MORE INFO! use these idea sparks or create your own version of the theme! KINK DRIVEN, SEXY, MESSY, ANGST ENCOURAGED!
drabbles, one-shots, and mini fics are all welcome!
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A: comment or send me an ask! if youâre too shy, message me HERE my inbox is fixed!
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Q: do I have to use the spark ideas? I donât understand âopen promptâ
A: nope! use these sparks or create your own version of the theme âcyber overrideâ
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A: UPDATE NO DEADLINE
Q: can more than one person write the same character?
A: yes! all characters are open! multiple people can write the same character with different ideas
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A: whenever youâre ready! just tag me so I can reblog it
LAST INFO! open to any writer you do NOT have to be my moot to join ⥠when posting your entry, please use #cyberoverride and #âalyevents ૮˶⤠⤠ŕžŕ˝˛Ëśá so I can find and reblog your work easily!
Boyfriend!Gojo who will always be the first one to suggest wearing matching outfits.
For one, he can buy any you like and as many as you'd like. It being from a suit and dress to pyjama bottoms and t-shirts.
You had mentioned it once before, the matching, fluffy, cute as hell hello kitty ones, a white and blue pair of fuzzy pants and black shirts.
Guess what he had laid on the bed the next evening.
After brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed you came out to see the exact set, in your size in the color you wanted right on your side.
Before you could get excited about them-
"Does it look good on me?"
That teasing tone and a chuckle right after it.
Boyfriend!Gojo who was wearing his part of the set already, a hand sliding under the loose t-shirt to rub a large palm across his toned abdomen, a white strip trailing downnnn and disappearing into the fuzzy fabric.
Boyfriend!Gojo who wasn't wearing any boxers underneath the blue hello kitty pants. Id say a good⌠z tier (hard) cock print was staring right up at you. Didn't help that a small wet splotch of precum was already making itself known.
Guess who got their dick sucked dry that night.
Boyfriend!Gojo
Boyfriend!Gojo who always held the door open for you, never letting you step out of the car without being there to give you his hand.
Boyfriend!Gojo who loved it when you clung to him in public, not being ashamed of some PDA. If you held his bicep, he made sure to flex it.
Boyfriend!Gojo who knew what you needed before you even did.
A sweet little treat with your coffee? There.
Some hair in your face or mouth you hadn't even realised was there? Fixed with a sweet caress.
After coming home from a tiring day and being pulled down on the couch and getting eaten out? Without a thought.
Boyfriend!Gojo who, speaking of eating out your cunt, was so good at it that it made his dick jealous- twitching and leaking while not being able to get inside that deliciously tight warmth his own tongue was occupying.
Boyfriend!Gojo who maybe was a bit too addicted to the taste of you after a long day.
Close to "home in three days, don't wash" level of obsessed.
Boyfriend!Gojo who gathered you up in his strong arms at any given chance, either carrying you or cuddling you like some oversized teddy bear he couldn't live without.
Boyfriend!Gojo who sent you pictures every day. No matter what you were doing that day or how many people were around.
Never a warning, never a spoiler.
A big fat dick dropped into your dms.
Shameless, i say.
But he loved making you flustered.
Yoon's notes: h..h..hey guys... a light lil hc i hope my blog doesnt get taken down for using tags lmao
âAang x Fem!reader. âWord Count: 0.5K âCW: Fluff. âSummary: Talks of starting a family. âMasterlist âAang Masterlist.
Glad It's You
Youâre sitting together on a hillside just outside the city, the grass swaying gently with the evening breeze. Aang lies back beside you, hands folded behind his head, staring up at the sky. You notice heâs quieter than usual, His brows knit in thought.
âWhatâs on your mind?â you ask.
ââŚDo you ever think about the future?â he says.
You smile a little. âAll the time.â
He turns his head toward you. âLike⌠what it looks like. Years from now.â
You hum softly. âSometimes itâs hard to picture.â
âYeah,â he admits. âMe too.â
âIâm the last one,â Aang continues, his voice softer than youâve ever heard it.
âYou wonât always be,â you say gently.
He sits up a little at that, resting his arms on his knees.
âThatâs what I want,â he says. âMore than anything. And IâŚâ he starts, then stops.
âI want that future with you,â he says finally.
You donât answer right away.
âAang,â you say softly, âthatâs⌠really important.â
He nods quickly. âI know. And Iâm not saying right now or anything, I justâŚâ
âI know,â you reassure him.
He exhales, shoulders relaxing slightly.
âI just needed you to know how I feel,â he says. âAbout⌠us. About what I hope for.â
You reach for his hand.
âI think about the future too,â you admit. âAbout what kind of life I want. Who I want it with.â
His eyes lift to yours, hopeful but careful.
âAnd?â he asks.
You smile softly. âAnd youâre part of it.â
The tension in him melts almost immediately.
âThatâs enough for me,â he says quietly.
You lean your head lightly against his shoulder. The air cools as the sun dips lower, painting the sky in deep oranges and soft purples
âI donât want you to feel like⌠you have to say yes to anything just because I want it,â he adds. âThat wouldnât be fair.â
You shift just enough to look at him.
âAang,â you say softly, âif I ever say yes to something like that⌠itâll be because I want it too.â
He studies your face for a second, then he nods, a small smile forming.
âOkay,â he says.
The wind picks up gently, brushing past the two of you. You start to lean back into him, settling against his side again when you feel his hand tighten slightly around yours. You glance up and he's already looking at you. He leans in and his lips press gently to your forehead. You exhale softly, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the warmth lingers.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours instead.
âIâm really glad itâs you,â he admits, voice barely above a whisper.
You squeeze his hand gently.
âIâm glad itâs you too.â
Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou for reading loves ;)
A/n: Good evening everyone, donât mind my thoughts. Iâm just horny then a mf. Anyways. Not proofreading.
18+ mdni.
Imagine Suguru in between your legs pumping your clit softly, telling you how cute your clit is when he makes it puffed up. âHmmmâŚso cute, look at the needy thing..â he softly smiles and runs his fingers along the tube and stares at it.
You moan softly and look away from your pussy embarrassed. âAww you poor baby.â He coos at you. He pouts, âlook at me babyâŚâ he softly grabs your face to look him in the eyes as he squeezes the pump again. You looked down to your pussy and gasp.
âAhhnnnnâŚâ you moan covering your face. âYouâre so cute when you moan like that baby.â He loosens the pump and takes it off your clit and gets closer to your pussy. He blows over your pumped up clit and sucks it softly in his mouth, your body starts shaking from the overstimulation heâs giving you. âSh-shiiit!â You cried out.
You slur your words and start crying, âfeels..soo-oh-goooood!â He massages his tongue roughly against your clit making your body coil into a ballâheavy breathing and crying while shoving his head deeper between your legs. You cries go quiet as you hold his head tightâgripping his black long hair. You drool against the pillow as your legs shakes, he pulls your body close sucking so softly making your clit bulging and purple.
He pulls so many silent sobs from you making your engorged pussy so wet, so creamy, so vulgar. So fucking sensitive.
Your fat tears streaming down your face uncontrollably as your trembling hands caress his hair. You wrap your legs around his head and bit your bottom lip and close your eyes letting his soft lips suck you deeper and deeper into mind breaking pleasure.
SUMMARY: on your free day, your ex boyfriend and former curse user, suguru, appears in your doorstep, asking for help
content warnings: none!
a/n: part of my suddenly powerless series, add yourself to the taglist here, wc:
prev , next
Finally, your first free night after two weeks of classes and last minute trips on Jujutsu Tech, you wake up late, have a brunch by yourself at a nice cafe next to your apartment and decide to spend the rest of the day resting, watching some movies that have been on your watchlist for too long while your cat naps on your belly.Â
Itâs not like you have a big social life out of Jujutsu Tech. Youâre a teacher and a sorcerer there, you have your students and your colleagues. There was a time when you and Shoko shared some cigarettes before going home, but she stopped smoking and having a cigarette outside of a school alone felt too pathetic for you. Gojo also stopped asking to hang out together because you always declined, and now you find yourself missing his insistences, you wonder if Nanami thinks the same.Â
At the end of the day, you feel lonely. Or you are? You donât know how to differentiate them, maybe you feel and are lonely at the same time, but you force yourself to not think about it because you might lose your head if you do.Â
You put the TV on while eating your take out because the silence feels too maddening this free day. Itâs like your mind stopped being automatic and now all your thoughts and worries are running free. The ramen is slightly cold already and they mistook the drink you ordered, you eat and drink it anyway because you really donât want to get up from the couch. An hour passes and you are hating the movie you chose yourself, you wonder if youâd had people over, if they wouldâve chosen another movie, maybe one that youâd actually like.Â
When youâre finally dozing off for a well deserved three hour nap, you hear two knocks on your door. Your whole body jolts, you werenât expecting a package, let alone people. So you get up slowly, grabbing the first thing you see to defend yourself just in case (a baseball bat) and you walk towards the door. You open it slowly, holding the bat up with one hand.Â
It doesnât matter, when you see whoâs at the other side, you drop the baseball bat right on his feet.Â
âOw! Ow, fuck!â he jolts, grabbing his foot with one of his hands as the other leans into his suitcase.Â
âGeto? What? What the actual fuck are you doing here?â You are standing face to face with your ex boyfriend, a cult leader and a cursed user all at the same time. And heâs rubbing his feet because you dropped a bat on top of it.
Itâs been eight years since you saw Suguru Geto. Last time you spoke he practically screamed at you that your relationship wasnât going anywhere and that you were just a burden for him. You broke up after that to find out a few weeks later that he had killed a whole village and that he was leaving Jujutsu Tech.
You were relieved after hearing that news, you didnât want to see your stupid ex boyfriend going around the same school with your group of friends. Something inside of you was happy that he had gone rogue. So why the fuck was he in your doorstep?
âHeyy,â he waved, straightening his back after the pain eased. âHow have you been?â
You take a look at him for the first time, he looks tired, eyebags adorning his eyes, long hair slicked back in a bun and just some sweatpants and a sweater on. You canât help but grimace at him.Â
âHow have I been?â you repeat, blinking fast. âGeto, youâve been eight years committing crimes and you appear in my apartment asking me how Iâve been? Do I need to hit you with the bat again?â
He winces, looking at his poor abused toes. âPlease, donât. I know Iâm the last person you want to see, I wouldnât be here if I had anywhere else to be.â
You cross your arms, trying to look unimpressed but you canât help but wonder what has happened with him to appear at your doorstep in the afternoon, looking like that. âWhat happened to your little cult? All that shit about killing non-sorcerers?â
He lets out a short and bitter laugh, his arm scratching the back of his neck, lips pouting. âYeah, about that⌠I kinda lost my cursed technique, my cult too. I canât even see curses anymore.â
You feel your stomach drop even though you tell yourself you donât care about it. âWhat? How?â
âI donât know.â He shrugs, lowering his gaze. âOne day it disappeared, the curses I kept were gone and when my followers realized I wasnât useful anymore, they left.â
He glances at the suitcase again, then at you with those stupid purple eyes that used to make you weak in the knees. Now they just make you want to scream into a pillow.
âSoâŚâ When he looks you deep into your eyes, blinking slowly and tilting his head, you know exactly what heâs going to ask. âI was wonderingâŚâ
âOh hell no,â you shake your head with a sharp laugh. âThis is the last thing I need right now.â
âPlease,â he says, voice breaking. âJust a few days, a week at most. I need a moment to sort everything out, look for a job and Iâll disappear. I know I was an asshole, the worst boyfriend in the world, even. But I need you more than ever now, youâre the only person that understands me, right?âÂ
Youâre so done with him. Hearing him say that like he used to do while you were together, it twisted something inside of you. You hate him, you have to. But at the same time you want to see what happens to him and his new life. And he needs the help, you know he wouldnât risk appearing in your apartment if he didnât really need it.
âDonât make me regret this, Geto,â you sigh, opening the door as wide as possible.Â
He opens his purple eyes as wide as possible, a tired but hopeful smile forming on his face. He grabs his suitcase so fast he almost trips over it. As he steps past you, he mutters under his breath, âThank you. I owe you my life. Again.â
You close the door behind him, already feeling like you just signed up for the worldâs worst roommate situation.He sets the suitcase down carefully and looks around your small apartment like itâs a five-star hotel. Then he spots your cat, who has finally woken up and is staring at him with pure feline judgment.
âYou still have the same cat?â
âYup,â you say simply, and then you point out to the couch. âYouâre sleeping there. Iâm going to ask for some days off to sort this out. And youâre helping with household chores, this ainât a hotel.â
He nods fast. âYes, maâam.â
You leave him in the living room after rolling your eyes, you disappear into the kitchen, your hands shaking from the absurdity of the last ten minutes. Suguru Geto. In your apartment. Without curses. Without a cult. Without any of the dramatic flair that used to make him annoyingly magnetic.Â
You prepare yourself a tea, while the water boils, you hear him dragging his sad suitcase, unzipping it, probably pulling out whatever belongings he has left. You refuse to look, if you see him folding his one spare black hoodie, you might lose it.Â
Pouring the green tea in your mug, you take a look at the cigarette pack on the counter, you fish one out, tuck it behind your ear and head to the tiny balcony with your mug in hand.Â
The night is colder than the last one, you light the cigarette, take a long drag and let the smoke curl mixing with the tea smoke. Then the sliding window rattles open behind you. Suguru steps out barefoot, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looks as soft as he looks tired, he leans against the railing next to you, close enough that you can smell the trace of whatever cheap soap he used . His hair is loose now, falling over one shoulder in messy waves.Â
You donât say a word, keep sipping your tea and pretending heâs not there.Â
He clears his throat. âCan I?â
You hold the pack out without looking at him, he takes one, borrowing your lighter and lighting it up with the same careful motion he used to do back when you were still stupid enough to think heâd stay. The smoke mixes with your for a moment.
After a long drag he finally speaks. âPlease donât mention that Iâm back. To anyone. Gojo, Shoko, the school⌠especially not the higher-ups. And definitely donât tell them I lost my technique.â
You turn your head just enough to glance at him. His eyes are fixed on the skyline, jaw tight. âWhy? Scared theyâll throw you in some cell for life?â
He lets out a breath. âSomething like that. Iâm useless now, if they find out Iâm here, theyâll either lock me up as a precaution or use me as bait for whateverâs left of my old enemies. I just⌠I need time. A couple weeks to figure out how to be normal. Or at least pretend.â
You take another sip of tea, the warmth spreading through your fingers. âNormal. Thatâs hilarious.â
âI know.â He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. âIâm not asking for forever. Just donât say anything. Iâll stay out of sight. Iâll do the dishes, take out the trash, whatever you need. I can even learn to cook something that isnât instant noodles. Probably.â
You snort despite yourself. âYou once tried to make pancakes and set the dorm kitchen on fire because you were too busyâŚâ You have to stop yourself, because he was too busy kissing you. You let out a short laugh. âForgive me if I donât trust your culinary skills.â
A small smile tugs at his lips, not pointing out your slip. âFair.â
You both fall quiet again, smoking in sync like old times. The cigarette is almost finished when you finally mutter, âI wonât say anything, I can promise you that..â
âThank you.â He flicks the ash carefully over the railing. âI know I keep saying it, but I mean it. You didnât have to let me in.â
You crush the cigarette butt in the little ashtray you keep hidden behind a plant. âYeah, Iâm clearly a masochist. Or maybe I just like collecting tragic strays. My catâs been lonely.â
Suguru chuckles softly, the sound warm against the night air. He doesnât push for more. Just stands there next to you, shoulder almost brushing yours, like heâs scared moving too fast will make you change your mind and kick him out.
You finish your tea, the mug now lukewarm and slide the window open to head back inside. âCome on, drama king. The couch is calling your name. And tomorrow youâre explaining how exactly a guy who used to swallow curses for breakfast ends up scared of a simple phone call to Shoko.â
He snorts, following behind you. âSheâs terrifying, câmon!â
You shake your head, he gives you a look and goes straight to wash the mug and teapot without saying anything. You start to think that maybe this isnât the same Suguru who left you eight years ago.Â
Tutor!Suguru spanking you everytime you get a question wrong.
18+ MDNI
Warnings: degradation, Suguru is mean, obvi spanking, slapping, crying kink. You two get no work done in actuality.
He hates to do it but he has to, the pain is very necessary for your stupid little brain to get it. How could you not know this? Is your brain fried from being so lazy all the time? Are you dumb?
Suguru was pissed. This man was not having any of your shit tonight, he didnât want to end up studying with you just for you to not know anything. It started with just mean cold glares then he was starting to get irritated with you. But, itâs not your fault that you didnât get these things as easily as he did.
His hand slaps you again then he grabs your jaw forcing you to look him in the eyesâall you can feel was his utter fury boiling beneath his skin. âLook at the damn computer.â
Your shoulders tense and you look at the screen trying to solve the equation. You can just feel his piercing gaze through you. Your pussy was throbbing just from his insults and hard stares. Your heart beats in your chest with adrenaline. âIâm sorryâŚ.â You whisper looking down at your lap. âYeah right.â He hisses back at you.
He shuts the computer, grabs you out of your seat and carries you to your bed. He sat at the edge of the bed and bends you over his lap and lifts your uniform skirt. He lifts his hand and you whip your head around but as you do he slams his palm against your fat ass. âAaahhh!!!â You wail out in responseâhe leans down a bit to your ear. âYouâre such a stupid girl. You donât know anything do you?â You felt so humiliated.
You whimper out of frustration and painâtears already coming down your pretty face. You choke out his name. âSuguru!â He slaps your ass againânot even soothing it after, he would just let his hand sit on your lower back. âStop begging for mercy. No oneâs coming to save you.â He slaps your ass again and ten times more powerful than the lastâbut this time, he doesnât stop.
You continue whimpering and crying while your body begins to shake after he slaps your ass over and over again. âStop!!â You cry out but he still doesnât relentâeven as your ass cheeks grow red and warm. He didnât stop until you were sobbing from the stinging. Your body shakes helplessly in his lap as he stops his torture.
You lay in his lap limp for a few seconds after your trembling calms down. âYouâre such a dumb brat. That was so much of my time wasted, now I have to do your work for you.â He leans further in your earâgritting his teeth, lacing his tone with venom.
âGet the fuck out of my lap before I ruin you and show you a real reason to cry.â
things I wonât let ai take away from human writers
em dash
ânot x, not y, but zâ
short sentence stacking as a stylistic choice
none of these belong to ai. these are all what human writers have been writing since day one, way before ai was invented. ai was trained to mimic how human writers write â so em dash, not x not y but z and short sentence stacking would never have been used by ai at all if ai hadnât learned and mimicked them from human writers.
no, you are not âfighting against aiâ by accusing every work that has em dash, not x not y but z or short sentence stacking in it as ai-generated, you are helping ai harm the writing community by engaging in witch hunt and scaring human writers away from creating/sharing their works for fear of being wrongly accused of using ai.
speculations, accusations and ai witch hunt harm the writing community as much as ai does, if not more.
warnings: 18+, nsfw, usage of weed, masturbation (m), cunnilingus, fem reader, gendered terms, unrealistic pussy eating, mark tries weed but it doesnât affect him, mark is kinda subby. friends w benefits. whimpering.
summary: you try to teach your friend how to smoke a bluntâinstead, you learn something entirely different. wc: 3.1k
an: minors dni. this may not be the best description of a good high + idc idc mark a d1 eater, literally nothing could convince me otherwise.
âDoes weed even do anything to Viltrumites?â You donât look at him when you ask, your fingers working the paper, the grind of leaf and resin between your fingertips. A familiar ritual. The room is thick with the scent of it. Though, the air between you is heavier with something else.
Mark shifts on the couch, the leather creaking beneath him. âNot sure,â he says, voice easy. He waits, sprawled like a cat in the sun, his hands loose at his sides. You stride over to him ignoring the mess on the table, scattered lighters, empty glasses, a book neither of you had finished, and hold the thing out to him. His fingers brush yours when he takes it.
âWell,â you murmur, striking the lighter, its flame leaping up, carving out the planes of his face in gold and shadow. âLetâs find out.â
The flame kisses the tip, a slow burn. He inhalesâtoo fast, too muchâand then it hits him all at once. A sharp cough tears out of his chest, then another, his whole body jerking forward like heâs been punched from the inside. You watch, amused, arms crossed as he fights against his own lungs.
A small laugh escapes you, light and sharp. âYouâre not supposed to rush,â you chide, reaching for the blunt, plucking it from his fingers before he can protest. âHere, let me show you.â Smooth, practiced, you bring it to your lips, inhale slow, let the smoke curl inside you like a secret before exhaling in a soft, languid breath.
Mark glares, still half-choking, half-annoyed. âYou couldâve started with that first,â he mutters, eyes red-rimmed, voice caught between confusion and irritation.
ââS not even my fault,â you scoff, sinking back into the couch. âDidnât know you were gonna try ân inhale the thing like its air.â
Mark opens his mouth, then shuts it again, becauseâyeah. Fair point. He takes the blunt when you pass it back, more careful this time, dragging slow like heâs mimicking you. The smoke unfurls from his lips in thin ribbons, dissipating into the dim light of the room.
He exhales, waits a beat. âI donât feel anything,â he says, flat, like heâs waiting for the universe to prove him wrong.
You roll your eyes so hard it nearly hurts. He cannot be serious. âNo shit,â you mutter. The fact that he doesnât know how weed works is honestly embarrassing. You wouldâve thought AmberâWhoâs often at party scenesâmight have taught him at some point, but apparently not.
âItâs not gonna work instantly,â you say, settling deeper into the couch. âWellâactually, I donât even know if itâs gonna work at all, considering youâre basically, like, half alien.â Mark looks at you, head tilting just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. Then that small, lopsided smirk appears. âYou say it like itâs an insult.â
You huff, rolling your eyes, but thereâs a twitch at the corner of your lips. âMaybe it is,â you tease, watching the ember glow between his fingers. âMaybe itâs not.â
He takes another drag, the ember burning low, and you shift closer without really thinking about it. Your bare knees brush against his, the fabric of his sweats soft against your skin. Itâs a small touch, barely anything, but it feels like something.
Mark glances at you, eyes lidded, curious. You hold his gaze longer than you mean to. Youâve never really looked at him beforeânot like this. Heâs handsome. Not in the obvious way, not in the way that makes people stop and stare, but in a way that sneaks up on you. The way his black hair falls over his forehead, just a couple strays stand out of place. The way the dim light catches the sharp lines of his face.
And he smells good. Even through the thick haze of weed, his scent lingersâearthy, fresh, something clean that sticks in your lungs longer than the smoke does.
âStop hogging it,â you say, voice edged with faux annoyance. âJust âcause Iâm teaching you doesnât mean you get to smoke the whole thing yourself.â
Mark chuckles, a low but sweet sound, it settles somewhere deep in your chest. Instead of handing it back, he lifts the blunt to your lips himself, holding it there like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
You hesitateâjust for a secondâbefore leaning in, letting your lips part as you take a slow drag. The heat of the smoke curls in your lungs, thick and heavy, but youâre barely paying attention to that. Youâre too aware of the way his fingers hover near your mouth, the way his gaze lingers, watching.
Maybe itâs the weed settling into your bloodstream, slow and syrup-thick, or maybe itâs just plain curiosityâbut the thought creeps in before you can stop it.
You know heâs not a virgin. That much is obvious. But has he ever eaten pussy? Like, really eaten it? The kind that isnât just half-hearted, obligatory foreplay, but something done with intent? With enthusiasm? Youâd take him for the type.
The idea lingers, unexpected and distracting. You steal a glance at himâhis lips slightly parted, still damp from the last drag, his expression relaxed, almost careless.
âMark, have you ever eaten pussy?âThe words slip out before you even think to stop them.
Mark freezes, eyes wide like you just asked him to solve a math equation with a gun to his head. Itâs almost comicalâthe way his entire body tenses, the way his brain visibly lags trying to process if he really just heard what he thinks he heard.
âWhatâ?â His voice cracks, just a little. âWhyâwhy would you even ask me that?â
You almost lose it right then and there, laughter bubbling up at the sheer horror on his face. Like the thought has never even occurred to him before. Like youâve just introduced a concept so foreign, so absurd, that his brain is rejecting it outright.
You bite down on your laughter, pressing your lips together to keep it from slipping out. âWeâve been friends for a long time, Iâm just curious,â you say, trying to sound casual, like this is a completely normal topic of conversation.
Mark blinks at you, still looking like heâs in the middle of a mental blue screen. He shifts slightly, running a hand through his hair, clearly debating whether he should actually answer or just pretend this never happened.
A few moments of silence pass, thick and heavy between you. Then Mark exhales, sinking back into the couch, his body relaxing againâexcept for the telltale flush creeping up his ears.
âNo,â he admits, voice low, almost begrudging. âI havenât.â
You hum, nodding like you already knew. Like it makes perfect sense. You pluck the blunt from his fingers, bringing it to your lips with an easy inhale. âSee,â you murmur through the smoke, exhaling slowly. âThat wasnât so hard.â
Another beat of silence, the kind that feels like itâs waiting to be broken. And, maybe because youâre high, or maybe because you just canât help yourself, you push further. âWhy not?â You glance at him, head tilting slightly. âYouâve had, what, two girlfriends? And you never ate it?â
Mark groans, tilting his head back against the couch like he wants to sink into it and disappear. âWhy are you so invested in this?â You smirk, tapping ash off the blunt. âIâm just saying, statistically, it doesnât add up.â
âI mean,â he starts, still staring at the ceiling like itâs suddenly the most interesting thing in the room, âI just never really got the chance, I guess.â You blink at him. Never got the chance? How does someone not get the chance? Itâs not like his exes wouldâve stopped himâif anything, they probably wanted him to. And then you realize.
Heâs a superhero. He barely had time to show up to his own girlfriendâs charity drive or whatever that was, let alone explore his sex life. Between saving the world and getting his ass kicked, there was probably never a moment where things could slow down enough for something like that.
You laugh. You donât even know why youâre laughing, but it bubbles out of you anyway, light and uncontrollable. Maybe itâs the weed, maybe itâs the ridiculousness of the conversation, or maybe itâs just him.
And thenâbefore your brain can catch up to your mouthâyou say it.
âIf you ever want to, you could always practice on me.â
The second the words leave your lips, your whole body seizes with horror. Your once relaxed position vanishes as you jolt upright, hands suddenly restless, fumbling over themselves like they can physically rewind time.
âI meantâlike, I meant itââ you stammer, face burning, voice pitching slightly higher. âIt was supposed to be comforting!â
Mark finally looks at you, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted like his brain just short-circuited. For a long, agonizing second, he doesnât say anything. And that somehow makes it so much worse.
Your face is on fire. Actually burning. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck, settling hot behind your ears. And then you make the mistake of looking at Markâhis face, usually so composed, is tinted pink, eyes slightly wide, lips parted like heâs still buffering.
Neither of you say anything.
The silence is unbearable. Suffocating. The kind that stretches so long it starts to feel like a tangible weight pressing down on you. You shift awkwardly, hands gripping your knees, mind running a thousand miles an hour trying to figure out how to backpedalâhow to undo whatever the fuck this is.
Will you ever recover from this? Can you?
You consider just getting up and leaving. Walking out of the room, out of the apartment, out of the entire city if you have to. Maybe start a new life. Change your name. Forget this ever happened.
Markâs head is spinning. Racing. In a thousand years, heâs neverâneverâthought about you like that.
Sure, youâre beautiful. That was always obvious. The kind of beauty that turns heads without you even trying. But heâs never let his mind go there before. Not with you.
You were carefree, nonchalant, always teasing but never crossing that line. Never someone he associated with anything lewd. But now? Now youâre sitting there, flustered and squirming all pretty, looking at him with wide, nervous eyes like you just realized what you said. Like youâre feeling the weight of it at the same time he is.
And fuckânow itâs in his head.
Mark jerks his head to the side, eyes locked on anything but you. The wall, the cluttered coffee table, the faint swirl of smoke in the airâanywhere that isnât your face, because if he looks at you now, he knows something reckless is going to slip out.
Something he wonât be able to take back.
And then, because his brain is already working against him, because the weight of your words is pressing down on him harder than he can ignore, he hears himself sayââIsâIs that something youâd like?â The second itâs out, he wants to die.
Because now? Now the silence between you isnât just awkward. Itâs charged. Hanging heavy in the air, thick and hot, impossible to ignore. He canât see your face, but he feels your reaction. The way your body shifts. The way your breath hitches, just slightly.
Your mind is a mess. A tangled knot of confusion, nerves, and something elseâsomething warmer, heavier, something pooling low in your stomach.
And maybe itâs the weed. Maybe itâs the fact that Mark looks too good right now, all flushed and fidgety, broad shoulders tense like heâs fighting a war inside his own head. Maybe itâs the tension, thick and humming between you, pressing into your skin like static electricity.
Either way, your body reacts before your brain can catch upânipples tightening under your shirt, thighs pressing together, heat coiling deep in your core. And at this point? Itâs probably too late to walk it back.
âI wouldnât mind.â
The words slip out, smooth and easy, but your heart is pounding. Mark finally looks at you, eyes dark, searching. He doesnât say anything at first. Just watches you like heâs waiting for you to take it back. You donât.
You take a deep breath, then exhale, slow and steady. And for some reason, itâs relieving. Like you just confessed something you didnât even know you needed to get off your chest.
Your body loosens, the tension in your shoulders easing as you sink back into the couchâonly now realizing you had been sitting upright, practically perched on the edge, like your body had been trying to flee before your mind even decided.
Mark moves toward you, his face still flushed, that pretty pink creeping down his neck. He hesitates for a second, shifting awkwardly, then clears his throatâbut his voice cracks slightly when he speaks.
âUhâIâm not sure how this works, so⌠can you guide me?â He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes for a moment before glancing back at you. âOr, like, tell me if you donât like it?â
Thereâs something endearing about it. The way heâs so earnest, so unsure despite everything else heâs capable of. Mark has fought villains, saved lives, survived things most people couldnât even fathom, but this? This is what makes him nervous. You should be teasing him for it. You want to. But the way heâs looking at you, waiting, wanting to do this rightâit makes your heart squeeze a little.
Honestly, you didnât think he would do it. Despite your frantic panic, you thought after the initial shock that heâd laugh it off, make some awkward joke, maybe shake his head and change the subject. But here he isâkneeling between your legs, eyes flickering between your face and the space between you, his hands hesitating but steady on your thighs.
He drags your shorts off, discarding them aside like shed skin, and thereâs your pretty, plush cunt laid bare before him. Itâs not his first time glimpsing such a sight, but never this up close. His breath hitches, and he stares. Youâre confusedâdoes he not know what to do? Why is he just sitting there, staring? Youâre on the verge of speaking when he edges nearer, parting your lips with a slow, deliberate nudgeâstrings of slick arousal gleaming between them.
You twitch as he eases in, his warm tongue sliding slow and deliberate between your folds, lapping at your pussy with a lazy, filthy drag, savoring every slick drop that clings to you. Youâre sweet on his tongueâwarm, slick. Maybe itâs too soon to admit, but he already knows he could get addicted to this. Just the taste of youâs got his dick throbbing and hard and his mind all hazy.
You tip your head back into the couch cushion, legs falling wider as he keeps licking at your sloppy pussy like some dog, all messy and eager. He glances up at you, and the sight alone makes him whimper against your slick, swollen pussy. Your head tilted back, lips parted, and glossy, soft little moans spilling from your throatâeach one sinking into his skin, making his cock ache.
âYou can use your fingers too⌠if youâd like,â you murmur, intending it as advice, but it comes out more like a commandâbreathless, needy. He obeys without hesitation, sliding two thick fingers inside you, eager to make you feel good. The way you squeeze around him, warm and wet, makes his breath hitch. He watches, mesmerized, as he pumps them in and out, each withdrawal leaving them glistening with your slick.
âFuck, âs good, youâre doing so good,â you moan, voice breathy and sweet, and Mark swears he could cum in his pants just from that alone. The way you praise him, all soft and desperate, makes his cock throb, aching for relief. He zeroes in on your clit, licking over it before grazing it lightly with his teeth, earning a sharp gasp from you. His thick, calloused fingers follow, circling the sensitive bud with slow, deliberate motions. Youâre soakedâcoated in his spit, in your own slickâand the weed coursing through your system makes every touch feel twice as intense, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.
Itâs filthyâthe way heâs practically making out with your pussy, sloppy and desperate, like he never wants you to leave his mouth. His tongue flicks and drags, lips sealing around your clit with wet, hungry sucks, and when your hips buck against him, grinding down for more, he just moans into you. His jaw and nose are drenched, slick dripping down his chin, but he doesnât stopâif anything, he dives in deeper, like he wants to drown in you.
âTastes so fuckinâ good,â he whines against you, voice muffled by the mess of your pussy. His fingers are still buried deep, pumping into you with a steady, obscene rhythm, while his other hand is stuffed between his legs, rubbing over the aching bulge in his pants. Heâs desperateâhumping into his own palm like he canât help himself, like just eating you out is enough to get him off.
âFuckââ His words are slurred, muffled by the slick between you. âTastes like you were made for me.â
Itâs messy, shamelessâthe way he devours you, like he never wants to come up for air. His jaw aches, but he doesnât stop, doesnât slow, just pulls you closer, as if he could disappear into you completely. You grind against his face, chasing the sharp coil tightening low in your belly, and he only urges you on, gripping your thighs, moaning as he lets you use him.
Your moans spill into the thick air, breath hitching as your back arches. ââMââm cumminâ,â you mewl, voice high, trembling. The pleasure crashes over you in waves, thighs shaking around his head as you unravel, coating his tongue with your release.
Mark doesnât stopânot yet. He groans against you, drinking in every last drop, licking and sucking like heâs starved, like he wants to commit your taste to memory. His breath is heavy, uneven, and when he finally pulls back, his lips and chin glisten with you.
His own hand moves frantically, pumping his cock through his pants, desperate, chasing the high thatâs been building since he first had you on his tongue. The sounds of your pleasureâthe broken whimpers, the way you shake, the way youâve completely let go for himâsend him over the edge. With a sharp, shuddering groan, his hips jerk, and he spills hot and thick into his pants, moaning through it, chest rising and falling in time with yours.
For a moment, the only sound between you is your ragged breaths, the faint hum of satisfaction settling between you both.
That night proved two things: first, that weed clearly has no effect on Viltrumites; and second, that Mark, without a doubt, eats pussy like a starved man.
