Hiiii! I’d love to write something about different Mark variants. If you send a request, please let me know if you want it to include smut or not. Any details you give are always super helpful🫶🏻
Hello! Is it possible to request Mark Grayson x fem!reader where they are friends and they are doing a sleep over on Mark's house and when the night comes, they end up confessing to each other? Maybe reader goes after him in his bedroom and confess to him. You can decide if you want to add smut or not. I'm here for the fluff 😍
You’d had sleepovers at Mark’s place more times than you could count. Usually it was loud, full of dumb jokes, way too much junk food, and at least one of you falling asleep in the middle of a movie marathon. It was easy. Normal. That’s what you kept telling yourself when you dropped your bag at the foot of his bed and watched him grin at you like this was the best part of his week.
“Got everything?” he asked, already digging through the pile of snacks he’d gathered. Chips, sodas, candy—enough sugar to keep you awake for three days straight.
“Pretty sure,” you said, laughing softly as you kicked off your shoes. “You realize we’re not going to finish half of that, right?”
Mark shrugged, his smile lopsided. “Doesn’t matter. Gives us options.”
It should have felt like every other time, but tonight there was this… weight in your chest you couldn’t shake. Every time he brushed past you, your skin buzzed. Every laugh of his sent warmth rushing through you. You tried to ignore it, tried to keep things light, but your mind wouldn’t stop circling back to the same thought: you weren’t just friends anymore. At least, you didn’t want to be.
Hours slipped by with movies playing in the background, the two of you tossing popcorn at each other, arguing over which superhero could actually win in a fight. Normal things. But as the night grew later, the energy settled into something quieter. Mark sprawled back against the headboard, hair messy, eyes heavy but still bright. You sat cross-legged on the bed beside him, your head leaning just close enough that your shoulders brushed.
Your chest tightened at the small contact. You pretended not to notice, but you couldn’t focus on the screen. All you could feel was the heat of him beside you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his arm was only inches from yours.
At some point he turned the volume down. “You tired?” he asked softly.
“Not really,” you whispered back, though your voice cracked slightly.
He tilted his head to look at you, brows pulling together. “You okay? You’ve been quiet tonight.”
Your heart skipped. He always noticed, always asked. That was part of what made this so hard—you couldn’t keep lying to him forever.
You forced a small smile, hoping it was enough to throw him off. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”
“About?” he pressed gently.
You hesitated, chewing your lip. You couldn’t tell him here, not when you felt trapped under his gaze. The fear of ruining everything clawed at you. So instead you mumbled, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
He didn’t push, but the concern in his eyes lingered. He eventually laid back down, flipping through the TV channels, leaving you to drown in your own thoughts.
When he finally drifted off, you slipped out of the room to get some water, pacing the quiet hallway. Your pulse wouldn’t calm, your chest heavy with words unsaid. You couldn’t keep holding this in. Not when it was eating you alive.
So you went back, standing at the edge of his room, watching him through the faint glow of the TV. He was half-asleep, hair falling into his face, lips parted slightly. Something about it hit you all at once: this was the boy you trusted most in the world. The one you wanted more than anything.
And before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “Mark?”
He stirred, blinking, eyes finding yours. “Hm? What’s wrong?” His voice was husky from sleep, soft in a way that made your stomach twist.
You walked over, hesitating by his bed. “Can I… talk to you? Like, really talk?”
He sat up a little, rubbing his eyes, instantly more alert. “Of course. What’s going on?”
Your chest tightened as you stood there, every word caught in your throat. But you couldn’t back out now.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to move closer until you were sitting on the edge of his bed. His blanket had slipped low on his hips, and he looked up at you with those wide, tired but curious eyes. Always so open. Always so patient.
“I…” you started, then stopped, chewing your lip. “This is going to sound stupid.”
Mark shook his head immediately. “Nothing you say could be stupid.” His voice was quiet, steady, like he was afraid you’d run if he said it too loud.
Your fingers twisted in the hem of your hoodie. “We’ve been friends forever. And I don’t wanna mess that up. But lately I can’t…” Your throat closed, but you pushed the words out anyway. “I can’t just pretend anymore. That I only think of you as a friend.”
For a heartbeat, silence pressed heavy between you. You almost wished he’d laugh, make some dumb joke to break it. Anything to take away the way your heart was pounding.
But instead, he sat up fully, eyes fixed on yours. His lips parted, like he was trying to catch his breath. “You—” He cut himself off, shaking his head with a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
Your breath hitched. “What?”
Mark reached out, hesitating for just a second before his fingers brushed yours, warm and tentative. “I thought you’d never look at me like that. I’ve been going crazy trying to hide it.”
Relief crashed through you so hard you almost laughed, tears stinging your eyes instead. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.” He squeezed your hand, his smile crooked and a little shy. “I like you. A lot. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”
The tension snapped like a rubber band, replaced by something softer, something that made your chest ache in the best way. You exhaled shakily. “God, I was so scared to tell you.”
“Me too,” he admitted with a laugh. “But I’m glad you did.”
You looked at each other for what felt like forever, the air buzzing between you, before he leaned in. Slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. You didn’t. Your eyes fluttered shut, and then his lips were on yours—warm, a little hesitant, but so perfect you felt your whole body melt.
The kiss deepened, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like you might break. When you finally pulled back, both of you were smiling like idiots.
“Guess our sleepovers just got a little different,” you whispered, your voice shaking with nerves and laughter.
Mark grinned, his nose brushing yours. “Yeah. Definitely better.”
He tugged the blanket up, pulling you against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm wrapped snug around your waist, his heartbeat steady under your ear.
For the first time all night, the weight in your chest lifted. You weren’t just best friends anymore—you were his, and he was yours.
And it felt perfect.
a/n: Okay, I’m scared I didn’t get this right ✌️ Hope it’s okay!
You plop down on Mark’s bed, controller in hand, the glow of the TV reflecting in both of your eyes. He’s focused, thumbs flying across the buttons, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he dominates the game.
“You’re impossible,” you groan, setting your controller down and stretching, trying to sound casual. “I need a break.”
Mark glances at you, mischievous spark in his eyes. “Taking a break already? You just sat down.”
You roll your eyes, shrugging. “I said I need five minutes.”
He smirks, leaning back. “Fine… but I’m still winning,” he teases, thumbs still moving across the controller.
You stretch out, letting your thigh brush his as you lean back. His gaze flicks down at you for a moment, lips tugging into a smirk. You swallow, heart racing, and inch closer. Your shoulder presses gently against him.
“You’re… close,” he murmurs, voice low, distracted, not taking his eyes off the screen.
You bite your lip, shivering slightly. “Thought I’d… help you concentrate,” you whisper, your hand moving slowly to the waistband of his joggers.
Mark lets out a soft groan, hips shifting subtly into your touch. “Y-yeah… you’re… distracting…” he mutters, fingers still attempting to play, but his movements faltering.
Carefully, you slide your hand inside his joggers, brushing over him, and he gasps sharply, a shiver running down his spine. “Fuck… I… can’t… focus…”
You lean closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Because you like it,” you murmur. Your fingers wrap around him, moving slowly at first, teasingly.
Mark throws his head back with a frustrated groan, still trying to maintain the game. “I… I’m trying… but fuck… you…” His hips buck involuntarily, trembling into your hand, fingers twitching on the controller.
Your thumb circles his tip, exploring him, drawing out soft, shaky whimpers. You pump him slowly, letting your hand glide over every sensitive ridge, watching his reactions carefully. Each groan makes your movements more deliberate.
“Mark…” you murmur, lips pressing against his shoulder. “You like this… don’t you?”
“God… yes… fuck… can’t… can’t focus…” His voice breaks into shaky gasps, hips pressing harder into your hand. He trembles under your touch, biting his lip as he tries to keep the game going, but fails.
You tease him harder, pumping faster, curling your fingers slightly to hit spots that make him whimper even louder. His back arches, legs twitching, low moans spilling from his lips as he rocks into your hand. “I… I… I can’t… please…”
Your lips move along his neck now, warm and teasing, brushing his earlobe. “Mmm… maybe later. Right now… you’re mine.”
He shudders violently, hips jerking, body trembling, whimpering your name over and over. His chest heaves, breaths short and ragged. “Yes… yes… fuck… please… more…” His hands dig into the bed, knuckles white, legs quivering uncontrollably.
You swirl your thumb over his tip, curling your fingers in just the right way to push him over the edge, moving faster now as he gasps, moans, and presses closer. His body trembles, quivering against your touch, overstimulated to the point he can barely form coherent words.
“Fuck… oh god… I… can’t… can’t…” He lets out a long, broken whimper, every muscle tensing and shivering, hips jerking into your hand even as he groans your name. His breaths come in ragged pants, back arching repeatedly.
Finally, he shudders violently, spilling over your hand with trembling, stuttering moans, legs shaking, chest heaving, body entirely overcome. He presses against you, soft whimpers and shaky groans still escaping as he slowly recovers.
You settle beside him, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead, fingers resting lightly on his shoulder. His chest rises and falls, lips slightly parted, still quivering from the intensity.
He opens both eyes, meeting yours with a small, exhausted smile. “… maybe… we need a rematch…” he murmurs, voice rough but affectionate, curling slightly against you.
You chuckle softly, leaning against him. “We’ll see,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, letting him slowly catch his breath.
It’s late at night, and you’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sleep refuses to come, your chest heavy with the weight of everything you’ve been feeling. All day, you’ve been avoiding Mark — dodging his texts, his calls, every attempt he made to reach you. Jealousy had been gnawing at you ever since you saw him training alone with Eve, her eyes on him in a way you couldn’t ignore.
A soft knock breaks through your thoughts. You freeze, turning toward the window. Sure enough, when you push back the curtains, he’s there — floating outside, hair a mess, his expression tight with frustration and something else you can’t quite place. Desire.
You hesitate, then unlatch the window. It creaks open, the cool night air brushing against your skin.
“What do you want?” you whisper, your tone sharp.
His eyes flash at your coldness, and his jaw tightens. Without waiting for an invitation, he steps inside, closing the window behind him. His tall frame towers over you as he crosses his arms.
“To talk to my girlfriend, who’s been ignoring me all day.”
You roll your eyes, refusing to back down. “Right. But I’m not going to talk to you.”
His scowl deepens as he drags a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Well, that’s too bad, because I’m not leaving until you do.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve been ignoring my calls. My texts.”
“I know,” you reply flatly, retreating a few steps toward the bed. His gaze follows your every movement, hungry, restless, like he can’t stand the distance anymore. In two long strides, he’s behind you. Before you can sit down, his hand wraps firmly around your wrist.
“Enough.”
You glare up at him. “What do you want, Mark?”
His eyes burn into yours, frustration warring with something much darker, deeper. He leans down until his breath brushes your lips, his voice rough and low.
“I want my girlfriend back. I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”
Your chest tightens. “What’s wrong? You know what’s wrong.”
Confusion flickers across his face, then realization. “Is this about… that? About me training with Eve?”
Your jealousy slips out before you can stop it. “I don’t like that she’s always around you. I see how she looks at you, Mark. Don’t act like you don’t notice.”
His features soften slightly at your words. He takes a slow, steadying breath before meeting your eyes again. “Baby, there’s nothing between me and Eve. It’s just training.”
“Don’t call me that,” you snap, shaking your head. “She wants you. And you know it.”
His jaw clenches. His grip tightens on your wrists as he leans even closer, his voice dropping to a growl.
“Listen to me carefully.” His gaze is unrelenting, pinning you in place. “I don’t want Eve. I want you. Only you. Only your hands get to touch me. Only your name leaves my lips when it matters. She means nothing to me.”
He lets go of your wrists, his hand sliding up to tilt your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. His thumb brushes over your jaw, his voice softening into something almost tender.
“I’m not going anywhere. You hear me? She can try all she wants, but I’m yours. Only yours.”
His lips press against yours in a soft kiss, testing, waiting for you to melt into him. His lips move against yours, soft at first, but you don’t give him much back. He pulls away slightly, searching your face with furrowed brows.
“Do I need to kiss you until you melt?” he murmurs, noticing the stubbornness in your eyes — and the faint blush on your cheeks.
You look away, embarrassed, but his hand cups your jaw, forcing your gaze back to him. His voice drops, low and possessive.
“You know what? I think we both need a reminder of who I belong to.”
Without waiting for your answer, his lips crash onto yours in a heated, hungry kiss. His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his chest as his mouth claims yours. You tug at his shirt, pulling him toward the bed, and he lifts his arms easily as you peel it off. His toned chest and shoulders glisten in the dim light, and his smirk deepens when he catches the flicker of heat in your eyes.
“You can keep pretending you’re mad at me all you want…” he murmurs against your lips, pinning your wrists gently above your head with one hand while the other trails teasingly down your arm. His mouth finds your neck, pressing slow kisses that make your breath hitch. “…but your body is telling me something completely different.”
Goosebumps rise on your skin as his hand slips beneath your oversized shirt, pulling it up and over your head. You’re left bare to him, and his gaze darkens as he drinks in the sight of you.
“Still cold?” he teases, kissing along your collarbone before trailing lower.
You bite back a whimper, whispering stubbornly, “…yes.”
He chuckles low against your skin, amused by your defiance, and his lips trail down your chest, your stomach, until he’s kneeling between your thighs. His fingers hook into your underwear, tugging it down slowly, eyes locked on yours the whole time.
His fingers brush teasingly over your wetness, and you can’t hold back the quiet whimper that escapes you.
His tongue doesn’t dive right in — instead, he teases you, dragging the flat of it up your folds, slow and deliberate, never giving you enough pressure where you want it most. Each pass leaves you trembling, hips twitching, desperate for more. When you try to grind against his mouth, he pins your thighs down with a firm grip, holding you open, controlling every move.
“So eager already,” he murmurs against your skin, the vibration making you shiver. He presses a lingering kiss just above your clit, then pulls back slightly, watching you squirm. “Mark—” your voice breaks, frustration dripping from your tone. He smirks, breath hot against your swollen heat. “Patience, baby. I wanna hear you beg for it.” One finger slides inside first, slow, curling upward just enough to make your stomach flutter.
He doesn’t move right away — just keeps it there, filling you, teasing you with stillness. The ache builds so fast it’s unbearable, a needy whimper spilling past your lips. “That’s it,” he says lowly, starting to move his finger in and out, unhurried, watching your face twist with every drag. A second finger joins, stretching you, pressing deeper, making your back arch against the sheets. He twists them just enough to graze that spot inside you, but never keeps the pressure long enough to let you tip over.
“Did you miss my touch? My mouth? My cock?”
“I… I missed everything,” you moan softly, threading your fingers through his messy hair.
The sudden combination rips a moan from your throat, your body jerking against him. “Good girl,” he breathes against you before sucking your clit between his lips, harder this time, while his fingers curl just right inside you.
Your thighs twitch violently, pleasure flooding you so fast it’s almost painful. That’s when he groans into you, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers press inside, curling just right. Your thighs twitch as waves of pleasure build.
He groans into you, sucking your clit into his mouth as his fingers press inside, curling just right. Your thighs twitch as waves of pleasure build.
“That’s it, baby. You like that?” His voice is muffled against you, tongue flicking faster, fingers thrusting deeper.
“Mark… fuck—” Your body trembles, your moans spilling out uncontrollably as your climax crashes over you.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking you through the waves until you’re shaking under him, your body oversensitive, breathless whimpers falling from your lips. Only then does he pull back, his lips glistening, eyes dark and hungry.
You reach for him, tugging him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth. “I need you… inside me,” you whisper desperately.
His groan vibrates against your lips as he shoves down his pants and boxers, his cock heavy and hard against your thigh. He doesn’t waste time, lining himself up and kissing you deeply as he pushes inside, slow but relentless, until he’s buried completely within you.
“Fucking hell…” he groans into your mouth, his hips starting a slow, steady rhythm. One hand grips your hip firmly while the other slides into your hair, tugging gently to angle your head for another kiss. “So fucking perfect… so fucking mine.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders as your body clenches around him, every thrust hitting deeper, harder.
“Only yours, Mark,” you whisper breathlessly, eyes rolling back when he slams into that spot that makes your legs shake.
“Mine,” he growls, his thrusts rougher now, possessive. “Always mine.”
His thrusts grow rougher, faster, each one slamming into you with a desperate need that steals the breath from your lungs. His grip on your hip tightens, surely leaving bruises, but you can’t bring yourself to care.
“Mark—” you whimper, clinging to him as the bed creaks beneath you.
He leans down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss, swallowing your moans. His words spill against your mouth between thrusts. “Love… seeing you… like this… taking all of me… fuck.”
Your body arches into him, trembling, overwhelmed with pleasure. “You’re mine too,” you whisper, your voice shaking.
His eyes soften for a split second, raw emotion flashing across them even as his pace grows erratic.
“Forever,” he rasps, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m yours, forever.”
The new angle has him hitting that perfect spot again and again, your walls tightening around him as your body spirals toward release. His hand slips between you, rubbing fast circles against your clit.
“Come for me, angel,” he urges, his voice a mix of command and plea. “I wanna feel you fall apart on my cock.”
Your moans turn into broken cries as the heat in your stomach snaps. You convulse around him, your orgasm crashing through you in waves. Your legs shake, your walls clamp down so hard he groans loudly, nearly losing himself at the feel of you.
“Fuck, fuck—” He buries himself deep, thrusts faltering as your body milks him. “I can’t… hold it—”
“Come in me,” you whisper, voice wrecked but steady. “Please, Mark. I want it.”
That’s all it takes. With a guttural moan, he slams into you one last time and spills deep inside, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. His forehead drops to your shoulder, groaning your name as he empties himself completely, heat flooding your core.
For a moment, the room is filled with nothing but your ragged breathing, your bodies pressed tight together, sweat-damp skin sticking.
He stays inside you, chest heaving, placing soft kisses along your neck as you both come down. His hand rubs gently over your side, grounding you, his voice low and tender now.
“You okay, baby?” he murmurs, brushing damp strands of hair from your face.
You nod weakly, pulling him closer, whispering against his ear, “I missed you… so much.”
His chest tightens at your words, his lips finding yours in a slow, lingering kiss that feels more like a promise than anything else. “I missed you too,” he breathes.
When he finally pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression is soft, vulnerable. He presses his forehead to yours again, whispering, “I love you.”
A tired smile curls your lips as you whisper back, “I love you too, Mark... You’re mine.”
His lips curve into a smirk at your words, though his eyes are shining with something deeper. He kisses you one more time, slow and tender, before murmuring against your mouth, “Always yours, angel.”
