Touya Is About To Propose You Just Give Him A Plain Old Handjob When You Say, “I Guess You Could Fuck

I feel like mark would be so whiny and pathetic when it came to sex.

At first he’d really, and I mean REALLY try to impress you. He’d make you cum atleast once or twice before you even touched him. But god, once you finally pull his dick out and let your hand wrap around him he’d be done for.

He would let out the sweetest whines when you give him a hand job. His face would be all flushed and sweaty, pretty puppy dog eyes all blown out and glassy.

Oh and don’t get me started on if you took him into your mouth. The feeling of your spit mixing with his pre, your tongue licking at him. The way you looked up at him with those eyes. He honestly might have cum then and there.

But he’d hold himself off, even if it hurt. Because he wanted to make you happy and if you don’t explicitly tell him when and where you want him to cum he wont. When he finally gets to put himself inside of you, he feels himself already on edge. He has to focus almost completely on not cumming and ruining your experience. I feel like he’d just lay there and whine, whimpering when you ground your hips into his (if you wanted to ride him, although he’d offer to fuck you missionary so you could relax, he wouldn’t survive missionary. This is better.) he would look all around the room, too blissed out to think about anything besides not cumming. And finally after you get your fill and say the magic words, he would immediately fill up the condom. Hands forced on his sides, ripping the fabric of the sheets because he doesn’t trust himself to hold onto you. He’d thank you over and over again as he cums, letting out the cutest whines when he finally pulls out of you.

(I head cannon that all viltrumites are super sensitive down thereee)

(Also this is kinda self indulgent and ooc but I don’t care)

just a redraw of my favorite work

Would you let him in?

this is sooo cute omg!!! I love it!

Translated the Dabi chapter! ദ്ദി˶ｰ̀֊ｰ́ )✧

(I covered the Japanese text and added in the translated text myself - this was hard)

Please take this with a grain of salt! My translating most likely is very rough - If anyone sees any errors then please let me know! ('▽'* )

If anyone wants a full translated chapter of any of the other characters (Deku, Bakugo, Todoroki, Iida, Denki, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Shinso, and Aizawa) then please let me know! There are 2 chapters for each character, but I wouldn't mind translating any because I find it fun ('∀`)

Tagging:

@tired-teacher-blog

@hantaslittlearsonist

@rosyyyypeachyy

From this post

ִֶָ࣪☾. | Invinci-dih

Tags: Sub!Mark, Also u cuck ur neighbors (Kidding! ^_^) Notes: Creative title, right? Also pretty short I'm just horny soooooo

You clasp a hand over Mark’s mouth, quieting him. 

The neighbors had already knocked on your door at ungodly hours so often, you’re worried they’re gonna make an actual noise complaint one of these days. 

You blink slowly down at him. The air is thick and heady, making sweat stick to your skin, “Are you going to be quiet, Mark?” You whisper. He makes a small sound that’s muffled beneath your hand. So, you go for the meaner approach, “Or else... we’re going to have to stop.”

He whines at that, but ultimately quietens when you give him a firm look. 

After a few seconds of being shut up, he nods, and you remove your hand. It’s connected to his mouth by a line of spit. You wipe it on his red-hot cheek with a hard smile. 

You place your hands back on his abdomen. It flexes or rather- jerks, but as promised he doesn’t make a sound. You roll your hips shallowly experimentally, and he groans. 

You place a finger to your lips, and he nods, a bit dazed, and bites his bottom lip. 

You continue to roll your hips against his own, steadily increasing your pace. He cant say a word besides the whimpers that escape him accidentally, so his head thrashes against the pillow, and his thighs jerk and flex under you. Talk about an unsafe ride. 

His bottom lip bleeds from the pressure of his sharp teeth, and you decide to act funny. You rise on your knees, the lewd sounds of the both of you being disconnected filling your dark bedroom, and Mark’s eyes roll back, and he shakes his head, knowing what you're about to do, “No. Please—”

You drop down with an unfamiliar speed, and Mark lets out a drawn out, loud moan. At the sound and motion, you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

You shallowly move up and down, and he lets out a series of cries, chokes, and screams. You already knew this night was going to be a short one, expecting to greet your neighbor in a few minutes at the door, so you’ll make these few minutes count. 

ִֶָ࣪☾. | 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

Mark remembers being your husband.

Well, okay, he was never actually your husband.

But when you played house in the comfort of backyards and playgrounds, he never had an issue assuming that role in your game of make believe. Whatever it took to just to keep his friend.

You'd use whatever you had around as your "kids." New action figures, old dollies, spare blankets, the poor dog who wanted no part in being dressed up.

It wasn't Mark's thing, no. But he played along properly each time just to stay with you till the sun went down.

He'd fix the house, go to work, play hero with your kids, take you on pretend dates, he'd even pick you up and spin you around as a greeting for when he got home! Well, okay, maybe he wasn't quite strong enough to do that yet. But he certainly tried! Giggling when you two tipped over, talking about his supposed day at work.

He didn't stop you if you had an idea either.

You want to pretend you're going to the store? Sure thing, he'll push the basket. You stuff a ball under your shirt to pretend you got a baby in there? Okay, he'll do the chores while you sit 'n sew. You want to kiss him cause you just love your husband oh so much? Uhh ... well, maybe that's a bit ... oh, and now you're kissing him anyways. Super.

Admittedly, he didn't like that part at first, cooties and all, but his admonition went out the window as you huffed and started chasing him round and round until you landed a successful one on his lips.

He soon got used to it though, even puckering up before you had put your kids to sleep. He even found himself thinking about it when it was time for you two to hit the hay.

And even now as he got older.

When he sat there at his desk, spacing out. First wondering about what's for lunch, then the latest comic waiting for him at home, then you.

He hadn't seen you a long time. You probably forgot about him by now. Or maybe not? You two did spend a lot of time together and you seemed to have about as many other friends as he did (which wasn't a lot). But you guys were more grown up now, you'd probably repressed those memories, right?

Yeah, that seems more likely.

I mean, why worry about that one scrawny boy when you were probably surrounded by lots of hot guys now.

One who'd be your real husband someday. That you'd make play with your kids and cuddle up to and kiss over and over again.

Mmm ... for some reason Mark didn't like that thought. Nose scrunching up and brows furrowing.

You'd been his first kiss, you know. And probably his only one. That thought made him feel strange too. Though in a better way that turns bittersweet in the end.

Did you ever think about that?

How he could technically have been considered your first boyfriend?

Oh no, well now he hopes not. Cause if you did, you'd have to tell your current boyfriend, right? Then he'd want to come beat up the punk who knew his girl.

Mark rubbed his eyes, trying to get that out of his head. It'd suck if he'd made an another enemy he didn't even know existed. A guy could only take so much locker shoving, you know?

He sighed and looked up to the front of the class. He hadn't heard a word the teacher said and could only hope it wasn't important.

They guestured to the door.

A surprise principal meeting? Hadn't had one of those in a while. He should probably look at the other kids' desks to figure out what he should be pretending to do.

The door's opening.

Okay, no one has their notebooks so maybe he should- wait. Is that you!?

You were taller than back then, but he could recognize you from anywhere! He watched as your lips started moving, those lips that had countlessly kissed his. He blanked on what you were saying, but he heard your voice. The sound just made all those random specifics details of you appear in his mind all at once.

And he may have been making things up at this point, but he swears your eyes were on him the moment you walked in.

You remember him? Even if it is just a little vaguely? You don't know how high that'd make his heart rocket.

Did you maybe want to sit by him? He wouldn't mind. Maybe you couldn't play house anymore, but you could still do things as you used to right?

Or maybe he could work his way up to becoming your actual husband now?

That was why you were suddenly here, right? The fates decided you weren't done playing pretend. Was he cool enough to talk to you now? Could he even bring up what had technically happened between you?

Would you bring it up?

Or does he have to keep sitting here, reliving those tender moments till the rest of his days?

Please don't make it come to that.

Please ...

Small drabble with a very nervous Mark (aka my fave)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Do you want to come visit anytime soon?” [Draft]

“What are you doing this spring break?” [Draft] 

“You know, the weather this time of year here is amazing! You should come check it out, if you want.” 

He doesn't even bother keeping that one, immediately deleting it. Far too forward, it was practically embarrassing. 

Mark accepts his defeat when he sighs, pocketing his phone in his pants. He just decides to head to class early instead of loitering in the halls like an idiot. He can settle on spending his break with William again.

Having a pen pal started as an annoying project he had to do to pass his sociology class, one he unfortunately needed to graduate. When he had put his hand in the bowl with a bunch of paper slips in it, he had expected nothing but the worst: conservative old men, a middle aged cat lady, or god forbid, a twelve year old boy. He shivered just thinking about it.

However, somehow, by some miraculous stroke of luck, he had gotten you. A girl his age. 

And nevermind that reasoning. Because you happened to also be quite pleasant to talk to. Even if he did have to speak brokenly in your language– at least you were nice about it! (sometimes) Plus, you were pretty funny when he didn’t have to use google translate to understand your messages. 

And listen, so what if you were crazy hot? That’s just a side reason of why he wants to meet you in person. He admires your beautiful personality even more, alright? 

When confiding his predicament to his best friend, William had suggested to simply: ‘take the shot.’

“Either she thinks you're a complete pervert or you’ve got a hot new girlfriend! Gamble, my friend. Gamble.” 

Thanks, William. 

Mark sits in class, taking out his biology notebook and some pens, when he feels his phone buzz. 

He practically jumped. He only has notifications on for one person, (besides his mom) and that was you. 

Hesitantly, he takes out his phone to read the message.

“Hey, Mark! Hope you’re doing well.

Bummer news: all of my friends are going to visit their families this break, it really sucks, I’ll be alone for two whole weeks! So, I wanted to ask if you’d mind if I could crash at your place? I heard the weather where you are right now is amazing. :)” 

He could faint.

Hawks is the biggest switch on earth but no one wants to hear it I swear.... JUST ACCEPT ITTTTUHHHH

Not to mention that that you can say the freakiest craziest thing ever to suggest to try and he'll respond with "okay baby !! Love you so much i'll call u in ten <3 !!!"

I thinkkk it may root from his stupid ass urge to please everyone and probably especially if he loves you sooo freaking much it makes his heart hurt ! Tbh I think he's the type to get pleasure cause ur getting pleasure because duhhh.

Also he has so much stamina + strength he can take whatever it is u dish out. Like perhaps we can be open to the idea that ur freaky ass has to keep up with HIM and not the other way around (not me tho, the rest of you stay veryyyy safe.)

He definitely overcompensates too cause he doesnt see u very much... He feels soooo bad about it too like actually biggg googly eyes up at you watching every shift in ur expression and twitch of your body so he can perform better. soooo maybe pat his head and say u love him when hes done eating you out so he doesnt become a super sad mush. Or dont and be mean so he becomes SADDER and UNHAPPIER. I dont really care.

Anyway, next point. I do think at a more psychological level (outside a dom and sub) Keigo is technically a 'sub' ? In a sense that even if he was railing the shit out of you and out of the blue you had something to say about his pacing, he'd fix it up sooo fast, lol. Like it really does not matter what role you guys are physically assuming, at the end of the day he's basically at the mercy of your whims.

That lowkey reminds me of the slave role in bdsm buuuut ok 🤔

Don't get too excited though because even though he's a sweetheart his work is veryyy annoying which in turn makes him veryyy annoying. He makes up for it by being overly honest though.

He doesn't beat around the bush with making plans that intervene with his work. If you wanna have a date this friday but there's a stakeout mission then? He'll say no immediately.

Might cancel Valentines, might reschedule your birthday, might not attend your cousin's baby shower. He's literally capitalism taking over your life final boss except its the hspc dragging him through the mud LMAOO. Poor him I guess?

ִֶָ࣪☾. | 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