitting the mattress, him settling between your thighs, still buried deep.
he didn’t pull out. just stayed there thick and heavy inside you, letting you feel every inch while he braced one forearm beside your head.
his free hand slid down your body slow and deliberate, fingers tracing your collarbone, between your breasts, over your stomach, until he reached where you were joined. his thumb found your clit, pressing firm circles while he stayed perfectly still.
“you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours. “been horny since i walked in huh?”
you whimpered, hips trying to lift for more, but he pressed you down with his hips, keeping you pinned, keeping control.
“stay still,” he said softly, almost sweet, but the command was clear. “let me feel your pussy—just like that.”
his thumb kept working slow circles, too slow, too perfect, building you up without letting you chase it. every time your breath hitched, every time you clenched around him, he groaned low but he didn’t move. didn’t thrust. just watched your face, learning every twitch, every gasp.
“mark please…”
he leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “please what?”
“move—fuck me. please.”
he smiled slow and dark, nothing like the shy boy from chem class.
“since you asked so nice.”
he finally rolled his hips, deep and deliberate, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in slow enough to make you feel every ridge, every vein. once. twice. then he picked up just enough pace to drive you crazy but never fast. never rough. just deep controlled owning every sound you made.
his hand slid up to wrap lightly around your throat, not squeezing just holding, thumb stroking the pulse there while he fucked you steady.
“look at me,” he said when your eyes fluttered shut. “wanna see you come apart.”
you did. eyes locked on his as the pressure built slow and overwhelming, different from before. your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back but he kept the rhythm his. his.
when you finally tipped over, clenching hard around him, crying out his name, he groaned deep, hips stuttering for the first time but he held on. rode you through it, thumb still circling your clit until you were shaking oversensitive pushing at his chest.
“shit you feel so good.” his eyes rolled back for a second, voice rough and low. then he pushed you down flat on the bed, hands firm on your thighs, spreading you wider before leaning up and hooking your legs against his chest. your knees bent toward your shoulders, folding you open for him, deeper angle making you gasp sharp.
you sucked at your bottom lip hard, trying to steady yourself. he felt so good like this—thick and long, rubbing right at your ends with every slow drag out and push back in, like he needed to hit that spot over and over. your toes curled against his shoulders, nails digging into the sheets.
he looked down at you, black hair falling messy into his eyes, sweat shining on his chest. “can i come in you?”
before you could even catch your breath to answer, he smiled—slow, cocky, nothing like the shy boy who sat next to you in chem.
“nah i’m gonna do it anyway.”
your eyebrows slouched, mouth parting in surprise. you couldn’t believe mark grayson had you like this—pinned, folded, full, and completely at his mercy. the soft guy who’d been crushing for two years was gone, replaced by someone who knew exactly how to take what he wanted and make you want it too.
he leaned down, lips brushing your ear while he kept that deep, steady rhythm.
you whimpered, head tipping back, curls spilling across the pillow. your hands flew to his shoulders, nails scraping down his back, but you didn’t push him away. you pulled him closer. your power hummed wild under your skin, drinking in the shift—his confidence, his control, the way he owned every thrust now. it fed you deeper than anything else tonight.
“mark…” your voice came out small, needy.
he kissed you messy, tongue sweeping in, swallowing your moans while his hips snapped harder. once. twice. then he buried himself deep, groaning low against your mouth as he came.
hot, thick pulses filling you, hips grinding slow circles to push it deeper, making sure you felt every spurt coat your walls.
you clenched around him on instinct, milking every bit, another small wave rolling through you just from the feeling of him spilling inside. he didn’t pull out. stayed buried to the hilt, breathing heavy against your neck, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head like he was grounding himself.
but he wasn’t done.
he started moving again slow at first, deliberate, pulling out halfway then sliding back in deep, fucking his cum deeper into you with every thrust. the wet sound of it mixed with your slickness filled the room, obscene and perfect. he kept your legs pinned high, folding you tighter so he could hit even deeper, the head of him nudging right against your cervix with every roll of his hips.
you moaned loud, head thrashing side to side on the pillow, curls sticking to your damp neck. your hands gripped his biceps, nails leaving half-moons in his skin. every thrust pushed more of his release deeper, the slick heat of it making you feel impossibly full, stretched, claimed.
he picked up the pace just enough still controlled, still deep. hips snapping forward in steady, punishing rolls. his thumb found your clit again, rubbing slow circles while he fucked you through the oversensitivity, drawing out every little whimper and gasp.
“you’re taking it so good,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours now, eyes locked on yours. “look at me while i come in you again.”
you did eyes wide, lips parted, breath hitching with every thrust. your body trembled under him, legs shaking against his chest, toes curling hard. another orgasm built slow but unstoppable, coiling tight from the pressure of him inside you, the way he kept grinding his cum deeper, the way he refused to let even a drop escape.
“mark—i’m gonna—”
“come on my dick,” he said soft but firm.
you shattered again—harder this time—clenching around him so tight he groaned broken, hips stuttering as he pushed in one last time, grinding deep while you pulsed and fluttered around him, milking what was left.
he stayed inside you after, softening slowly but not pulling out, just rocking gentle now, letting you feel the mess he’d made. his hand slid down between you both, fingers dipping where you were joined, spreading the slick cum around your entrance before pushing it back in with two fingers, slow and careful.
“stay like this,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “don’t move. wanna keep it in you.”
you laughed shaky, breathless, legs finally lowering but still wrapped loose around his waist.
your power hummed full, warm, satisfied—fed deep from every thrust, every drop, every word.
he finally eased out slow, watching the thick drip of his cum leak from you with dark eyes. then he leaned down, kissing you soft and lazy.
“round two?” he asked quiet, already half-hard against your thigh again.
you smiled wicked.
“only if you beg first.”
and ever since that day mark was fucking you.
he started missing school more than showing up. when he did come there was always a fresh bruise on his jaw or a cut healing slow on his cheek knuckles scraped.
but he looked stronger every time shoulders broader arms thicker moving quieter like the nights out there were building something permanent in him.
sex stopped being casual. it turned real. he opened up first late nights in your bed still buried deep after he came breathing against your neck.
he told you about the fights the blood the close calls. then he asked about you.
so you told him. how you could fly fast and high. how you could push energy out to knock people flat or pull them in. how youd been feeding off men to quiet the hunger without breaking them. he listened hand stroking your back slow no judgment.
then he showed you his.
one night he took you up arms locked around your waist city lights blurring below wind whipping your curls. he fucked you right there in the sky weightless thrusting up hard while you clung to him legs wrapped tight moaning into his mouth as stars spun. after he kissed you soft held you tender while you drifted back down to your roof.
it wasnt taking anymore.
instead of feeding off him you learned to pour into him. first time he came back wrecked ribs cracked blood on his costume you put your hands on him pushed the energy the other way gentle knitting the breaks fading the bruises until the pain left his face. he stared after breathing steady.
“you can do that?”
“yeah. for you.”
now when he came back hurt you healed him first hands on his chest his face his hands then he fucked you deep and slow like thanks. sometimes rough pinning you down. sometimes you rode him made him beg just to hear it.
but it was always more him holding you after you tracing marks that healed faster because of you him kissing your forehead like you were his anchor.
emo choso! does think its a bit weird that you've visited the store for the third time this week. maybe you're looking for a specific item that hasn't been restocked yet? you always look in the same area, so he figured that would be the answer.
emo choso! goes up to you on the fourth day to try and help you out only to be confused when you denied his assistance. its not your fault you're too shy of the muscular boy who's littered with piercings.
emo choso! ends up looking forward to your daily visits. unaware that the only reason you're here is to take a look at him to try and memorize every little detail to get off at the thought of him. your little toys barely do any work anymore and you're having a difficult time finishing even when you're thinking of him.
emo choso! begins to feel guilty when he tries to catch a glimpse of under your skirt that barely covered those cute lace panties you bought from the victorias secret across the store. the guilt quickly vanishes when he sees you checking him out.
emo choso! goes up to you again, trying to spark a conversation. he finds out you both like the same movie and invites you over to his place to watch it together. an invitation you obviously agree to.
emo choso! leads you to his house, opening the door for you to enter first because he's a total gentleman and not because he wants to press his bulge against you. your cheeks reddened as you felt it and you let out a quiet whimper. once he heard it slip from those pretty lips he wished to kiss, he pressed even harder. "you like that?" he asked.
emo choso! finds himself fucking you so sweetly and sloppy because he still can't believe he's deep into the pussy of his little crush. the pace he pounded into you had you seeing stars. it was so messy but intimate and his praises made you tremble. "mmh thought I didn't see you checkin' me out doll? you're so fucking wrong."
emo choso! babbled as you both entered the umpteenth round. he just couldn't get enough of seeing your cute tits bounce as he had you in a mating press. your expressions motivated him to go even harder until he slipped out to cum right on your tummy. loads of warm semen landed on you as he leaned down to press soft kisses on your cheeks, kissing the salty tears that spilled out of you from overstimulation.
emo choso! loved the noise of his headboard slamming against his wall, knowing his neighbors would definitely kill him later but he thinks they better get used to it, because this won't be the only time he'll be fucking you. no, he wants you to be his.
emo choso! takes you out on a date to the movie theater to make up for the movie you didn't end up watching when you came over. he bought the tickets and walked you over to your guy's assigned seats, way up top where no one could see you. it was an empty theatre anyways so he knew he'd have to make the most of it.
emo choso! glances over at you seeing how focused you were. so focused you didn't even notice how his hand slipped under your skirt, sliding your panties that were already damp to the side to graze his fingers on your wetness.
"cho.." you moaned quietly."
"shh baby.. dont want to get kicked out." he kissed your temple before slipping two digits in you, making a loud 'squelch' sound. "fuck, she's all wet already for me."
emo choso! is a big whimperer. he isn't afraid to be vocal because he is aware you are so into it. “mmf yeah take my cock baby.. no no.. s’ not big! it’ll fit just like every time! yeah such a good baby! oh shit.. ngh oh you’re tight!” he whined as big fat tears left your eyes. he had you on his lap forcing you to bounce on him as he kissed your right nipple with his pierced lips. the silver was cold against your tit and it made you gasp.
emo choso! walks out of the theater knowing nothing about the movie you both just watched, but with a new pretty girlfriend he absolutely adored hugging onto his arm, and a hardened cock that still wanted more.
synopsis: leon is totally obsessed with you, this fic is just pure fluff really
contains: husband!leon, cozy and cuddly mornings, looootttsss of kisses, slightly jealous!reader and leon who reassures them.
Leon was already awake—had been for hours, probably. You could tell by the way his fingers traced idle patterns over your hipbone, featherlight. He was mapping a coastline he’d memorized years ago. The room was still dark, a deep blue that clung to the edges of dawn, and the sheets smelled faintly of detergent and his cologne. You shifted just enough to press your back against his chest, and his arm tightened around your waist instantly, as if he’d been waiting for permission.
"Morning, creep." you murmured, voice rough with sleep. You didn’t even have to open your eyes to know he was staring. You could feel it—the weight of his attention, the way it lingered like sunlight through a magnifying glass.
Leon exhaled, a soft, amused sound against the back of your neck. "Caught me," he murmured, lips brushing your skin as he spoke. His voice was sleep-rough too, but there was an undercurrent of something else—something warm and possessive. Something entirely yours.
You turned in his arms, facing him properly now, and the way his gaze dropped to your mouth was almost embarrassingly sweet. The corner of his lips twitched—half a smirk, half something softer, more vulnerable—before he leaned in. His kiss was slow, lingering, the kind that made your toes curl against the sheets. When he pulled back, just far enough to murmur against your lips, his voice was low, rough. "Goodmorning, honey."
"Morning." You hooked a leg over his hip, tugging him closer. Leon groaned, but it was more amused than frustrated, his fingers tightening in your hair. "You’re the worst."
Leon’s breath hitched when you tugged him closer, his body pressing flush against yours with the kind of familiarity that came from years of this—years of mornings tangled in sheets, years of his hands memorizing every dip and curve of you. He huffed a laugh against your lips, rough and warm, his fingers tightening in your hair just enough to make your pulse jump. "Cheeky woman," he muttered, but he wasn’t pulling away. Not even a little. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. Like he’d burn it into his memory if he could.
The sunlight was starting to bleed through the curtains now, painting the room in gold and amber, and Leon’s eyes looked softer in it—less the sharp, guarded agent and more the man who’d once whispered your name like a prayer in the dark. You traced the scar on his shoulder, the one he’d gotten on a mission he still wouldn’t talk about, and he shivered under your touch. "You’re staring at me again," you murmured, grinning when his ears turned pink.
"Can’t help it," he admitted, voice gruff. He ducked his head, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then another, slower one to the hollow of your throat. "You’re—" He stopped, exhaling sharply when you carded your fingers through his hair. Words had never been his strong suit, but the way his hands tightened on your hips said enough.
The alarm finally blared from his phone, the sound grating in the quiet, and Leon groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. "Fuck," he muttered, but he didn’t move. Not until you reached over and swiped the screen to silence it, your fingers lingering on his wrist. He turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with yours, and for a moment, it was just this—his calloused palm against yours, the steady rhythm of his breath, the way his thumb absently traced circles on your skin.
"Five more minutes," you said, tugging him back down. Leon didn’t resist. He never did, not with this. Not with you. He settled over you, his weight familiar and comforting, and brushed his nose against yours. "Five more minutes," he agreed, voice low, and then he was kissing you again, slow and deep, like he had all the time in the world. Like nothing else mattered.
"You’re too pretty for your own good," you murmured, thumb brushing over the sharp line of Leon's jaw. The morning light caught the faint stubble there, turning it gold, and you couldn’t help the possessive curl in your chest. "It’s unfair, really."
Leon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "Pretty?" he repeated, voice dry. "That’s a new one."
"You know what I mean." You traced the curve of his lower lip, ignoring the way his breath hitched. "All those women at work, staring at you like you’re some kind of—of—"
"Of what?" Leon prompted, grinning now.
"Of Greek statue," you muttered, scowling when he laughed outright. "It’s not funny. They don’t know you—how you snore when you’re exhausted, or how you sing under your breath when you’re cooking, or—" You stopped when his expression softened, the laughter fading into something quieter, warmer.
"Or what?" he murmured, leaning in until his forehead brushed yours.
"Or how you get this little crease right here"—you pressed your thumb between his brows—"when you're trying to pretend you're not worried about me." Leon's breath caught, and you felt the way his pulse jumped under your fingertips. He exhaled sharply through his nose, something raw flashing in his eyes before he ducked his head to hide it, pressing his lips to your palm instead.
Leon's lips lingered against your palm, warm and rough, before he turned his head just enough to meet your gaze again. The morning light caught the flecks of gold in his eyes, turning them molten, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. "They could stare all they want," he murmured, voice low, the words vibrating against your skin. "Wouldn’t change a damn thing." His thumb brushed your cheekbone, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of you. "You’re the only one who gets my heart beating, baby. My ring is proof of that."
The kiss deepened when you nipped at his lower lip, and Leon made a sound low in his throat—half-growl, half-sigh—before rolling you beneath him. His hands cradled your face like you were something fragile, even as his hips pressed yours into the mattress with a possessiveness that made your breath stutter. "Five minutes," he muttered against your mouth, voice already wrecked, and you laughed into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his sleep-mussed hair. "You're terrible at math."
Sunlight pooled across the bed now, gilding the sweat at the base of Leon’s throat as he pulled back just enough to catch his breath. His eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and you traced the curve of his bottom lip with your thumb, grinning when he caught it between his teeth. "We are gonna be late," he said, but his voice lacked conviction, especially when you arched against him deliberately. His groan was muffled against your shoulder. "Christ. You’re a menace."
The second alarm blared from his phone, and Leon exhaled sharply through his nose before reluctantly disentangling himself. You whined when the warmth of his body vanished, but he caught your wrist, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. "C’mon," he murmured, tugging you upright. "Breakfast is not gonna make itself."
You let him pull you to your feet, but not without dragging him into one last kiss, slow and syrup-sweet. Leon hummed against your lips, his hands settling on your hips like they belonged there—like they always had. When you finally broke apart, his smirk was smug. "Thought we were in a hurry," you teased, swatting his chest.
"Jesus," he muttered, but the pink at the tips of his ears betrayed him. He swiped his shirt off the floor, tossing it at your head with practiced ease, and you laughed when it landed half over your face.
The scent of coffee bloomed through the apartment as Leon moved around the kitchen—his shoulders relaxed, his movements smooth. You leaned against the doorway, watching the way his muscles shifted under his tank top, the way his fingers curled around the mug handle like it was second nature. He glanced up, catching you staring, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Nothing," you said, grinning when he rolled his eyes. You crossed the room, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. Leon sighed, but it was fond, his free hand covering yours where they rested against his stomach.
This piece of art literally does it for me EVERY SINGLE TIME. His hair, eyes, eye bags, hands, chest, chest, CHEST, HAIR AND HIS FINGERS OMFG HIS FINGERS.
baratheonpilled
jacobvanloon
kianamaiart
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