Hello I am a guy (age 29)who likes multiple animes such as All series of Dragonball,Yugioh, all series of beyblade,Pokemon, Saint Seiya and many others too long to list. Mostly got on tumblr so I could ask for requests but I do have ideas for things I can write just got to have time+do research+not be dead tired from work. Requests are Openāļø
In case my header Bio decides to not work I am a Guy with He/Him pronouns (Age 27) who likes/Loves multiple Animes). This is a safe place my safe place it can be your safe place for however long you are here as long as you follow some rules š. This is A non-Judgement Zone
Male Reader only Blog
No homophobia - Follow these steps back up and keep strolling
No Racism or hating anyone based on their Beliefs
No hating or shaming anyone based on their Tastes or hating my Tastes if you do why are you still here
I do not own any of the animes or series I will be writing for. All I own is fanfic ideas and other stuff I post for fun. Creators of pictures/gifs I use will be credited if I know who they are. Otherwise their will be a part that says pictures/gifs owned by there creators. And if I forget to put it it will be here Always.
I do know about Tv tropes so you can request a certain trope in a request (you need to clearly state the trope completely) tvtropes in my opinion is like a giant spider web where you can lose yourself in I lost a trope I was reading a long time ago all I remember
Is that it had something to do with animals.
Anon/Non Anons see my submissions managers
Anon hate will be sent to
I have to burn this.
Anon/Non-Anon love to
If any Anon/Non Anons want to send me helpful video links(tutorials) constructive advice see
(Picture by Maxiuchina22 Deviart)
So that is how you do that.
Also if anyone is kind enough can someone send a link or step by step on how to do a cut on a post like you see on NSFW POSTS I WILL BE GRATEFUL
I do follow several Blogs that are NSFW posts I like will be on my likes posts section be careful while interacting please if you do not like NSFW.
For The moment I will not Write pure NSFW AS reading it and writing it are two very different Things, I will do implied NSFW THROUGH.
There Will be GRAMMAR ERRORS PLEASE BARE WITH ME if you want to be helpful through send grammar video tutorials if you want?
Requests are open āļø
Masterlist
Reblogged Masterlist
When I take requests be patient as I work and sometimes the mind wants to but the body is
Fandoms I will write for
Dragonball all dragonball media and if I do not know the character I will read on who they are
Demon Slayer
Record of Ragnarok all characters except Aphrodite as I am indifferent to her existence .
Will only do Eve fluff. All Tokyo revengers Guys and platonic Enma.
Pokemon generation one to 8 . If you got a character from the anime I will do my best to write for them even if they only appeared in one episode ( have to tell me Their name) Also platonic trainer x Pokemon or Trainer x Pokemon angst. All Pokemon Movie characters.
Seven deadly Sins All characters except Chandler cause he killed my two favorite Characters Gloxinia and Drole . Also will not write For Elizabeth as to me she is meh. Also will not write for the Demon King because he killed Cusack The one who made my day when he killed Chandler.
I will Write for Beyblade Metal fusion, Masters , Fight . Beyblade Shogun Steel and Beyblade Burst evolution,Turbo and Rise. And Beywheelz.
Samurai Jack , BOBās BURGERS, THE GREAT NORTH. Regular Show oooohhhhhhhhhh .
We bare bears . Platonic Male human reader or Male animal romantic Reader.
Saint Seiya and Saint Seiya Lost Canvas . Not Athena as she in my opinion could have done more for my Saint Seiya Boys.All Avatar the Last Airbender characters except Ozai and foaming mouth guy.
Castlevania- only Trevor, Alucard, Dracula, Hector, Cho. No Sypha I am being petty cause she Killed Cho my fave .
Nezha both movies . Both versions of the main characters.
Fairy Tail Males + Erza cause she is Scary she might find me. Yu Yu hakusho all males only.
Genshin Impact -Diluc, Kaeya and Childe.
Inuyasha Male Characters only plus Kikyo cause she deserves better.
Blood of Zeus . Bleach
YUGIOH ORIGINAL TO ARC V .
Teen Titans 2003-2006 version
Justice league animated movie verse and Young justice beast boy -Conner - Kid flash wally .
MONOMA NEITO PLEASE .
Thundercats 2011. Note only platonic Cheetarah . Crushes for the Kits. The other characters are fair game even mummra (for him definitely not romantic).
Fire Force all Males plus Platonic iris.
Lion king x Male platonic human Reader and Romantic reader if the Reader upon true love kiss becomes an animal or mufasa turns them into a animal or They ask the Ancient spirits of Evil to turn them into an animal.
Some other rules. I can do head cannons ,one shots, sfw scenarios . Be specific in your requests. If you say male Anime character and Male reader I will write what comes to mind.
When I write I picture the male Reader as a Anime character from another anime and Assign them a Name see my Shinmon Benimaru ( Heracles)Male reader and my Son of Ares posts. In your requests you can specify what Anime Character you want to look like through have to tell me their name and which Anime They are from ( As in complete anime name I am bad with abbreviations) It helps me better immerse myself in the scene
This is Fanfiction please do not complain is characters are out of character or act different as fanfiction is where cannon goes to be defeated and where your favorite characters live (Drole, Gloxinia ,Lu bu, Heracles whyyyyyyy) . Big chance I will get lost in the prompt sent to me itās just how I am bear with me please. I also will write Monster Reader only Werewolf-Vampire-Centaur and Octocpus person like Ursula from little mermaid. I will do Soul mate Au and other Au I will do Omegaverse just not full on smut but I will do implied smut. No Sport Au as I am very unfamiliar with sports. Also while I do read Yandere I will not write it as I have seen enough of it to fill an ocean.
I have the right to deny a Request if I feel uncomfortable please respect me and my Blog.
Be kind please have some manners . Rule breakers will have to talk to
Glad someone else had the same idea to save this Nu Carnival event art. Honestly it should be automatically saved as a background these mini event arts.
okay but this is the purpose of the internet. I can look at a cute comic about a giraffe centaur who dropped his quarter trying to get a crappy vending machine snack. In no universe would I think of or make this myself. How awesome
[Image description: Five-panel comic of a giraffe-based centaur at a vending machine labeled āsnacks or some shitā. In the first panel, theyāre bending down with just their human torso to look at the bottom of the vending machine. The subsequent panels show them stooping lower and lower, reaching for something under the vending machine, first by splaying out their forelegs to the side and then going down on their knees so their human chest and arms are on the ground to peer under the machine. In the last panel, their whole body is lying flat on the floor looking exhausted.
The human torso of the āgiraffe-taurā has short, curly black hair and brown skin and connects to the giraffe body with a short section of giraffe neck. The brown-spotted yellow giraffe fur pattern extends partway up the human torso and on their lower arms. /end description]
This is horrific remember do the appropriate research and stay safe everyone , I am not trans but I support your right to exist and be happy fuck all anti-trans and anti gay bigots.
Immediately on Chao Xin's debut, it becomes very clear that the two of them are very different. Masamune and Chao Xin and foils for each other; they're two characters with different personalities and beliefs.
However, they are more similar than they seem at first glance.
Their biggest similarity is their confidence. Both Masamune and Chao Xin have complete faith in their abilities, maybe even a bit too much. But while is manifests in Masamune as ahis obnoxious, loud personality, Chao Xin's overconfidence makes him careless and uninterested. While Masamune revels in defeating his opponents decisively, Chao Xin prefers to just breeze through life because as far as he's concerned, he can get things done if he wants to.
This aspect leads to their first clash, where Chao Xin deflects all of Masamune's questions about him and his views on beyblade. To Chao Xin, Masamune is just a loud, annoying kid he could defeat easily. For Masamune, Chao Xin is a flashy show off whom he could defeat easily in a real battle.
Another similarity is that they're both very easy to goad into things. It's more obvious for Masamune because of his loud and expressive behaviour, but for Chao Xin, it's more in terms of his image. To convince him to battle Masamune, all Dashan has to do is say this:
Dashan: "I don't care if you're bored or your head hurts. You're gonna battle with him now. Or are you afraid of looking uncool if you lose to him?"
Chao Xin: "As if! I'm not afraid of anything."
That's all it takes to get Chao Xin to agree. For Masamune, this trait is even more obvious. For example, there's this exchange:
Chao Xin: "It's just that winning against you would have no meaning."
Masamune: "What did you say?! I would be the winner! Me, me, me!"
Another similarity they have is their tendency to disregard their opponents. With Masamune, this is first seen in his debut, where he doesn't take Yuu seriously at all and then leaves to find Gingka without even finshong the battle, declaring himself the winner arbitrarily. With Chao Xin, this tendency is one of the major problems Masamune has with him. In a way, Masamune's battle with Chao Xin on the Great Wall is him being on the receiving end of his treatment of others ā most notably Yuu.
In their first meeting and throughout their battle, Chao Xin doesn't take Masamune seriously at all, much like Masamune had taken Yuu easily in their first battle. Throughout this battle and the next one, Masamune keeps trying to get Chao Xin to take him seriously, to convince Chao Xn that he can't breeze through his career as a blader. There may be other similarities too, but Chao Xin's few major appearances make them harder to pinpoint.
Masamune and Chao Xin are two sides of the same coin; they have similar traits, if not the same, but they manifest in different ways. They're both arrogant, but Chao Xin is less in-your-face about it. They're both hot-headed, but it's more noticeable in Masamune bcause of the laid-back image Chao Xin puts up. They both show little respect for their opponents, but it's more noticeable in Chao Xin.
In a way, Masamune becomes to Chao Xin what Nile later on becomes to him: someone who shows them that there's always someone better. Up until this point, no one has been able to push Chao Xin to his limits in the way Masamune has, which is quite similar to Masamune's battle with Nile, only reverse.
Chao Xin is the one to first challenge Masamune's beliefs and ideals. Masamune is someone wo believes in hard work, dedication and persistence, whereas Chao Xin couldn't be more opposite in that regard. By defeating Chao Xin, using the very principles that Chao Xin challenges by simply existing, Masamune's faith in these ideals strengthens even more, though we don't truly see it until his battle with Klaus because his ego strengthens even more than that.
All in all, Masamune and Chao Xin are more similar than they seem at first glance, and their conflict is important to both characters because they both get something out of it. This is how you write a rivalry, with both people gaining something out of it.
š²š» ššµš¶š°šµ ā° juggling between two really hot sugar daddies is all fun and games, until they finally discover the truth, and both of them completely ruin you.
š¬š¼š»šš²š»š 10.3k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, threesome, age gap, double penetration, pet names, blowjob, handjob, unprotected sex (p in a), crying during sex, creampie, nipple play, heavy praise kink, size kink, manhandling, cum play, dirty talk, begging, obsessive behavior, emotional vulnerability, marking / biting, overstimulation, mild jealousy, hair pulling, fingering, rimming, multiple orgasms, aftercare.
it started innocently enough.
wellā¦ maybe not innocently, because nothing about your arrangement with nanami kento had ever been innocent; not the way he looked at you over his reading glasses when you walked into his apartment wearing nothing but one of his oversized dress shirts, not the way his voice dropped an octave when he called you his good boy after you'd done something particularly pleasing, not the way he fucked you slow and deep and so so so perfect on his expensive sheets every tuesday and friday night.
he was quiet and steady; the kind of man who made you feel safe just by existing in the same room.
and god, he was generous.
not just with his wallet (though that too, definitely that) but with his time, his attention, and his care.
nanami remembered everything about you; your coffee order, the name of your childhood pet, the way you liked your eggs in the morning (over easy, with toast, never bacon because you were picky about meat textures). he'd text you good morning every day without fail, and good night every evening, and if you ever mentioned being stressed or tired or overwhelmed, he'd show up at your door with takeout from your favorite restaurant and a quiet offer to run you a bath.
oh, and the sex was just as good as everything else.
nanami fucked like he lived ā deliberate, controlled, and devastatingly effective. he took his time with you, learned every sound you made, every spot that made you gasp, every angle that made you see stars. he was bigger than average in every sense, thick and heavy and curved just slightly to the left, and when he pushed inside you it felt like being filled with warm honey; slow and sweet and so, so much.
he never rushed, never demanded, never made you feel like anything less than the center of his universe.
and the way nanami looked at you after sex, with those tired brown eyes gone soft and fond, running his fingers through your hair while you caught your breath... god, it made you want to keep him forever.
but then there was higuruma hiromi.
you met higuruma three months into your arrangement with nanami, purely by accident. you'd been at a gallery opening ā one of those pretentious art things where the wine is free and the conversations are even emptier ā when a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit bumped into you near the bar.
"sorry," he'd said, and his voice was rough, used, like he'd spent too many hours in courtrooms arguing with people who should have known better. "didn't see you there."
you'd looked up and nearly choked on your champagne.
higuruma hiromi was striking; not handsome in the same way nanami was handsome, but striking in a way that made your stomach completely flip ā sharp jaw, darker skin, dark hair that curled slightly at the ends, falling into his face in a way that looked effortless but probably wasn't. and his eyes were intelligent and tired and so hungry all at once, and when they landed on you, they stayed.
"it's fine," you'd managed, and then, because you'd had three glasses of champagne and your filter was nonexistent; "you look like you'd rather be anywhere else."
higuruma had blinked at that, then laughed ā a real laugh, low and a little surprised, like he really hadn't expected to find anything funny tonight.
"that obvious?"
"only to someone else who'd rather be anywhere else."
he'd bought you another glass of champagne after that, and then another, and then the man had walked you to your car and asked for your number in a way that made it clear he wasn't used to asking for anything.
the very first time you went to higurumaās apartment ā a penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the city that made your chest ache ā you'd told yourself it was just Ć simple dinner, just getting to know each other, just two adults enjoying each other's company.
the second time you went to higurumaās apartment, you'd ended up on your knees on his ridiculously expensive rug while he stood over you with his shirt unbuttoned and his belt undone, looking down at you like you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.
higuruma was different from nanami.
where nanami was controlled, higuruma was intense. where nanami took his time, higuruma wanted you now, wanted you desperate, wanted to watch you fall apart for him over and over until you couldn't remember your own name. he was a prosecutor, which meant he spent his days arguing and his nights exhausted, and somehow, with you, he'd found a way to pour all that intensity into something that wasn't rage.
and higuruma was rougher than nanami.
not in a way that hurt ā never in a way that hurt, because higuruma might have been intense but he was also careful, always checking in, always making sure you were okay ā but in a way that left you breathless. he liked to hold you down, he liked to pull your hair, he liked to fuck you from behind while he whispered filthy things in your ear about how good you felt, how tight you were, how you were his, weren't you?
and you were. god, you were.
higuruma was also bigger than nanami.
longer, maybe not quite as thick, but long enough that when he pushed inside you it felt like he was reaching somewhere no one else had ever touched. the first time he'd fucked you, you'd come so hard you'd blacked out for a second, and when you came back to yourself he was hovering over you with genuine panic in his eyes.
"hey. hey, baby, stay with me. are you okay? shit, i'm sorry, i should haveā"
you'd kissed him quiet and told him you'd never been better.
and it was true.
so, just like that, you'd ended up with two sugar daddies; two older men, both successful, both ridiculously wealthy, both completely and utterly obsessed with you, and neither of them knew about the other.
at first, it was really easy.
nanami had you every tuesdays and fridays, and higuruma had you every mondays and thursdays. you had wednesdays and weekends to yourself, to recover, to sleep, to answer texts from both of them that grew increasingly desperate the longer you went without seeing them.
thinking about you, nanami would randomly text, and somehow those three words in his steady, understated way made your heart race just as much as the things higuruma sent; come over. i need you. now.
you told yourself it was fine; you weren't lying to either of them, exactly ā you just weren't telling them the whole truth. and it wasn't like you'd agreed to be exclusive or anything. the arrangements were clearly open-ended, casual in theory if not in practice, and neither of them had ever asked if you were seeing anyone else or not.
maybe they'd assumed, maybe they'd hoped, but neither of them had asked.
so you let yourself have both of them, you let yourself sink into nanami's steady warmth on tuesdays and fridays, let yourself burn in higuruma's intensity on mondays and thursdays, you let yourself be taken care of, financially and emotionally and sexually, in ways you'd never imagined possible.
you didn't work ā really, didn't have to. nanami had set up an account for you within the first month, transferring a generous allowance every week without you ever having to ask about or, and higuruma had done the same, though he'd handed you a black card during your third week together and said,
"spend whatever you want. i mean it."
you'd bought a lot of books, and some very nice loungewear, and a new mattress because your old one had been giving you back pain, and when both of them had asked about the charge on their respective statements, you'd told them the truth and they'd both offered to buy you a better one.
( nanami had actually gone with you to test mattresses, lying down next to you on display models in the middle of a showroom while you tried not to laugh at how serious he looked. higuruma had just sent you a link to a five-thousand-dollar mattress and said; "get this one, it's the best."
you'd gotten the one nanami helped you pick, and then you'd used higuruma's card to buy the sheets. )
it was the perfect setup imaginable.
you had everything you wanted ā money, attention, the kind of sex that left you walking funny for days ā and you didn't have to choose, didn't have to give up one for the other.
exceptā¦
except nanami was observant; it was one of the things you loved about him, the way he noticed everything, the way he remembered details that other people would have forgotten. and over time, he'd started to notice things.
the way you'd sometimes wince when you sat down on friday nights, even though you hadn't seen him since tuesday. the way you'd have fresh bruises on your hips that he hadn't put there, smaller finger-shaped marks than his that spoke of someone who held you way harder than nanami ever did. the way you'd sometimes smell faintly of a cologne that wasn't his at allā something woody and expensive, with notes of cedar and something darker, something almost smoky.
nanami hadn't said anything. well, not at first; he'd just filed the information away, let it sit in the back of his mind, turned it over like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
and then, one tuesday night, you'd fallen asleep on his couch after an especially thorough fucking, and your phone had buzzed on the coffee table.
nanami hadn't meant to look at your phone. he really hadn't. but the screen had lit up with a text message, and he'd glanced over automatically, the way literally anyone would, and he'd seen the name at the top of the notification, and the message underneath;
higuruma hiromi ā„ļø
you're not answering my texts. are you with someone?
nanami had felt something cold settle in his chest. it was not anger, exactly ā he wasn't really sure what it was. something heavier, something that tasted like betrayal and mine and how dare you all at once.
he'd known the name; everyone in the legal world in tokyo knew higuruma hiromi ā the defense attorney turned prosecutor with the perfect conviction rate and the reputation for being impossible to read. nanami had never met the man personally, but he'd seen his picture in legal journals, heard colleagues talk about him in hushed, respectful tones.
and now, apparently, higuruma hiromi was texting you.
nanami hadn't confronted you that night, he hadn't mentioned the text when you woke up and stretched and smiled at him like he was the only person in the world; he'd just kissed your forehead and made you breakfast and watched you leave with the same careful, measuring gaze he used in boardrooms when he knew someone was lying.
but he'd started paying closer attention after that.
meanwhile, higuruma had his own suspicions.
he wasn't a detective, but he'd spent enough time in courtrooms to know when someone was hiding something, and you, for all your sweetness, for all your desperate little sounds and the way you curled into him after sex like you never wanted to leave, were definitely hiding something.
it was the little things; the way you'd sometimes check your phone when you thought he wasn't looking, a guilty flush spreading across your cheeks. the way you'd never let him stay over on tuesdays or fridays, always making some excuse about needing to wake up early or having plans with friends. the way you'd sometimes say things that didn't quite add up, details shifting just slightly from one conversation to the next.
and then there were the marks, too.
higuruma always marked you.
not in a possessive way ā well, maybe a little in a possessive way ā but in a way that felt natural, instinctive. he liked to bite your neck, your shoulders, the inside of your thighs. he liked to leave bruises on your hips where his fingers dug in while he fucked you. he liked to watch you look at them in the mirror the next morning, he liked knowing that you'd carry pieces of him with you throughout your day.
but sometimes, when he saw you closely, there were marks he didn't recognize.
not bruises, exactly. more like... tenderness. a slight redness around your wrists that suggested someone had held them down, but way softer than the way higuruma held you. a faint little mark on your collarbone that looked like it had been made by lips, not by teeth.
and the way you moved sometimes ā carefully, like you were sore in places that he hadn't touched recently ā made something dark curl in his stomach.
higuruma really wasn't the jealous type. or at least, he hadn't thought he was, but the idea of someone else touching you, someone else making you gasp and moan and fall apart, someone else seeing you the way he saw you...
it made him want to do unreasonable things.
so when he'd sent that text on tuesday night ā "you're not answering my texts. are you with someone?" ā and you'd only replied the next morning with a string of apologies and excuses that didn't quite hold together, he'd started doing his own little investigating.
and it hadn't taken long.
nanami kento was not a subtle man; he was quiet, yes, and really reserved, but he wasn't subtle at all. his name appeared on your credit card statements when you bought groceries at the store near his apartment. your location ā which you'd foolishly left shared with higuruma ā showed you spending tuesday and friday nights at an address in a very wealthy neighborhood that wasn't yours.
and when higuruma had driven past that address one friday evening, just to see, he'd recognized the car in the driveway.
it was a very nice, understated and expensive car. the kind of car that belonged to someone who didn't need to show off because they already knew what they were worth.
and it was nanami kento's car.
higuruma had silently sat in his own car for a very, very long time that night, gripping the steering wheel, trying to decide how he felt. angry? yes, a little. hurt? more than a little. but mostly ā mostly, he was determined.
because you were his, and he was going to prove it.
the confrontation happened on a saturday.
you'd been careless; you'd spent friday night with nanami, as usual, and then you'd agreed to see higuruma on saturday afternoon, even though you'd told both of them you needed the weekend to yourself.
but higuruma had sounded so needy on the phone, his voice rough in that way it got when he'd been thinking about you too much, and you'd caved.
"come over," he'd said. "please. i need to see you."
and you'd gone, because you could never say no to higuruma when he said please.
you'd been at his apartment for about an hour, curled up on his couch in one of his t-shirts, when the doorbell rang.
higuruma had frowned. the man wasn't expecting anyone, and he'd told his doorman not to let anyone up, which meant whoever was at the door had either been cleared by security or had found another way in.
"stay here," he'd said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before standing up.
you'd nodded, pulling a blanket over your lap, and watched him walk to the door. he'd looked through the peephole first, and you'd seen his entire body go still.
"who is it?" you'd asked, suddenly nervous.
higuruma hadn't answered, he'd just unlocked the door and pulled it open, and there, standing in the hallway with his arms crossed over his chest and an expression on his face that you'd never seen before, was nanami kento.
"we need to talk," nanami had said, his voice flat, not looking at higuruma, but looking at you.
your heart had completely stopped.
"kentoā" you'd started, but your voice came out as a squeak, and you'd had to stop and clear your throat before speaking again. "kento, i can explainā"
"can you?" he'd stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. his eyes hadn't left yours. "because i've been waiting for an explanation for quite some time now."
higuruma had moved to stand between you and nanami, his posture defensive. "how did you get up here?"
"your doorman is very professional," nanami had said, still looking at you. "but he's also very easy to persuade when you tell him you're here to see your boyfriend."
"you're not hisā"
"neither are you," nanami had cut him off, finally turning to face him. "not exclusively, anyway. which i think is the point we're both here to discuss."
the air in the room had been thick enough to cut with a knife. you'd pulled your knees up to your chest, making yourself as small as possible, trying to disappear into the couch cushions.
"i'm not going to yell," nanami had said, and his voice was still calm, still steady, but there was something underneath it that made you shiver. "i'm not going to make a scene. but we are going to talk about this. all three of us."
higuruma had looked at you then, and his expression had softened slightly, just enough to make your chest ache.
"is this true?" he'd asked. "have you been seeing both of us?"
you'd swallowed hard, and you nodded.
"for how long?"
"...six months."
higuruma had closed his eyes, and nanami had exhaled slowly through his nose.
and then, instead of yelling, instead of leaving, instead of any of the things you'd imagined happening in your worst-case scenarios, they'd both sat down.
nanami on the armchair across from the couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. higuruma next to you on the couch, not touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"here's what's going to happen," nanami had said, and his voice was calm in a way that made your stomach flip. "we're going to talk. you're going to tell us the truth. and then we're going to figure out what comes next."
"butā"
"no buts," higuruma had interrupted, and his voice was rougher than usual, strained. "you owe us that much."
so you'd talked.
you'd told them everything ā how you'd met nanami first, how you'd fallen into the arrangement with him, how you'd met higuruma by accident and hadn't been able to say no. you'd told them about the lies you'd told, the schedules you'd juggled, the guilt you'd felt (sometimes) and the way you'd convinced yourself it was totally fine because neither of them had asked for exclusivity.
you'd cried a little, towards the end.
not because you were scared ā though you were, a little ā but because saying it all out loud made it real in a way it hadn't been before, made you see yourself through their eyes; selfish, greedy, taking everything both of them had to offer without giving either of them the full truth.
when you'd finished, the silence had stretched out for a long time, and nanami had been the first to speak.
"i'm not going to pretend i'm not hurt," he'd said quietly. "because i am. i thought... i thought what we had was special. i thought you felt the same way i did."
"i doā"
"but i'm also not going to pretend i don't understand," he'd continued, cutting you off gently. "you're young. you wanted to be taken care of. and neither of us ever asked if you were seeing anyone else. that's on us as much as it's on you."
higuruma had made a little sound, something between a laugh and a scoff.
"you're being very reasonable about this."
"would you prefer i wasn't?"
"no," higuruma had admitted. "i'd just... you know, i'd expected more of a fight."
nanami had looked at higuruma then, and something had passed between them, something you couldn't quite read.
"i'm not going to fight you," nanami had said. "that's not productive. but i'm also not going to walk away."
"neither am i," higuruma had said, and his voice had hardened a little. "so what does that leave?"
another silence, this one was longer this time.
and then nanami had said, very quietly;
"it leaves us with a choice. we can both walk away, and let him find someone else. or we can..."
"can what?"
nanami had looked at you; his eyes were unreadable, but there was something in them that made your breath catch.
"or we can share."
the conversation that followed had been... intense.
not angry, exactly. neither nanami nor higuruma seemed interested in yelling, which honestly surprised you; you'd expected more fireworks, accusations, maybe some thrown furniture. instead, they'd talked to each other, and to you, with the kind of measured calm that felt almost more unnerving than anger would have been.
nanami had asked practical questions ā how often do you see him? what does your schedule look like? has he been tested recently? ā he'd approached it like a business negotiation, which made sense given nanamiās background, but there was something underneath the practicality that you recognized: the man was hurting, trying to maintain control because he didn't know what else to do.
higuruma had been less composed; he'd paced the length of the living room while they talked, running his hands through his hair, stopping every few minutes to look at you like he was trying to memorize your face. he'd asked different questions, too ā why didn't you tell me? did you think i wouldn't understand? do you have any idea how i felt when i figured it out? ā and his voice had cracked on the last one, just slightly, in a way that made your heart clench.
you'd answered everything honestly. no more lies. no more half-truths. you owed them that much.
and somehow, impossibly, they'd come to an agreement.
"we're not going to make you choose," nanami had said finally, after nearly two hours of talking. "that wouldn't be fair to anyone. but things are going to change."
"what kind of changes?" you'd asked, your voice small.
higuruma had stopped pacing, and he looked at nanami, and then he nodded once, sharply.
"from now on," nanami had said, "you don't lie to us. about anything. if you're seeing one of us, the other knows. if you need something, you simply ask. and if you want to be with both of us at the same time..."
he'd trailed off, and the look he'd exchanged with higuruma had been loaded with something you couldn't quite name.
"we'll figure that out as we go," higuruma had finished. "but right nowā"
"right now," nanami had said, standing up from the armchair, "i think we need to establish some things."
he'd walked over to the couch, stood in front of you, looked down at you with those tired brown eyes that had gone dark with something that looked a lot like hunger.
"stand up," he'd said quietly.
you'd stood.
"take off his shirt."
you'd blinked, and looked at higuruma, who was watching you both with an expression that made your stomach flip.
"kentoā"
"you heard me," nanamiās voice was still calm, but there was an edge to it now. "you've been lying to us for six months. keeping secrets. letting us think we were the only ones. don't you think you owe us something?"
your mouth had gone dry.
slowly, keeping your eyes on nanami's, you'd pulled the shirt over your head, then dropped it on the floor, and stood there in nothing but your underwear, shivering slightly even though the apartment was warm.
nanami had looked at you for a very long moment.
then he'd slowly reached out and traced a finger down your chest, over your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your underwear.
"you're beautiful," he'd said, and the words had sounded almost reluctant, like he didn't want to admit it. "you know that, don't you? you know why we both put up with this?"
you'd shaken your head, not trusting your voice.
"because you're ours," higuruma had said from behind you, and his voice was rough, ragged. "or you were supposed to be. and we're going to remind you of that."
you'd felt higuruma move closer, felt his chest press against your back, felt his breath hot on your neck. nanami was still in front of you, still tracing patterns on your skin, and you were trapped between them, surrounded by them, drowning in the smell of both their colognes and the heat of their bodies.
"whatā" you'd started, but you couldn't finish, because nanami had leaned in and kissed you.
it wasn't like his usual kisses; those were slow, gentle, almost reverent. this one was hungry. his hand came up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place, and his tongue pushed into your mouth like he was claiming you, marking you, reminding you who you belonged to.
you'd moaned into his mouth, and behind you, higuruma had made a sound ā low and dark and possessive ā and then his hands were on your hips, pulling you back against him, and you could feel him hard through his pants.
"kento," you'd gasped when he finally pulled back. "h-hiromi, pleaseā"
"please what?" nanami had asked, and his voice was rough now, not calm at all. "please fuck you? please remind you that you're ours? please make you forget every lie you've ever told?"
"yes," you'd breathed. "yes."
higuruma had turned your head to the side, captured your mouth in a kiss that was nothing like nanami's; this one was all teeth and tongue and need, and when he pulled back you were dizzy, barely able to stand.
"bedroom," higuruma had said, and it wasn't a question.
higurumaās bedroom was as impressive as the rest of his luxurious apartment ā floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city, a king-sized bed with sheets that probably cost more than your first car, soft lighting that made everything feel hazy and unreal.
you barely had time to take it in before you were being pushed onto the bed, falling back against the pillows, looking up at two very hot men who were both staring at you like you were the last meal they'd ever have.
nanami was unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate, careful movements, the way he did everything. his chest was broad, muscular without being bulky, with a smattering of blond hair that you'd spent hours tracing with your fingers. he caught you looking and raised an eyebrow, and something about the expression on his face made your cock twitch.
higuruma was less patient; the man had already pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his skin stretched over lean muscle, a body that looked like it had been carved out of something harder than flesh. his pants came next, then his boxers, and when he was fully naked you had to remind yourself how to breathe.
you'd seen both of them naked before, of course, many times, but seeing them together, standing side by side, both of them hard and watching you with the same dark intensity...
it was a lot.
"like what you see, baby?" higuruma asked, and there was something almost challenging in his voice. "because we've been looking at you for six months. wondering. imagining what it would be like to have you like this."
"iā"
"take off your underwear," nanami interrupted, and his voice was calm again, a little more controlled, but his eyes were anything but. "slowly."
you did as he said, hooking your thumbs into the waistband and pushing them down your legs; your cock sprang free, already hard, leaking precum onto your stomach, and both of them watched with matching expressions of hunger.
"fuck," higuruma breathed. "look at you, baby. so desperate for it already."
"he's always desperate," nanami said, and there was something almost fond in his voice. "that's one of the things i like about him. he never pretends he doesn't want it."
"i don't," you admitted, your voice shaking. "i want it. i want you. both of youāplease."
nanami climbed onto the bed first, settling on his knees just beside you. he reached out and ran his hand down your chest, over your stomach, wrapping his fingers around your cock in a grip that made you gasp.
"you're going to take both of us tonight," he said, stroking you slowly, watching your face. "do you understand what that means, sweetheart?"
you nodded frantically.
"i want to hear you say it."
"i'm going to take both of you," you repeated, and your voice cracked on the last word. "i want to. i wantā"
"what do you want?" higuruma asked, climbing onto the bed on your other side.
his huge hand joined nanami's on your cock, and the insane sensation of both of them touching you at once made your hips buck off the bed.
"tell us exactly what you want, baby. use your words."
"iā¦ i want you to fuck me," you gasped. "both of you. at the same time. i wantāi want you to ruin me, i want to be so full i can't think, i want you to use me until i can't remember my own nameāplease."
"that's enough," nanami said, and there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "we'll give you what you want. but we're going to take our time."
higuruma leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, while nanami's hand kept moving on your cock. you were already close, embarrassingly close, but they didn't seem to care; they just kept touching you, kissing you, surrounding you until you couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began.
"turn over," nanami said eventually, and his voice was soft but firm. "on your hands and knees."
you moved without thinking, rolling onto your stomach and pushing up onto your hands and knees.
you could easily feel both of them behind you now, you could feel the heat of their bodies, you could hear the sounds of them moving ā the rustle of sheets, the soft exhale of breath, the wet click of a lube bottle opening ā and you had to close your eyes because it was too much.
"so pretty like this," higuruma murmured, and then you felt his hands on your ass, spreading you open.
his thumbs pulled your cheeks apart, and you knew he could see everything ā your hole, still slightly pink from earlier in the week, the way it was already clenching around nothing.
"look at this perfect little hole. do you know how many times i've thought about this? about having you like this while someone else watches?"
"or helps," nanami added, and then you felt his finger ā wet with lube, cool against your heated skin ā press against your entrance, with higuruma still spreading you open
you moaned, pushing back against him, and he slid inside you easily. one finger, then two, stretching you open, and behind you higuruma was watching, breathing hard, his hands still on your ass, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin there.
"he's so tight," nanami said, and his voice was strained now, all the calm control slipping away. "even after everything we've done to him, he's still so fucking tight."
"add another," higuruma said, and it wasn't a request.
nanami did, and you cried out at the stretch, at the fullness, at the way both of them were looking at you like you were something precious and filthy all at once.
nanami's fingers curled inside you, searching, and when he found that sweet little spot ā the one that made your vision go completely white ā you collapsed forward onto your elbows, your whole body shaking.
"there," higuruma said, and his voice was low, almost reverent. "that's it, isn't it? that's the spot that makes him fall apart."
"it is," nanami agreed, and he pressed against it again, harder this time, watching your reaction. "he's so responsive. look at him. he's already crying."
he was right; there were tears on your cheeks, sliding down to drip onto the sheets below. you hadn't even noticed.
"ready?" nanami asked.
you nodded, not trusting your voice.
but it wasn't nanami who pushed into you first.
it was higuruma.
he lined himself up behind you, and you felt the head of his cock ā long and thick and so much, too much, exactly enough ā press against your stretched hole. he pushed in slowly, so slowly, giving you time to adjust, and you buried your face in the pillows and screamed.
not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming size of him, the way he seemed to go on forever, filling you inch by inch until you were sure he was going to split you open.
"shh," higuruma said, but his voice was shaking. "shh, baby, i've got you. just breathe."
you tried to breathe, but it was really hard when higuruma was inside you, filling you up, reaching deeper than anyone had ever reached before. when he was finally fully seated, his hips flush against your ass, you were trembling, tears already leaking from your eyes in earnest.
"good boy," nanami said softly, and then you felt him move.
he'd positioned himself in front of you, kneeling between your hands and your head, and you looked up at him through tear-blurred eyes; nanamiās huge cock was right there, hard and heavy and already leaking, the head flushed dark, and you understood what he wanted.
"open," he said, and you opened your mouth.
he pushed inside slowly, not as deep as he could have, giving you time to adjust. you had higuruma in your ass and nanami in your mouth, and you were so full, so impossibly full, and you could feel yourself shaking apart at the seams.
"there you go," nanami murmured, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. "just like that. take it."
higuruma started moving first ā slow, deep thrusts that pushed you forward onto nanami's cock. nanami groaned, his hips twitching, and then he started moving too, thrusting into your mouth in rhythm with higuruma's thrusts.
in. out. in. out.
you were nothing but a body between them, a place for them to fuck, and somehow it was exactly what you needed. you wanted to be used. wanted to be filled. wanted to forget everything except the feeling of them inside you.
"he's taking us so well," higuruma said, and his voice was completely wrecked, desperate. "look at him. look at how well he's taking us."
nanami looked down at you, and his eyes were dark, almost black, his pupils blown wide.
"he's perfect," he said, and the words were simple but they hit you like a physical blow. "our perfect boy."
you moaned around nanami's cock, and the vibration made him swear, his hips stuttering.
"f-fuckādo that again," he said, and you did, moaning as higuruma hit that sweet spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyes.
"found it," higuruma said, and there was satisfaction in his voice, a dark kind of pleasure. "found that spot, didn't i, baby? that spot that makes you see god?"
you tried to answer, but all that came out was another moan, and nanami's grip on your head tightened.
"keep going," nanami said, and you couldn't tell if he was talking to you or to higuruma. "don't stop."
they didn't stop.
they fucked you like they'd been waiting their whole lives for this moment, like they were trying to make up for six months of not knowing, like they wanted to leave marks on you that would never fade. higuruma's thrusts got harder, faster, and each one pushed you further onto nanami's cock, and you were drooling, crying, making sounds you'd never made before ā high-pitched, desperate, almost animal.
"close," you heard yourself say, or maybe you just thought it, because you literally couldn't feel your mouth anymore. "i'm close, i'm gonnaā"
"not yet," nanami said, and he pulled out of your mouth, leaving you gasping, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock. "you don't come until we tell you to."
you sobbed at the loss, at the denial, at the way your body was screaming for release; but you didn't cum. you held on, because nanami had told you to, because higuruma was still fucking you, because you would do anything they asked.
"turn him over," nanami said, and higuruma simply pulled out, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, at the sudden absence of being filled.
they flipped you onto your back with gentle but firm hands, and then nanami was above you, pushing your legs up, spreading you open. he lined himself up ā you saw him do it, saw the head of his cock press against your slick, stretched hole ā and pushed inside in one smooth movement.
you screamed again because nanami was different from higuruma ā he was thicker, not as long, but the stretch was almost too much, a different kind of fullness that made your toes curl and your back arch off the bed.
"fuck," nanami breathed, and his composure was gone now, completely gone. his forehead was beaded with sweat, his jaw tight, and his eyes half-closed. "fuck, you're tight. you're so fucking tight, sweetheart."
"please," you begged. "please, kento, pleaseā"
"higuruma," nanami said, and his voice was commanding despite the way it shook. "get behind him."
you felt the bed shift, you felt higuruma move behind you, you felt him lift your head and shoulders onto his lap, and you were angled now; your hips raised, your hole completely exposed, and nanami was still inside you, still filling you, still stretching you in the most delicious way.
"ready?" higuruma asked, and you felt his cock ā slick with lube, thank god, thank every deity that had ever existed ā press against your hole alongside nanami's.
"waitā" you started, but it was too late.
they pushed in together.
you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do a damn thing except feel ā feel the impossible stretch, the burning fullness, the way they both fit inside you like they'd been made to be there. you were so full you thought you might break, might shatter into a million pieces and never come back together.
"breathe," nanami said, and his voice was strained, shaking, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "breathe, sweetheart. you can take it."
"he's taking it," higuruma said from behind you, and his voice was wonderstruck, almost reverent. "he's actually taking both of us. look at him."
you couldn't look at yourself. actually, you could barely keep your eyes open at all.
but you could feel the way your body was stretched around them, feel the way they were both so deep inside you that you couldn't tell where one of them ended and the other began. you could feel your own heartbeat pulsing around them, feel every inch of them both.
"move," you gasped. "please, please move, i needā"
nanami moved first, pulling out halfway and pushing back in. higuruma followed, and suddenly they were fucking you in tandem, one pulling out while the other pushed in, a rhythm that left you gasping and crying and begging for more.
"so good," nanami groaned, and his forehead was pressed against yours, his eyes locked on your face. "so good for us, sweetheart. our perfect boy."
"ours," higuruma echoed, and his hand came around to grip your hip, holding you in place while he thrust up into you. "you're ours now. no more lies. no more secrets. just us."
"just us," you repeated, and you didn't know if you meant it or if you were just saying words, but it didn't matter.
nothing mattered except the way they were moving inside you, the way they were completely filling you, the way they were taking you apart piece by piece.
you came first ā without permission, without warning, your cock spurting onto your stomach as your body clenched around them both. you heard yourself scream, felt them both groan, felt them both thrust deeper as your orgasm ripped through you like a freight train.
"fuck," nanami said, and his voice was wrecked. "fuck, he's clenching around us."
"can'tācan't hold onā" higuruma started, but then he was coming too, you could feel it, feel him spilling inside you, hot and thick and so much, filling you even more.
nanami followed a moment later, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into you, adding to the mess inside you, making you feel impossibly, obscenely full.
and then there was silence.
just the sound of three people breathing, trying to remember how to exist outside of this moment.
you thought it was over.
oh, you were so so so wrong.
nanami pulled out first, and you whimpered at the loss, at the feeling of his cum and higuruma's leaking out of you, dripping down onto the sheets. higuruma pulled out a moment later, and you felt emptier than you'd ever felt in your entire life.
"don't," you started, but you didn't know what you were asking for. don't stop? don't leave? don't make me feel this alone?
"we're not done with you," nanami said, and his voice was soft but certain. "not even close."
he rolled you onto your side, and you felt fingers ā whose, you couldn't tell anymore ā push back into you, pushing their cum deeper, making you moan and arch your back.
"he's still hard," higuruma said, and there was disbelief in his voice. "look. he's still hard."
you looked down and saw that he was right; your cock was already pathetically filling again, twitching against your stomach, desperate for more despite everything you'd already just been through.
"he's young," nanami said, like that explained everything. "and he wants this. don't you, sweetheart? you want more?"
"y-yes, please," you said, and your voice was hoarse from screaming. "please. more. i can take more."
and oh, they did gave you more.
this time, they properly took turn, thoroughly, like they were trying to see who could make you fall apart faster.
higuruma went first.
he pulled you onto your hands and knees again, and nanami positioned himself in front of you, sitting against the headboard with his legs spread, his cock hard and waiting.
"come here, sweetheart," nanami said, and you crawled toward him on shaky limbs, your body trembling with exhaustion and want. "suck me while he fucks you."
you opened your mouth and took nanami's cock as deep as you could, moaning around him as you felt higuruma line up behind you. this time there was no hesitation ā he pushed in in one smooth movement, and you were full again, so full, and you could feel every inch of him as he started to move.
"that's it," higuruma said, his hands gripping your hips, his thrusts deep and slow and deliberate. "take it. take all of it."
nanami's hand was in your hair, not forcing you, just resting there, guiding you gently.
"you're doing so well," he murmured. "so good for us. look at you, taking both of us like you were made for it."
you wanted to say something, to tell them how good it felt, how much you really needed this, but your mouth was so full and your brain was completely melting and all that came out was a desperate, muffled sound.
higuruma fucked you like that for what felt like hours ā deep, rolling thrusts that hit that spot every single time, that made you see stars behind your closed eyelids. nanami's cock was heavy on your tongue, and you could taste yourself on him, could taste the salt of his skin, could feel the way his thighs tensed every time you swallowed around him.
"fuckāi'm close," higuruma said, his voice tight. "where do you want it, baby?"
"inside," you gasped, pulling off nanami's cock just long enough to say it. "please, inside, want to feel itā"
higuruma came with a groan that sounded like your name, spilling inside you for the second time that night, and the feeling of him pulsing inside you pushed you over the edge again; you came with a cry, your cock twitching against your stomach, and nanami watched it all with dark, hungry eyes.
"my turn," nanami said, and there was something almost competitive in his voice.
nanami pulled you into his lap, your back against his chest, your legs spread wide over his thighs. he was inside you before you could even catch your breath, his thick cock filling you in a way that made your eyes roll back.
"hold him," nanami said to higuruma, and higuruma moved to kneel in front of you, his hands coming up to cup your face, to tilt your head down so you could see.
"watch," higuruma said softly. "watch him fuck you."
you obediently looked down and saw it ā saw nanami's cock disappearing into your ruined hole, saw the way your body stretched around him, saw the mess of cum and lube that coated your thighs. it was obscene. it was perfect.
nanami's hands were on your hips, lifting you up and down on his cock, using you like a toy.
"you feel that, sweetheart?" nanamo asked, his mouth against your ear, his breath hot. "you feel how deep i am, hm? you're never going to forget this. never going to forget what it feels like to have both of us."
"n-never," you agreed, because it was true.
you could feel him in your throat, in your fingertips, in the way your heart was pounding.
higuruma leaned forward and kissed you while nanami fucked you, slow and deep and filthy. his tongue slid against yours, and you could taste yourself on him, too ā or maybe that was just the air, thick with the smell of sex and sweat and three bodies tangled together.
nanami's thrusts got faster, harder, and you broke the kiss to bury your face in higuruma's shoulder, to sob against his skin as nanami hit your sweet spot over and over and over again.
"come for him," higuruma murmured against your hair. "come for him, baby. you can do it."
you came again ā a dry, shaking orgasm that left you gasping, your body convulsing in nanami's arms. nanami followed right after, his hips stuttering as he filled you for the third time, adding to the mess inside you.
"good boy," nanami said, kissing your shoulder, your neck, the spot behind your ear. "such a good boy."
you thought maybe that was it.
yeah, maybe they'd finally had enough of you.
but holy shit, when nanami pulled out and softly laid you down on the bed, higuruma was already moving between your legs, his cock hard again, his eyes dark.
"again," he said, and it wasn't a question.
"again," nanami agreed, and damn, he was hard too, already reaching for the lube.
you should have been scared, you should have been exhausted, and you were exhausted ā but your body was still on fire, still hungry, still desperate for more.
"please," you heard yourself say. "please, i needā"
"we know what you need," nanami said, and then they were both inside you again, and you couldn't think, couldn't even breathe, couldn't do anything except feel, once again.
they fucked you together for a third time ā and then a fourth.
each time was always different; sometimes they moved in tandem, one pulling out as the other pushed in, a rhythm that left you completely gasping. sometimes they moved together, both thrusting at the same time, stretching you so wide you were sure you'd never be the same. sometimes they stopped moving entirely, just stayed buried deep inside you, letting you feel how full you were, how completely owned.
"look at you," higuruma said during one of those pauses, his hand tracing down your chest, your stomach, stopping just above where they were both buried inside you. "look at how well you're taking us, baby."
you couldn't look, after all, you could barely keep your eyes open, but you could feel ā feel the way your body had adjusted to them, the way your hole was stretched and slick and completely ruined.
"he's crying again," nanami observed, and his voice was soft, almost gentle. "are you okay, sweetheart?"
you nodded, even though you weren't sure if it was true. you were more than okay. you were something else entirely ā something that didn't have words.
"he's so pretty when he cries," higuruma said, and he leaned down to sweetly kiss the tears off your cheeks. "so so pretty. our pretty boy."
"yours," you dumbly agreed, because you really couldn't say anything else. "yours, yours, yours."
they took turns again after that.
higuruma fucked you while nanami watched, his hand on your cock, stroking you in time with higuruma's thrusts. you came again ā you'd lost count by now ā and higuruma followed right after, spilling inside you for god knows how much time.
then nanami fucked you while higuruma held you, your back against his chest, his hands pinching your nipples, his mouth whispering filthy things in your ear. you came again, a weak, shaking orgasm that left you sobbing, and nanami came inside you with a groan that sounded like your name.
then they both fucked you again, together, and you lost count of how many times you came. lost track of time. lost track of everything except the feeling of being filled, used, loved.
at some point, the tears stopped being just from pleasure.
they started being from something else entirely ā something that felt more like release, like forgiveness, like being seen for the first time in your life.
you'd spent six months lying to these men. six months sneaking around, splitting your time, convincing yourself that you weren't doing anything wrong because they were both giving you what you needed. but they'd been giving you more than that; they'd been giving you pieces of themselves ā their time, their attention, their bodies, their hearts.
and you'd been too scared to give them the same.
"i'm sorry," you sobbed, and you didn't even know which one of them you were talking to. "i'm so so so sorry, i should have told you, i should have ā"
"shh," nanami said, and he was inside you again ā or maybe he'd never left, you couldn't tell anymore ā and his voice was so gentle, softer than you'd ever heard it. "shh, baby. it's okay. we're not angry."
"we're not," higuruma agreed, and his hand was on your cheek, wiping away tears. "we were, at first. but not anymore."
"why not?" you asked, because you didn't understand.
you'd lied to them, betrayed their trust, done exactly what they'd been afraid of.
"because you're here, sweetheart," nanami said simply. "because you let us do this. because you could have run, but you didn't. you stayed."
"and because we love you," higuruma added, and the words hung in the air, heavy and real. "both of us. we love you, even though you're an idiot."
you laughed at that ā a wet, broken sound that turned into another sob.
"i love you too," you said. "both of you. i didn'tāi didn't know how to choose."
"you don't have to choose," nanami said. "that's what we're trying to tell you."
they fucked you one more time after that ā slow this time, gentle, like they were trying to prove something to you.
nanami was deep inside you while higuruma was deep in your mouth, and you could feel both of them getting close, could feel your own orgasm building again even though you didn't think you had anything left.
"together," nanami said, and his voice was strained.
you came together, the three of you, and it felt like something breaking and something healing all at once.
to be honest, you don't remember much after that.
there are flashes ā nanami carrying you to the bathroom, the warm water of the shower, gentle hands washing you clean. higuruma's voice, low and soothing, telling you that you did so well, that you're so good, that they're so proud of you.
you remember being laid down on fresh sheets ā when did they even change the sheets? ā and covered with a blanket that smells like both of them. you remember nanami pressing a glass of water to your lips, making you drink, making you eat small bites of something sweet. you remember higuruma brushing your hair back from your forehead, his touch so gentle it made you want to cry all over again.
and then you remember waking up.
you're in the middle of higurumaās bed, sandwiched between two warm bodies.
nanami is the one on your left; his arm draped across your chest, his face pressed into your shoulder. his breathing is slow and even, and even in sleep he looks like he's thinking about something ā his brow is slightly furrowed, his lips pressed together. higuruma is the one on your right; his hand on your hip, his forehead against your temple. he's snoring, just a little, a soft sound that you've never heard before because you've never stayed the night.
they're both asleep.
you lie there for a long time, just breathing, just feeling; your body aches in ways you didn't know it could ache ā your hole is sore, your thighs are bruised, your throat is raw, and there's a dull throb in your lower back that you're pretty sure is going to hurt like hell tomorrow.
but underneath the pain, there's something else; something that feels like peace.
nanami stirs first, his eyes fluttering open. he looks at you for a moment, and then he smiles ā a real smile, small and soft and so full of love that it makes your chest hurt.
"how are you feeling?" he asks, his voice rough with sleep.
"sore," you admit. "but good. really, really good."
"good," he says, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "you were amazing last night. i've never seen anything like that."
"neither have i," higuruma mumbles from your other side, and you realize he's awake too. his hand squeezes your hip, and he shifts closer, pressing his chest against your back. "you're fucking incredible, you know that?"
you blush, hiding your face in the pillow.
"you guys are just saying that because you came inside me likeā¦ five times."
"six," nanami corrects, and there's something like amusement in his voice. "i counted."
"i counted seven," higuruma says. "but i lost track at the end."
you groan, and they both laugh ā real laughs, warm and genuine, and the sound of them laughing together makes something loosen in your chest.
"we need to talk," nanami says eventually, and his voice is softly serious again. "about what happens now."
your body slowly tense, but higuruma's hand rubs circles on your hip, soothing you.
"not like that," higuruma says. "we're not going anywhere. we just need to figure out... logistics."
"logistics," you repeat, and you can't help but laugh. "you want to talk about logistics? right now? when i can barely walk?"
"i'll carry you," nanami says simply. "if you need me to. but yes, we need to talk about logistics. because i'm not sharing you if it means i only get to see you twice a week."
"neither am i," higuruma agrees. "so we need to figure out a schedule. or..."
"or?" you ask.
nanami and higuruma look at each other, and something passes between them, some silent communication you're not privy to ā a raised eyebrow, a slight nod, an understanding that seems to happen without words.
"or," nanami says slowly. "we could stop pretending this is casual. stop pretending we're just sugar daddies and you're just a sugar baby. and try... something else."
"what kind of something else?"
higuruma takes a deep breath.
"the kind where you move in with us. where we take care of you together. where you don't have to choose because you don't have to choose. you can have both of us, if you want. if we can figure out how to make it work."
you stare at him, then at nanami, then back at higuruma.
"you're serious?" you say.
"i've never been more serious about anything in my life," nanami says, and his voice is quiet but fierce. "i've spent six months falling in love with you. and last night, watching you with him... i realized that loving you doesn't mean i have to keep you to myself. it means i want you to be happy. and if being with both of us makes you happy..."
"it does," you say quickly. "god, it really does. but are you sure? like, both of you? because this isāthis is insane. you barely know each other."
"we know each other well enough," higuruma says, and there's something almost sheepish in his voice. "we talked. while you were asleep. for like, three hours."
"you talked about me for three hours?"
"we talked about us," nanami corrects. "about what we want. about what we're willing to try. and we both agree that you're worth it. that this is worth it."
you don't know what to say. your eyes are stinging again, but this time it's not from pleasure or pain or overwhelm; it's from something else, something that feels like relief.
"okay," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "okay. let's try."
nanami kisses you first ā soft, sweet, and full of promise. then higuruma kisses you too, deeper, slower, like he's trying to memorize the taste of you. and then they both kiss you, and it's clumsy and awkward and perfect, and you laugh against their mouths because you can't help it.
"one more thing," higuruma says when you break apart. "no more secrets. no more lies. if something's wrong, you tell us. if you need something, you ask. and if you want somethingā"
"i'll tell you," you finish. "i promise. no more secrets."
"good," nanami says, and he pulls you closer to him, tucking you against his chest. "because i don't think my heart can take any more surprises."
"my heart either," higuruma agrees, pressing against your back. "you're going to be the death of us, you know that?"
"but what a way to go," nanami murmurs, and you can hear the soft smile in his voice.
you close your eyes, surrounded by warmth, by love, by two men who are completely and utterly obsessed with you.
and for the very first time in six months, you don't feel guilty about it at all; you feel home.
bonus ā three months later.
the apartment is ridiculous.
it's a penthouse ā bigger than both of their previous places combined ā with three bedrooms (one for each of you, though you've never slept in yours), a kitchen that looks like it belongs in a magazine, and a view of the city that still makes you catch your breath every time you look out the window.
nanami is in the kitchen, making breakfast; he's wearing an apron over his dress shirt ā he has a meeting later, something about investments and portfolios and words that go in one ear and out the other ā and he's humming something under his breath, his movements precise and efficient.
higuruma is on the couch, reading a case file, his reading glasses perched on his nose; he looks exhausted ā he was in court until late last night ā but there's a small smile on his face when he looks up and catches you watching him.
"stop staring," he says, but his voice is fond.
"can't help it," you say, stretching out on the couch with your head in his lap. "you're pretty."
higuruma snorts. "i'm pretty?"
"very pretty. the prettiest."
"what am i?" nanami calls from the kitchen, and there's amusement in his voice. "chopped liver?"
"you're handsome," you correct. "there's a difference."
"is there?"
"definitely. higuruma is pretty, you're handsome, and i'm adorable. we all have our roles."
higuruma laughs, and the sound makes your chest warm.
"adorable," he repeats. "that's one word for it."
"what other words would you use?"
"insatiable," higuruma says. "exhausting. the reason i can't walk straight half the time."
"you love it."
"i do," he admits, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. "i really, really do."
nanami comes over with three plates ā eggs and toast and fruit, arranged perfectly, because he's nanami kento and he literally can't help himself.
he hands one to higuruma, one to you, and keeps one for himself, settling into the armchair across from the couch.
"what are your plans today?" he asks, and the question is casual but you know what he's really asking; are you free? can we spend time together? will you be here when i get home?
"nothing," you say. "i thought i'd stay here. maybe do some laundry. maybe take a nap. maybe wait for both of you to come home so we canā"
"don't," higuruma says, but he's smiling. "don't start. i have to go back to court in an hour."
"so?"
"so, i can't show up with a boner."
nanami chokes on his toast, and you and higuruma both laugh, and the sound fills the apartment like sunlight.
this is your life now.
two men, one immense apartment, no secrets, no lies; just love, in all its messy, complicated, beautiful glory.
Now nothingās the same | Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader
Summary: You know it isn't your Mark the moment he steps into your room. The blood on his suit isn't his. The way he looks at you isn't right. The things he whispers aren't things your Mark would ever say. Yet, you let him stay. And more.
Pairing: Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader
Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, frottage, overstimulation, rimming (R receiving), belly bulging, unprotected sex, spit as lube.
Tags: any Mark variant, Reader is lowkey not okay, and heās a virgin (so prob unrealistic sex?), Unrequited love (for original Mark), Top!Mark, Bottom!Reader.
w.c: 12.2kĀ |Ā a/n: English isnāt my first language. This is the first time I write smut so it probably sucks, but hey, I wrote 12k? How did that happen? Yikesā¦ Feedback is appreciatedāas longs as is respectful. Also, I wrote this with no particular Mark in mind, so feel free to imagine your favorite variant! The only exception is Mohawk Mark, since his unique hairstyle would immediately reveal he's not the mainstream version at the very beginning (unless you prefer to imagine the reader being dense and oblivious to that glaring detail...).I guess it doesnāt really matter. IMAGINE ANY MARK! And enjoy!!!
You're here | Part 2
Ever since the news broke about cities around the world being destroyed by multiple versions of Invincible, youāve been hiding. Itās the only logical thing to doāfor someone powerless like you, thereās nothing else to do. You can only wait for the nightmare to end, for the heroes to rise victorious. For Mark to rise victorious.
So you stay in your home, clutching your phone, waiting for somethingāanythingāto change. A day passes, and Mark still hasnāt answered your messages. Heās busy, you tell yourself, burying your face in your pillow to stifle the ache in your chest. Of course heās busy. How could he not be? His hands are full with the weight of the world on his shouldersāfighting, saving, surviving. The news keeps reporting on the Invinciblesā rampage, updating the world daily. A stupid text messageāof course Mark doesnāt have time to reply.
(You try not to think about how Mark has been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasnāt looked at you the same. How you shouldāve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. But you didnāt, and now nothingās the same.)
So you wait, trapped within your four walls, your chest heavy with worry for your friendsāyour hero friendsāwho are out there risking their lives. You cling to the news like a lifeline, watching as the Invincibles tear through city after city, leaving thousands dead, all while they smile like itās a game.
So you wait, and pray. Anxiety coils tight in your chest, pressing against your ribs until it feels like you might burst. But eventually, hunger forces you to move. You drag yourself to the kitchen, hands trembling as you fumble with the bread. You barely register the motion, your mind drifting to every terrible, unlikely scenario where Markāyour Markādoesnāt make it. The thought alone makes your throat tighten.
Itās not good. You shouldnāt be this negative. But there are so many Invincibles, and if theyāre anything like the Mark you know, then even the strongest heroes must be struggling. People will die. People you care about. And you tryāGod, you tryānot to think about who, who, who.
Maybe thatās why you donāt hear him.
Not that thereās any particular sound to warn you. No footsteps, no creak of the floorboards. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of the curtains by the open window.
One second, your eyes are on the bread on the counter, and the next, an unexpected voice brushes against your ear.
āFound you,ā he whispers.
Your heart leaps into your throat, and you freeze, the knife slipping from your hand and clattering to the counter. Your breath hitches as you turn your head slowly.
(Vaguely, you think about Mark fussing over you like a mother hen, that familiar crease forming between his brows. āYou really shouldnāt leave your window open like that,ā heād chide, voice laced with exasperation. āAnyone could get in.ā
But youād just laugh, brushing off his concern. āItās a sixth floor, Mark. And youāre the only weirdo who does.ā
Iāll always leave my window open for you, you wouldnāt say.
Iāll always be waiting for you to come, you couldnāt say.)
And then, there he is.
āMark?ā you breathe, relief crashing over you in an overwhelming wave. You donāt notice the differencesāhow his suit is wrong, smeared with fresh blood and viscera that drip onto your clean floor. How his eyes are too wide, too unblinking, something wild lurking behind them. You donāt see any of it. All you see is Mark standing there, safe, alive. āOh my god, Mark.ā
You rush to him without hesitation, arms outstretched, wrapping him up in a desperate embrace. Youāve been so worried, so consumed by the gnawing anxiety of losing him, that just hearing his voice, just seeing him, shatters any rational thought.
For a moment, he stiffens against you. But then, his arms lock around you with a force that nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. Itās too tight, too much, an intensity Mark has never held you with before. That should have been your first warning. But as soon as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, you forget about everything that seems wrong. You forget about the blood, the wild look in his eyes, the way his grip feels almost possessive. All you can focus on is the way he inhales deeply, as if heās been starved of thisāof you.
You shudder, heart pounding for reasons you canāt quite explain, and then he sighs, low and satisfied, the sound vibrating against your skin.
(āYou smell really good,ā Mark would murmur, crowding into your space, his nose nearly brushing your neck as he inhaled deeply. āLike, really good.ā
Youād shove at his chest, face flaming despite yourself. āChrist, Grayson, youāre not a dog. Back off.ā
Heād laughāthat stupid, sunshine-bright laugh that always made your pulse stutterāand lean against the lockers with infuriating ease. āJust being honestā¦ Hey, you could tell me what perfume you use. Maybe then Amber would actually like me on our next date.ā
Your chest would tighten, eyebrows knitting together before you could stop them.
āCanāt help you there, pretty boy,ā youād say, slamming your locker shut harder than necessary. When he raised an eyebrow at you, youād flash a razor-thin smile. āTurns out itās natural. One hundred percent me.ā)Ā
āItās youā¦ā Mark whispers, his lips brushing against your neck. You hold your breath, trying to suppress the goosebumps rising on your skin, but itās futile. His voice is low, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He squeezes you tighter, his arms like steel bands around you. āOh, itās you.āĀ
āMark?ā you ask hesitantly, confusion laced in your voice. āWhat is it? Are you hurt?āĀ
You try to push yourself away, hands pressing against his shoulders to create some spaceābecause you canāt do this. You canāt handle him holding you like this, his voice hoarse and low against your neck, his breath hot enough to make you weak. Youāre friends. Only friends. Heās made that much clear, and thisāthis isnāt fair.
But you barely manage to put a few inches between you before he whines, a sound so raw and desperate it catches you off guard. In an instant, he pulls you back in, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his grip unyielding.
āMark?ā you whisper again, voice trembling.
āNot yet,ā he replies, his tone pleading. āLet me hold you one more minute.āĀ
And you donāt have the strength to refuse him.
Yet, as the seconds tick by and he keeps clinging to you like a child afraid to let go, you canāt help but notice the things youāve been ignoring.
Why is Mark here? Why would he suddenly show up at your apartment when heās supposed to be out there, saving the world? Why would Markāthe same Mark whoās been keeping you in this strange, distant limbo for weeks, who barely speaks to you beyond polite conversation, whoās been looking at you with a mix of discomfort, guilt, and something else you canāt quite placeābe holding you so desperately right now?
Then your attention drifts to his clothes. His suit, but not really his suit. The bloodāthe thick, dark blood that, now that youāre truly paying attention, doesnāt belong to him. And itās a lot, pooling around your feet, staining your floor, soaking your clothes.
A sickening weight settles in your stomach, curling, twisting, nagging at the back of your mind. Your arms go slightly limp around him, hesitation creeping in where relief had been just moments ago. Your brain, which had felt so light, so grateful just a minute ago at the sight of him safe, suddenly flashes back to the news. The destruction. The Invincibles terrorizing the world.
And you wonder.
Finally, he exhalesāa slow, steady breath, like someone bracing themselves. Then, he lets go, his hands lingering on your arms as if heās reluctant to break contact entirely.
āY/Nā¦ā he whispers, a wide grin stretching across his face. Itās an unusual smile, unnatural, amused when it shouldnāt. āHereās where youāve been hiding, huh?ā
āHiding?ā you ask, unsure. āWellāI canāt really do anything else, can I?ā
Mark smiles spreads. But his eyesāthereās something in them you hadnāt noticed before. Wide, almost frantic, something raw burning behind them. The dark circles under them make him look exhausted. His hair is a mess. And yet, his expression softens as he studies you, gaze tracing over every feature like heās trying to memorize you. Itās so intense, so intimate, it nearly steals your breath away.
āWhatāWhat are you doing here?ā you ask, glancing away, flustered. āIs itāis it over? The fight?ā
He coos, a gloveless hand reaching for your chin to tilt it back toward him with a grip thatās firm, almost possessive. āOh, itās over. Thereās nothing to worry about anymore,ā he says, voice light, too light, too nonchalant for someone who just came from a battle. Mark doesnāt speak like this after a fightāheās never so casual, so detached.
(Markās hands would dig into his hair, shoulders slumping in defeat. āIām justāI keep fucking up.ā
āYouāre not,ā youād tell him, hand pressing warm circles between his shoulder blades. āYou save people, Mark. Every single dayāā
āBullshit!ā Heād jerk upright so fast youād recoil, chair screeching against the floor. āMore people die than I save!ā Heād pace, fingers twisting in his hair. āStopājust stop telling me Iām not fucking up! Stop trying toāto make me feel better! You donāt understand how I feel!ā
Your chest would tighten, fingers curling into empty air where heād been. āI know I donāt.ā
āThen stop!ā
āHoweverāā youād stand up as well, eyes locking onto his as you caught his face in your hands, palms pressing gently against his cheeks. Mark would freeze, his breath hitching, wide eyes locked onto yours. āHowever, I know the world would be worse without you in it. Just thinking about the possibility of not having Invincible on our sideāit scares me. Because youāre the only one strong enough to protect us. The only one who can stand up to the worst threats.ā
Your thumb would brush over his cheekbone, touch impossibly gentle.
āAnd Iām sorry you have to carry that responsibility, Mark. But youāre not failing. Not to me.ā
His expression would crumble, his eyes glistening with unshed tears before heād pull you close, burying his face in your shoulder. His breath would shake, and youād feel his fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt.
Your cheeks would burn, heart stuttering, but you'd swallow your feelings and offer only the comfort a friend should.
Youād breathe in, closing your eyes. āDonāt be.ā)
Your cheeks burn as he tugs you closer by the chin, forcing you to look straight at him. Your hand instinctively reaches for his wrist, but you donāt pull away. You should. But you donāt. Yet, you canāt stand the weight of his stare, so intense, so close, it feels like itās peeling back layers of you, exposing everything youāve tried to suppress.
āNothing to worry about?ā you force the words out, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face and the fluttering sensation in your stomach. āYou sure?ā
āIām sure,ā he nods, his voice low and steady. Then, without warning, he leans closer again, his face burying into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply like he just couldnāt get enough. āOh, shit. How I missed this.ā
āMark?ā you ask quietly, voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it. His breath is hot and electric against your skin. The warmth blooming in your face spreads down, coiling through your body. āWhat are you doing? Jesusāthis isnāt like you.ā
āOh, really?ā he hums, lips ghosting over your pulse. The brush of themāso soft, so deliberateāmakes you shudder. āNot even a little?ā
āNoā¦ā you exhale, shivering when his arms snake around your waist, squeezing hard enough to make you squirm. āNo. Mark. Whatāwhat are you doing?ā
Your hands reach for the counter behind you, gripping the edge tightly, desperate for something to anchor you. But Markāhis scent, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his breath burning against the most sensitive part of your throatāmakes it impossible to focus, impossible to think. Itās like everything around you is spinning, and you canāt make sense of any of it.
āWhat do you think Iām doing?ā he asks, his tone amused and teasing, like this is all some game to him.
And that finally makes you scowl, the heat in your cheeks now burning with a mix of anger and humiliation. You inhale sharply, trying to regain your senses, but an ugly feeling of shame and hurt settles heavily in your chest.
You lift a hand and push him, or at least try to, your strength no match for his. Still, he complies, pulling away with a reluctant sigh, an annoyed expression flickering across his face as he finally tears himself from you.
āThis isnāt funny, Mark,ā you say, glancing away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. āStop it.āĀ
āStop what?ā he complains, his fingers digging into your waist as if heās reluctant to let you go entirely.
āThat,ā you snap, gripping his wrists and prying his hands off. āYou canāt justājust ignore me for weeks and then suddenly show up and treat me this way. Itāsāit messes with my head! Itās not fair, Mark!ā your breath comes heavy, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to form the words. Your eyes drop to the floor, and you add quietly, āJust stop.āĀ
Heās silent for a moment, and you can feel his gaze burning into you, searching, analyzing. His head tilts slightly, as if heās trying to piece something together.
āWeāre notā¦ together?ā he asks after a beat, his voice incredulous, like the idea is absurd.
The question makes you flinch, and a fresh wave of anger surges through you.
(āIām sorry,ā Mark would mutter, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours. āI justādonāt see you that way.ā
Youād glance away, your lips pressed together in a tight line, trying to hold back the sting of rejection. āIām sorry too.ā
āItās justāthereās someone else I wanna try it with.ā
āI get it.ā
āIām sorry.ā
āI know,ā you sigh, wanting Earth to swallow you whole and disappear forever. But this is Mark, and you couldnāt bear living without Mark. āWeāre still friends, right? This doesnāt have to change anything.ā
Heād smile at you, his eyes creasing at the edges in the way you adored. āYeahāFriends!ā)
āOf course not!ā you snap, voice rising. āYou made it very clear youāyou love someone else!ā
You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between you and his overwhelming presence. Was he mocking you? Playing some cruel joke?
But then again, as you pace around the kitchen, trying to hold yourself together, your eyes flicker to his odd suit, to the blood clinging to him, to the confused, almost baffled look on his face. And you think againāwhy is Mark here? Why, really?
Is he even Markā
āBut Y/Nāā he whines, trailing after you like a lost puppy, his voice pleading, āāI would never, and I mean never look at anyone else but you!ā
You frown, shaking your head. āI canāt even believe youāre saying this to me right now,ā you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady. āDid you hit your head too hard fighting those lunatics?ā
You donāt notice the way he tilts his head at your words, donāt catch the way his eyes darken, flashing with something unreadable.
āIf you donāt have anything better to do, then just leave,ā you huff, bitterness lacing your tone. āI donāt wannaāhumiliate myself any more than I already have. You had your fun. So go away.ā
You turn on your heel, heart pounding as you stride toward your bedroom where your phone is charging. Thereās a gut feeling gnawing at you, a sensation you canāt shake, and you need confirmation. You need reassurance.
Is the Mark standing behind you even your Mark at all?
Your gut twists violently, but you canāt shake it. The second you step into your bedroom, your hand fishes for your phone, fingers trembling as you scroll through your contacts and press the button.
But Mark hasnāt left. He follows right after you, moving with an easy, unhurried stride, and when he realizes what youāre doing, a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.
āO-ho?ā he hums, amusement dripping from his voice. āMy, my, Y/N, whyāre you calling me?āĀ
His hand moves, effortlessly covering yours, fingers warm and firm over your knuckles. The phone ringsāonce, twiceāand Mark leans in, his breath brushing against your ear, voice low, teasing.
āIām right here, sweetheart,ā he murmurs. āYou donāt need anyone else.āĀ
Your breath hitches. The sound of the third ring barely registers before he plucks the phone from your grasp with unnerving ease. You donāt even resistāyour fingers tremble as they slip away from the device. Not that it would have done anything, anyway. The fifth ring echoes into silence, then clicks to Markās familiar voicemail. Useless.
The air in the room shifts, heavy and overwhelming. You watch, frozen, as he casually places your phone on your desk, just far enough out of reach.
Then, the moment your eyes meet his, you know.
This isnāt the Mark you know and love.
Mark hums, content, utterly unbothered as he slides back into your arms like itās the most natural thing in the world. He sighs, pleased, like he belongs there, like nothingās wrong.
Maybe youāre in shock. Maybe itās fear, or disbelief, or survival instincts.
Because you let him.
Your arms fall open, letting him settle more comfortably against you, his weight pressing into you as he nuzzles closer. His warmth, his scent, the way he holds you tightāitās all too much. And youāweak-kneed, breath unsteadyālet him.
āAre you going to kill me?ā you canāt help but ask eventually, voice quiet, barely a whisper.
He makes a confused sound in his throat, the vibration brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. āHmmānot yet.ā
Not yet. You should be terrified. Every nerve in your body should be screaming for you to run, to fight, to do something other than stand there, frozen, pliant in his grip. You know heās dangerous. You know he could snap your neck without a second thought.
Yetāa curious thing happens in your brain.
Youāre not afraid. You canāt be.
Because when your eyes settle on this Markāand he looks exactly like the Mark you know, the Mark you have feelings forāsomething justā¦ doesnāt click the way it should. Fear doesnāt come. Disgust doesnāt rise in your throat. Dread doesnāt tighten its grip around your chest.
Because he looks so much like Mark. And duhāhe is Mark. But not yours, and that alone should be enough to make you want to bolt. Yetāas he nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath tingling against your skin, his solid body pressing into yours with a firmness that feels both grounding and overwhelming, and the way he called you āsweetheartāāit all makes you want to give in to him.
The feelings youāve buriedāthe ones youāve shoved down since the day Mark rejected you, since the day you forced yourself to be okay with just being friendsāare clawing their way back to the surface, stronger, faster, more consuming than ever.
āOh yeah, you donāt have to worry though,ā he says, his lips brushing against your pulse in a way that feels deliberate, calculated. āItād be such a waste to kill you so fast. I came here for you, after all.ā
His lips trail along your neck, slow and purposeful, and despite everythingādespite knowing this isnāt rightāyou sigh, shivering at the unfamiliar, intoxicating affection. He moves upward, lips ghosting over your skin until he reaches your ear, nipping at your earlobe.
āMarkā¦ā you breathe, eyes fluttering shut, body melting under his touch.
āOhh, I know, baby,ā he mutters, voice thick with amusement, dripping with smug satisfaction. You can feel the smirk curving against your skin. āI know everything you like. I know every inch of you. Let me show you.ā
Your body betrays you.
Your mind knows betterāknows that this Mark isnāt yours, that the weight of his body pressing into yours should send alarms blaring through your head. But when his fingers skim your waist, when his breath fans hot against your skin, when he sighs like he belongs hereāyour body doesnāt fight him.
It welcomes him.
Your hands twitch at your sides, uncertain, but you donāt push him away.
āI canāt believe this universeās Mark wouldnāt date you,ā he muses, fingers wandering, exploring, curling behind your back before cupping your ass and squeezing. A choked sound catches in your throat as heat floods through you, your knees nearly giving out. āI meanālook at you.ā His voice dips, teasing, triumphant. āBarely resisting.ā
You bite your lip, swallowing a sound you refuse to let escape.
He laughs thenāopen, mocking, and so, so cocky. āAnd here I thought Iād have to fight this Mark over you, butāā his grin widens, wicked and pleased. āI donāt think I have any competition, sweetheart.ā His lips brush against your jaw, his grip tightening possessively. āYouāre all mine.ā
He starts to push against you, forcing you to walk backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress. You fall onto the bed, breathless, your heart racing as he looms over you, his eyes dark and hungry.
āJust mine, okay?ā he growls, his voice low and dripping with possessiveness. āI wouldnāt let anyone else touch youānot even him. Not even this universeās pathetic version of me.ā He scoffs, his hands gripping the hem of your t-shirt and tugging it off with a harsh, almost desperate motion. āLoving someone else? When I have you? Heās a fool. He doesnāt know what heās missing. Y/Nāyou have no idea how much Iāve missed you, how much IāveāāĀ
He groans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark, his eyes raking over your exposed skin like heās starving and youāre the only thing that can satisfy him. You shiver, a deep blush spreading across your face. Itās too much, too fast, and you feel utterly exposed as his gaze devours every inch of you. His expression twists, a mix of desperation and adoration, as if heās memorizing every detail of your body, committing it to memory so heāll never forget. His fingers twitch, hovering over your skin but not touching, like heās savoring the moment, stretching it out just to make you squirm.
Itās too intimate, too intense, and for a fleeting second, you forget that heās dangerous.
āStop staring,ā you weakly complain, turning your face away.
āOooh, oh-ho-ho, yeah, baby, youāre just like I remember...ā he laughs, his breathing uneven, his voice shaking with a wild, almost manic energy. āYeahāIāll never let him have you. Never let anyone else even look at you. Youāre just mineāholy shit.āĀ
And then he dives.
His lips crash into yours, claiming rather than kissing, his entire body pressing you down into the mattress, forcing your legs open. Itās desperate, feverishāstarving. His tongue pushes past your lips, stealing your breath, and you moan into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you struggle to keep up with his messy, frantic rhythm. He kisses you with a ferocity that leaves you dizzy. He groans and growls against your lips as his hands roam your body, gripping and groping every inch of exposed skin. His fingers brush against your nipples, teasing and possessive, and you can only take it, breathless and overwhelmed, your mind spinning as he claims you in every way he can.
āYeah, baby, keep making those sounds for me,ā he murmurs against your lips before diving in again, swallowing every breath, every whimper like it fuels him. āSo, so good. Fuck, you have no ideaāit keeps me going.ā
Your breath stutters as his fingers pinch your nipple, hard enough to make your back arch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. His free hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat as he grinds his hips down. Your legs part without a second thought, welcoming him, urging him closer until heās right there, pressing into you, slotting himself between your thighs.
āThatās it, spread wider for me,ā he pants, voice dripping with dark approval. āYouāre still so good, fuck.ā
Your lips burn, swollen and tingling from his kisses, and when you blink up at him through your lashes, you catch the glint in his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, the usual warm brown of his eyes swallowed by something feral. That smirkāall sharp teeth and predatory hungerāshould terrify you. Because the Mark you know has never looked like this before. This unhinged and unsteady. Itās a sharp, gut-wrenching reminderāthis isnāt your Mark. This isnāt the sweet, awkward Mark who you fell for, the one you trusted. This Mark is wrong, a twisted mirror image, and you should be fighting him, shoving him away, clawing your way out even if itās futileā
But then he leans down and presses the softest, faintest kiss to the tip of your nose.
And your mind blanks.
Because holy shitāMark, the man youāve been pining over for months, years, is kissing you. And it feels so good, so intoxicating, it messes with your head, scrambles your thoughts into something dangerous.
You know itās wrong. You know this isnāt him. Itās like pouring your feelings into a stranger, a shadow wearing his face. But fuckāthis Mark grinds against you, slow and deliberate, and you feel him, the hard press of him against you, thick and aching with want.
You gasp, body tensing, startled by how badly he wants you.
āOhh, baby,ā he whines, voice thick with desperate need, like heās been starving for this moment for lifetimes. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, marking you as his. āLet meāā His hips roll again, dragging his thick length against your own, and you choke on air. āLet me make you feel good. Let me make you come, please, baby, please.ā
Teeth scrape along your jaw before finding that sweet spot beneath your earāthe one you didnāt even know was sensitiveāand you arch off the bed with a broken moan when he sucks harshly at the skin. His lips, his tongue, his teethāhe maps every inch of you like heās memorized you, like he already knows every single weak spot before you even realize them yourself.
āPlease? Please?ā he keeps begging, voice so raw, so desperate, so utterly pathetic it makes you dizzy.
And youāyouāre still too caught off guard to react properly. Because Markāyour Markānever looked at you like this. Never even wanted you like this. But this Mark? Heās rutting against you like an animal in heat, his massive cock straining against his suit as he whimpers your name, making your head spin.
Itās wrong. Itās so, so wrong. Because Mark rejected you. Because you told yourself youād be fine with just being friends. Because this isnāt even himājust the evil, dangerous version of him.
(Mark would slip into your open arms, his body heavy with exhaustion.
āI justāIām scared,ā heād admit, voice muffled against your shoulder. āScared of turning into my father. Scared of hurting people. And after everything with Angstromā¦ā his voice would trail off, fingers twitching against your back like heās afraid to hold on too tightly.
Youād run a soothing hand along his spine, grounding him. āWhat do you mean?ā youād ask, gentle, coaxing him to keep talking.
āHeāhe talked about me like I was a monster,ā Mark would whisper, voice tight. āLike thereās a version of me out there who destroyed everything. A version of me whoād kill everyone I love. A version of me whoādā¦ destroy you.ā
A slow, quiet exhale would leave your lips. āBut youāre this Mark,ā youād remind him. āYouāre my best friend. And youād never do that.ā
Thereās a beat of silence. Then, slowly, Mark would sags against you, burying himself deeper into your warmth.
āYeah,ā heād murmur, barely more than a breath. āNever.ā)
But when you moveāwhen you grind up into him, your body answering before your mind can stop itāhe makes a noise, something between a groan and a sob, and itās so wrecked, so full of relief it makes your stomach twist.
Your arms loop around his neck, dragging him closer, pressing your bodies so tight together you can feel his heartbeat hammering against your own. And when his teeth sink into your throat, sucking so hard you know itās going to bruise, a sharp, broken sound escapes your lips.
The room burns around you, filled with the obscene sounds of his desperate whines and your shaky gasps, the slick friction of fabric between your joined bodies.
āYeahāā you gasp, nails raking down his back as pleasure coils tight in your gut. āFuck, Mark, justāDo it. Do it.ā
He groans, deep and guttural, a sound so full of possession it sends a sharp pulse of heat down your spine. Then his teeth sink into your neck againāhard enough that you know heās breaking skin. And when his tongue licks the wound, sucking the blood like he owns youāyou know heās got you.
Your mind fractures into white-hot static as every rational thoughtāthe blood crusted on his suit, the madness in his eyes, the thousands heās slaughtered, the fact this isnāt your Markādissolves into primal need. Nothing exists but the electric pleasure coiling tighter in your gut with each desperate grind of his hips.
āMark,ā you sob, voice breaking as your body arches against him of its own volition. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him closer. āOh god, Mark. Fuck. Mark.ā
A guttural snarl vibrates against your throat as he claims your mouth again, his tongue pushing past your lips in a violent mimicry of what his hips are doing against yours. The growing dampness between your thighs should shame you, but all you can focus on is the delicious friction, the way his teeth scrape your bottom lip when you moan too loud.
But itās still not enough.
Not with these fucking clothes between you, not with the way youāre both rutting against each other like wild animals, frantic and insatiable. Itās maddening. You need more.
Your nails claw at his back, at his suit, needing to feel his skin the way heās feeling yours.
āGet it off,ā you manage to gasp between feverish kisses. āPlease, Mark.ā
With a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine, he rears back just enough to grip his suitās collar. The fabric shreds like tissue paper beneath his strength, revealing sweat-slick skin you immediately map with trembling fingers. His pupils blow wider at your touch, chest heaving as he crushes you back into the mattress.
āOh yeah, Y/N...ā he purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingertips trace the dark marks blooming across your neck like bruises. Proof that you belong to him. āBet this universeās Mark never made you feel this way, did he? Never touched you like this?ā his grip tightens suddenly, making you gasp. āIām the first, arenāt I? The only one whoās ever had you like this?ā
You whimper, nodding without thinking, legs locking tight around his waist, keeping him close, keeping him there.
His grin stretches, wild and triumphant. āHe doesnāt know what heās missing,ā he murmurs, his hand trailing down with agonizing slownessādown your neck, across your heaving chest, brushing over your sensitive nipples, gliding down your stomach... Until, finally, his fingers settle between your legs, pressing against the thick, aching bulge in your sweatpants, squeezing just enough to rip a needy moan from your lips. āLook at you,ā he breathes, eyes wild with possessive hunger. āSo fucking perfect for me. So ready to be mine. Does your Mark know what a desperate little thing you are? How easily you fall apart under my hands?ā
His smile tilts, both awestruck and predatory. Then, he leans in until his lips brush yours, his hand working you through the fabric with rough, perfect strokes that have you trembling.
āSo hard just for me,ā he murmurs against your mouth. āHe could never make you feel like this. Never touch you like I do.ā His teeth graze your bottom lip. āHe could never compare. Iām better, Iām strongerāā
He peppers kisses along the corner of your mouth, your flushed cheeks, tender and teasing, a sharp contrast to the way his pace quickensāfaster, rougher.
āāI could make you feel even better,ā he purrs, pressing his lips against your ear, voice so low, so filthy it makes you shudder. āMake you scream my name, so loud and clear, maybe the other Mark could even hear you.ā
Your breath stutters, a deep moan slipping from your lips, body twisting under his touch.
āOhh, youād love that, wouldnāt you?ā he chuckles, breath warm against your neck, teasing, taunting. āYouād love to let him watch. Love to let him see you break for me. Let him realize what heās lostāwhat heāll never have again.ā
His voice dips lower, sinking into something darker, something twisted.
āYouād let me fuck you in front of him, wouldnāt you?ā
Your body jolts, heat flashing through you in a violent rush, shame curling in your stomach like a vice.
āN-noā!ā you gasp, eyes squeezing shut, face burning with humiliation. āNo, I wouldnātāā
But your body betrays you. Trembling, surrendering, completely giving ināyour hips rut desperately against his hand, your pre-cum soaking through the fabric, staining it.
āLiar,ā Mark breathes against your swollen lips before crushing them again in a kiss thatās hot, rough, and bruising. āI can feel how much you want it. How much you need it.ā
His thumb presses cruelly against the head of your cock, rubbing slow, torturous circles through the fabric, making you see stars. Your whole body jolts, a strangled gasp tearing from your throat.
āMaybe I should drag him here,ā he whispers, grinning against your lips. āMake him watch as I fuck you so good, you forget heās your Mark Grayson. Make him see how perfectly you take meāhow you were always meant to be... ours.ā
You shake your head frantically, words lost between your ragged gasps. āNoāā
But your back arches, cock throbbing obscenely against his palm. The more he whispers these filthy fantasies, the harder you get, hips stuttering, desperate and eager, seeking more, more, more, as his words sink deep into your brain, filling you with something forbidden, something wrongāsomething you like.
The pressure builds unbearable. His fingers move with ruthless precision, stroking, squeezing, dragging you to the edge, pulling sounds from you that should be humiliatingābut you canāt stop.
Then you think about it. About your Mark. The one whoās still out there, fighting, struggling, exhausted and worn down. You think about what would he think. What would he do if he saw you like this. You imagine your Markās confused face watchingāthe horror in his eyes as he sees you come apart under his doppelgƤngerās touch, moaning and whimpering like some cheap slut desperate for any version of him.
āMark,ā you sob as waves of shame and pleasure crash over you. āMark, Markāā
Mark exhales a breathy chuckle, eyes dark with fascination. āOh-ho-ho. Thatās it, baby. Iām here. Iām right here.ā
And then it hits you.
White-hot pleasure blinds you completely as you spill in your sweatpants like some untouched virgin, his name tumbling from your lips in a broken prayer. Your body arches violently, convulsing as your legs clamp around his waist like a vice. Your hands claw at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him, to this moment, to reality itself.
āJesusā¦ā he exhales, almost in awe, his grip tightening possessively. āMy godā¦ so perfect.ā
Youāre reduced to a trembling, gasping messāshaky legs, toes curling, vision whiting out as the aftershocks rip through you. Mark watches it all with a smug, hungry smirk, his eyes locked onto your face, drinking in every twitch, every quiver like heās trying to memorize it, to brand it into his mind.
āYeahālet it out, Y/N,ā he whispers, voice thick with satisfaction. āI did this to you. I made you feel this good.ā
(āDoes that feel good?āĀ Mark would mutter into your ear, his hands still working awkwardly at the knots in your back.
Youād groan, face mushed into the pillow.Ā āYup. Feels good. Really good.ā
āI still canāt believe youāre making me do this,āĀ heād grumble, brows pinching together.
Youād stifle a laugh, eyes fluttering shut.Ā āYou lost the bet, Grayson. Now keep massaging my back. My muscles are still wrecked from all the damn work you put me through covering you at Uni.ā
āWilliam never complains.ā
āBecause William sucks at covering! The only reason youāre not suspended is because Iām just too good at lyingāOh! Yeah! Right there, donāt stop,āĀ youād sigh, melting into the mattress.Ā āOh my god, yesā¦ā
His hands would freeze, fingers pressing hesitantly into your skin.Ā āā¦Can you stop making those sounds?ā
āWhat sounds?āĀ youād murmur, half-dazed.
Mark would be quiet for a beat, then resume with a sigh. āNever mind. How about this? Does that feel good?ā
āMmmh, holy shitāyes!ā)
Finally, you sink into the mattress, chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven breaths as your climax wears off. Your head falls back against the pillows, glazed eyes barely tracking Markās movements. His fingers leave the bulge in your sweatpants, moving to your waistband, fumbling briefly before tugging your sweatpants and underwear down, inch by inch.
āJust let me take care of you,ā he mumbles, dazed. āAlways gonna take care of you.ā
The cold air bites at your oversensitive cock as he yanks it free, his pupils blown wide as he stares at whatās his. Before you can even process the exposure, Mark flashes you a wicked grin before his lips wrap around your cock, hot and wet and devastating. Your hips jolt, body convulsing at the sensation. His tongue swirls, savoring, exploring, a deep groan rumbling in his throat as he tastes you. The overstimulation is unbearable, electric. A strangled, pathetic cry rips from your throat as your hands fly to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, tryingāfailingāto push him away.
āMark!ā you jolt, thighs snapping shut around his head, trembling, squeezing, clutching. āOh my god. Oh my godāoh my god. Noāā
A deep, satisfied groan rumbles through him, vibrating against your cock and making you yelp. His hands pin your thrashing hips down, holding you there, making sure you take it.
āMarkāā
āMine,ā he snarls between filthy, wet sucks. āGonna taste every fucking drop.ā
The overstimulation borders on painful as he works you ruthlessly through your sensitivity, your cries growing increasingly broken. And yet, somewhere beneath the overwhelming pleasure, a traitorous part of you preens at being so desperately wanted.
Wanted. By Mark. Not your Mark, not the one whoād gently rejected you, but a Mark all the same. A version from some twisted reality whoād torn through dimensions just to claim you. And it sickens youāthe satisfaction curling in your gut, the twisted pleasure of knowing that somewhere, in some reality, Mark has always wanted you. Craved you. And if heās here, willing to ruin you, to unravel you with nothing but his mouth, then who are you to stop him?
His tongue works you over with filthy precision, hot and wet and perfect in ways youād never dared fantasize about. You writhe beneath him, sheets twisting in your fists, as your gaze drops to where heās sucking you offāMark Grayson, on his knees for you, eyes close in joy. The sight alone punches a broken noise from your throat.
āF-fuckā!ā you arch violently, tears spilling as pleasure crests into near-pain. āFuck, I canātāMark, please, I canātā!ā
Finally, he lets you go with a slick, obscene āpop.ā He pants, breath heavy, lips red and wet as he leans over you. Youāre gasping too, your chest rising and falling in erratic bursts, your body trembling like youāve run yourself into the ground.
Mark watches you, gaze trailing over your flushed skin, your wrecked, tear-streaked face. And then he grins.
āI love you like this,ā he murmurs, voice rough. His thumb swipes at the wetness on your cheek. āLove it when you cry.ā
(āI hate when you cry,āĀ Mark would say, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.Ā āI hate it even more when itās me who made you cry.ā
Youād slap his hand away, face twisting into a scowl.Ā āShut up, Grayson. HowĀ dareĀ youāhow dare you act upset.āĀ Your voice would shake, anger sharpening every word.Ā āYou canāt even say sorry. Canāt even fake an excuse for why youāve treated me like this, ignoring me for monthsā¦ And donāt try to deny itāWilliam noticed too!ā
Heād wince, eyes darting away.Ā āI canātāI canāt say it.ā
āThat youāreĀ sorry?āĀ youād scoff, disbelief dripping from the words.
Mark would bite his lip, shaking his head desperately.Ā āNo! Of course not. ItāsātheĀ reason.ā
āThe reason youāve been pulling away?āĀ youād snap, swiping the back of your hand across your wet cheek. Then, it would hit youāheart lurching.Ā āIs itā¦ because I confessed? I thoughtĀ weĀ were past that. That weād still be friends no matter whatā¦ā
Your voice would crack, gaze dropping to the floor.
Mark would flinch, shoulders slumping in defeat.Ā āItās part of the reason.ā
āI donāt understand,āĀ youād murmur, voice breaking.Ā āYou said it didnāt matter. You promised it wouldnāt change anything.ā
āI donāt understand either,āĀ heād admit, hand scrubbing roughly through his hair.Ā āJustājust give me time. I need toā¦ figure some things out.ā
āYou wonāt even tell me?ā
Mark would press his lips into a tight line, guilt flashing across his face as his gaze caught on your tear-streaked cheeks.Ā āI canāt.ā)
A helpless sob rips from your throat as he surges forward, capturing your bruised lips in a desperate, feverish kiss. He moans into your mouth, deep and needy, and you can taste yourself on his tongueāhot, salty, intoxicating. The realization only makes you burn hotter.
Then, a moan rattles in your chest as his free hand trails lower, fingers teasing where youāre most sensitive. Your gasp is sharp when one presses against your entrance.
āW-waitāā you huff, shaky hands pressing against his broad shoulders. āNoā¦ Iāve neverānever done thisā¦ā
Mark freezes, his expression shifting from surprise to something terrifyingly euphoric. āOohh, Y/N can you get any more perfect for me? My godānot even in my universe were you a virgin.ā He chuckles, low and dark. āWere you saving yourself for him? Hoping heād finally see you the way I do? Heās such a foolāBut I will make you feel good. Iāll make you feel so good.ā
As he speaks, his hands roam, gripping your thighs with an iron hold before pushing them upāforcing you open, leaving you vulnerable beneath him. Your face flushes with embarrassment and arousal, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets tightly at the sheer obscenity of the position. He flashes a playful grin, his breath warm against your ass, causing you to gasp and breathe unevenly.
āWhatā What are you doing?ā you stammer weakly, squirming uncomfortably, peering down with shame as Mark leans over your hole, a wide smirk across his face. You realize a second too late was heās up to. āWait, waitāOh my god!ā
Your back arches, mouth letting go a deep, throaty groan and your eyes rolling back when Mark inserts his tongue, licking and lapping at the inner walls of your hole, sucking and nibling and kissing. Your head throws back against the pillows, skin burning so hot you swear youāll melt into the sheets. The sensation is overwhelmingāMarkās hot tongue delves between your cheeks with shameless enthusiasm, licking and probing with obscenely wet sounds that make you squirm uncontrollably. You writhe in delicious contradiction, torn between pulling away and pressing deeper into his merciless mouth.
āMmh, look at youāā Mark pants between greedy licks, his voice thick with arousal. āThatās it. Let me hear how good I make you feel.ā
Youāre beyond responding, your hips stuttering and your asshole clenching and unclenching with the unfamiliar, yet intoxicating sensation. The pleasure is so intense you bite your lip raw trying to contain the filthy sounds fighting to escape. Itās useless, though, because Mark keeps eating you out and it only takes a few minutes of this sweet torture until you start whimpering and mewling like a little whore.
āF-fuckā!ā the curse tears from your throat as your toes curl and back arches off the bed. Your cock stirs back to full hardness, dripping pathetically against your stomach. āFuckāMark, my god! Donāt stop, fuckāOh my godāā
Youāve never been touched like this beforeāit never even crossed your mind, not even in your wildest fantasies. But damn, itās the best thing thatās ever happened to you. Who would have thought that being pleasured like this could feel so incredibly good? You might just climax right then and there with Markās warm, skilled tongue working its magic, and youād die happily. Your erection is unbelievably hard, leaking pre-cum onto your stomach, but you donāt dare touch yourself because youāre too busy gripping the sheets for stability.
But then Mark pulls away, and you moan and whimper with need, trying to tighten around him in an attempt to draw him back.
Mark smirks and chuckles, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at your own lewdness.
āGod, baby, youāre so perfect for me,ā Mark rasps, pulling back just enough to loom over you. His lips glisten with your taste, his breath coming in ragged bursts. āLook at youāalready falling apart just from my mouth. Think youāre ready to take me, sweetheart? Think that pretty little hole can handle my cock?ā
You hadnāt noticed before, too lost in the haze of pleasureābut Markās hips have been moving restlessly the whole time, fucking the air with desperate, instinctive thrusts as he devoured you. Now, as he looms over you, you can feel him, hot and throbbing, grinding against your thighs through the thin fabric of his suit. And fuckāheās massive. Even through the material, you can feel the sheer size of him, the way he twitches with every needy thrust. And yeahāhis mouth has left you slick, loose, ready to be filledābut shit. Viltrumites have monster cocks, and it scares you.
And yetāand yet, as Mark moves against you, teasing, testing, making sure you feel the sheer girth of him even through fabric, all you can feel is hunger, a desperate need.
So, huskily, with glazed eyes, you whisper, āYes, Mark. Yes.ā
He doesnāt make you beg twice. One hand tears the remaining suit away like tissue paper, his cock springing freeāthick, veiny, and already leaking. The flushed tip bobs against your thigh, leaving a sticky trail as your breath catches.
āFuck, Y/Nāā Markās voice breaks as he strokes himself, his wild eyes drinking in every tremble of your body. āYou have no idea how long Iāve waited for this. How many nights I dreamed of this moment. Youāhere, with me again.ā His breath shudders, his grip tightening. āHad to find you. Had to make you mine again. I missed you. I missed you.ā
His feverish rambling sends your pulse into overdrive, and for one fleeting moment, you wonder about that other lifeāwhat version of you could make a man this desperate, this feral with need? What was their relationship like? How did it end? How did Mark end up here, in your universe, searching for you? But then Markās strong hands are spreading your thighs wide, his body settling heavily between them, and all coherent thought evaporates in a rush of dizzying arousal.
Shit, shitāMark Grayson, the boy youāve been in love with since eighth grade, is about to fuck you. And shitāthat thought alone makes your cock ache, your hole clench with anticipation, even as your mind screams that this isnāt your Mark. Your real Mark is probably fighting for his life somewhere. Maybe even dying. And here you are, letting his evil counterpart have youāwillingly.
That makes you a horrible friend. Youāre disgusting. A traitor. Youāre giving in to every dirty fantasy youāve ever had, every longing youāve buried for years, all because this Markāthe wrong Markālooks at you with the hunger youāve always dreamed of seeing in your Markās eyes.
Itās sick. Itās twisted. Youāll never be able to look your Mark in the eye again. Guilt twists in your gut, heavy and suffocating.
You should stop.
You should have never let it go this far.
But thenā
āShh, baby, I got you,ā this Mark whispers, shattering your spiraling thoughts. His voice is soft, almost reverent, as he lines himself up. āI got you. Gonna make you feel so good.ā
You shiver, heat flushing your skin as his cock presses against your entrance, thick and hard and real. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, locking behind him, pulling him in.
Mark groans, deep and satisfied, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he grins down at you.
āFuck, yes,ā he hums appreciatively, running possessive hands along your trembling thighs. āYouāre so good, Y/N. So good.ā
His fingers dig deep enough to leave bruises as he drinks down every gasp, every shudder of your oversensitive body like a man starved. And just when desperation coils in your gutāwhen the teasing pressure at your entrance becomes unbearableāMark sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust.
āFuckā!ā your cry shatters the air as your body bows taut, back arching off the bed. The stretch burns, his thickness forcing you open in ways that make your vision whiten at the edges. āFuck, fuck, fuckāā
Heās massive, painfully so. You can feel every ridge, every vein as your body struggles to accommodate him. Itās too muchāyouāre certain heāll split you in two.
And yet... The fullness is intoxicating. It burns. It aches. But it also satisfies something deep within you, a primal need you hadnāt even realized was there. Tears prickle at your eyes as you clench the sheets, overwhelmed by the sheer reality of Mark Grayson buried inside you.
āFuck...ā Markās voice is guttural, dripping with satisfaction as he bottoms out. āGod, youāre tight.ā His hips grind deeper, wringing a broken whimper from your throat. āTaking me so perfectāfuck, you feel incredible. Like you were waiting just for me.ā
And then, slowly, oh so fucking slowly, he begins to pull back out, dragging a wrecked moan from your lips. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something solid, something to hold onto as he sets a rhythm, each movement sending heat curling through your veins.
āThatās it,ā Mark pants against your neck, his breath scalding as he inhales your scent like an addict. āJust like thatā¦ youāre perfect. Nobody else could take me like this.ā His teeth graze your pulse point possessively. āOnly you. Only mine.ā
The next thrust is deeper than the last, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your hips jolt up instinctively, a surprised sound catching in your throat.
āOh god, Mark,ā you whine, nails digging into his back, voice breaking on a breathy moan. āAhānghāfuckāā
The agonizingly slow drag of his cock has your vision swimming, pain and pleasure blurring into one overwhelming sensation. Heās so thick, so long, so heavy inside you. Every time he pushes in, it feels impossibly deeper, stretching you, filling youāuntil it makes your stomach bulge slightly, a small bump appearing in the flat plane of your abdomen.
Mark groans, eyes going wide, his hand settling at the base of your belly. āGod, look at you,ā he breathes, awed. His fingers press into the bulge, tracing the outline of himself inside you. āFuck, Iām buried so deep in you. Right here, Y/Nāyou feel that? Thatās me claiming you. Oh-ho-ho, goddamn, look what I do to you.ā
His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin even as awe colors his voice. He punctuates each word with a punishing thrust, fingers digging into the visible outline of himself inside you like he wants to brand the shape of his possession into your flesh. And you canāt look away eitherābecause holy shit, this is the first time youāve ever felt anything like this, and itās almost too much. Too intense. Too consuming.
Tears streak down your flushed cheeks as your legs tremble violently. The initial pain has melted into overwhelming pleasure, your body adjusting to his impossible size with desperate, shameful eagerness.
āMore,ā you rasp between gasps, arching up shamelessly. āFaster. Harder. Pleaseāā
Mark chuckles darkly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep. āYeah, sweetheart,ā he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. āGonna make you feel good. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.ā
The dark promise in his words should terrify you. Instead, it sends another pulse of white-hot pleasure straight to your aching cock. Then he movesāharder, fasterātearing the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and reeling. Your body clenches around him, every nerve alight as a broken whimper escapes your lips.
āMarkāMarkāā you mumble his name between gasps, unable to form anything else. āMark, ahāMarkāmmhāfuckāā
A sharp cry rips from your throat as Mark shifts his angle, hitting a spot inside you that sends a violent shudder through your entire body. Heat surges down your spine, forcing you to arch off the bed, toes curling, every nerve alight with raw, electric pleasure.
āFuck! There! Markānghāfuck!ā you moan, biting down on your lip so hard you taste the faint tang of blood. Mark growls, his movements deep and unrelenting, each thrust pressing you further into the mattress. The bed creaks beneath the force, your skin burning where his grip tightens. āThere! Keep going! Fuck, it feels so goodāMark!ā
Thenāthrough the haze of heat, through the sinful sounds of skin against skin, of your wrecked moans and his low, animalistic groansāsomething intrudes. A sharp, buzzing vibration. Your ringtone.
Your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, flickering toward your deskājust a few feet away, where Mark tossed your phone. Youāre aware the screen glows, the sound ringing in the background, before another brutal thrust wipes all coherent thought away. Let it ring. Nothing matters except the way Markās splitting you apart, remaking you as his with every snap of his hips.
The phone rings and ringsā¦ then stops. And you donāt even notice when it goes silent, too preoccupied with the drag of Markās cock inside you, the way your nails sink into the broad expanse of his back, leaving behind deep, angry marks.
āPerfect,ā Mark rasps against your ear, his voice wrecked and reverent, āTaking me so fucking good, Y/N. Made for this. Made for me.ā
Your thighs shake violently around him, toes curling as his filthy praise reduces you to nothing but lustful moans and pleading whimpers.
Thenāyour phone starts ringing again.
This time, Mark notices.
He stills inside you with a low snarl, his body tensing as he straightens slightly, casting an annoyed glance toward the device. But when he reaches for itāhis cock still buried deep inside you, making you whimperāhis expression darkens with wicked amusement as he reads the caller ID.
āWell, well,ā he purrs, looming over you once more, planting one hand beside your head while the other dangles the phone just inches from your flushed, dazed face. āTake a look at this.ā
Your stomach drops at the familiar name flashing on screen. Itās Markāyour Markācalling you.
āShould we answer it, baby?ā he muses, tilting his head as his lips curl into a smirk. āLet him hear what you sound like when youāre properly fucked?ā
āNoā!ā you gasp, wrecked and breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs as you reach for the phone, desperate to snatch it from his grasp. āMarkāā
But heās quicker.
āAh, ah,ā he tuts, lifting a single finger in mock reprimand, effortlessly keeping the phone out of reach. His other hand tightens around your hip, keeping you pinned. āYou need to get your shit together first, Y/N. Wouldnāt want him to know what youāre doing, now would you?ā His eyes gleam with wicked delight. āWith that pornographic little voice of yoursāso wrecked, so needy for my cockā¦ā He leans in, his breath fanning over your ear. āI bet heād figure it out immediately.ā
A shudder rips through you.
Your vision blursātears welling at the edges, cold fear twisting deep in your gut. But worseāworseāis the way your body betrays you. The way you clench around him involuntarily at the thought. At the sheer humiliation of it.
Of your Mark listening on the other end. Unaware. Oblivious. As his variant fucks and ruins you.
āSee? I know you,ā he murmurs, his voice syrup-thick with satisfaction as he strokes your cheek with unnerving tenderness. His free hand cups your face, his thumb dragging over your lips. āI know exactly what kind of fucked-up little thing you are.ā
His grin widens as he watches your lips tremble, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants.
āIām glad youāre the same here as you were in my universe, Y/N. I adore you like this.ā Then, his tone dips lower, velvet wrapped around something dangerous. āNowātry to keep him distracted while I take my time with you, yeah?ā
Before you can react, he thrustsāsharp and suddenājust once, but itās enough to steal the air from your lungs. A strangled gasp escapes you, body reacting on instinct, pulse hammering as he stills once more.
Mark leans in, his breath hot against your parted lips, his amusement dripping with warning. āOtherwise, heāll keep calling,ā he murmurs. āAnd I donāt want him interrupting us.ā
Your stomach twists in knots of anticipation and dread. The phone is still ringing, still just out of reachāMarkās name flashing on the screen, a second away from being answered. And all the while, this Mark remains inside youāhot, solid, pressing deeper with each second of silence.
āOkay...ā you breathe, forcing air into your lungs. āOkay.ā
Markās smirk turns predatory as he brushes a featherlight kiss to your nose before tapping the answer button, offering you the phone backāand as soon as you grab it and press it to your ear, he immediately resumes his slow, deliberate thrusts that make your toes curl.
āY/N? Y/N!ā The real Markās voiceāfamiliar, concerned, kindācrackles through the speaker. He sounds breathless, frantic. āAre you okay? You called and I couldnāt answer but thenābut then I called back and you didnāt pick up, and IāmāIām worriedāā
You squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip, fighting so hard to keep quiet. But the Mark above you doesnāt make it easy, his hips moving with cruel precision, his smirk deepening as he watches you struggle.
āā¦Y/N?ā
āIām here,ā you choke out, voice miraculously steady despite the way your body arches into each thrust. The not-yours-Markās eyes glint with dark amusement as he increases his pace. āIām... okay.ā
Your voice wavers. You canāt help it. A shaky sigh escapes when he ducks his head to nip at your throat, his hot breath raising goosebumps across your oversensitive skin.
āThank God,ā your actual Mark exhales, the relief in his voice almost painful to hear. āListen, Cecil justā he lost track of a variant. Said he was heading your way, Y/N.ā
The not-yours-Mark stills inside you, his expression shifting to something dangerously intrigued. āOh?ā he murmurs against your pulse.
āY-yeah?ā you blurt too loudly, praying the real Mark didnāt hear him.
Your fingers dig into the sheets as the not-yours-Mark begins moving again with renewed purpose, each thrust calculated to wring helpless sounds from your throat while you struggle to keep your breathing even.
āYeah,ā your actual Mark replies through the phone, his voice strained. āIāllāIāll come your way. Or the GDA will pick you up, butāitās dangerous to stay in your apartment! Please, justājust leave. Right now.ā
You choke back another gasp, barely holding yourself together. Noāyou canāt let Mark come here. You canāt let the GDA get involved either. The humiliation would be unbearableāagents witnessing you like this, being taken apart by the same monster who probably leveled cities and slaughtered thousands before claiming you in your own bed.
āNo!ā you blurt out, voice cracking under the weight of too many emotions. āNo, nngh, fuckāyou canāt!ā
Youāre losing control. This Markāthe wrong Markāis hitting your prostate with every brutal thrust, his teeth sinking into that sensitive spot on your neck while his fingers twist your nipples mercilessly. Stars explode behind your eyelids as another lewd groan escapes you. Virgin or not, thereās no way you could stay quiet under this assault. You realize with dawning horror that he doesnāt want you quietāhe wants you loud, to moan, to let your Mark hear you. To let him know.
That yeahāheās here.
And yeahāheās fucking you.
For a moment, thereās only silence on the other end of the call.
Then finally, Mark speaks again, slower this time. āThisāthis isnāt negotiable, Y/N,ā he says, though thereās something offāa hesitation, a shift in his tone as your breath stutters audibly. āAre youā¦ okay?ā
No. Youāre not okay. Youāre overwhelmed, wrecked by pleasure more intense than anything youāve ever known, losing your virginity to a twisted version of the man you love. Hot tears of shame spill down your cheeks as a sob tears from your throat.
ā...Y/N?ā Markās voice sounds distant now. You can barely hear him over the rush of blood in your ears, over the slick sound of skin meeting skin, over the obscene, broken whimpers falling from your lips.
āMmmh, fuck,ā you gasp as the pressure builds unbearably inside you. āFuckāMarkāā
āThatās it, baby,ā not-your-Mark whispers in your ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. āYou wanna come, donāt you? Wanna scream my name?ā
The dam breaks. āYes! Fuck, yes, yes!ā Your voice shatters with each punishing thrust. Dignity forgotten, you arch desperately against him, meeting every movement as you beg mindlessly. āMarkāI canātāoh god, please, please...!ā
The line goes silent for an agonizing moment, the static crackle carrying more weight than words ever could. You squeeze your eyes shut, shame and guilt and disgust warring with the pleasure coiling tight in your bellyābut itās too late now. Far too late.
āY/N...?ā his voice comes through the receiverāyour Markās voiceāstrangled and low, thick with realization.
Your stomach drops. He knows. Oh god, he knows. He fucking knows.
Not-your-Mark lets out a pleased hum against your neck, his fingers lazily plucking the phone from your trembling hand while his hips snap forward, forcing a needy moan from your lips. The wet sound of skin on skin is unmistakable. Thereās no way your Mark could mistake whatās happening.
Not-your-Markās eyes glint with something wicked as he presses the phone to his ear, smirking.
āToo late, dickhead,ā he says, just as breathless as you, his voice dripping with smug victory as he punctuates each word with another brutal thrust. āHeās already mine.ā
Markās furious roar bursts through the speaker. āYouā!ā you close your eyes, mortified, tears falling down your cheeks because this is the moment Mark realizes youāre a horrible friend. āIāLL FUCKING KILL YOāā
But the sound is cut off with a sickening crunch as not-your-Markās fingers tighten, phone shattering, fragments falling like dust.
āOops,ā he pouts mockingly, tilting his head with feigned innocence before his expression darkens. His hand snakes around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but firm enough to claim. āNow where were we, sweetheart?ā
When he slams back into you, you arch off the bed with a broken scream, your legs spreading wider of their own volition. He chuckles darkly, hands sliding under your thighs to fold you nearly in half, opening you up so completely that each thrust punches the air from your lungs.
āFuck,ā he growls, pace turning erratic as his control fractures. āLook at youātaking me so perfect. Tell me. Tell me how much you love this. How much you love taking my cock.ā
āI love it,ā you gasp without thought, your mind obliterated by pleasure. āFuckāI love it. I love you.ā
A deep, guttural moan tears from his throat, his grip on you tightening as he nods frantically. āYeah? Love me? Fuckā I love you too, baby. I love you so fucking much.ā
And you know heās not your Mark. You know your real Mark is probably flying at full speed right now, minutes, or even seconds from bursting through your window. But Christāhearing those words, in Markās voice, from his lips, with his face twisted in raw, desperate worshipāit makes you dizzy. It makes you happy.
āI love you,ā you say again, fingers twisting into his dark hair, dragging him down until your panting mouths brush. āI love you. Always haveāfuckāsinceāsince before you even got your powers, Mark!ā
āYeah?ā
āYes! Ahāfuck, yes!ā The words dissolve into moans as you kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips sliding messily against his. āWhen you were such--a nerd! Loved you since we were kids. Love you now. I always willāā
He groans, swallowing your words with a feverish kiss, his hands squeezing your cheeks until your mouth falls open, surrendering completely. Tongues tangle, breath mingles, and he moans right into youā
āI loveāā he pants, his movements growing erratic. āI love you, Y/N. FuckāGonna take you home with me. Gonna keep you forever. Steal you from that idiot...make him see what he threw awayāā
Thenāsuddenlyāhis hand wraps around your cock.
Itās been untouched this entire time, leaking wildly against your stomach, and the moment his fingers curl around it, a sharp, broken whimper escapes you. Your hips jerk helplessly, legs trembling as pleasure rips through you.
āFuuuuck,ā you sob, shuddering against him. āDonāt stopādonāt stop. Iām gonnaāā
āI got you, baby,ā he growls, stroking you faster, fucking into you harder. āGonna make you feel so fucking good. Gonna take you away. Gonna own you!ā
And God help youāhis words donāt sound like threats when youāre drowning in white-hot ecstasy. In this moment, youād let him drag you through dimensions, would beg him to claim you completelyābecause he wants you. He loves you. He craves you in a way youāve always ached to be craved. And right nowāyouād let him take you. Youād let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.
āAhāah, Markāā Your body locks up, stomach tightening, hole clenching around him as the pressure on your cock becomes unbearable. āIām gonnaāfuckāIām gonna comeāā
āYeah, baby, let it out,ā he growls against your lips, his hand working your cock in perfect sync with his punishing thrusts. āCome for me. Now.ā
You shatter with a strangled scream, body jerking violently as you spill across your stomach in thick, hot stripes. Your vision whites out, every muscle locking and spasming as pleasure tears through.
Mark groans like a man possessed, his thrusts faltering as your hole flutters and clenches around him. āFuckāfuckāā He slams into you one final time, burying himself deep, and then heās coming too, hot and thick, filling you to the brim. His grip tightens as he grinds himself deeper, prolonging every last spurt, wringing every aftershock from you until youāre trembling and spent beneath him.
You canāt move. Canāt speak. All you can do is lie there, trembling, as he keeps pumping into you, dragging out your orgasm until youāre sobbing from oversensitivity. His hips grind against yours, forcing every last drop into you like heās determined to make sure you remember this.
When he finally pulls out, you whimper at the loss, your body limp and wrecked. Sweat and come cling to your skin, your chest heaving as aftershocks wrack through you. Every inch of you is markedābruises blooming where his fingers, his teeth, his lips claimed you.
You barely register the mattress dipping as he lays beside you, his arms wrapping around your exhausted frame. A soft, lingering kiss presses to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur against your damp skin.
āShh, shh, Y/N,ā his fingers trace lazy circles against your back. āGo to sleep. Iāll take care of everything.ā
Even in your dazed, post-orgasmic haze, you understand what āeverythingā means.
It means your Markāyour universeās Markāis on his way. It means a fight is inevitable. It means blood, destruction, the clash of two forces that look the same but could never be. And when that moment comes, youāll have to face himāface the shame that will devour you whole.
Because how dare you?
How dare you moan his name for someone else? Whisper desperate I love yous to the wrong version of him? Come undone beneath a man who wears his face but isnāt him?
And after you told him it was fineāthat you were fineāstaying just friends. After you swallowed every aching, desperate feeling just to keep him close. But in the end, you gave in. You let temptation pull you under. You let yourself have himāor the closest thing to him. And now, thereās no taking it back.
You know youāre wrong.
You know time is running out.
And you know that when he says heāll take care of everything, this Mark intends to kill your Markājust as your Mark wants to kill him.
But your body betrays youāmind foggy, muscles lax with satisfaction, the afterglow pulling you under. As consciousness fades, this not-quite-Mark draws you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. His breathing steadies, his solid frame surrounding you in deceptive safety.
(And vaguely, you think about your Mark. About how heās been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasnāt looked at you the same.
āI promise Iāll tell you,ā heād say, a week ago, his eyes avoiding yours in a way that pains you. āI promise Iāll tell you the truth. All of it. Andāā
Then heād looked up, and something in his gaze pinned you thereāfervent, almost feverish.
āIāllāāĀ heād stop himself, cheeks coloring faintly, and yet he wouldnāt relent his steady gaze.Ā āIāll tell you the reason Iāve been acting like such an asshole to you. And I hope...you can forgive me after.ā
āWhy not now?āĀ youād ask, puzzled, fingers curling into your palms.Ā āWhy not when Iām asking you, Mark? Right here, and right now.ā
Heād flinch, his eyes closing for a fleeting second before opening them again.Ā āJustāgimme one more week,ā heād rasped. āOne more week andāI promise Iāll tell you everything. Iāllāconfess everything.ā
And as heād turn around, his broad back to you as heād take offānot before glancing at you with troubled eyes, an intensity in his eyes you canāt quite placeāyouād only guess heās gonna say he hates you. That heās gonna say, now once and for all, he can no longer be your friend.
And how you shouldāve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. How you shouldāve never, ever opened your big mouth and let your feelings spill out.
But you did, and now nothingās the same.)
āIāll take care of it,ā Mark murmurs again as you drift away, his voice a dark promise. āNever gonna lose you again. Never.ā
The last thing you register before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek.
And in the final flicker of consciousness, a single thought drifts through your mindā You wished Mark had told you the reason.
Not pertinent to anything in particular but I do think it's kinda weird that we keep depicting cavemen in media crawling around on all fours covered in dirt with tangled, matted hair, speaking in broken, cobbled-together toddler language when like.
They were us.
Like literally genetically they were US, just like. A while ago.
Like
Would you trust a TV caveman with a baby? Probably not
A real life caveman though??? I think they'd be at least okay at it
This is actually really important and comes up in Anthropology classes all. The. Time.
As long as homo sapiens have existed, we have had the same emotional and mental capacity as you and I do today. You nailed it. They were US. Even Neaderthals existed alongside and had offspring with Homo Sapiens for many thousands of years.
There's much evidence that cavemen would have had complex spoken language, culture (learned information passed down), symbolic interpretation, and I think they most certainly would have been able to handle holding a baby. In fact I have my suspicisions that an ancient homo sapiens mother may be a more present, attentive, and knowledgable mom than I could be today.
Do not let media trick you into believing we are the pinnacle of humanity. Unilinial evolution theory (google it quick I beg) is BUNK, GARBAGE, and the root of so much evil.
We've been human for a long, long time, and we are not inherently better than all those who came before.
One the most profound experiences of my life was visiting Font de Gaume, which has 12 thousand year old paintings. They use a technique where the horses appeared to run across the wall when seen in flickering firelight. There was a bison the wall staring at us with such attitude, I could practically hear him. I had the most profound feeling of those ancient artists reaching forward to lay their hands on my shoulders. To say, "This was my world." It was a profoundly moving experience.
Some years later, I went to the Orkney islands where we visited a tiny family run museum of artifacts from the chambered tomb at the other end of the farm. They handed me a pestle once held by some neolithci human.They'd worn groves where the thumb and forefinger would be for better grip.
One time, in a French history class, my teacher randomly at the end of the class had all of us draw a sketch of a horse. And we were all like ??? Okay???
At the beginning of the next class, my teacher showed us a cave painting of a horse. And then he showed all of our horses, which he had scanned and put into the presentation.
He then pointed out all the ways that our horses looked similar to the prehistoric horse. Same features, drawn from the same angle, etc.
And then he asked us, "Isn't it cool that you draw horses the same way as someone who lived 20,000 years ago?"
In Spain, there's a cave full of ancient, ice age era drawings of bison and reindeer and other animals of that period... And one small section of chaotic scribbles just a little away from everything else. These scribblesv were so incomprehensible, they were originally just called the 'Panel of Enigmatic Signs'... Until it occurred to someone that drawings only three feet off the ground probably weren't made by adults.
Scientists are now pretty sure the scribbles were made by kids ages 3-6, more or less on their own. The adult cave artists were probably doing what any modern parent might do when they want to keep small children out of their hair for awhile: they gave the kids some drawing tools of their own and a small section of wall to work on, out of the way but still close enough to keep an eye on them, and let them have at it.
What's most charming about the whole thing is the way the cave scribbles look exactly like what you'd find on the wall of a preschool today. Artistic styles vary widely across different times and cultures, but child development is as near to a universal human experience as it gets.
Wisher made detailed 3D scans of the drawings, which helped her understand the uneven pressure applied to the charcoal and the direction the lines were drawn. The team then compared the panelās composition with age-appropriate artistic efforts by modern children. Kids across cultures go through the same developmental stages, which influence their physical ability to draw, until about the age of 6, Amir notes.
The team compared the ancient art with the developmental stages exhibited by modern children: the furiously scribbled circles and push-pull lines typical of 3-year-olds just learning to control their bodies, for example, or the wobbly, right-angled figures of slightly older kids beginning to master fine motor skills.
Both are apparent in the cave, superimposed on each other as though two or more kids were drawing at once. Thatās a clue the Las Monedas marks were likely made by āsiblings or a mixed-age play group within the sphere of safety around adults, but also within their own space,ā says co-author Felix Riede, an Aarhus archaeologist.
...
Adults at Las Monedas would have been aware of what the kids were doing and presumably had lit fires or torches; without ample firelight the cave is pitch black.
This is a good find for me as I like history one of my better subjects from my school days. We need to beat the dumb caveman propaganda which I did not even know I was under until this moment.
