Invincible Fanfic - Blog Posts

DACRYPHILLIA MENTIONED!!!!

"It's to much!"

Pairing: Mark Grayson x GN! Reader

Synopsis: You edge Mark to tears with a cock vibrator, savoring every desperate sound as he breaks beneath your touch.

Content tags: smut, overstimulating, edging, cock vibrator, handjob, Dacryphilia

Mark’s wrists strain against the bedframe, muscles flexing with every tremor that rolls through him. You’ve got him right where you want him — naked, flushed, helpless. His chest rises and falls with sharp, shallow breaths, every inhale catching as the cock vibrator buzzes steadily against him.

You’ve had it on him for twenty minutes now. Twenty long minutes of teasing, stroking, and pulling your hand away the second his hips stuttered or his moans hit that desperate pitch. He’s soaked in sweat, eyes glassy, lip bitten raw. His cock twitches in your grip as you wrap your hand around it again, lazy and slow. The vibrator hums beneath your fingers, perfectly in tune with his leaking, overstimulated tip.

"Please—" he gasps, voice thick and raw. “I c-can’t—need to come, please—”

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “You don’t get to need yet,” you murmur, biting down lightly on his lobe. “You’re still being so good for me.”

His head tips back into the pillow, a broken sound clawing out of his throat. A tear slips down his cheek, and you pause to wipe it away with your thumb.

“Oh, Mark,” you coo, almost mockingly sweet. “You’re crying already? That’s so pretty. You’re such a pretty little mess.”

He chokes on a moan as you twist the dial on the vibrator just one notch higher. The shift is subtle but devastating. His back arches off the mattress, legs trembling, muscles locked with the need to thrust. But he doesn’t. Not yet.

"I-It’s too much, I—" His voice is high, strangled, like he’s on the edge of breaking.

You kiss along his jaw, breath warm and slow, contrasting how worked up his body is. “It’s never too much for you. You can take it.”

“I’m—” he tries, tears streaking now, his thighs twitching. “I’m gonna come—please—”

You let go of his cock.

His entire body jolts like you struck him, a wounded noise torn from his throat. “No—no, please—!”

You tut. “Almost, baby. But you know the rules. You don’t get to come until I let you.”

He whines, squirming against his restraints, the vibrator still buzzing mercilessly around him. You drag your fingers down his abdomen slowly, watching how he twitches at every touch.

“I bet you could come just from this. Just from the vibrator,” you tease, brushing your thumb over his slick head, not stroking — just touching. “Would that embarrass you? No hands, no thrusting — just a pathetic little mess?”

He nods, breath catching again. “Y-Yeah—yes—please—”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you whisper, grinning as you reach down and cup his balls, gently massaging while the vibrator does its work. “Coming like a toy. Like my toy.”

He whimpers, so close again, the tip of his cock leaking freely. His whole body is shaking now, muscles jumping from tension and denial. You can see it in his face — how badly he wants to give in, how close he is to losing all control.

"You’re gonna cry for me again before I even let you come," you promise, kissing the corner of his mouth. “And when I do let you, you’re gonna thank me. On your knees.”

Mark’s eyes roll back as a second tear slips down his cheek. He’s not even trying to be quiet anymore — he’s whining, breathless and overwhelmed, caught in that limbo between pleasure and pain. You keep your hand there, just cradling him, watching as the vibrator pushes him to the brink again. Not touching, not helping. Just waiting.

And when he starts sobbing for real — hips bucking, thighs clenching — you finally whisper:

“Good boy. Come for me.”

Mark shatters.

His hips jerk, spine bowing off the bed as he cries out—loud, broken, utterly lost in it. His orgasm hits like a tidal wave, thick ropes spilling over his abdomen, his cock twitching violently. His throat works around a sob, eyes squeezed shut, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. But you don’t move the vibrator. You keep it right there — buzzing against the sensitive underside of his cock, your hand still loosely wrapped around him, holding him in place.

"Ah—! W-Wait—!" Mark gasps, panic bleeding into his voice. “I—it’s too much—!”

His hips try to jerk away, trembling under you, but he can’t get far. You press your free hand gently to his chest, holding him down—not forcefully, but with presence. Control. A reminder.

“Easy,” you murmur, voice calm, grounding. “You remember your safeword?”

He nods rapidly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Y-Yeah—yes.”

“Say it if you need to. No hesitation,” you say, locking eyes with him. “We stop if you say it. Understand?”

Mark swallows hard, nodding again. “I-I understand.”

You soften for a beat, leaning in to kiss his temple, sweat-slick skin warm beneath your lips.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “Now take it for me.”

And he does — or he tries. Because the vibrator keeps working him, and he’s still hard — achingly so — even post-orgasm. His cock twitches violently, oversensitive, raw. You ease your fingers under the head again, not stroking, just letting your touch remind him he doesn’t belong to himself right now.

He whines, choked and wrecked. “F-Fuck—! Oh my god—”

His thighs twitch, muscles spasming helplessly. Another orgasm builds too fast, sharp and desperate. He’s trying to hold it back, babbling through gritted teeth, but it’s no use. It tears out of him in a strangled sob as he spills again, smaller, thinner—but no less intense. Pain and pleasure blur, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Tears are streaming down his face now, silent and shining. He gasps, “Please—it hurts—!”

“I know,” you whisper, brushing some of the wetness away with your thumb. “But you haven’t said your word.”

He shakes his head weakly, panting. “Don’t… want to stop…”

Your mouth curls into a pleased smile. “Good. Because you’re going to give me one more.”

He sobs—louder this time. “I-I can’t—”

“You can.” Your hand cradles his cock again. The vibrations continue without mercy. “And you will.”

Every sound he makes after that is pure wreckage. He’s not even trying to be composed anymore. Just raw noise—crying, gasping, pleading into the sheets as you guide him through the edge of another climax. He thrashes, overwhelmed, babbling your name, and you stay calm, steady—watching him with heat in your eyes.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you murmur, brushing his cheek. “So beautiful like this. Falling apart for me.”

And then it hits again—his third orgasm, ripped from him like it’s punishment and reward all at once. He screams through it, chest heaving, tears soaking the pillow beneath his head. You don’t move the vibrator right away. You just let it rest there—buzzing quietly—while his body twitches and shakes beneath you.

Only when his moans turn to shallow, hiccuping breaths do you reach down and finally shut it off. He melts into the mattress, sobbing, but his hands are still clenched in the restraints—until you untie them. The moment his wrists are free, he curls into your touch, collapsing against your chest with trembling arms and shaking legs. You hold him close. Quiet now. Gentle. Stroking his hair.

“You did so well,” you whisper, kissing the crown of his head. “I’m so proud of you.”

Mark hiccups, still riding the aftershocks, utterly spent—but safe. And you stay right there, wrapped around him, until the trembling stops.

By The Ring

Rex Sloan x G/N Reader

18+ Minors begone! I have been rotting away for far too long and need to come back. So have my first angsty smut ever.

Summary: Rex always thought you and him were together, but to you, you guys were just a couple. Despite how awful of a partner you were, Rex always has the doubt in his mind that you do care, and you are his.

Warnings/Tags: Cheating from Rex's end, penetration but reader's genitals are kept vague. The reader is genuinely a p.o.s. reader is using Rex for sex, actively objectifies him, and doesn't care about anything else, and this isn't meant to romanticize objectification at all. I'm just practicing a new way of writing. Sex is dry af, dead bedroom, lots of angst, plastic love, literary devices cuz I'm a nerd💀, shattered relationship, hurt but no comfort yall, I'm sorry, it's 12:20 AM and I had a thought😭

You laid there bare while he slipped his way in. Your body is as hot as his charged molecules, but your moans are as loud as a dying kindle. His rough palm clutching your jaw to pepper kisses while you half-heartedly whimper. Moaning was a courtesy, not a requirement. Neither was cumming.

Moaning, begging, sucking, cumming.... it was never a requirement or a need... just formalities.

You knew from the start what kind of person Rex Sloan....or Splode.... was. A firecracker made in an assembly line designed to fizzle, flicker, explode, wow, and then tarnish to leave behind its tattered pieces. Its smell embedded into the ground and your clothes that stank of gunpowder. If there was one thing you loved about Rex.... it was his big personality. He was an ass, but he was always entertaining even in the more distasteful circumstances. He was the definition of fun and adventure.

Sometimes all you ever want is a little fun.

But too much of one's sweet indulgences will always leave a bitter taste in their mouths. Rex was a firework you loved to watch explode, fizzle, and flash vibrantly with all of his true colors. But what happens when the fireworks are too loud? What happens when the fireworks are too bold? What happens when the fireworks burst too close to your home? What happens when the fireworks are simply.... too much?

You dispose of them. Tuck them away into a closet until you get board and long to see their violent bursts again.

Rex was a skeleton in your closet. You didn't bring him up to family or friends--not because you were ashamed, moreso you didn't find it necessary. He was just a firework to watch until he fizzled away from your mind. His ambers always remained in your gyri for his body, for his face, and occassionally his personality.

But sometimes, you really wished he'd just stay in his place.

He thrusts faster into you, pounding, needy, desperate and depraved. What once felt so thrilling, so desirable, so irresistible, has become so.... so.... monotonous. It wasn't the sex that ruined things, it was him.

Assembly lines have changed the world forever. People gained jobs, capitalistic societies thrived, and consumers ate up every new appliance and car and cosmetic that released. But assembly lines were exploitative, coldly formatted to prioritize profit over people, and greedy.

Rex gained respect, Rex thrived in action-packed environments, Rex ate up every ounce of attention, and Rex.... was just a faulty firecracker designed to maximize your gratification until you decide to recall because he oversupplied, and you wanted more of him in ways that did not correspond to his ideas. Rex changed your world forever.

You couldn't care less about his job, his life, or his friends, not when he was inside of you. But now, that wasn't even enough because of course it wasn't. Rex could work in his place in line, tending to your conveyor belt for hours upon hours in a day, and you'll only ever pay him with half-hearted honeyed affirmations and the occassional peck on the cheek. Yet you'll still command more from him. You were as affectionate as Tyson Foods, or Apple, or Google, or Amazon, or whatever big wig corporation had a CEO with a warm smile and a cold way of life.

There was better than Rex. There always was and always will be.

If you desired, you could get a replacement by next evening.

Rex massaged your spot, whimpering and muttering: "Why.... why are you so quiet, baby? Is it not good enough?"

He sounded.... different from his usual cocky demeanor... scared. It was as though the entirety of his worth as a person, as a man, as Rex Splode, as Rex Sloan... rested between his thighs.

....

The fear that filled his body fueled his fiery passion further as he hoisted you up and pounded. This time, you moaned. An authentic, genuine moan that filled the room and gave Rex the validation he needed to gain that sense of machismo. The kind of masculinity that was as secure as the neglected mechanical cogs on a calculated conveyor belt. Rex was monotonous and loud, but by god did he have a use.

He slides out before slapping himself back in with a clap of flesh while he whispered....

"My baby.... my baby..." He huffs between steamy kisses and loud claps. His words synchronized with the sounds of his thrusts as he continued.... "You're my baby, say it to me...."

You bite your lip, not from pleasure--no, no, no, that candle put itself out long ago--but rather resistance, rebellion, apathy, reluctance, everything that Rex would define as "shitty." But you humored him, striking the match to light his fuse as you pant out, "I'm your baby, Rex. I'm your baby."

Rex was a firecracker you always set off when you wanted a show and you always made sure to set him off into a lake when he was too much. To bet on losing dogs is the very definition of insanity. But Rex places his stamp down and pays the price every time. He knows. He knows that what he's doing is wrong, seeing Kate behind your back, talking to Eve, touching other people, only to bury himself deep into you. He didn't deserve you. He knew that. But he loved you so, so much. You were perfect, affectionate enough to keep him coming, but distant enough that he could never worry about genuinely losing a bet. That was until he heard you laugh with him, not at him, or when you were so forgiving, and loving.... where did you go? You don't even look him in the eyes during sex.

But that night.... you did.

And it gave Rex the foreign feeling of butterfly houses populating with heat insulated.... he couldn't help but hiss at you through clenched teeth, "I wanna feel it.... you looking in my eyes when I come..."

To bet on losing dogs is the very definition of insanity. Deep beneath the depths of his hearth through the cracked stonework and sooted walls of his personhood, lied the burned letter he always sought to ignore.

You don't love him. He can tell by the way you always gaze at his body and dismiss his words, how you craved him for his looks and not his jokes, and how even after you drained him, you still commanded more. You never asked how he was doing, you just always focused on "making him feel better." Except he never did. But he loves you so.... for whatever reason, he does.

He loves you so much that he'll cry to himself over his infidelity even though you couldn't care less if he left you today. He hates himself for it but christ, he needs someone that's you but.... isn't like you. He stopped going after Rae, Kate, and Eve. He started seeking people who looked as close to you as possible. Some nights, he'd even pay a prostitute extra to let him call them by your name, or to dye their hair like yours, and so on. Or when he watches porn.... he always tries to find one where the bodies, the actors, and the sounds were as close to you as possible because he knows it will never truly happen. For once, sex was something that made Rex miserable.... how can he possibly enjoy you when he has to sleep knowing that if it weren't for his anatomy, you would leave?

If he can't make you stay with his jokes, or his meals, or his fireworks from charged coins, he only had one last thing.... his body.

He loves you so much that he actively bets on his losing dog. He sees you and he knows that you are bound to fail him everytime without trying because that's exactly your problem. You don't try.

You don't even care.

He could sit there in his car and scream how he loves you, but whether he screamed in the car alone, or screamed right there in your home you still left him alone. As long as he came back to bed bare, only then would you truly acknowledge him and hold him.

Finally, Rex reached his peak and lets go, only to make sure you reached yours, too. As you cum, it wasn't a powerful crash of waves, it was a poltergeist of pleasure that throbbed throughout your body. But Rex knew this was all he could do. He knows you're bored of him now.

........

In the middle of cuddling you, Rex finally snaps bitterly:

"Why don't you ever say my name when we fuck? You don't even look at me!"

But when he said that, he looked to see you scrolling away on your phone. Inattentive, careless, and inconsiderate as always. He bets on losing dogs.

Then he decided to tell you the truth....

"I've been seeing other people. Kate, Rae, Eve, and others." He confessed whilst firmly looking at you with those green eyes lit with determination; a faulty firework ready to blow up into the lake once more.

He sat there in silence, expecting you to get angry, cry, scream, or do something indicating that you do care about him.

When he is met with silence, he instigated further.

"You tasted her. Every time you went down on me, you tasted them, 'cause I ain't washing my sins, baby!" He exclaimed with bravado, he knew everything. He knew you were just putting on a front.... you do love him, you care for him, that you were worth losing every bet, that you were worth placing every bet down like a deranged gambler, that you weren't his losing dog, that you were his, that he'll break your heart, that he'll make you cry, and then it'll all be okay. He knew---no, he knows, everything. Even if you are dry and you can't keep up, he knows it'll hurt.

But it didn't hurt like he thought it would.

After he confessed his infidelty and clutched his plastic pride, all you did was roll over and tiredly mutter to him,

"Make sure you get tested tomorrow. I don't wanna have to take antibiotics 'cause of you."

And just like that.... you set him off and briefly witnessed his burst into the lake. He gets up, agitated and shouting at you, but you have long fell asleep. Realizing he was losing on your side, he went to the bathroom and wrapped his lips around the faucet before turning it on to the highest setting.

Through gargles, choked sobs, fizzled sorrows, and longing ambers being flooded by metallic water, he coughs up remains before pulling out the diamond ring in his pocket. It wasn't flashy, it was cheap, but it was a promise. The promise to be better, the promise to stay by your side, the promise.... to bet on another losing dog.

With a somber gaze that pawned off his emerald eyes, Rex places the ring onto the sink; ready to place down yet another stamp that's long dried after so many bets. The diamond was starting to yellow. He didn't hurt like he thought it would.... he told you the truth with the hopes of having your love at last, and all you did was reduce him to a urine sample. All Rex is left with a quiet place to scream how he loves you. He knows that the promise to stay by your side is a guarantee lose, but he's become nothing but a poor gambler.

So he fizzles into the bowl of the sink, and bursts into the lake... ready to work another shift in the assembly line that was your manufactured love. He'd bet on losing dogs anyday. He wouldn't have it any other way.

Because to bet on losing dogs, to fail by your side, to be stuck in your assembly line, was to know everything.

I WAS JUST SAYING MARK WOULD TALK A MF THRU IT

Mark talking you through it

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!reader

Summary: Mark takes your virginity and talks you through it

Warnings: Smut smutty smut, dirty talk, reader is afab, virginity loss, some profanity

A/N: i have so many ideas and things in the works but so little time 😭 also it’s exam season…but i have a duty to keep y’all fed so enjoy this crumb for now (sorry it’s short!)

You had never done anything like this before.

All the sensations and touches and feelings were new to you. A lot of it felt amazing.. his hands, big and calloused from fighting, were gentle on your bare skin. He was very attentive to how you reacted to everything.

It was after a homecoming game.

He’d forced the guardians to cover for him if anything came up and decided to spend the night with you. It was great especially given that you could finally spend time with him. You didn’t care what you two did. Sometimes you guys binged a show, other times it was a simple walk around campus or a park…

As long as you got to be with him.

However, this particular night after the game you two ended up making out and naked on his bed. It wasn’t big, just a twin xl like all the other dorms, but it was enough for you both. A bed’s a bed after all. He was experienced, at least from what you could tell. He didn’t seem too nervous or shy even.

He moved with confidence, but still asking for consent with everything before he actually did it. It was a bit cute but you truly admired that about him.

Everything was going great until you really looked at him…down there, and something in your head made you freak out.

He was actually kind of big, at least bigger than you expected, and that thick vein running up the side wasn’t helping calm your nerves either.

“Will that even fit?”, You whispered looking down. You looked into his eyes a bit worried. Your legs also close, but you did that unconsciously.

“I’ll go slow..” He kissed you gently, looking back into your eyes with a soft expression and a hand caressing your cheek. “And we can stop if it gets to be too much. Promise.”

You just nod and wrapped your arms around his neck as he positioned himself between your legs. You knew he was strong but sometimes you forgot exactly how strong. It wasn’t big something about the way he pushed your legs open and how a hand held your hip in place…

You quickly snapped out of thought as you felt his head push against your slick entrance while simultaneously brushing gently against your clit. He teased a bit so he could gather some of the wetness to coat himself for an easier slide inside. It already felt so good and he wasn’t even in you yet.

Then, he slowly pushed inside.

It was painful, and a stretch, too. Even going slow you had to stop him when he was halfway in to get used to him, a shaky hand pressing against his hardened abs. He peppered your face with kisses in the meantime until it started feeling okay. Then “okay” slowly became fucking amazing.

His size was still a bit much though, but god did he talk you through it.

It was getting overwhelming quick as he slowly thrusted and his strong arms caged you in. And, he just filled you up so good all you could do was whine and moan. It became so much that you started to cry a bit from the pleasure.

“I know baby, i know.” Mark whispered close to your ear. His voice was breathy and husky now. “I’m right here.. You feel so good. Fuck—, so fucking good baby..”

You couldn’t respond.

Not even if you wanted to.

As he bottomed you out and started picking up his pace all you could do was say his name over and over.

“You’re taking me so well. I knew you could do it, so proud of you…” He groaned while kissing your neck. He said you looked pretty under him too but you could barely hear that part as you were so focused on how good it felt.

The bed stared squeaking louder as he was getting close with you not far behind but you knew he wouldn’t finish before you. The second he started huskily telling you to let go and “finish all over him” it was over.

“That’s my pretty girl. So good for me.” He cooed. He held you by your sides as you came even gently still thrusting to add to it.

And even after he pulled out and finished on your stomach and thighs he was still saying filthy things.

“Look at you, so pretty even all messed up like this..”

That sock never came off that door that night.

Bro I need more brat-taming Rex content ong you do it so well!

Bratty power bottom! Rex and GN reader smut drabble

Bratty Power Bottom Rex! Who makes it his personal mission to piss you off all day long—just for fun. Whether it's the smallest teases or full-on flirting with the nearest hot guy or girl, Rex makes sure you're watching every second of it. He’ll lean in too close, laugh too hard, let his hands linger just long enough to get your blood boiling. And when your jaw clenches or your eyes darken? That’s his favorite part. He lives for it.

Bratty Power Bottom Rex! Who will yank you away from whatever you’re doing, claiming it’s an emergency—only to shove you into the nearest empty room, lock the door, and drop to his knees like he’s starving. He’ll pull your pants down like it’s a race against time, stroke you just right, just fast enough to get you twitching at the edge… then stop. With a mischievous little laugh, he’ll lean up and whisper, “Sorry, babe,” like he didn’t just commit a crime. And before you can catch him, he’s gone—bolting out the door, giggling like a damn schoolgirl, leaving you hanging and pissed as hell.

Bratty Power Bottom Rex! Who gets exactly what he wanted when you finally snap. He’s biting into the pillow, muffling his own moans as you pound into him like it’s a punishment. And maybe it is. He gasps and begs for you to slow down, says he’s sorry, swears he’ll never tease you again—but you’ve heard that line before. He’s said it the first time. And the second. And the third. But the moment he can walk straight again, he’s right back to pushing every one of your buttons with that cocky little grin.

Bratty Power Bottom Rex! Who always seems to have one last round in him. You’ll collapse beside him after wrecking him good, thinking he’s finally done… until he pounces. Like a damn tiger. You never figured out how the hell he has the stamina to keep going, but somehow he does (three rounds is his limit, you’ve tested it). He’ll straddle you, dragging his fingers across every inch of your skin—everywhere except where you want him. He’ll twist your nipples just to watch you twitch before he starts grinding down, fucking himself on your cock—or strap on—while begging for you to touch his aching, untouched dick. Whining, panting, still so greedy for your attention.