Sinister Mark X Reader - Blog Posts

ִֶָ࣪☾. | Sinister.

ᥫ᭡. Part two! (Part 1 here)

Tags: canon-typical violence, pwp (porn with plot), cunnilingus, oral sex (f receiving), interrupted sex, sinister mark is his own warning.

Silently, you read on your soft, large bed. The one that you’d told Mark to get you after he had kindly snapped the last one’s framework in half.

Afterwards, you’d tried to convince him to sleep on the pull-out couch downstairs. Unfortunately, he had thought you were making a less-than-clever joke. 

Even with the window closed shut and the curtains drawn, you could still hear the destruction and the screams of agony from outside; and it was creating a serious detriment to your train of thought. You can’t focus if you’re rudely interrupted by a cry or a pained scream after reading a single sentence. 

You let out an annoyed groan when you hear a goddamn gun go off, and decide to take matters in your own hands. Or rather, dump them on Mark. 

You place your bookmark with little cats on it in the page you’ve stopped, a paw extending to point to the last sentence you read. Then, you hop off the bed to draw open the curtains and open the window. You don’t bother to direct your gaze downwards, where the murder and destruction occurs. 

“Mark!” You call out loudly. You wait for a few seconds, keeping an eye on the sky as you wait. Your expression warps to a more annoyed the longer he takes. “Maaaark!” 

Amidst the polluted sky, you see something like a sonic boom approach from far away. When he’s a couple hundred meters close, he steadily slows down, angling his feet forward to slow himself further. Till finally, he’s face level with you. 

“Yes?” He says with a grin. 

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here forever.” 

He sighs, “Baby, I was in Rome. You know how far away that is?” You roll your eyes, “Pretty damn far away.” 

He leans in through the window and plants a kiss, “If you want, I can take you with me right now.” He says musically.

You shake your head and smirk, “Lovely offer, but no.” Then, a frown takes place on your lips, leading you back to the reason you called him, “Mark, I can’t pay attention. I'm trying to read that stupid book, but I can't.” You gesture to your ears, “Everything is so loud.” 

In that exact moment, an explosion goes off. Mark genuinely thinks about it for a moment, offering a solution, “So, do you want to live somewhere more remote?” 

“No. I don’t want to live in a wasteland.” 

“So do you want me to kill everyone here?” 

“But then who will I talk to?” You complain. 

He sighs, “Can’t you just deal with it?” You frown, and he eats up his words, “Okay. Fine, fine.” You can practically see him roll his eyes, even with his ridiculous goggles. “But I want pasta for dinner.” 

You pout, “That’s what we had last night!” 

He grins, “But not from Italy.” 

He gives you a last, parting kiss, and then darts away. You nearly tip over at the force of it, then wipe your lips with a groan. You close the window and shut the curtains. 

For a few, particularly annoying moments. There’s nothing but annoying loud noise. You try to keep your mind off of it by plugging in your headphones and listening to the songs you’ve saved. 

You walk over to the bookcase in the room, pristine and untouched. After the fiasco a few nights ago, you refused him when he wanted to put it back in its original spot in the living room. Instead, you decided on keeping the nook close to your heart, and you. In the bedroom. 

You run your fingers across the rows of books. By the time you find that same, slightly tampered with book, the noise has dispelled, leaving you in a comforting silence. You hum along to the song as you open the book. 

The book that you are fairly sure that you hadn’t possessed before your fight. You don’t know what had compelled you to look for a book you didn’t own that night. But somehow, you knew you needed that book, and you knew it was just within your reach. 

For some strange reason, the man that had opened a portal to your dimension –Angstrom Levy– was not keen on grabbing your Mark by the scruff and chucking him to a lovely reality he can ruin for his own enrichment. Or, that’s what you thought the idiot’s thought process was. Who the fuck knows what he’s thinking, really. 

The book is on how dimensions work, how people that can open realities do that, and most importantly, how people who can’t inherently create a hole in the fabric of reality, learn how to. 

Interesting stuff. 

On the armchair near the bookcase, your legs are pulled to you and you drape a blanket over your lap. You take a sip of your warm cup of tea and set it down on the small coffee table next to you. 

You open to where you stopped, and begin to read. 

You have read this book more than a few times over the last couple days since you discovered it’s existence. During that time, you’ve found it’s less been a long read, and more a tough read. You’re trying your best to wrap your head around the idea before you even begin to attempt it. Because you only really get one chance. One chance to get rid of your Mark. And if you fail? Well, then you can kiss kicking Mark’s ass out of this reality goodbye. 

The entire late afternoon, you spend it in your reading nook, repeating over and over what you have to do to open a portal to a different reality. 

When seven o’ clock strikes, you hear the familiar click of the front door. And before you could even lift your face to see, you’re met face-to-face with Mark. 

He sees the book you’re reading, “I see you’re making good use of your time.” He kisses your cheek, “I’ll take a quick shower and meet you downstairs. I won’t take too long.” You suppose the last part was meant to be a threat. 

***

At the dinner table, you twirl your fork around the spaghetti, then push the spikes of it into a meatball, before putting it in your mouth. As you chew, you hum pleasantly. 

He watches your expression with a keen eye, a grin on his lips at his triumph. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be cold. You just like to complain.” 

You swallow. “It’s a little cold.” You don’t want him to think he did an amazing job and get too full himself. 

He throws his hands up and furrows his eyebrows at you, “No! It isn’t!” You just shrug. 

The rest of the dinner continues to be a series of cutlery clinking with each other as you silently eat. Per usual, Mark’s face is screwed up into a frown.

“So,” He tries to start, “How’s the book you were reading going along?” You look at him with an eyebrow raised, and he groans, “The one with the angsty guy.” 

You sigh and correct him, “Angstrom.” You take a sip of wine, it’s painfully good. “And I already told you, I can’t open a portal. It’s impossible. You have to be born with it.” 

You fall into yet another uncomfortable silence. And the cycle continues with Mark trying to speak up, “Well, what about those other books you were reading? The one with the dragons and princesses and whatever.” 

Each time, you respond as curtly as physically possible, and the dinner ends with you throwing the dishes in the garbage. Because who does dishes at the end of the world, anyway? 

Without needing to be told, you hop on the marble counter and let Mark slip between your legs. He holds your hips as gently as possible (for him, anyway) as he kisses your lips. But as the kisses become more heated, his grip on you tightens, and you repress an annoyed sigh. He’s such a goddamned brute it’s almost aggravating. 

He picks you up by the back of your thigh without cutting off the kiss, a show of his strength. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him kiss you on the table where you were eating at. You let him suck at your lips against the living room couch, and you let him mark your neck against the stairs, before finally carrying you up into the bedroom. 

Along the way, there is a mess of a trail of clothes. He throws you onto the bed and takes his underwear and pants down in one go. He kicks them away and crawls to you, planting kisses down your neck. 

“You’re so fucking…” He grabs your waist tightly, “bitchy without even trying.” He bites the column of your neck harshly, then again on the other side. You yelp both times. “You know how goddamn annoying you are?” 

He’s taking his frustrations out on dinner, and every dinner, on you. And you won’t have that. You slap his back, he shudders, “Either do it right or get off of me.” You grit. 

He just groans, “God, I hope that leaves a mark.” He kisses down your body. Starting from the middle of your chest, to your stomach, all the way down to your pelvis. With how impatient he is, it doesn’t take long before he plants a wet kiss directly on your folds. Your thighs instinctively cage his head. He snickers. 

“Oh…” He chuckles breathily against your cunt, making your spine shiver. “Missed this fucking cunt.” 

You don’t, or rather can’t, comment on how it’s only been two days since the two of you last had sex, because he decides to put his face directly into your pussy, licking at it. His mouth finds your clit, and latches on it, sucking. 

You immediately grip his dark hair, moaning. Your breath turns ragged as he leaves your clit a sensitive, puffy mess. “D-Don’t tease.” You grumble, but it sounds more like a whimper. 

He licks a stripe along your folds in response, “Baby, I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, ‘cause this is my pussy. You fucking got that?” He licks along your folds insistently, making you squirm. 

When you don’t reply, he slaps your hip, “You got that?” and you nod immediately, amusing him. As a reward, he slips a finger inside your wet core, and your breath is caught in your throat. 

Without bothering to let you get used to the feeling, he starts to slip it in and out. The lewd squelching sounds please him, and he returns his attention back to your clit. 

“M-Mark–” You barely say, your leg jerking, “Wait–” 

He takes that as an invitation to slip a second finger inside of you, making you gasp. He crooks them, trying to find your most sensitive spot, and he catches it when you scream. 

Determined to make you cum, each thrust of his fingers lands on your g-spot. Your head thrashed against the pillow, and your body jerks, trying to get away from him. But you’re pretty sure you’d cry if he did. 

He takes turns sucking on your clit, and marking your inner thighs. Every movement and jerk makes you flex, and he grips your thigh, “Stay fucking still, yeah?” 

You try, but it’s asking the impossible. Mark goes down on you again, eating at your pussy with renewed fervor. Curse viltrumite stamina. Or bless it. 

You feel the feeling in your stomach boil over, and you barely have time to warn him before he makes you come with a scream. You cry, and your cum lands on his mouth, making a mess, and he eagerly laps up your release. You breathe quickly, your thighs squeezing around him so hard his skull might bash in if he wasn’t superhuman.  

Eventually, you come down. Though your breath still comes in sharp inhales as you try to calm yourself. You realize it’s impossible with Mark still in between your legs. You try to push him off you as he licks at your inner thigh, “Mark—” You whine, “Enough. Stop. It hurts.” 

With one last lick, he finally gets up from between your legs. His tongue darts from his lips to clean them of your release. He crawls on top of you and kisses beneath your jaw, his hands going to feel your body up and down.

“Well it’s about to hurt a lot more. Because you’re such a sweetheart, and you’ll let me finish inside of you.” He squeezes your waist, “Won’t you?” 

Your cunt automatically pulses like a sleeper agent, and you feel the waves of arousal come back to you in an instant. Yes, the fuck. You are a goddamned sweetheart. The sweetest, even. 

You can’t help yourself from wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, which he responds to with a pleasant moan. He grabs the side of your head and sucks at your lips, like he’s trying to eat them. But you don’t care. You want to have him. And you want him right now. 

His tongue slips between your kiss-bitten lips, and you feel his hardness push against your inner thigh. So close, yet so completely far away. 

“Mark.” You moan, “Mhm?” he says back, and you take a second to lay back down, looking up at his sickly sweet puppy eyes. Pretty eyes that are clouded over with lust. 

You let out a sound that’s like a whine. “Please? Now?” He chases after you like a puppy, immediately connects your lips again. 

“Yea, mmm, fuck. Yeah, okay.” 

He rubs his cock against your inner thigh, and it barely grazes your core, making you whine. You’ll die if you don’t get to have him inside of you right now. You wrap your legs around the small of his back, letting him know. 

He continues to kiss you like he’s starved, practically trying to melt your lips into each other as he humps your inner thigh. 

You feel sweat cling to your skin and Mark’s breathing becomes more frequent. 

He sits up on his haunches and strokes the underside of his cock, his eyes rolling back atthe pleasure. You swallow, enraptured by his display as he pumps his dick right in front of you. “You want this?” 

You look into his eyes with as much desperation as you’re trying to convey: yes. Oh my god, yes. 

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and he brings your thighs around his hips. You help him without hesitation. Your body racks with nerves and anticipation as you eye his dick. Excitement bubbles up in your core. 

Just as you think he’s about to slam into you as roughly as he always does, he’s suddenly snapped out of his lusty haze, his face becoming more alert as he glances around the room. He quickly turns his head up to look at the window. Wordlessly, he jumps out of bed with speed and peels back the curtains. 

You know better than to even call out his name, so you lift the covers up to your chest and try to see what he’s seeing, sitting up. 

From the exact opposite side of the room, there’s a crackle, and an otherworldly sound fills the room as a bright green portal opens up. Instantly, it casts the room in its unrealistic, brilliant green. 

It continues to swirl in on itself, as it had done that fateful night. 

Mark looks at you, as if you’d done that, and you snort, “Yeah cause i’d have enough concentration to warp reality while we have sex.” 

He groans, not at all pleased with the turn of events. “Well, if you’re soo concentrated, close it back up again.” 

“And what the hell makes you think I can do that?” 

While the two of you bicker, a figure emerges from the portal, and your eyes flit to it on instinct. Meanwhile, Invincible’s instinct is to pull back his fist, ready to kill. 

Your jaw falls open as what emerges from the portal is not like anything you’ve seen. It’s a man, with a large, gross-looking head. He wears an inelaborate suit with a dramatic red cape. You turn your head and frown in distaste. 

You’ve always associated Mark with being some kind of freak accident, but this guy clearly takes the cake for being a mutant abnormality. 

“Invincible.” He declares, and in your opinion, ridiculously. “I have a proposal.” 

So it seems that’s what mutants say instead of ‘Hello.’ these days. 

You squint your eyes at the man. He seems familiar, but at the same time not at all so. 

“Angstrom?” You say, before Invincible almost punches through his guts with a yell. 

Instead, he catches himself and merely shoves him to the wall opposite, creating a crater. He looks back at you, “This guy?” He asks incredulously. You can only nod. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, I'm sure you’re known for it.” Angstrom groans after being struck. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask against your better judgement.

“Well, I wanted to give you guys some privacy so you can finish up.” He looks to Invincible, “But I don’t have all day for you to get off, too. And it’s as they say, ladies first, anyway.” 

You could not believe what your ears had just heard and what information your brain just relayed to you. You’re pretty sure your vagina just shriveled up and died right there. 

It’s only then that you notice Mark stands with his dick hanging. Just like that. Just…like… that. 

Perhaps it is just a way of life that you will never understand men.

Angstrom relays to invincible the deal that had slipped out of your mouth the night of your fight. To no one’s surprise, he instantly agrees. And faster than you can blink, he changes into his black and yellow suit. 

The man with brains for a head goes through the portal without further delay, confident Invincible will follow anyway. 

Invincible floats in front of the portal, looking back at you with his usual, cocky grin. You must look like a fish out of water. 

“This probably won’t take longer than a few days, you know?” 

You nod, not sure what to say. 

“And it’s what we want, to expand the empire.” 

You nod again, wordlessly. 

Satisfied, he flies through the portal, and it closes up behind him without delay. Instantly, the room is free of the portal’s glimmering green glow, and it’s shrouded in the complete darkness it was in.

Seems that mutants don’t say hello, or goodbye. 

You get off the bed sluggishly and put on your underwear and your shirt. You go to your small reading nook that was only made recently. The book Angstrom had given you is still laid on top of your thin blanket. You take it, and drop it into the trash can. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: sorry to edge, next part will have p in v, yay.

Tagged: @onlybatsyy

ִֶָ࣪☾. | Sinister.

ᥫ᭡. Part 1! (Part 2 is up)

Tags (pls read): Domestic violence, themes of abuse, choking (not as a kink), almost fainting, sinister mark is his own warning. Notes: I tried to make the reader seem bad but you know, anyone can look good next to fucking lucifer over here.

There’s a crash, and your bookcase breaks into many halves when Mark throws a lamp at it. The glass shatters, sending the wood splintering across the room. You cover your face with your forearms.

“You always do this. You always fucking do this!” He huffs like an aggravated bull. The sound of his voice just makes you sigh in annoyance, your eyebrow twitching at the mess. Which apparently, is enough to set him off. 

Enough to scream so loud the walls shake slightly. “What? WHAT?” With the speed of a viltrumite, Mark slams you into the wall of the living room, his forearm against your neck, holding you high, “Got something to fucking say?” 

You feel your face instantly flush and you kick his chest and scream, clawing at his arms, he barely deters. “Mark-" You sputter, "Put me down!” 

He puts you down. Or rather, drops you so you fall on the wooden floorboards. You wheeze in a breath and cough painfully, trying your best to fill your lungs with oxygen with a sharp intake of air. You bring your hand to your neck, trying to feel at it as you cough. Your eyes are familiar with the sight of wooden floorboards, even with your vision unfocused. 

“That’s what you get… for being smart with me.” 

His hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him, you instinctively hold his wrist. When you glare, he grips you with such vigor that you’re afraid your jawbone might shatter under his hold. You breathe madly, still not recovering from the choking he had decided to give you.  

He leans in closer, “Are you done?” His voice sounds like he’s speaking through a broken megaphone, and you’re starting to see double of the bastard. 

You feel your eyes droop and your head spin. Nonetheless, you spit blood on his face, “Go to hell.” 

His hold on your jaw turns crushing, but even with all the pain in the world, it won’t stop you from acting in spite of Mark. Never will. And when he sees the unadulterated hatred in your eyes, he yells, but lets go of your face harshly, your hand immediately going to your jaw. You hiss, finally feeling the burn.

He paces around the room with shaky fists. He never really could accept that you didn’t love him. Though technically, you wouldn't call whatever twisted form of affection he has for you 'love'.

He's hyper aware that with one more wrong move, you’ll die. So, he directs his punch to the wall instead. 

“Why?” He says shakily, with his fist still connected to the wall. “Why, why, why, why?” He punctuates each word with a punch, the last one breaking a hole in the wall. 

Still unsatisfied, and still brimming with anger, he turns his line of view to you. You're completely still on the floor with your forehead to your knee, panting. 

He clenches his fists, they continue to shake. “I do everything for you. I make sure you’re fucking spared, you even have a goddamn house.” He gestures to the place, the one that is now in complete ruins, “And you’re still. So. Ungrateful.” He laments. You don’t hear him.

He continues to bitch (all he’s good for, anyway). You’re starting to come down from the dizziness, feeling the bruising on your neck. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot something painfully bright green in your monotone living room. 

You mistake it for a trick of the eye, your dizziness playing with your perception. But you see it, just out of the corner of your vision...

You double take, and it’s real. You tense. Some kind of wormhole that whirls in on itself. A portal that’s ripped the fabric of reality momentarily. Even Mark's shut up. 

It’s presence darkens the room, but it’s green makes up for it by illuminating, casting you in it’s bright glow.

You squint your eyes, leaning forward on your arms, “What the–” 

You see something, like a mini movie, but it’s blurry, and you can barely catch a sliver of it. However, you can hear it. 

It’s… Mark’s voice. If you had the strength, you’d turn to him, because it somehow sounded less irritating than it always does. 

Before you could question who was talking (because that soft voice couldn’t be Mark’s.), you see yourself walk into frame, talking to someone chirpily. You look healthier, stronger, your expression relaxed. 

“The fuck is this?” Mindlessly, you lift a hand to silence Mark as you try and pay attention. Somehow, he doesn’t comment on your ‘rudeness’, letting it slide. Or perhaps just as taken aback by the portal’s abrupt presence.

Then, there’s Mark…you’re talking…laughing with Mark. He looks so…different. Much younger, much cuter, much softer. 

You don’t know how long you’re staring for, completely astonished at what it is that you’re seeing— But without your permission, it leaves just as suddenly as it came, swirling in on itself, disappearing into a wisp. It dissolves into the tiniest of sparks, leaving you with the deafening silence of the room. You blink, sitting back down on the floor. 

You hate Mark, you really do, and you would never speak up to him first unless he had threatened to saw you in half or something. But this time, you couldn't help yourself, “You just saw what I saw, right?” 

“Of course I did, I have eyes.” He says far too quickly, you’re too tired to roll your eyes. 

Without even thinking about it, you lift your arm up. Mark takes it, lifting you up, “Was it an illusion?” 

“Because it's so hard to believe I'm actually nice somewhere.” 

You ignore his insistent grumbling. “So, it’s a different reality.” 

You shrug off him rather forcefully and walk to the bookcase, the one that now looked more like a crime scene than anything peaceful. You crouch down and filter through the fallen books. 

Mark crosses his arms, “What are you doing?” 

You move a piece of wood weakly and look under it, “You could have ruined any piece of the house, by the way.” You chastise.

“Well, I specifically wanted to upset you. So that’s that.” He says matter-of-factly. He walks over and lifts the wood piece without effort. You crawl under it to try to find what you’re looking for. 

“Not even a thank you?” He says when you ignore him. You crawl out and sit on the floor with your legs crossed, a book in your hands. He lets go of the broken wood and it snaps under its own weight. He puts his hands on his hips and looks down at you as you flip through the pages. 

“I’ll ask again, and I want an answer this time. What are you doing?” 

You land on the chapter you were looking for, splaying your hand on the page. You blink at it, and a soft smile spreads across your face, “Mark," You begin, "Do you want to expand your damned viltrumite empire, or not?” You say calmly. 

He bites his lip when you say his name like that, but a sadistic smile makes its home on his face. “Well, don’t fuckin’ keep me waiting then.” 

You feel a sense of peace amidst your headache, like the clarity after a cry, because you had just hatched an idea, a brilliant idea, to get rid of Mark, forever. Where he’ll be gone some place far, far away. And you doubt he’s bright enough to come back all on his own. Ridiculous in his perseverance at times, but not at all brilliant. 

The book in your hand shakes, you’re convinced he’ll think it’s just because you’re still in pain. 

“There is this man, his name is Angstrom Levy.” 

He laughs, “What a terrible name to have.” 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: I think this is weird on top of being non-canon compliant? But im gonna expand on it nonetheless because i have some ideas

Invincible Variants x Civilian!Reader (Pt.1)

I would love to write for ALL the variants but there’s quite a bit of them where we were unable to figure out their personalities because they were just in the background so I am going to be writing for the ones who actually talked. The reader can be seens as gender neutral, male, or fem. Each variant will have their own warning.

Characters: Sinister, Mohawk, Viltrum, Shiesty, Omni, Full Mask, Maskless, Cowl/Cap, Target/Empire, Prisoner, Lensless, Prime/Mainstream, Retro

Characters in this part: Viltrum and Sinister

It was supposed to be any other normal day. As normal as it can get when you live in a world with heroes and villains, and live in a city. Often, cities are targeted for attacks, that’s why you find yourself living on the outskirts of the city. Close to being out of the targeted zone, but not fully out. You grab your laundry as you put in airpods to listen to some RnB music. You hum along, occasionally swaying your body to the melody, while you put your clothes into the washer. You completely tuned out the world, that is- until you were forced to look reality in the eye.

There’s a slight shake to the apartment building, it has you wondering if it’s an attack or if it’s an Earthquake. You had no time to think over which one is worse when you hear a faint screech. You take out the airpods and realize that the evacuation alarms are ringing in the apartment building. You grab your phone, and a pre-prepared bag full of valued items and you don’t look back as you rush out my front door. Finding yourself in the midst of a frantic crowd running as well, as the alarm loudly yells and flashes to warn you: you need to evacuate.

When you all get to the staircase, the building shakes again. Legs go weak and a few fall down the stairs. The windows shatter as glass flies over the others heads. You can hear a little girl crying, and your heart wants to immediately check to see if she’s okay. However, your brain takes over- telling you she’s with her family and she will be okay. You stumble down the steps, avoiding running over the bodies in the stairwell as you run outside. Instantly, you knew it was a bad idea. Debris is filling your vision- You can’t see where to run. You can hear screaming to your left and you can hear what sounds like a snapping noise to your right. You can’t even turn around to go back into the building. Maybe living alone was a bad idea, right now all you want is your family.

Viltrum Mark:

The debris slowly filters into the air, the cloud is pungent as it clings on to anyone who runs out of the disaster- painting them in grey and white. It sticks to them, making them easy to target. However, that is not necessary. He came here and did what he promised to do. He caused destruction, and he watches as the building groans. It’s about to go down anyways, there’s no point in taking extra lives.

The groaning gets louder and it halts for only a minute before the sound becomes almost deafening as the building collapses on itself- sending a new toxic and deadly wave of debris. Another major city is destroyed, his work here is done. He debates on whether he should leave to destroy another or wait for the heroes to arrive so he can rip them apart- to show them that it’s useless. This is going to be their future anyways when Viltrum shows up to conquer them, he’s just giving them a small sample of what’s to come.

He allows his body to glide backwards, to fully view the damage he has done when he notices something in the corner of his eye. A hero coming to help perhaps?

He launches his body full force to the speck that was moving and lands before them, causing a smaller wave of gravel and debris to kick up. He looks down and he’s almost disappointed. This isn’t a hero, it’s just a civilian that managed to survive.

-

You cough harshly, causing the rawness of it to spread quickly up your throat as small pebbles and debris launch directly in your face. You can barely see through your eyelashes caked in the concrete’s powder. It’s no use to even try and wipe your face, and you continue to blink violently as you look up to see what crash landed in front of you.

Your stomach drops farther than it has in a long time. When you can see an outline of a male in front of you, and by what you can make out- his stance doesn’t scream that he is here to help you. In fact, by the way his body is tense and looking down on you- you can assume that he caused this attack. And so, this is how you die, at least that’s what you told yourself.

“You survived.” He said it in a tone of voice that sounded like a mix of annoyance and being impressed.

“For now,” You rasp out before you cough again. You can’t even make out his face, as the sun glares down from behind him and the fog over your eyes.

“If your body is able to move, I suggest doing so now- your lungs will collapse if you stay here any longer.”

You wanted to bark out something like ‘oh, thanks for the tip, I’ll get up right now!’ but your body and throat were burning. You could only wheeze in response to him.

He harshly grabs onto your arm and yanks you out of the dust and broken concrete, causing you to scream out in pain from just how rough his touch was. He falters for a moment, perhaps he forgot how weak humans are. He gently but firmly swipes his hand over your face, brushing out the debris so you could see better, and so he could make out your features. When you blink away the particles invading your vision, you realize how handsome he is. His plump lips, his thick arched eyebrows, his surprisingly soft eyes.

“Oh. You look different when you’re not caked in debris”

“Uh, thanks?”

He pulls away and begins to hover off the ground, slowly backing up. “Consider this a good deed, don’t go to the major hospital in this city. It will be targeted next and stuffed to the brim with survivors. And leave the city. If you make it, perhaps we will see each other again.”

Was that a threat, or a promise?

-

It was a promise. You had gotten basic treatment at a smaller medical facility before waves of patients were sent there- bombarding the overworked staff. You walked, not knowing where to go now. Shelters were full, your home was gone within the blink of an eye, who knows if your family is alive. Factors on what to do run over your mind over and over again until you see a figure hovering over you, in the moonlit sky.

“You survived. Impressive”

All you could do was stare. You couldn’t yell profanities at him, you valued your life too much but you couldn’t exactly thank him. He did little to actually help you. However, he was expecting a thank you. He lowered himself down to the ground, his movements graceful and elegant.

“A thank you would go a long way.”

“... thank you.”

He takes meticulous strides forward. “I am not here to hurt you.”

“Then why are you here?”

He thinks it over.

“Perhaps I feel responsible-”

You cut him off, without thinking, “Oh really?”

His mouth moves into a thin line, “Don’t make me regret this.”

“Regret what?”

He slowly presses your body next to yours, and you have no time to react. You squeeze your eyes shut, assuming he was going to hit you but no. Soft lips press against yours, and it feels so good. Perhaps you are just seeking comfort, you just want to have a shoulder to lean on after the events of today.

Whatever it truly is, you let yourself kiss him back. It’s sloppy, uncoordinated, and frankly- it’s quite feral. His kisses are rough like he’s never kissed someone before, but it’s raw and desperate. If you are his first kiss, it worries you slightly. What did he see in you that it was enough to kiss you?

You find yourself trying to find a happy medium with his kisses, he at first was just trying to show his dominance in the kiss, but slowly lets you take the lead when he realizes you’re finding a nice pace. Your hands reach behind him, and you give his butt a light squeeze. He pulls away and gasps, looking at you like you’ve offended him- but he doesn’t seem opposed to the move. In fact, he hasn’t moved your hand from his rear.

“You’re quite bold.”

“It’s kept me alive so far.”

He hums in response before slowly letting his body move upwards away from your arms.

“You have been proven to be enticing enough, strong enough to survive day 1, and you're bold enough to cooperate with my kiss. I see you as a worthy mate, and after this is over- I will be taking you to Viltrum.” And just like that, he’s gone. Wait, what the fuck did he just say??

Sinister:

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

He isn’t interested in civilians at all, unless they get in his way. This destruction is to lure out big heroes, what he deems as worthy opponents. He tunes out the screams from civilians, like they’re just annoying ringing noises of tinnitus. Or perhaps a mosquito making a high pitched hum that isn’t an actual threat. Just annoying.

He lands on the ground when he sees heroes and first responders approaching. Perfect, maybe one of the heroes in this world are more competent than the ones in his world. He steps over the pile of rubble when he hears a wet crunch and a loud strangled scream. underneath he sees a body of a person, and by they wrenching sound they made- they’re still alive and he just broke their leg. Their face contorts in pain as he steps off the large piece of concrete and stands right next to them, slowly tilting his head.

-

You were hoping the worst of it was over. You wouldn’t be discovered by any of the variants- and rescue would eventually find you. But apparently you have a big target on your back of sorts, or maybe a family curse. For him, a variant of Invincible here to fuck up your city, to find you was a garunteed death sentence. You can’t even find the energy to turn your body halfway to see how bad your leg must be mangled now. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to walk again.

“Tsk, tsk. You were in my way.” He hums, like he’s annoyed by your very existence. Honestly, how dare you be in his way, he had important shit to do.

You don’t want to look at him, but you get yourself to. His suit is reminiscent of a bee- no, a wasp. One that can sting multiple times, with a rigid body. You can hear heroes in the distance, but you know it’s no use. Invincible is obviously strong, and this variant is very cocky- and probably has the prowess to back it up.

You try to blink the dust and debris away as he continues to stare at you, not bothering to look behind him as the voices grow near. His gaze is calm, but in a bad way, in a sinister way. You blink, then there’s blood clouding your vision. It sprayed all over your face, it’s warm and drips slowly down your face before you can even process.

A hero tried to attack but within an instant, Invincible ended him. You try to suppress the urge to gag and vomit. You have to close your eyes to avoid the gore in front of you. Invincible quickly kneels before you and gets close to your face- a feeling of him just hovering. Studying.

“What are you willing to sacrifice in order to live? And how much pain are you willing to endure?”

The question caught you off guard. Excuse me? You can barely think as your brain swims with a fog- the concussion was making your head pound and the pain in your leg was distracting to say the least. You try to open your mouth a few times but no words form and spill out.

He doesn’t seem pleased. He grabs you roughly by the ear.

“Hey, dipshit, answer me now.”

“I- I don’t know!” You plead, hoping that maybe there is something in there to appease his humanity- even if it is wishful thinking. Faith is all that can keep you going at this point- or maybe it’s like wishing on a dim, pointless star.

“Not good enough. How about this,” he says steadily, adjusting his squatted position to get more comfortable- not letting go of your ear.

“Are you willing to sacrifice your leg?”

You pitifully squeak out, “yes…”

He smiles, pleased with this answer. Is this a game?

“What about… hm, let’s see…” An idea pops up, “what about the living civilians within a mile radius”

This question catches you off guard, your life doesn’t mean more than everyone around you. But, is it selfish that your life is more meaningful to you? That deep down, maybe you’re scared of what lies for you beyond death. This torment seems to please him enough to not get mad. He doesn’t rush you, he’s just waiting.

“I… I think on a grand scale… my life is not that meaningful. But… to me…”

He listens to your hoarse but hushed voice murmur out this answer, and he grins like a maniac.

“So you’re selfish?”

“I-… maybe”

“Good.”

You look up, confused. “Huh?”

“How else do you think I got here? It’s by being selfish, YOU always come first in your mind.” His words make you realize how much of a piece of shit you sound like. But, apparently you amuse him enough for him to spare you. To let you live for another day, come hell or high water. He lifts the rubble off your leg and tosses it aside like it’s nothing- not caring if it hits someone. He hums and grabs you by your mangled leg.

A screech shreds through your throat as he begins to hover himself off the ground, higher and higher. You jerk your body upwards to at least catch a glimpse. Your leg is so broken, mangled even, that it looks like it could rip apart like a wet paper towel.

“Say, is this pain unbearable? Or do you think you can endure it for another 20 minutes if it means you get to live?”

You cry, wrenching out raw and wet sobs. You plead, “please, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Kill you? It’s either I drop you from here- letting you squish below, or I carry you like this to a safe spot. Might take a while though”

You scream and cry out, hoping that some miracle would come and help you from this mess. But nothing does- so you have to choose.

“I want to live! Pl-please.” A wet strangled noise comes from the bottom of your throat when he raises you higher to throw you over his shoulder. The pain doesn’t stop, your leg is still mangled, but at least the blood stopped rushing to your head and he isn’t gripping your leg anymore. He rubs your back roughly, the weird gesture making it obvious he has never comforted someone before. He kisses your earlobe he assaulted earlier and says in a smooth and cruel voice.

“I’ll take good care of you. We’re similar after all..”

TEAR YOU APART

pairing : sinister! mark grayson x afab! florist reader.

synopsis : in which mark discovers your dirty little secret and decides to help you recreate it in real time.

(18+) warnings : kidnapping. nasty petty perv mark. allusions to cannibalism. mention of kinda gory violence. hair pulling. biting. mean name calling duh. giving each other head. p in v unprotected sex. creampies. marathon sex as in multiple orgasms. squirting. overstimulation . . . ++ just really nasty smut lol [ all consentual though! you two are freaks like in capital FREAKS ]

w.c : 5.5k.

notes : erm. yeah idk what possessed me to write this but lemme know what you think ! it's my first time writing smut this long and detailed [ my search history is crazy rn lol ]. let's just say this takes place in sinister mark's universe before he starts acting like a murder machine and all, so yeah :] again interactions are always appreciated, also do let me know if you think there's any warning i should add!

taglist : @vm4879bb-blog [ for the others, i wasn't sure if you guys would be okay being tagged in a fic like this so i didn't, let me know if you wanna be added tho :p ]

now on ao3 too!

he's going to kill something, or someone.

“oh yeah this? my boyfriend got it for me!”

he hears you talk about him, your lover, everyday and it annoys him deeply, the subtle furrow of his eyebrows barely noticeable but definitely there — sometimes a twitch of his eye, clear cracks in his carefully constructed facade give away his irritation if you choose to look closely.

“that reminds me, this one time he-”

he loves that pretty voice of yours — dare he say, he's grown fond of it, but he wants to shut you up forever whenever your boyfriend's name leaves your lips.

mark wants his name to be on your tongue — to be said with the same love and fondness that accompanies the name of your lover.

he tried, he really did, to give you signs — a squeeze of your hand there, a stare that can practically undress you on its own. but it seems you're oblivious to it all, or you're playing hard to get, either way his patience is running thin.

he'll get what he wants. just you wait.

every time he visits your little shop, it smells like flowers mixed with your perfume, that sweet and sugary scent with just a hint of citrus — he had asked you about the perfume you wore during his third visit, bought it the same day so he could finally get off because his imagination wasn't enough at this point, that kept him somewhat satisfied for a bit, but it wasn't nearly enough.

so when he stopped by next time, not even buying flowers to play along with whatever this is, he asked you, “where do you buy your clothes?”

you blink a couple times, clearly taken aback back by the sudden question but nonetheless, answer him — although you're not quite sure what to make of his disheveled hair and blown out pupils.

here he is, acting like a feral dog in heat, buying anything and everything that he can at the shops you frequent that resembles your clothes. and when he's back at home, he's spraying them with the perfume you always wear, rutting like a madman into the mattress as he mouths at a pink shirt — the same one you own and the one you were wearing when he first saw you, his drool leaking and staining the shirt as he holds it close to his mouth and closing his eyes, your scent surrounding him as he suckles on the chest area of the shirt, imagining it's your chest instead which has him groaning and cumming in his pants. that keeps him going for another week or so.

next thing he knows, he's acting on pure instinct and his desires — snapping photos of your panties underneath your little skirts like a fucking pervert, looking them up online so he could order them and make a mess of them. and he does, he stains each and everyone of those panties with his hot, thick cum and sometimes his spit when he imagines eating your pretty pussy out. his desires however continue to only grow.

he visits your little shop, like he always does, mentally preparing himself to not grab your throat and shove you down to make you shut up if he hears about your stupid boyfriend again.

he's being nice, can't you see? you should be thankful.

mark sees a new ring on your finger, the small silver zircon on it shining underneath the sunlight, he wonders if it's another gift from your boyfriend.

the thought leaves a bitter taste behind, regardless, he maintains his usual aloof facade, waiting for you to finish wrapping up his bouquet that he's going to end up tossing away the next day — just like the other flowers he's bought from you, they don't compare to you or your beauty, he wants you, a flower that won't rot away once he's done playing with it.

surprisingly, you don't mention the name of a certain man who he wants dead and buried six feet deep but he doesn't comment on it, in fact, a small barely imperceptible smile tugs at his lips.

he's just about to leave your little flower heaven when he hears something that makes his heart, uncharacteristically skip a beat.

“yeah i heard, i’m so sorry,” a voice, which he recognizes as your friend speaks softly, sympathetically.

“yeah, i don't know what i was thinking,” you start, “the signs were there, i just never thought he'd cheat like that,” you blink away the forming tears, “i trusted him.”

he stops dead in his tracks. that bastard cheated on you? he'll make him pay for being the reason you cry, although your tears do make his cock twitch in his pants. he'll lick them off of your face if you let him, god he really wants to.

should he simply keep your boyfriend to torture? he's sure he could lure you in with it, after all you are way too sweet for your own good.

he'll slowly tear each of his limbs apart, making sure the man hears his bones cracking and skin ripping, he'll make that fucker bleed to death. hell, he'd even record those painful, agonizing sounds that your ex would cry out, he's sure you'd cry more if he lets you hear them, maybe he just wants to see you cry — though he's sure you'll do that when you choke on his cock.

he snaps out of his little fantasy when the bell rings, indicating the opening of the door — another customer in, he sighs. he's losing it, he's not sure how much he can withstand not having you with him. but he's trying, for you.

for the sweetest girl who he can't wait to devour.

with his restraint hanging on by a thread, he steps out of your shop, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists by his sides. he needs to have you.

and that restraint finally snaps the next day when he discovers that his favorite florist is a fucking freak.

as you're tending to customers — clearly overwhelmed by their number as valentine’s day is approaching and flowers are definitely a safe option for your partner, his eyes stay locked on your laptop's screen that you had put on one of the small tables, lid only half closed, his eyes frantically scan over some of the words as he fully opens the screen, trying to stay out of your vision.

he quickly decides to go somewhere where there aren't so many people so he could take a look inside his sweet girl's sick mind. and with that he skillfully slips outside — he feels awfully excited, sneaking into the small bathroom of some shop.

and with each click of the cursor and another tab opening, he learns your most depraved, disgusting fantasies — the kind of porn you're into, your kinks and fetishes, the smut you read, all of it.

he even stumbles upon a small blog you run, oh now we're talking. each lewd image or post you've reblogged, followed by some words of “wish that was me rn”, has him hard. and these date back before your break up, meaning your boyfriend was definitely not keeping you satisfied and that has him grinning like a maniac.

oh he'll give you what you want.

he shamelessly palms himself when he finds your dairy entry with his name, rambling about how you feel guilty fantasizing about him ruining you. he would've cum right then and there if it weren't for the knocking on the door, “hey man, you mind hurrying it up?”

oh right he's still in a bathroom and not in you, like he should be.

he manages to sneak your laptop back in, thanking the absurd amount of customers mentally which helped him go in and out without raising suspicion.

he can't take it anymore, it's only been a couple hours since he's discovered your filthy secret and also saw you tearing up earlier because of that asshole who broke your heart.

he knows he's a hypocrite — he doesn't care for your dumb feelings and your big heart, okay well maybe that's a lie.

it is a lie.

and there are definitely these feelings that he refuses to acknowledge but still, the only reason why you should be crying is because of him fucking your brains out.

and so he waits, like a predator waiting to pounce — he holds his breath, watching as the sun sets and you lock up your shop, ready to go home and get some sleep but your plans are interrupted as a hand sneaks up behind you with some sort of cloth, muffling your panicked noises and before you know it you're knocked out.

it takes you hours to gain your consciousness back, eyes all heavy and mind disoriented you blink, once. then twice, your eyes widen and your mouth suddenly feels too dry. you're all tied up to a cold hard metal chair, you're only in your bra and panties, the rope is too tight, it's constricting and will definitely leave behind angry marks on your skin.

standing before you is one of your regular customers, mark. you stare at him, dumbfounded — eyes darting around to look for an escape okay to see a single door, desk and some chairs, panic settles in your bones, the coldness of the room does nothing to soothe your nerves.

you mindlessly try to shift around, a desperate attempt that leaves you wincing in pain — the friction of the thick black rope burning against your skin.

you try to speak, but nothing comes out, only a small choked sob — looking at him with those wide eyes which are brimming with tears that are oh so close to spilling and staining your cheeks, you look utterly helpless. the sight alone makes him excited.

he takes a deep breath, he wants to take his time with you, savor you. but goddamnit, if you keep looking at him like that he's sure he'll end up doing the opposite of that.

“open your mouth,” he commands, leaving no room for argument and you hate the way it sends a shiver down your spine and a throb to your core. 

you hesitantly open your mouth, with his back turned to you — doing god knows what, you try screaming for help, it is a weak attempt that makes him chuckle, “no one's going to hear you sweetheart,” he coos mockingly, “i suggest you play along if you wish to live.”

he's not joking, his voice makes it clear. 

so you reluctantly keep your mouth opened, hot tears falling down — lucky for you, he's being nice, at least for now because he brings a glass of water, holding your jaw and pouring the water in your mouth, some of it spills, the coldness of it on your bare skin making you shiver — but you swallow all he gives hastily, hoping it really is just water.

you sputter a bit of the water out onto him in surprise when he licks a stream of you tears away, his tongue hot against your skin and his spit leaving a shiny trail on your cheek. scared, that he'll hurt you because of what you've just done, you close your eyes shut as if the mere action would actually rewind back time and do something for you.

he laughs, loudly.

god, you're adorable. he could just eat you up.

“are you scared of me?” he asks, knowing damn well it's a pointless question but the genuine fear in your eyes has him reeling with joy and a desire only you, his sweetheart, can fulfill.

he puts the now empty glass of water back on a small table, “you know, you look real pretty like this,” he starts, dragging a chair to sit across you, “but i bet you'd look real pretty without anything on.”

you don't answer, you don't know how to. your eyes are still looking around the big room for any exits, any openings — he smiles at your desperation, it's cute really.

“or maybe you'd look even prettier with some blood on you hm?” his tone although amused is firm enough to leave you unsure if he's being serious or not, he drags a finger across your belly, “what if i make a cut right here?”

you immediately shake your head, trying to speak but he shuts you up by pinching one of your hard nipples through your bra, your protests die down into a small whimper — the sound has him grinning from ear to ear.

his eyes glint with something sinister that has you both scared and turned on. “i know you want this slut,” he holds your jaw harshly.

shame settles in your bones as you realize he's right.

“don't play coy sweet girl i saw all of it,” when you give him a confused look, he continues, “that little blog of yours, that disgusting shit you're into.”

oh fuck.

he sees the look of absolute horror mixed with embarrassment on your face and he tuts like he's disappointed, “dirty girl,” like he isn't the one who literally kidnapped you here.

“i don't know what you're talking about,” you both know you're lying, but sure he'll play along if that's what you want — he's feeling good today.

he reaches for your bag and rips it open — a clear display of who's still in charge here and how he definitely could kill you in an instant.

mark opens your laptop and asks you the password. you don't tell him at first as if that would change anything.

“i asked you a simple question,” he walks closer to you, grips your shoulder hard enough to make you regret your words, “or do i need to rip something else for you to answer me hm?” his grip tightens and you know he's not playing around, your voice shakes as you give him the four number pin, breathing heavily when he lets go of his hard bruising grip on your shoulder.

“good girl,” fuck him, he's doing this on purpose now! and the smug look on his face only confirms your suspicions.

he shows you the deepest, filthiest fantasies of yours that you keep tucked in your laptop, away from the world.

“what's wrong? don't pretend you're not dripping wet right now.”

again, he's not wrong.

“why are you doing this?” you ask him, still struggling a bit against the ropes that bind you.

“i wanna give you what you want,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. he also wants to make you forget about your ex boyfriend, but he's not admitting that, jealousy is a weakness. and one that he suffers from immensely.

“you what-”

“drop the act,” he huffs, irritation visible in the way his eyebrows furrow. “just admit it already. you're a sick disgusting pervert who goes prancing around like she's not thinking of having her holes filled,” he tugs at your hair to keep your head up, his eyes dark with lust boring right into yours.

“are you crazy? you fucking kidnapped-”

he cuts you off again, “so you don't want this?”

silence.

“i’ll untie you right now and let you leave, just tell me you want to leave.”

silence, again.

you're not fooling anybody.

“yeah that's what i thought,” he let's go of your hair, “the safe word is-” he mutters your ex’s name and before you can even comment on the sheer absurdity of it all, he's ripping your panties away from your throbbing pussy, groaning at the sight of your glistening wet folds, all needy just for him.

he quickly pockets the ripped panties. pervert.

“look at this needy cunt, all for me hm?” he muses aloud, spreading your legs apart and breaking apart the ropes that tried to interfere with his ministrations. he shakily inhales when he sees your arousal slowly spill out — you're so fucking wet. his heated gaze leaving goosebumps on your skin.

he presses a chaste kiss to your folds, practically salivating as he breathes you in — he's gonna end up cumming in his pants, he's dreamt of this exact moment for so long.

he gathers a considerable amount of saliva in his mouth before spitting it onto your neglected cunt which twitches at the action, the sight is downright filthy and it makes you moan.

he wastes no time — getting on his knees, licking a strip up your slit before devouring your pussy like a man starved for days, shamelessly rutting into the chair you're sitting on at your taste. you taste so good, he wants to drown in it.

he's messy and loud, your hands are still tied behind your back so you can't push his head away and grip his hair when he attacks your clit with his tongue, sucking on it relentlessly. your hips lift up and buck into his face, your noises only getting louder as he fucks his tongue into your warm wet hole. he moans at the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head and nearly suffocating him — your walls clenching around his tongue as you cry out his name in utter pleasure.

he shoves two of his thick fingers in without any warning — a surprised small squeal leaving your lips, while his tongue works in torturous circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves and eagerly licking between your folds. your pretty whimpers are music to his ears.

clearly overwhelmed with pleasure, you make a pathetic attempt to squirm away from his touch, which earns you a harsh smack to your thigh followed by a bite — his teeth dig into your flesh, leaving behind bruising marks that will sting for days, the line between pain and pleasure blurring.

a familiar feeling settles in your belly, it only builds up as he continues to go down on you. “mark! mark! i'm i’m-” you try warning him, but his fingers only speed up, he sucks harshly on your clit, holding your hips down when you cum — your body shaking, crying out his name oh so sweetly, he wants to hear it again and again, until the only word you know is his name.

he doesn't pull away from your cunt though, drinking up every bit of your release and arousal that you offer — holding you down and forcing you to submit to the relentless pleasure he's giving you, moaning into your pussy like he's having the best meal of his life.

he doesn't let you rest, inserting another finger in — easily massaging that sweet spot that you can't reach as easily as he does.

“oh fuck!” you whine out loud, when he keeps overstimulating your poor pussy, the squelching wet noises only increasing as he eats you out. he loves the way your brain is turning to mush, mindlessly babbling his name along with your sweet noises.

and when you cum again, he still doesn't stop. 

you've lost count of how many orgasms you've had at this point, body too sensitive and shaking almost like a leaf.

with eyes brimming with seemingly never ending tears, vision practically blurry from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, it doesn't take him long to bring you to the edge again — except this time you end up squirting all over his pretty face, a surprised noise leaves your mouth as your body jolts hardly.

he finally pulls away. a small moan leaves your lips as you take in the sight in front of you.

mark grayson, on his knees, face all wet and drenched in your juices and his spit, breathing heavily — looking at you like he's going to eat you alive.

he's breathing really heavily, your dazed state makes it hard for you to comprehend things but you can clearly see the big wet spot on his pants. he came — from just eating you out.

“messy fucking slut,” he spanks your already oversensitive pussy making you hiss and cry out, body still quivering and twitching from that intense release.

he pushes your legs apart again, spreading your pussy open for him to see, he mutters a curse under his breath as he sees remnants of your release clinging onto the sensitive skin. he needs to get up before he ends up eating you out — as much as he would love to do that, he can't wait much longer, he needs to be buried inside that sweet cunt of yours and make you see stars.

he gets up from his knees. grabbing your hair, mark makes you lick his face clean, you taste yourself on his face and feel yourself getting worked up again. “good fucking girl, gonna put that mouth to better use, just you wait,” his hand reaches down to pinch your clit, laughing when you let out a small pained noise.

he hastily tears away your bra, the fabric discarded somewhere on the cold floor. he pinches and lightly grazes his nails against the perked up sensitive buds, making you squirm and let out small whimpers — it stings, but it also gets you insanely wet.

“look at that, pretty pussy’s practically begging to be fucked,” he bites down on your shoulder, a pained groan escapes your mouth and he bites harder, pulling away to admire the mark his teeth left.

you barely have time to look at the new addition of marks he's left on your body so far, before he's untying your hands behind your back, taking your wrists into his and pulling you down. you stumble a bit at the harsh tug — legs practically jelly from all those orgasms.

he draws you closer by your arms, manhandling you easily so you're sitting in between his open legs — the cold floor against your warm body.

“take it off,” he commands, gesturing to his pants. you hesitantly take them off, his ruined boxers coming into vision.

he's an impatient man, he always gets what he wants.

mark grabs a fistful of your hair and forces your head down onto his clothed — aching cock, making his impatience very clear.

“dumb bitch, can't do anything herself,” his tone demeaning, shutting up your protests by shoving his thumb in your mouth. he lifts his hips up to finally free himself of his boxers, his cock standing up — bobbing and leaking with pre. you gulp, eyes flitting back over to his face.

he lets out a small moan as you gather some of your saliva to spit on his hard cock, licking teasingly up his length over one of his prominent veins.

“don't be a fucking tease,” he takes ahold of your jaw harshly, tugging your tongue out before you can close your mouth — that he can't wait to be in and spits on your tongue, making you swallow it, before shoving you back a bit.

he pushes your hair out of your face so he could watch you better, the gesture so sweet and gentle — it makes you almost forget how mean he's been.

you slowly start pushing his length into your mouth, “thaaat's right, take it like the good slut you are,” his words die down into a groan as he feels your tongue swirl around his sensitive tip.

he's being nice for once, letting you take your time, your head bobs up and down as you suck him off while your hands jerk the rest of his cock that you can't fit in your mouth, tongue working against his sensitive spots.

but your mouth feels so good, so warm, so wet — his hips jerk up involuntarily, making you gag and tear up at the burn you feel at the back of your throat.

you look so pretty like this, those pretty lips wrapped around his cock, eyes glassy — don't blame him for wanting to ruin you when you look like that.

he pulls himself out of your mouth slightly — just to make sure he doesn't end up cumming too soon, before shoving himself back in, moaning in pleasure at the sensations he feels. you keep sucking, forcing all of him in your mouth, almost choking on his cock, some drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, but it's worth it — worth those small whimpers and grunts he lets out, ones he can't hold back because of how good he feels right now, all because of you.

and when your hand reaches down to lightly toy with his balls, cupping them, he shivers and lets out a low moan of your name, without a proper warning his cock twitches in your mouth and he cums, hard — flooding your mouth with his thick salty release.

you try to swallow as much as you can but it's too much, however, mark being the fucking asshole he is, forces your head back down on his twitching cock and pinches your nose shut making it hard to breathe.

he breaks into a full blown laugh. oh how he loves the way your eyes water up — that panicked expression on your face as you struggle to breathe, some of his cum leaking out your pretty mouth, squirming and still trying to push him away. it only turns him on more, “it's rude to talk with your mouthful,” he quips, holding your gaze.

he lets you go finally and you pull him out of your mouth quickly, throat already feeling sore — you cough, wiping away his cum and your spit from your face with the back of your hand.

“you should've seen the look on your face,” he chuckles darkly — clearly pleased with himself, shifting closer to you to pin you down, wasting no time shoving his tongue in your mouth, messily kissing you. he lets you pull off his shirt, his hips buck a little when you start feeling him up.

he can taste himself on your tongue and god that only adds to his growing arousal.

he pulls away a little so he can start biting and sucking down your neck, his other hand sneaking down to tease your pussy — tracing circles onto your clit, he grinds against you, “gonna fucking ruin you for everyone else,” he bites your earlobe, tugging on it, his fingers moving to tease your other hole, “gonna make sure this fucking pussy is always full of me,” he slaps your pussy, making you cry out his name.

he quickly aligns himself with your wet entrance, taking a deep breath before nudging his tip in — shoving it all in one go, making you tremble in both pain and pleasure that'll build over time, “come on i know you can take it, isn't this what you wanted?” he coos mockingly, pressing sloppy wet kisses to your face, licking your face like some fucking dog, leaving your face covered in his spit.

as soon as your muscles relax the tiniest bit he's thrusting in and out of you like a madman — you yelp loudly, holding onto him for dear life, nails digging into his back.

“fuck- oh my god!”

the only sounds in the room are the fast wet sounds of him thrusting into you, your pussy squelching loudly at the action and your combined moans and whines.

your gummy walls clench around him harder with each thrust, his cock hitting that sweet spot so well it has you seeing stars, all you can think about is him.

“oh fuck,” he grunts into your ear when he feels you tighten around him, gripping him like a vice, “think she needs to be filled all nice and warm with my cum, don't you agree baby?” he accentuates each word with a harsh thrust, relishing the way your body writhes under him.

you nod mindlessly, desperate for that sweet release more than anything.

“aww what's wrong?” he leans down to suck on one of your nipples, pinching and toying with the other one — a choked out sob leaves your lips, you feel tears pooling in your eyes, you clench around him even harder, desperate to milk him for all he's worth. he lets out a whine when he sees the outline of his cock in your belly going in and out, fuck he's going to cum.

the movement his hips falter at the feeling of your pussy gripping him tightly, “oh fuck,” he breathes heavily, muscles tensing up a bit. he pulls out, moving you on your stomach, giving your ass an appreciative spank when you arch your back for him.

“guess she answered for you hm?”, he muses — pumping himself a few times before settling back into your warm needy cunt, “fucked too dumb to answer but can still arch your back like a needy whore? you're so fucking pathetic,” he licks over the opening of your little hole, an arm coming around to hold you in a headlock that has your vision blurry — in the best way possible. getting impatient, you try to fuck yourself back onto his length but he doesn't let you.

“nasty girl, i can feel you clenching around me” spank “you like it when i’m being mean hm?” spank “oh right you can't answer,” spank “not a thought behind those pretty eyes hm?” spank “don't worry, you don't have to think at all, you wouldn't have to, when i’m done with you.”

he starts rutting into you again, his filthy mouth doesn't stop as he dicks you down like his life depends on it. his arm around your neck — squeezing, leaving you dizzy as he pounds into you from behind like he's in heat, you've given up on trying to control your noises. he sneaks a hand down to pinch and toy with your clit — making your walls clench and toes curl and you cum for the nth time with almost a scream of his name, your body shakes vigorously as a result of your intense orgasm.

it doesn't take long for him to cum as well, especially with you screaming his name like that. with a few more sloppy thrusts he fills you up with his warm sticky white release, head thrown back as a soft whimper of your name is uttered out of his mouth.

breathing heavily, he makes sure to not waste a single drop — once again buries himself as deep as he can, admiring all the various marks that he has littered your skin with.

he pulls out after awhile, keeping your thighs apart with his rough calloused hands so he can see the sight of his cum mixed with yours leak out of your hole, shit, he's getting hard again.

he's honestly not sure if you can keep up — he doesn't want to end up hurting you- well you're his toy, nothing more than that he doesn't care if he hurts you, he really doesn't.

he wants to break you, ruin you. yeah, that's it.

his eyes definitely do not soften the slightest bit as he takes in your disheveled state, back still arched prettily for him, your ass red from all his spanking, skin battered with various marks, a proof of the intense passionate sex you two had.

but when you crane your head back, looking at him, “I can take it,” you're still trying to catch your breath, wincing a bit as you shift your body around, “give it to me mark,” you sound so sweet — swaying your hips side to side to make him give in and fill you up again.

you want him to break you.

and he does just that.

again and again, until he's sure your cunt remembers each vein and curve of his cock, stuffing your hole full to the brim each time.

so when your body finally gives out — almost passing out after another orgasm that he pulls out from you, lying on top of the only desk in the room as he drills into your cunt, he stops. pulling out and painting your tits with his release with a loud groan, his hair is sticking up in all different directions from the way you've kept pulling on it, body coated in a sheen layer of sweat — shaking as his chest heaves unevenly with each breath he takes just like yours.

he watches as your eyes close shut and you drift into a light slumber after a few minutes. his heart beating weirdly in an erratic manner, he chalks it up to the sex, although he has to admit he finds your sleepy face quite adorable, he may or may not want to hear that giggle again — the one you let out when he ended up cumming a little too fast when you praised him.

but he'll think about that when his face is not buried between your thighs, tongue sinking back into your folds — he can't get enough of you.

and with the way you whimper loudly, tugging on his hair oh so eagerly.

it seems like you can't get enough of him either.

so he'll indulge you to your heart’s content — maybe he'll save that video of him torturing your ex boyfriend and leaving him to die in a ditch for some other day.

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