#mark grayson x amab reader

[lazy-ahh]

Hi, Lazy-ahh! Can I ask for main Mark x AMAB reader? In another universe, reader lost his Mark. He somehow travels to main Mark’s universe. Out of desperation, reader murders the other version of himself to take his place and have a second chance with his boyfriend. But it’s only a matter of time before Mark finds out.

REPLACEABLE

pairing mark grayson x (alternate dimension) AMAB reader

in another dimension, you lost mark. now, you'll destroy anything—even yourself—to get him back. but when mark starts noticing the blood under your nails, you realize: some ghosts can't be buried. and some loves aren't yours to keep.

taglist @hhoneylemon , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro

you miss him.

it’s a hollow, gnawing thing, chewing through your ribs like a starving animal, leaving behind nothing but an ache so deep you swear it’s carved into your bones. you miss the way he laughed, loud and unguarded, the way his nose scrunched when he teased you, the way his fingers tangled in yours like he never wanted to let go—like you were something precious, something worth holding onto.

but your mark is gone.

you don’t remember much about how it happened, the memory too traumatic to remember yet too painful to forget—just screaming, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the way his body hit the ground too hard, too still, the sickening crack of impact that still echoes in your nightmares. you remember clutching his face, your fingers smearing red across his cheeks, begging him to wake up, to breathe, but his eyes stayed empty, staring past you into nothing.

you weren’t fast enough. you weren’t strong enough.

and then, somehow, you weren’t in your world anymore.

you weren’t even given the chance to grieve yet, to mourn, to scream into the void until your voice gave out. one second, you were kneeling in the wreckage of your life, and the next, you were standing on a sidewalk under a sun that felt too bright, too cruel.

this universe is almost the same. the same streets, the same sky, the same stupid posters of omni-man and the guardians of the globe plastered on bus stops, their smug faces grinning down at you like some sick joke. but then you see him—mark, your mark, alive and whole and laughing, his voice ringing through the air like a punch to the chest. your breath stutters, your chest cracks open, and suddenly you’re drowning all over again.

he’s right there.

you watch him for days, a ghost haunting the edges of his life. he goes to class, he texts his friends, he flies off to fight bad guys like nothing’s wrong, like the world hasn’t ended. it seems like he had just recently gotten his superpowers, his movements still a little unsteady mid-air, nothing like the effortless grace of your mark. your mark had gained his while he was trying to save you during a villain attack, his body slamming into yours as he shielded you from debris, his eyes wide with panic and determination as his powers finally sparked to life. you’d been walking toward a comic store to buy the latest issue of seance dog, his hand warm in yours, his voice teasing as he argued about which volume was better—as cliché and romantic as the scenario was, it was yours. but this mark wasn’t your mark. he didn’t have the memories you two shared, the inside jokes, the quiet nights pressed together under the glow of his laptop screen. he just lived his life happily and heroically, like he didn’t die in your arms. like you didn’t lose everything.

and then you see him. no—not him. you.

the other version of you in this dimension. it seemed like you didn’t get superpowers, didn’t go through the intense training that carved your body into something sharper, something meant to survive. you were... normal. soft in a way you hadn’t been in years. this version of you didn’t get to go on dates where you and mark just flew through the vast, endless night sky, the air cold and biting as you clung to him, the world below reduced to scattered lights while above you, the cosmos sprawled out in all its glory—endless stars, streaks of auroras painting the dark in rippling greens and purples, depending on where the two of you decided to go that night. you didn’t get to fight side by side, didn’t get to know the rush of battle, the way mark’s laughter would cut through the chaos as the two of you pulled off some stupid, reckless stunt, the way he’d press his forehead to yours after, breathless and bleeding, whispering, we make a good team.

but this you—this soft, powerless, ordinary you—was the one who still got to hold mark’s hand. who still got to kiss him goodnight. who still got to exist in a world where he was alive.

it’s not fair.

you don’t plan it. at least, you don’t think you do. but when you see them together—mark’s arm slung around his shoulders, his smile so bright it hurts, like looking directly into the sun—something inside you snaps. something dark and cruel and selfish, something that’s been festering deep inside you, rotting you from the core, finally consumes you whole.

he was walking home alone. it’s easy. he was normal. you were not.

you remember not even letting him scream. every time the memory comes crashing back, it’s like watching a scene play out from somewhere outside your body—like you’re floating in the back of your own mind, numb and detached, as the darkness in your veins pulls your strings, as your hands move without your permission. you let it happen. you let yourself drown.

you had gracefully landed behind them, silent as a shadow. your reflection in the dim streetlights would’ve been horrifying if they’d turned around fast enough to see it—your eyes sunken, bruised with exhaustion, your lips chapped from biting back screams, your hair a mess from nights spent clawing at your own scalp just to feel something. you looked like a ghost. like something already dead.

you remember the way they turned around, playful and fond, expecting it to be mark, only for their expression to twist into surprise. then—wonder? awe? you remember feeling perplexed, watching as this other version of you lit up, rambling in passionate excitement about how cool it was to see another version of himself. you had explained, briefly, that you were a superhero in your dimension, that you fought alongside mark, and their face had glowed with admiration, with playful jealousy, with this aching, innocent want—god, i wish i could do that. i wish i could be out there with him.

then, you remember telling them, voice hollow, that your mark died. because you were too weak. too slow. too human to save him.

and their expression—it falls. their smile shatters like glass, their eyes widening in something like grief, like understanding, because they love mark too, and the thought of losing him—

you watch the exact moment realization creeps in. their breath hitches. their fingers twitch, like they want to reach for you, or maybe run. their lips part—wait—

but you’re already moving.

"but... don’t worry," you whisper, and your voice doesn’t even sound like yours anymore. "you’ll be able to fight alongside him too. it’s just... it wouldn’t be you." your hand brushes their cheek, almost tender. "but then again, we are the same person anyway, right...?"

their face twists in horror.

you don’t let them scream.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

mark notices something's off.

not at first. at first, you're perfect—maybe too perfect. you know all his favorite foods (the way he likes his burgers slightly pink in the middle, how he picks the mushrooms out of his pasta but will eat them if they're chopped small enough). you remember every stupid inside joke, every embarrassing childhood story his mom told you that one thanksgiving. your hands find all the right places—the spot behind his ear that makes him shiver, the way his shoulders tense after patrol that requires just the right amount of pressure to melt away. you curl into him on the couch like a dying star collapsing inward, pressing your face into the warm hollow of his neck, breathing him in like he's oxygen and you've been drowning for months.

maybe he is. maybe he's the only thing keeping you from dissolving completely.

"you've been clingy lately," he murmurs one night, fingers tracing idle circles along the knobs of your spine. you've lost weight. his voice is fond but there's something else there now—a question. "not that i'm complaining."

you tighten your arms around him like he might vanish if you loosen your grip. "just missed you."

he laughs, soft and warm, but it doesn't reach his eyes the way it used to. "i was gone for, like, two hours."

you press closer instead of answering, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt.

silence stretches. then his hand stills on your back. "...y/n?"

"mhm?"

"look at me."

you don't want to. but you do.

his brows are furrowed, thumb brushing under your eye where the shadows have grown darker, more permanent. "you look like shit." it's supposed to be a joke but his voice cracks. "when was the last time you slept? actually slept?"

you try to smile. it feels like tearing open a wound. "'m fine."

"bullshit." his hands frame your face, calloused and warm and so painfully familiar it makes your chest ache. "you're shaking. you've been—i don't know, jumpy? like you're expecting something to—" he cuts himself off, swallows hard. "talk to me. please."

the concern in his voice is worse than anger would've been. you want to laugh. you want to scream. you want to tell him everything—how you wake up choking on his name, how every time he leaves the room you're half-convinced he won't come back, how sometimes you still smell blood when there's none there.

instead, you press your forehead to his and whisper, "bad dreams."

it's not entirely a lie.

mark exhales, long and slow, his breath warm against your lips. "okay," he murmurs, like he doesn't believe you but won't push. not yet. "okay. but you gotta eat something, alright? and sleep. actual sleep. i'll be right here." his arms tighten around you. "not going anywhere."

you close your eyes.

(you don't tell him that's what your mark said too.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

it's the little things that give you away.

the way you flinch when a car backfires two blocks away—too loud, too sudden, too much like that day. how you forget cecil's name during dinner when mark mentions him, even though the other you had known him since freshman year. the way you sometimes stare at mark across the room like he's a miracle, like he's already gone, your fingers twitching with the need to touch him just to prove he's real.

and then there are the nightmares.

you wake up screaming more often than not, sheets tangled around your thrashing limbs, your throat raw like you've been swallowing glass. the images never fade—blood on your hands, mark's vacant eyes, the way his body had felt so heavy when you cradled him. you scrub your skin raw in the shower until it's pink and stinging, but the phantom stains remain. you see them in the dark, in the flicker of streetlights through the blinds, in the rust-colored water swirling down the drain.

mark always wakes when you do.

his arms are around you before you can choke out another sob, pulling you against his chest where you can feel his heartbeat—steady, alive, here. "hey," he murmurs into your hair, voice thick with sleep but achingly tender, "it's okay. i've got you." his lips press against your damp temple, your forehead, the corner of your eye where tears still cling. "breathe, baby. just breathe."

you want to sob harder at the pet name. the other you had loved it too.

your fingers clutch at his shirt like a lifeline, nails digging into the fabric as you try to anchor yourself in the present. mark doesn't complain, just holds you tighter, one hand rubbing slow circles between your shoulder blades. "was it the same dream?" he asks softly.

you nod against his collarbone, unable to speak past the guilt lodged in your throat.

"wanna talk about it?"

you shake your head.

he doesn't push. just shifts until he can tuck you under his chin, your ear pressed over his pulse point. "listen to that," he whispers. "i'm right here. not going anywhere." his fingers card through your sweat-damp hair, gentle and sure. "you're stuck with me, y'know?"

a wet laugh escapes you, half-hysterical. if only he knew.

when you finally drift off again, it's to the rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his hand still tangled in yours—like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

(you wish you could tell him he's holding a ghost.)

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

he finds out on a thursday.

you don't know how. maybe he followed you when you slipped out before dawn to scrub blood from under your nails in a gas station bathroom. maybe he found the shallow grave you dug behind the abandoned church, the dirt still loose after three weeks of rain. maybe the other you's friends noticed their texts going unanswered, their calls ignored, the way you'd flinch whenever someone said their name.

but when you push open the bedroom door—still smiling, still pretending, still holding the takeout bag from mark's favorite burger place—he's standing in the middle of the room. the blinds are closed. the lights are too bright. his face is pale as milkglass.

"where's y/n?" he asks. his voice is too quiet, too careful, like he's holding back a hurricane.

your stomach drops through the floor. the bag slips from your fingers, greasy fries scattering across the hardwood. "i'm right here."

"no." his hands are shaking now, clenched at his sides like he wants to hit something. or you. "the real y/n. where are they?"

you open your mouth. nothing comes out but a thin, wounded sound.

mark's eyes drag over you—the too-sharp angles of your face that don't quite match the photos on the fridge, the way your fingers twitch toward your pockets where bloodstained gloves are hidden, the defensive hunch of your shoulders like you're waiting for the world to end. again. his breath hitches. "oh my god." his voice cracks down the middle. "you—you're not them. what did you do?"

the grief in his voice is a knife between your ribs. you can feel yourself splitting open at the seams.

"i had to," you whisper. your voice sounds shattered, like you've been screaming for years. "i couldn't—i couldn't lose you again."

"again?" his face twists like he's tasting something rotten. "what the fuck are you talking about?"

"you died." the words pour out of you like pus from an infected wound, thick and putrid with guilt. "in my world, you died in my arms—your blood soaking through my clothes, your eyes going blank while i begged you to stay—and i—" your voice fractures, "i wasn't fast enough, i wasn't strong enough, and then i was here and you were alive but you weren't mine and i just—" your knees hit the floor with a sickening crack, but you don't feel the pain. "i just wanted you back."

mark stumbles back like you've physically struck him, his shoulders hitting the wall with a dull thud. his hands fly up to clutch at his hair, fingers twisting in the dark strands until his knuckles bleach white. "so you killed him?" his voice is barely recognizable—raw and shattered. "you killed yourself just to—to what? replace him? wear his face like some fucked-up mask?!"

"i didn't want to be alone!" you scream so hard your throat tears, the taste of copper flooding your mouth. "you don't understand—you're alive here, breathing and whole and—" your voice breaks into a whimper, "and i couldn't—i couldn't keep waking up to a world where you don't exist—"

mark's crying. really crying—the kind of sobs that wrack his entire body, tears streaming down his face in hot, silent rivers. you've never seen him cry before, not even when he broke his arm during a fight, not even when his dad disappointed him for the hundredth time. his breath comes in ragged, wet gasps as he slides down the wall, his legs giving out beneath him.

"you're a monster," he chokes out, the words barely audible but cutting deeper than any blade. his red-rimmed eyes meet yours, and the look in them—horror, grief, betrayal—makes your stomach twist violently.

you collapse forward, your forehead pressing against the cold floor as your body convulses with silent sobs. the weight of what you've done crushes you into nothingness, until you're not sure you even exist anymore. the last thing you hear before darkness swallows you whole is mark's broken whisper:

"i loved him."

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

he doesn't turn you in.

you don't know why. maybe he pities you—sees the hollows under your eyes, the way your hands never stop shaking, and thinks you've suffered enough. maybe he's too horrified to think straight, his mind still reeling from the blood under the floorboards, the missing person posters plastered across town. or maybe, in some terrible, twisted way, he understands. because he's lost people too—nearly lost himself a dozen times over—and that kind of grief does things to a person. makes them desperate. makes them dangerous. especially if that person was the love of your life. your soulmate. your heart. your everything.

but he doesn't look at you the same.

he doesn't touch you—no more casual brushes of fingers, no more sleepy cuddles on the couch, no more pressing kisses to your scars like they're something precious. doesn't smile at your stupid jokes, doesn't light up when you walk into the room. doesn't say your name like it means something, just avoids it entirely, like the syllables burn his tongue.

you broke him.

(and you wonder, with a sick sort of clarity, if this is how your mark felt when you died in your world. if he'd screamed himself raw, if he'd begged some higher power for a second chance, if he'd have done something just as monstrous to get you back. the thought makes you nauseous. you understand now. you wish you didn't.)

you leave before he can.

you don't belong here. you never did.

the last thing you see is mark's face—angry, grieving, alive—his mouth forming words you'll never hear, his hands reaching out like some part of him still wants to catch you. then the portal swallows you whole, and there's nothing but static and the phantom feeling of his fingers slipping through yours.

(you hope, wherever you end up, that there's a version of him who still loves you. but you know, deep down, you don't deserve it.)

3.1k words and I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMOREEEE WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS TO MYSELFFFFFF AHHHHHHH thank you so much to the lovely anon who requested this! <33 hopefully you didn't cry as hard as i did when you read this...

[oystermark]

Mark variants (sinister, no goggles, mohawk mark) x M!reader (cis & trans options for all of them) MDNI

a/n: just random porn stuff, turns out no plot and just porn is more fun to write for me lol.. can u tell whos my favorite

smut without plot

intentional lowercase

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

sinister mark

biting. just, so much biting. it’s not only just marking you as his, it’s like feeling your pulse under his teeth and tongue pierces his soul with want so ravenous that he could take you apart right then and there as you’re taking his dick with the sweetest moans (grunts & groans) ever, music to his ears!

if you don’t want teeth on your dick or cunt do not let this man give you head. if you’re a freak like him and you do want it, spread your legs and don’t forget to lock them and push him even more into your sex by his nape. he likes it when you use force, as much as you can anyway. for you with dicks, when he takes you to the base, he will  be biting down, your scream and whines just making his own dick twitch. for you with a cunt, he will be biting down on your clit. you can thrash around and pull at his hair and curse him out as much as you want, remember, “you wanted this, so stop fucking squirming and cum in my mouth already.” 

no goggles mark 

this crazy bitch loves to fuck you on his lap the most, the second position he loves more is drilling his dick into you on the floor. any position where he can bully you with his dick is his favorite.

always starts out with a…rough foreplay, lets say. he tackles you down on the floor, the wall, your bed, the kitchen counter anywhere accessible to fuck really. the ‘kisses’ are so animalistic and painful, biting and hissing and clashing of teeth as you both grind down onto each other. your grunts, groans and hissing– god he could cum just from your punches and biting, it’s so good, it’s so fucking rough and it’s just how he likes it.

such a fucking bully when you’ve been fucked dumb, gripping your face with one hand as he shakes your head, his other hand patting your cheek, “c’mon babe, don’t give up on me now, fuuck– take it,” not even stopping his hips as you cum for the nth time, your mouth opening for a scream but all you can let out is a pathetic gasp for air as the orgasm wrecks your body violently. making you shake and cry out when he pounds his cock just right hitting that spot over and over again as he giggles and bites down on your collarbones, hard enough to draw blood– then of course licks it all up, he would never let any drop of your bodily fluid go to waste after all. “give me another one, come onnnn be my good boy, you said you’d behave, do everything i want if i just gave you a good fuck, so come on. one more time. give it to me.” 

mohawk mark

teasing bastard. will give you a neck kiss when he’s just passing by you as hes beating up some random, cackling as you yell behind him. his fingers will never stay in place, either trying to go under your clothes or straight up jerk you off, no in between. you can never tell with him.

to me, his favorite thing to do while you two have sex is just, having you lay on your back as he jerks you off with one hand as his tongue or fingers take care of your hole, teasing you about how good of a boy you are, how pretty your cock is, how cute it looks when your hole clenches down on his fingers. if you have a cunt, his mouth will never stop sucking on your clit as he fingers you ‘till you cum so hard you see stars behind your eyelids, his tongue is not leaving that clit even if you bash him on the head repeatedly. so condescending in such a hot way though, “awww look who’s cumming already? such a quickshot aren’t you babe?” cackling as you throw a pillow at his face.

[hhoneylemon]

not a complete asshole

mohawk mark x amab!reader

content: porn without plot, anal (reader receiving), oral (mark + reader receiving), bratty mark, switch vibes with the both of them, reader calls mark ‘whore’, mark calls reader ‘fag’ and ‘babe’, mark has a fixation on reader’s ass, mark is a biter

this is loosely based off of bark like you want it by sir mix-a-lot

“that the best you can do? i—ahh… thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

your eyebrows furrow and you pull away from his dick, a popping noise resonating as you disconnect. a small trail of spit trails from your swollen lips to his pink tip. he grunts at the loss of touch.

“hey, hey, what was that for?”

he almost pouts, which is ironic given who he is. you simply sneer, standing and sitting beside him. confusion and panic flashes across his face, though he tries to mask it.

“if you want better, go find better, whore.”

a little growl escapes him, fingers tightly clenching the bedsheets. his brows furrow and a low sigh escapes him.

“babe, c’mon. i didn’t mean it.”

you roll your eyes. his hand reaches for your thigh, gently squeezing.

“babe, please—“

“you better get to your knees and bark like you want it.”

mark’s eyebrows raise and his lips purse for a moment. he debates in his head for a moment before rolling his eyes and sliding to his knees on the floor. his fingers gently massage into your thighs, contradicting his behavior.

“i’m not barking for shit. just—c’mon, baby. if i suck you off, can i fuck you good?”

you hum in thought, fingers reaching for his mohawk. you slowly card your hand through his hair, causing him to shudder and place his head on your knee. his hands trail further up, stopping at the flesh of your thighs surrounding where your dick lies. a gentle sigh.

“sounds good to me. have fun.”

his hands quickly move, cradling your dick. his thumbs rub at the sides while his head moves forward, tongue experimentally licking your tip. your breath hitches as your thighs clench. mark gets to work.

he honestly gives bad blowjobs. he slobbers over it like a dog, funnily enough. he doesn’t hit any of the right spots. you only let him go on because his tongue massages your tip and his fingers jerk your base—and don’t get started on he himself. he’s humping your leg, little groans of his own vibrating against your dick. you grunt, pushing his head down on his dick to reach the back of his throat.

the moment he gags, you pull out completely. he pants, hips stilling as he looks up at you. his lips are red and swollen, eyes bugging from the recent intrusion of his throat. he gives you that one smirk of his, like he knows something you don’t.

“doggy?”

you sigh before clambering onto the bed, falling to your hands and knees. the bed creaks behind you as he climbs on, hands automatically finding your ass. he gives a squeeze, them another to the other cheek. he lands a small smack.

“get on with it, whore.”

he narrows his eyes at your back before spitting into his hands. he moves to jerk himself, lubing up. his other hand works at your hole, thrusting his fingers in and out. he scissors to stretch, the burn almost addictive.

“hold on for me, babe.”

his tip pokes at your ass and your breath hitches. at least he was sweet right now; he wasn’t a complete asshole. you let our a breathy sound as he slowly sinks into you. when he bottoms out, his chest finds your back, his hands resting on your hips for a moment. 

“feeling alright?”

“yah.”

mark gives a slowly pulls out before giving a shallow thrust to test the waters. you wiggle back against him and he decides that’s enough of that.

he’s not… brutal. more like passionate. each thrust brings a harsh sound of skin against skin sounding through the bedroom. your shoulders are littered with bite marks and hickeys that he left in his wake, lips currently trailing across your upper back.

you’ve already came once, your fave buried in the sheets as mark pounds into you from behind. he grunts against your shoulder, hands tightly squeezing your hips. a slow and deep groan escapes him.

“fffuck, babe. you feel so good.”

you pant against the sheets, sweat coating your body and making you glisten and wet. mark’s not in a much different state, sweat collecting at his temples.

a deep thrust draws you back, your back arching. your thoughts have been wandering, mind getting fuzzy. he keeps hitting that delicious spot deep inside of you. your cock is all tender, trapped between your stomach and the bed.

your stomach’s getting all tight again, causing your hole to clench around mark. he groans, lips sucking against the back of your neck. his fingernails dig into your hips, though he loosens his hold at the small pained noise you make.

“already cumming again, fag? am i making you feel that good?”

“yes—”

you barely get the word out, back arching as he hits your prostate. you think that your eyes cross as he hits it again, your cock throbbing dangerously. mark quickens his pace, pounding back into you until you think you hear him murmur something about being close in between moans.

you don’t really care, not when you thing you’re about to combust. you try holding on, but tour cock is impatient. you bite down on the bedsheets, eyes squeezing shut as your cock begins shooting ropes of your seed onto the sheets. mark almost whimpers at how your hole clenches around him before he cums inside of you.

he slowly pulls out after he fucks himself out of his high, laying beside you. he would love to go for more, but he can tell you’re tuckered out.

his hand finds your hip, pulling you closer to him. soon, you’re cuddling on his side to avoid the cum that coats yours. his hand finds your ass and gives it a squeeze, earning him an annoyed grunt.

“sorry, it was calling my name.”

“shut the hell up.”

he grins to himself as your face tucks into his shoulder. he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. maybe he wasn’t a complete asshole.

masterlist

[allzelemonz]

Superior Mates: Nolan Grayson X Male Reader

Summertime Prompt: Day 4, Omegaverse AU Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader referred to as ‘father’ Primary Sex: AMAB Secondary Sex: Omega Rating: E/Sex, violence, mentioned character death Warnings: Omegaverse, a/o, Viltrumite culture, imperialism, blood, smut, anal sex, breeding, bonding as mates, reader is a Viltrumite, Nolan being an asshole, Debbie mentioned, Mark is dead Summary: Nolan wasted seventeen years playing human, now he wants something from home.

The rush of air hits you before you see him. You had been standing in your kitchen, simply staring at your fridge to decide on a snack but clearly Nolan has a lot more going on. When you shut the door and look up at him you find him covered in blood and panting. His shoulders move up and down with every breath and his bloodshot eyes are full of that familiar Viltrumite rage that reminds you of home.

“What happened?” You ask, unfazed as you wet a towel in the sink.

“Mark.” He says simply, almost growling.

You approach him slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder and feeling his muscles relax under the touch. No doubt he’s calmed by the natural Omega scent. You run the towel over his blood covered face and he closes his eyes to let you.

“Is that who you’re covered in?”

“He refused.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

He sighs. “Waste of my time.”

“Seventeen years is nothing, Nolan.”

He leans into your hand as you run the towel over his cheek. “I want a Viltrumite.”

“Then raise the next one on Viltrum.”

His hand grabs your wrist and squeezes with a force that would’ve broken a human’s bones. “I want a Viltrumite.”

“Your obsession with fatherhood is concerning.”

His grip loosens and he runs his other hand through your hair. “You’ll think the same during your heat.”

You scoff. “I’m not mating with you, Nolan. We have a planet to conquer.”

“And it’d be easier with a few kids to help.” He says softly, rubbing your head. “I’d fuck you over and over until we had our own planet’s worth.”

“You’re assuming I want kids because I’m an Omega?”

He grips your hair. “Because you’re a Viltrumite.”

“Yeah, and I’ll do my duty and have the necessary number.” You sigh. “At some point.”

He shakes his head. “Now.”

You shove him away, turning back to the kitchen. “Go back to your little human toy, Nolan.”

He glares. “She can’t handle what I want to do.”

“Then go home and pick up some Omega bitch there.”

“They wouldn’t be you.” He seethes. “I want the father of my children to be you.”

“And I want to snap your neck, but we don’t always get what we want.”

“They sent us here.” Nolan growls, moving to stand in front of you. “They expect us to mate.”

“If they did, we’d have orders.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and you look at him. “I need to fuck something that can take what I give it for once.”

You stare at him, watching his eyes turn from a glare to something more honest. “Fine.” You sigh. “Once.”

“All night.” He squeezes your shoulder. “Let me fuck you until the sun rises and we obliterate this rat infested planet.”

“I’m not having your kids.”

“I know.” He moves his hand to cup your cheek. “Not tonight, but eventually.”

You roll your eyes and he wraps an arm around your waist.

“Is there anyone else you’d want to do that to you?” He whispers. “Anyone better suited?”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Depends. Can I at least pretend I’m fucking Mark’s replacement into you?”

“If you make me cum twice as much as you get to.”

He smiles. “Deal, Omega.”

His lips connect with yours in a hungry kiss, teeth and tongue with so little care but so much desperation. In a flash you’re in your bed and he’s palming you through your pants and his other hand squeezes your ass. His dick presses against your leg, taking over the length of your thigh as he grinds against it.

“I’ve wanted you since we got sent here.” He mutters. “I wanted to fuck you in front of this whole planet of inferiors and show them how perfect a Viltrumite Omega takes it.”

“Then why aren’t you fucking me yet?”

He chuckles. “I was trying to be a gentleman. Human sentiments, they must’ve worn off on me.”

“I didn’t sit through your sob story to not be knotted tonight, Nolan.”

He groans, leaning up to rip his clothes off. “Fuck, I missed Vilturmie Omegas.” He rips your pants off and grips your hips to pull you closer. “You know you’re superior, not whiney like bitched humans.”

“Happy to be of service to the Empire.”

He groans, lining himself up. “Is that what that slick’s for? The Empire?”

You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to press closer. “No. That’s all for my Alpha.”

He stills, timidly running a hand over your taint, hardened dick, and up your stomach to rest on your chest. “Let me mark you.”

You meet his eyes, his scent hitting your nose. “I wanna feel you inside me first.”

He doesn’t hesitate, plunging inside of you and pulling your hips flush against him. His dick fills you completely, the tip pressing so far in that it bulges out your stomach even through your layers of muscle and fat. He holds himself there, leaning over you as he licks at your scent mark.

“Good enough?” He mumbles, kissing the sensitive spot.

Your legs are frozen around him, your body split open and head foggy from the Alpha arousal scent. “Y-Yeah…”

He leans his head up, a hand brushing through your hair. “Who’s your Alpha?”

“You… Alpha.” You shutter as his dick twitches inside of you. “Nolan.”

[abitohoney]

Arcane Fics Masterpost

Minors DNI; 18+

AO3

Follow my side blog (abitohoney-fics) for just my fics

Completed Works

Multichaps (all readers are f!reader)

Submit (Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr (please also check out @deny-the-issue's fanart here & @secretivehaze's fanart here)

A Shimmer In the Night (Werewolf Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

All I Want For Christmas Is You (Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Valentine AKA Roses Are Red (Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Bend and Break (Not Just the Rules) (Professor Sevika x Student reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr (please also check out @sevikascrown's fanart here & @yikez-on-bikez fanart here)

Hustle (Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Insatiable (Vampire Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Lessons in BDSM (Sevika x reader x Ran, NSFW) in process AO3 || Tumblr

Flustered (Ran x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Missing Scenes - A Collection of Jinx & Silco & Sevika One-Shots (Sevika, Silco, young Jinx, found family, SFW, marked complete, but can be re-opened for additional oneshots) AO3 || Tumblr

Oneshots (all readers are f!reader)

On The Edge (AMAB Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Pray to Me (Demon Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr (please also check out @sevikascrown's fanart here)

Missed (Sevika x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Workplace Violations (Grayson x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Keep the Uniform On (Grayson x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Show Me How (Ran x reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Jealousy - Innocent (Ambessa x Reader, NSFW) AO3 || Tumblr

Imagines, HCs, Drabbles, etc (all readers are f!reader)

Werewolf!Sevika x Reader

Sevika x Werewolf!Reader

Ran x Reader Relationship HCs

Sevika w/ a vibrate function on her mech arm

What my muses smell like (Sevika, Grayson, Ran, and Silco)

Sevika x Housewife!Reader

Sevika singing

Sevika smacking your ass (and vice versa)

Grayson x Mel relationship HCs

Sevika x Reader who cries during sex

Don't Trust Dustin (April Fools crack drabble Sevika x Reader)

Gym Sevika x Reader drabble/ficlet

Sugar Mommy Sevika x Reader

Sugar Baby Sevika x Reader

Telling Sevika you'd love her even without the muscles

Jealous Ambessa

AMAB!Sevika x Reader

Wake Up Call (AMAB!Sevika x Reader ficlet)

Packing lunches for Sevika & Ran (short poly imagine)

You can also find all the above imagines/HCs/drabbles specifically for Sevika in my collection on AO3 here.

Requests and WIPs

Requests are currently Closed (Just because I feel awful about how long it takes me to complete these. I do still have some in my inbox that I will eventually address.)

[hhoneylemon]

“𝘴𝘰… 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴”

dick grayson x amab reader

genre: smut

contains: porn without plot, no pronouns used for reader, top reader, reader is slightly condescending, slight dom/sub dynamics, pillow princess dick

word count: 679

he was the most gorgeous person ever, you decided.

glossy eyes, hair glued to his forehead due to sweat. his lips puffy, cheeks red, whines and moans escaping his gaping mouth.

this was his fault, after all. coming home still in his nightwing gear; you’d had dreams of him in that suit, where his ass looks bigger than usual. you swear he put pads in it to make it look thicker.

a louder moan escaping him has you coming out of your thoughts. his hands are gripping the sheets, eyes screwed shut. his breathing is more ragged than yours, so you take it he’s starting to feel overwhelmed.

you coo, removing a hand from his thigh to caress his cheek. he leans into your hand.

“takin’ me so well, baby. if i knew you were this into takin’ it in the ass, i would’ve asked you to come home like that sooner.”

he whimpers, hips bucking. his abs are coated in his precum, his pretty cock laying on his chest. you can’t help a harder, deeper thrust. it causes another high pitched moan.

“feels good...”

“i can tell.”

he whines at you. he doesn’t like being made fun of.

you lean in to peck his lips, moving your hand from his cheek to his cock. a slow stroke up the shaft, making him whine again, louder this time. you grin, connecting your lips more passionately as you begin pumping him at the same pace your hips drag inside of him.

you can’t help but scoff as he grabs a pillow and brings it to himself, gripping it tight to his chest. his muscles bulge and his face hides at the top. it doesn’t conceal the noises he’s making very well.

“aw, dick, feel that good? am i doing well?”

he nods, a choked moan escaping as you squeeze his base. you lift yourself up to a different angle, hips finding a faster pace as your hand instead moves to his hip. the increase in volume of his lewd noises help you imagine how this feels for him.

“need words, birdie. c’mon, you’ve been so good so far.”

“‘s good!”

his voice is whiny and breathy. you grin to yourself. you’re almost disappointed dick hid his face in the pillow, you’d love to see how fucked out he looks. maybe after, when you take care of him.

when his hips begin wiggling, you can tell he’s close. his legs are moving to wrap around your waist, trying to buck himself back onto your cock. a smile adorns your lips as you coo.

“oh, birdie. you close? did i do that to you?”

he nods.

“words.”

he whines, mumbling into the pillow. a hand reaches and pulls his hair, moving his head back and into view. his eyes are big and unfocused, lips puffy from being bitten. you grin. he’s so pretty.

“c’mon, good boy. you can let go.”

you push him down into the mattress, trying to reach deeper in him. he lets out the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard, and suddenly his pillow and both of your stomachs are painted with his cum. as you continue thrusting yourself into him, he whines from the overstimulation.

“shh, it’ll be over soon, promise. did such a good job for me, birdie, ‘m so proud of you.”

you pant, hips keeping a steady rhythm as your head dips to his shoulder. you softly bite and suckle, leaving a few red marks. his hand comes up to your head, lightly tugging and combing through your hair.

it’s the way his hole puckers that sends you over, biting his shoulder as your hips stutter. he groans as your cum fills him, a feeling he’s not quite used to.

when you pull out, you wish you could take a picture. your cum begins leaking from his hole, his cheeks stained with tear tracks. you lean in and kiss them away, hands caressing his thighs and hips.

you’ll take care of him in a moment, but for now…

“so… you’re a pillow princess?”

“shut up…”

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