#spit link

warnings: DUBCON! unprotected sex, non-consensual sex, spit fetish, spanking, bdsm, degradation, vaginal sex, creampie, allusions to new children, mark and (name) have an older child. betrayal (?), submission, mark with a big, thick penis, breeding kink

summary: Even after years, Mark can't forget you, he's obsessed — but upon learning something, he'll do anything to get you back.

❝ Mark’s fingers tap loudly against the massive table, his expression tired yet unwelcoming as he waits for the Viltrumite councilors to speak about some important mission.

Being Emperor isn’t easy, even after a few years of experience. He felt tired more easily now, but remained at peace with himself knowing that Thragg’s dictatorship had ended years ago, freeing the universe from Viltrum’s cruelty.

Well, he was at peace… at least temporarily:

“Sir?” the councilor calls out, drawing Mark’s attention. “Do you advise our fleets to head to Kynua?” Mark raises an eyebrow, clasping his hands together and sighing dangerously low.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he replies, his voice rough. The councilors whisper among themselves, inaudibly, when another man turns to Mark.

“Sir,” a sharp-minded councilor calls. “Are you… alright? You seem a bit distracted.” Mark takes a deep, heavy breath.

He had been distracted for a long time:

“Well, I suppose we can end the meeting, can’t we?” he asks cautiously, and all the councilors and war commanders agree—because no one would dare speak against the Emperor.

One by one, they leave, leaving him standing by his elevated throne, the Viltrumite metal structure unbreakable. His dark eyes analyze each being as they exit the room, and when the massive doors close, he allows himself to sigh.

His obsessive tendencies were getting worse.

Casually, Mark uses the command panel in front of him in the meeting room, his large fingers analyzing each point strategically—he had a map of the galaxy, of multiple planets, habitable or not.

But he always returned to his home. To Earth.

It had become an exhausting routine—analyzing Earth’s patterns, checking for possible threats to the planet he was born on, or simply… watching his ex-wife.

How pathetic had he become?

She didn’t need watching. She was a formidable hero. Hell, she handled herself better than he did in many situations and always managed to come out on top in critical circumstances.

But in Mark’s subconscious, it was just prevention. Just caution.

After all, ❪ name ❫ and Mark had once been married. They had a beautiful house in one of the best residential neighborhoods in Chicago, and they had a son together… a son who was one of the best—a prodigy.

This was just about the safety of his son’s mother, right?

Wrong.

He missed her.

When did everything change?

When Mark had to leave for Viltrum, when he became less and less present, and when she asked for a divorce for the sake of her own sanity.

It hurt—but he didn’t fight for it. Maybe that was his biggest mistake—he could have fought, but chose to be a coward.

Mark was so messed up mentally… the pressure of being Emperor, the fact he discovered he had a child with Anissa.

Terrible.

Then Eve came into his life and he allowed himself to… relax a little. It was temporary, because he still thought about you. The longing kept growing—and shared custody of Noah didn’t fulfill the real need to see her.

But he remarried, had Terra, and everything seemed to be going… fine. Markus was a good boy, Terra an energetic girl, and Noah had always been everything Mark never had—brave, a fighter.

Hell, even the way he dressed unconsciously resembled Mohawk Mark.

Mark didn’t consider himself a strict or conservative father, but he would never get used to the piercings on his 17-year-old son—or the fact that you allowed it:

“It’s style, old man,” the boy always said. And damn it, Noah was just like him—dark hair, the jawline, the nose, even the way he made that pleading face… but the eyes—

Incredibly, yours.

“Sir,” he snaps out of his thoughts, turning off the command panel that had been displaying Earth—or as he had mentally labeled it, Home.

“Yes?” he asks, his dark eyes focusing on the guard who had entered the conference room.

“Your son Noah has just arrived.” Mark gives a small smile, nodding as he rises from the throne and walks to meet his son.

It had always been like this—no one knew when it started, but it became… routine. Noah lived on Earth, being a teenager and helping fight crime alongside his mother, and during vacations, he visited his father on Viltrum.

Mark had considered placing Noah in a Viltrumite school—but he wouldn’t adapt. Viltrumite education was too strict, and the Emperor knew ❪ name ❫ would never allow their son to abandon his studies for such a harsh system.

His firm footsteps echo through the corridors as he heads to the main hall, where he spots his 17-year-old son.

Noah was practically a copy of Mark in many ways, but his eyes stood out the most… a color ❪ of your choice ❫ inherited from his mother, ❪ name ❫.

His muscles tensed every time he looked into Noah’s eyes.

The boy smiles upon seeing his father, wearing only a backpack and headphones. He was everything Mark hadn’t been—piercings on his eyebrow and lower lip, earrings, spiked hair, and a completely punk style:

“Hey, old man,” Noah grins, just like ❪ name ❫—damn it. His sharp canines gleam. “Miss me?” he asks, and Mark smiles, stepping closer and crossing his arms.

“Always,” he replies, grabbing Noah by the forearm and pulling him into a hug. The younger boy grumbles, pulling away seconds later, slightly irritated.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says, a bit embarrassed, the tips of his ears reddening after being caught by the guards acting like daddy’s boy. “You see me every vacation and some weekends—you should be used to it.”

He would never get used to it.

Even if he saw his son often—on vacations or frequent trips to Earth—he wanted to see Noah every day. But not just Noah… you too:

“How is your mother?” Mark asks almost instinctively. It was always like this. Every time he saw Noah, he asked about you—it was automatic, and he mentally scolded himself for it.

“Perfectly fine,” Noah answers, as he always did. Perfectly fine. “She’s dating now, and for the first time in years… she seems happy.”

It takes a few seconds for Mark to process that information.

It starts slow. The words settle through his hearing, his mind working quickly—first, shock:

“Dating?” he repeats, lowering his arms, revealing the Viltrum symbol on his Emperor uniform.

“Yeah, old man, dating,” Noah replies, not noticing the way Mark’s jaw tightens, how his pupils sharpen. “By the way, where’s Eve?”

“We broke up a few months ago,” he states immediately, almost automatically. Noah raises an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lower lip.

“Damn, three kids and no relationship? Even I’m doing better than you, old man,” Noah adjusts his backpack and starts walking down the corridor Mark had come from moments earlier. “My room didn’t turn into a weapons storage, right?”

The Emperor shakes his head, swallowing hard:

“I just need to fix your… things,” he replies, swallowing again as he hears Noah’s boots echo against the polished floor of the palace.

And he stays there, for a few endless minutes that feel like eternity.

Dating.

❪ name ❫ dating?

His teeth grind to the point of pain, his expression darkening as Noah walks far enough away—his breathing shortens, his chest rising and falling, fists clenched.

Who the hell is the bastard dating my woman?

Mark swallows hard, realizing he was still in the hall, some guards watching with curiosity before quickly lowering their heads at the tension in his shoulders.

And he walks away—slow steps disappearing down the same corridor.

Dinner is one of the greatest personal hells Mark could endure in such a short span of abrupt information.

He really had separated from Eve months ago… yet she still lived on Viltrum, something about Terra (who was 9 years old) already being used to living on that planet, receiving proper education and training.

His relationship with Eve was very… peculiar. It had ended after countless ups and downs. Obviously, he didn’t regret what they had, but he knew things could have been different if—

Mark shakes his head, pushing the thought away.

Eve had always helped him, even with decisions involving Viltrum. And even separated, she remained a strong ally—the good part about it was that they no longer argued constantly, only seeing each other on important dates or during dinners Terra insisted on inviting her mother to.

And this dinner was one of them.

Terra ate happily, Markus—now 13—talking and eating alongside Noah (the oldest) about training and rock bands back on Earth.

Things with Markus had always been complicated… the entire situation with Anissa had left him uneasy, but over time he adjusted, and now he took full care of Markus, since Anissa had disappeared after the final confrontation.

Eve accepted Markus without hesitation and treated him well. Terra loved having two older brothers, especially Noah—who always brought something from Earth, like dolls or toys for the younger ones.

“And then the kid punched me in the jaw and I fell to the ground!” Markus finishes, chewing his food a bit too quickly.

“You should’ve punched that idiot back,” Noah starts, laughing. “Next time that jerk messes with you, tell me—I’ll kick his balls off.”

“Noah!” Eve scolds, gently covering Terra’s ears, who had been listening closely.

Noah laughs, shrugging.

“You know where to hit men, right, Terra?” he says, and the girl looks at him, her eyes shining like he was her hero. “Low, and hard.”

“Noah,” Mark reproaches, still tense from the earlier information.

❪ name ❫ dating.

It was as if the situation hadn’t fully sunk in yet. As if Noah would suddenly say something like, “Just kidding, old man! My mom still cries over you!”—anything that would make him fly back to Earth as fast as possible.

“Why is dad so serious?” Terra asks, and everyone looks at her, then at Mark.

At the same man, imposing, seated at the head of the large table. Mark hadn’t even touched his plate—his eyes unfocused from the actual conversation, fixed instead on random points across the dining hall.

Eve bites her lower lip, sighing softly at Terra.

“Maybe he’s thinking about his duties as Emperor, sweetheart,” she says, gently wiping a bit of food from Terra’s mouth, earning a smile from the girl. “By the way, Noah, how’s your mother?”

Damn it.

The question makes Mark let out a slightly heavier breath, though no one seems to notice—except the ever-observant Terra.

“Ah,” Noah crosses his arms. “She’s doing great… cutting back a bit on the whole superhero life,” he glances at the ceiling, thinking about what else to say. “And she’s dating.”

Eve’s green eyes widen, her red hair cascading like a waterfall. She immediately looks at Mark—because one of their biggest arguments while married was the fact that Mark had never forgotten ❪ name ❫, not even for a second.

“Really? Who is it?” she asks, slightly provocative, and Mark grits his teeth.

“Some guy named Liam,” Noah shrugs, going back to eating. “A banker from Chicago. He’s… a good guy.” Mark looks at his son, exhaling slowly.

“A banker? A good guy?” he questions, and Noah stops chewing almost immediately. “Are you sure? Because honestly… we can’t trust anyone these days.”

“Mark,” Eve calls, lightly reprimanding him.

“Am I wrong?” Mark snaps, a hint of accusation in his tone. “I don’t even know who this man is… my son could be in danger or—”

“Liam’s a cool guy. A bit flashy? Yeah. But cool—and above all… present,” Noah cuts in.

His son’s words hit something deep inside Mark, something that throbs painfully.

“P–Present?” he stammers, and Eve notices. Maybe Noah didn’t—but she did. She heard the tremor in his voice.

“Yeah, present,” Noah presses, almost… accusing. Like it was a jab. “You know? Romantic dinners, trips… I think she’s gonna take advantage of me being away and go on a cruise around Europe with Liam.”

Silence.

The only sounds are Terra and Markus chewing, cutlery clinking against plates—and Mark’s breathing growing heavier, shallower.

He starts seeing red. That burning anger rising again, his mouth turning bitter—the little creatures of jealousy, envy, and possessiveness had definitely bitten him now.

“Excuse me,” Mark stands, dragging the chair loudly across the floor. Everyone at the table looks at him, confused. “I just remembered an important conference… you can finish dinner without me.”

“Dad?” Terra calls, and Mark’s hardened façade softens almost instantly. He walks over, bending down to kiss her forehead.

“Dad just has to take care of something. I’ll be back soon,” he says, ruffling Markus’ hair in the process, earning a smile.

And as he passes Noah—he squeezes his eldest son’s shoulder before walking away, disappearing once again through the countless corridors.

SECURITY ROOM: VILTRUM — 21:23

Mark didn’t know what had come over him in that moment.

All he knew was that he had stormed into the castle’s security room, ordering the guards and watchmen to leave while he took responsibility for analyzing some… crucial information.

His fingers moved across every panel, carefully examining each point. It was almost automatic when he typed in the password—the date of his birthday—and suddenly, a file opened.

❪ name ❫ ❪ surname ❫.

His eyes softened as he saw the data he had gathered over the past years he had been away from you. Ten years exactly. Ten years of only seeing you through brief, trivial encounters. Ten years without kissing you, without feeling your skin against his.

Ten years wasted, thinking Eve—or the Empire—mattered more.

He had kept that stoic ex-husband façade, but he couldn’t hold it together the moment Noah said you were moving on.

After a marriage. After a child.

God… he had moved on too—but for a greater cause. He was Emperor, yet he still thought about you… And knowing that now you seemed ready to truly move on made him deeply uneasy.

He analyzed everything. Data, patterns—every satellite and camera worldwide connected to Mark Grayson’s system. He had seen you going out with other men recently… but Liam seemed… different.

His teeth clenched, his eyes widening as a Chicago park camera focused on you—wrapped in Liam’s arms. A man in simple clothes, neatly styled hair, carrying that typical air of arrogance.

Yet… gentle with you.

It made him feel like dying.

Liam’s hand rested carefully on your waist, pulling you closer. And you looked beautiful—the fine lines of expression gave you a mature air, yet it seemed like you hadn’t aged at all in ten years.

Just… more alive. More beautiful. More irresistible.

Mark’s composure shattered when Liam pulled you in, placing a soft kiss at the corner of your lips. And God, you smiled—those ❪ color ❫ eyes blinking so warmly, the same way you used to look at him.

Before everything.

Before the Viltrum War. Before the separation. Before he gave up on you, believing you deserved better.

Suddenly, his fist slammed into the panel, glass shattering. His hand began to bleed, but he didn’t seem to care—staring at the cracked screen still displaying you with another man.

“Another anger episode?” Eve’s voice cuts through as she steps into the room. Mark barely notices, his eyes still fixed on the broken screen.

Her steps are slow, heels clicking softly against the floor—green eyes shifting from his bleeding hand to the Emperor himself.

“Is this about ❪ name ❫?” she asks, and the tension in his expression becomes even more evident.

“Don’t say her name,” he growls, jaw tightening sharply.

Eve sighs, rolling her eyes.

“For years I’ve known you, and you still think about her,” her tone isn’t sad—it’s firm, knowing. “You still love her, Mark.”

Silence.

“Why don’t you go after her?” she asks, as if it were simple, and Mark scoffs, his bloodied hands dragging over his face.

“It’s not that easy, Eve…” he mutters, deeply frustrated. It’s clear he’s trying to control something inside himself. “I can’t just show up on Earth and pretend everything’s fine… when it’s not.”

“How about you stop being so obsessed and actually do something?” Mark looks at her, confused. “One of the reasons we always fought… is because you were always thinking about her. Consciously or not.”

Silence lingers, broken only by the soft beeping of the system.

“You’ve always acted like you’re obsessed with her… always using Noah as an excuse,” she continues, staring straight at him. “You can’t live in your son’s shadow forever, Mark.”

The Emperor takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself as Eve’s words hit him harder than he expected.

“You need to be a man for once in your life,” Eve says, and Mark looks at her—his dark eyes widening for the first time.

“W–Why?” he stammers, voice low, almost hollow. Eve sighs again, her warm hands resting on his tense shoulders.

“Because I always knew you loved her, not me,” the redhead says, not saddened—but certain. “Do you remember all the times you mixed up my name?”

“Eve—” he tries to interrupt.

“No, Mark,” she inhales deeply. “Let me talk for once, okay?” He nods, lips forming that familiar pout. “Do you remember all the times you moaned her name instead of mine?”

A deadly silence falls, and Mark doesn’t know how to react.

“When you got angry and I didn’t know how to help you… and then I found out you were tracking her location?” her voice lowers. “And I kept wondering how I could be better for you.”

She exhales, her hands leaving his shoulders.

“But for ten years, I… hid, hoping you would love me, not her,” she lets out a small laugh. “But you’re obsessed, Mark. You love her, you idolize her, you’re in love with her… and please… be man enough to admit it.”

Mark exhales, his hands trembling slightly, his expression falling apart.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize. Out of all of this… Terra was the only thing we got right,” she smiles softly, and Mark nods, letting out a quiet laugh.

“So… how do I be man enough to do it?” he asks, a frustrated, almost desperate chuckle escaping him.

“Well…” she shrugs. “Go after her and… admit it, you know? Be honest. But don’t be pushy. And if she says no… just accept it,” she winks, stepping away. “Just don’t be so… Mark, okay?”

PLANET EARTH

It wasn’t like Mark.

This really hadn’t been in his plans.

The climate was different from Viltrum—Earth had a colder atmosphere, while Viltrum possessed a standard climate, always sunny in the mornings with a slight chill at night. Mark was wearing his classic Viltrumite Emperor suit, the garments polished and the symbol prominently displayed. Mark’s nostrils flared automatically when he realized where he was—home. He no longer knew what was right or wrong; his mind was racing at a million miles per hour. The conversation with Eve seemed to have lit a small flame of hope, and seeing the images of you kissing Liam made him... crazy. Irritated. He didn’t need much effort to enter your house; after all, he was a Viltrumite.

The house was large, with a decor that felt like you—picture frames of moments between you and Noah. In fact, Mark already knew this space a little, from the very few times he had... broken in during his moments of spiraling just to see you in the dead of night without being noticed. The doorknob turned, the sound pulling Mark from his thoughts. He moved away from the counter near the stairs, where a photo of you with Noah as a child at an anime convention sat. He had missed that. The door opened, hands fumbling for the living room light switch—the room flooded with light, and suddenly, Mark saw you.

It was too much. Too much. Mark felt his stomach churn; his eyes widened when he saw you after all these years—wearing casual clothes, jeans, a plain light blue shirt, and sneakers. Your hair was exuberant, and your eyes were so striking, almost glowing in those first seconds of light. You stopped, your eyebrows arching as you recognized the figure, and Mark noticed the fine lines of expression—a face slightly aged, yet still so sexy. Damn, he was already getting hard.

“Mark?” your voice came out confused, truly. You set your side bag on the hallway counter while approaching with slow steps. “What is happening? Why... why are you here?” Your chest rose and fell.

He approached with the firm steps of an Emperor, because in the end, that’s what he was. “I came... to talk to you,” he stated readily, swallowing hard. You looked more beautiful than ever, your scent filling the room and driving him completely insane.

Your eyes widened, and you moved closer but still maintained a distance. “Is it about Noah?” you asked, eyes still wide, breath hitching, your maternal instinct screaming at full volume.

He smiled, a minute and almost imperceptible twitch—obviously you would talk about Noah, obviously you would ask about Noah, being the protective mother you always were. “No,” he denied almost immediately, taking a step forward. “It’s about us.”

There was a silence so grand it seemed to last longer than usual. Your expression of worry shifted automatically, your brow furrowing slightly into a grimace—confusion, and a slight irritation as your pupils dilated. “About us?” you asked, your voice sharp and slightly mocking. However, Mark did not back down, taking more steps forward as he nodded.

“Yes, about us,” he emphasized, his dark eyes analyzing your face, your body, and all the time he had lost over the years.

“I believe there is nothing for us to talk about,” you replied, your expression serious. “I told you years ago, Grayson, that if you were to come talk to me, it should be regarding Noah.”

“I...” he interrupted her last sentence, his hands opening and closing. He needed to touch you. “Dammit, I know that, okay? I know you don’t want to see me even if I were painted in gold because you probably hate me...”

“Mark,” you called him, and it was clear how much his pupils dilated. “I don’t hate you, okay? You are a turned page in my life... I feel nothing for you, just... indifference.”

He bit his lower lip hard, to the point of a slight rupture and blood appearing. It was clear that this affected him; his gaze dropped like a kicked dog, his shoulders trembling. “Don’t act like my feelings are nothing,” he stated, hands shaking as he took another step. “Don’t act like we weren't anything.”

“We were something, before you vanished for days while I dealt with Noah in postpartum... before your commitments to Viltrum became more important than your family,” Mark felt his chest tear apart. “Look, Mark, I spent years of my life waiting and supporting you... there came a point where I wanted to support myself, do you understand?”

Mark swallowed hard, standing still, nodding. “We could try again,” he spoke with such conviction, with such willpower. “Fuck, I love you! I never forgot you! I tried, okay?!” he erupted, stepping forward. “But you won't leave my head! You never left!”

His eyes welled up—was the Emperor going to... cry? “I look at Noah and I blame myself every day for missing the most important stages of our son's life by your side.” His eyes flickered, he bit his lip. “You think I don't miss you? Your laugh? Your kisses? How much we used to fuck wildly anywhere?”

“Mark—” your eyes widened, swallowing hard, embarrassed.

“No!” He approached again, his pupils now heart-shaped, his breath becoming ragged as he stood very close to you. “Stay with me again, please... otherwise... I’ll kill myself!”

Silence.

“You can’t come here and say these things after all these years, Mark!” you shouted, and he felt a bit cornered but didn't show it. “Damn, aren't you married?! Get a grip!”

“Not anymore,” he replied simply, his tense arms falling to his sides as he scanned you from head to toe.

“What?!” your voice came out strained, as if you hadn't heard right.

“I’ve been separated for years,” he breathed in again, taking another step. “Because of you.”

“Don’t blame me for the failures of your relationships, Mark Grayson,” you spat, stepping toward the door. “If you’re not going to talk about Noah, get out of my house!”

Mark was faster; his super speed allowed him to grab your wrist, pulling you close—your body was pulled abruptly, and suddenly you felt the wall against your back as Mark pinned you down. “I know you miss me,” he exclaimed, pressing you against the wall. You felt that Mark was more muscular now, almost swallowing you with the tall, strong structure of his body.

“Mark, let me go!” you screamed, trying to break free. Even as a hero, Mark had always been stronger, and now the discrepancy in strength seemed even greater.

“Tell me,” he seemed serious, yet the desperate glint in his eyes said something else. “Are you with another man?”

Your eyes widened as you noticed Mark: his dilated pupils, the way his chest rose and fell, panting. His jaw was clenched, and he looked almost feral. “That’s none of your business!” You tried to pull away, but it was impossible; Mark had one hand beside your head while the other trembled, landing on your hip.

As Mark’s large hands touched your hip, he growled softly, as if physically controlling himself. “You aren't dating any other son of a bitch anymore,” his hands squeezed you with great force, and you gasped in pain. “You are mine, understood?! Mine!”

Suddenly, in a blur of motion, he scooped you into his arms. It was so fast, throwing your body over his shoulder as he began to climb the stairs. You were left speechless—and when you tried to speak, Mark slapped your ass. It was a loud, sharp crack that made you scream from the shock and the overwhelming sensation. Mark continued up the stairs, stopping in the second-floor hallway while you were still over his shoulder. You tried to wiggle out of his grip, your legs pinned by his arms. Your fists pounded against Mark’s back, but he didn't seem to budge—as if the blows had no effect on him.

“L-Let me go, dammit!” You squirmed, screamed, hitting his back, but he kept walking down the hall as if it were nothing. He didn't answer, opening each door—one by one. First, the bathroom in the hallway; then, Noah’s messy room; and finally... your bedroom.

He didn't hesitate to open the door, revealing your space. Mark inhaled deeply, as if taking in the scent, and his pants seemed tighter. With his foot, the Emperor closed the door, walking to the bed and throwing you onto the sheets. Your eyes widened, and you tried to flee—you really tried—but Mark threw himself on top of you, encaging you in his strong arms.

And he wasted no time; he kissed you. The kiss was desperate, savage. Teeth, tongue, and plenty of saliva—you tried to refuse, but your mind became distorted by the sensation of your mouth being devoured. Mark let out a groan of satisfaction as your mouths joined after years. It was too much. He rubbed himself pathetically, his hard cock brushing against the curve of your thigh, and you noticed how tense he was.

“Fuck,” he pulled back, realizing you needed air, then returned again, sucking on your lower lip and collecting traces of saliva with his tongue. “I missed this so much...” It was as if Mark’s restraint was snapping. His hands moved over your body, and God, it was overwhelming.

“No,” you cursed as Mark ripped your shirt with extraordinary force, tearing it away. It revealed your simple black lace support bra, which made Mark’s pupils dilate further.

“Fuck... fuck,” a string of saliva fell into the valley of your breasts; Mark was drooling. Literally. “You get hotter every single day...” His hands went forcefully to your breasts, squeezing—you gasped, your head falling back against the pillows while Mark simply pulled the bra down, leaving it still caught on your body.

He was at 220 percent. His fingers pinched your nipple, and you moaned, even if quietly, which brought a restless sensation to Mark. The Emperor swallowed hard, and it was clear how much he was controlling himself—or trying to. “S-Sorry, I should probably be courting you,” his breath was pained as his fingers went to your pants, sliding the zipper. “I should take you out... to... damn, to see the stars.” His eyes rolled back when his fingers passed over your panties, which were damp. “But I need you... I need this pussy sucking my fingers, sucking my dick.”

You trembled with anticipation. Dammit... you should be denying him, but your body, your entire being, belonged to him. In a sudden movement, because Mark seemed to be going mad, he pulled your pants off with force, leaving you only in your underwear—the basic black daily set making Mark’s pupils dilate even more.

“You won't be needing these anymore,” your eyes widened, and you tried to kick Mark, but he was strong enough, using his body to spread your legs while one of his hands pinned your wrists above your head.

“Mark,” you panted, feeling his finger pass over the lips of your drenched vagina. “Let's talk—”

“You won't need to wear panties anymore,” and he ripped the garment until it was just a strip of fabric. “When you go back to Viltrum with me, you won't wear panties anymore... because I’m going to fuck you in every possible place in the castle.”

You trembled... go to Viltrum?

“I’m going to get you pregnant again; this pussy is going to be leaking cum every day.” It was clear how ecstatic he became when his fingers caressed your folds, and you moaned softly when he automatically found your clitoris. “Right here, isn't it?” He smiled, but there was an adoration, a desperation—the way he looked at your pussy as if it were a work of art.

“Fuck...” he gasped, appearing both dominant and desperate. His fingers circled your dripping entrance, and he shoved two fingers in at once.

You screamed, startled by the sudden introduction. It was too much, feeling the ridges of his fingers going in and out—the sound of your extremely wet vagina, staining the sheet beneath you.

“You’re squeezing me,” he rasped, inhaling through his nose as his fingers worked. Mark managed to curve them, hooking your G-spot and making you see stars. “You missed me, didn't you? Missed me fucking you like a real man does.” His tone was incisive, and you could only moan patetically—it was bizarre how your facade crumbled, how you stuttered while Mark fucked you rapidly with his fingers, knowing all your spots just like years ago when you were young and exploring each other's bodies.

“M-Mark, calm down,” that spiral hit your stomach, your legs shook, and your eyes rolled as he started going too hard.

“P-Please,” he moaned pathetically in your ear, his pupils huge and watery while his big, thick fingers worked forcefully inside you. “S-Say you want me! Say you love me!” His thumb slid up to your clitoris, pressing down. You felt your body go limp, Mark’s other hand squeezing your wrists tightly, making it impossible to break free. Your legs trembled; it was too much. God, too much. Your eyes rolled back, your legs trying to land a blow on Mark—but he quickly intervened with his own legs, his hand leaving your pussy.

It was filthy how his thick fingers were smeared with your own lubrication, and suddenly, Mark slapped you across the face—the impact turning your head. “No.” His chest rose and fell heavily. “Stop resisting, dammit, you’re mine...” Those same smeared fingers shoved into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. “This pussy is mine.”

You choked, your eyes wide—your thought was to bite his fingers, but the way he was huffing, and how his erection remained prominent in his uniform, was overwhelming. Mark released your wrists, his other hand reaching down to grab your now-torn panties. With precision, he tied your wrists to the headboard with just one hand, while the other continued working in your mouth, shoving deep into your throat.

Mark’s fingers left your throat, saliva dripping down your chin—the pressure he began to apply to your neck made you see stars; his fingers covered almost your entire throat. “M-Mark!” Your eyes rolled, confused. It was all too much, and he moved close enough for you to feel his rigid dick hitting your groin.

“Do you feel that?!” he rasped, angry, and you swallowed hard. “Open your mouth, dammit.”

In that moment, your brain turned to mush—your tongue stretched out and Mark spat, a string of saliva running down the back of your throat. Everything was so visceral. So Mark. “I missed this,” he inhaled, his own hands going to his pants. Your eyes widened as you realized the situation, the reality sinking in. “I missed your smell... fuck, I couldn't stand masturbating while thinking of you anymore.”

And with a sudden tug, Mark lowered his pants and underwear at the same time—revealing himself, and damn, he seemed larger than years ago. Bigger. Thicker. Heavy. Curved upward in a way that always hit your G-spot, a light dusting of hair at the base and two veins circling, pulsing—your eyes widened, mouth falling open while Mark smiled at your reaction.

“Sorry... I need you,” he brushed the thick head of his penis against your entrance, and you shivered, truly shivered. “I promise to make it up to you later, okay? I-I’ll take you wherever you want,” he groaned pathetically, his arms trembling as he physically restrained himself.

And finally, he penetrated.

Your eyes rolled back, your hands flew toward Mark’s biceps, the underwear holding your wrists to the headboard ripping in the process—while you scratched with extreme force to the point of drawing blood, and he groaned, his hips thrusting forward and impaling you on his cock.

“Fuck,” he moaned, drooling. His eyes narrowed as he gripped the base of your thighs, lifting you and making you even more exposed. “I missed this pussy.” He tore off the bra that was still clinging to you, leaving you entirely naked—your clothes ruined, with only your jeans intact on the floor. It was too much. Mark’s dick seemed to be splitting you in two; you felt your pussy trying to push him out—even with the dilation from his fingers minutes ago, it still hurt, it still burned.

But he didn’t stop. He didn’t even seem to be in this reality—the sound of his balls hitting the curve of your ass, your wet vagina trying to suck him in as his enormous length disappeared inside. He was drooling heavily. Eyes glazed, moaning hoarsely, as if he couldn’t miss a single movement.

“L-Look at how well she takes me,” he exclaimed, voice breathless as he accelerated his hip movements. With every thrust, you felt Mark’s dick hit your sensitive spot, and you screamed, drooling onto the pillow. “Look at how well you take me...”

And he didn't delay in kissing you, his movements becoming even stronger. Your moans were muffled as he pulled you closer in a mating press. You felt him poke so deep that you saw stars, and his tongue in your mouth didn't hesitate to take your breath away, as if he were sucking out your very soul. His fingers moved away, going to your clitoris—and you screamed into his mouth, trying to pull away because the stimulation was too much... his dick hitting your G-spot while his fingers were firm on your swollen button.

“Scream more,” his hips thrust forward, and you whined. “Cum on my dick, darling...”

It was like a switch, that snap in your stomach dissipated and before you knew it—liquid covered Mark’s fingers, his dick, and even his abdomen. How long had it been since you squirted like that?

“Mark!” you screamed his name, hugging him, your legs flexed over his shoulders. The Emperor growled, snapping his hips forward three more times as he came. And you felt yourself being filled. Overwhelmingly. It overflowed; it was always like that... something about Viltrumite sperm, denser, creamier, and in absurd quantities.

However, he didn't pull away; he stayed there for a few moments. “I love you,” he began to kiss your shoulder, moving up your neck, nibbling the skin there, causing small red bruises. “I never forgot you, and I’m not going to let some random son of a bitch have you.”

He pulled back, withdrawing his still semi-hard dick from your pussy—as if a plug had been removed, it leaked immediately, sperm running from your vagina, down the curve of your ass and onto the mattress. You tried to pull away, really tried, turning onto your stomach and crawling toward the edge of the bed—but Mark pulled you back by the hips, bringing you close again.

“Fuck, you think you’re going to escape?!” His hands remained fixed on your hips, lifting them and leaving you arched, head muffled in the pillow. “I’m going to fill this pussy until it leaks... and I’m going to get you pregnant,” he spread your cheeks, revealing your pussy leaking cum and your anal opening shining with lubrication. Mark smiled dangerously, opening his mouth and spitting again—the ball of saliva running down your anus and mixing with Mark’s mess.

“I’m going to fuck every one of your holes,” he affirmed, brutal, giving your ass a slap that made you shiver and moan. “I’m going to cum in your fucking uterus and get you pregnant again... and again... and again...”

Suddenly he leaned over, brushing his already hard dick against your drenched vagina. “And again...” Mark exclaimed, repeating it as if he were possessed. “And you’re not running away from me ever again.”

NEXT CHAPTER: CHAPTER 2

Author's note:

Sorry for the mistakes, English isn't my first language lol.