You have the writing style of Aristotle himself and i will forever be in your debt after reading each of your hand crafted master pieces. I am so deadass when i say this you are one of the most elite authors on tumblr. All id like to know is if theyd be a part three to the mohawk mark piece because when i tell you part one and two couldnt be recreated by god himself i mean it.
LMAO ur so sweet genuinely,, but yea i did have some ideas for mohawk mark - him x rockstar!reader or variants' reactions to seeing u naked for the first time, or him x reader getting matching piercings. i had a lot of ideas, js no time to write but ill def do them when i get the chance ^^
synopsis ◞ you've always taken pride in being at the top of your classes - or at least somewhat close to it. forced to partner up for an assignment with your so-called 'sworn enemy', you were prepared to go head-to-head with this guy. instead of being greeted with condescending smirks or half-assed remarks, you're met with someone completely different. this is bad.
class had been canceled for the day — something about professor hale being stuck at a conference three states away — and for once, the universe had decided not to actively make your life worse.
you were sprawled across amber’s dorm bed, shoes kicked off somewhere near the door, half-listening as she rambled about something that had absolutely nothing to do with biochem and everything to do with campus drama.
it was peaceful. suspiciously peaceful.
“can’t wait for spring break,” you muttered, face half-buried in one of amber’s decorative pillows. the floral scent of her perfume coated practically everything from top to bottom, it was almost suffocating in a good way.
“yeah? what you finna do?” amber said, not looking up from her laptop. the soft tapping of her keyboard blended into the quiet hum of the dorm building, distant voices in the hallway, the occasional door shutting somewhere down the corridor
“shit, nothing. either that or drive back all the way down to new orleans with my mom.”
amber snorted, “you need a ride? i’ll probably just stay here with william, you can borrow my car.” the clacking on her keyboard comes to a halt, her purple customized cursor scrolling down the list of student’s names.
“oh, hale uploaded the partner list.”
your eyes snapped open. you turned your head just enough to see her staring at the screen like it had personally offended her.
“and?”
“okay so,” she began carefully, the way people talk when they’re about to tell you someone died or your favorite show got canceled, “hale posted the group project.”
you groaned, flopping onto your side to face her. “that’s fine. i can carry someone for a grade. builds character.”
amber didn’t laugh.
you squinted. “why ain’t you laughing.”
she turned the laptop toward you with the hesitance of someone presenting a cursed object.
“just… look.”
you leaned in.
biochem 204 — metabolic analysis project
partners assigned - NOT CHANGEABLE. do NOT email me about switching.
your eyes scanned lazily at first.
then stopped.
then went back up. then down again.
like maybe the letters would rearrange themselves into something less personally insulting.
grayson, mark — [y/n] [l/n]
“…nah,” you said immediately.
amber winced. “yeah.”
“say you swear.”
“cross my heart and hope to die.”
“no, like actually no. that’s not real. refresh it.”
“i did.”
“again.”
she refreshed. the name stayed permanently like it was engraved forever.
you stared at the screen like it had just crossed you. and it basically did in a way.
“this is targeted,” you said flatly. “this is academic sabotage. hale set me up.”
“right, and set you up for what exactly?” amber asked, raising a brow as she watched you tumble in your dramatic turmoil of this one-sides rivalry.
“that man is my sworn enemy.”
“he’s your classmate.”
“he’s a threat to my academic standing and emotional wellbeing.”
amber snorted. “dramatic.” she swirled back around at her desk like this was all no big deal, how she managed to keep her cool with forever amaze you.
“you don’t get it,” you said, sitting up fully now, pointing at the screen like it was evidence in a court case. “this is psychological warfare. he’s gonna judge my notes. he’s gonna silently outperform me. he’s gonna breathe in that calm, superior way he does—”
“boy, bye. you’re acting like he’s personally attacking you.”
“he kinda is.”
amber gave you a look. “you’ve never even had a conversation with him.”
“because i value my peace.”
“clearly.”
you flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling again, but this time like it had betrayed you.
“i really jinxed it,” you mumbled. “i just had to open my mouth. couldn’t just be quiet and enjoy the blessing.”
amber laughed, already typing again. “well, looks like you and your ‘nemesis’ have a project worth thirty percent of your grade together.”
you dragged your hands down your face.
somewhere across campus, mark grayson was probably existing peacefully, completely unaware that the worst collaboration of your academic career had just been assigned. and now you had to get his number.
“this is sick,” you muttered. “actually sick.”
by the time you and amber made it to the dining hall later that evening, your bad mood had fully settled in.
not loud. not dramatic.
just… simmering.
the kind where you poke at your food instead of eating it and sigh like the weight of the world rests solely on your shoulders. and sometimes, it feels that way.
william noticed immediately.
he always did.
“okay what’s wrong with you,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you with his tray. “and don’t say ‘nothing’ because your moodiness is loud as hell right now.”
you didn’t look up from your fries. “just found out somethin’. it’s nothing.”
amber snorted into her drink.
william pointed between the two of you. “see, this is what i’m talking about. you guys had class canceled today. and let me remind you that biochem—the worst class out there. it’s a blessing. why do you look like you just got drafted into war?”
amber leaned back in her chair. “tell him.”
you glared at her. “don’t.”
“he got the project partner list,” she said anyway.
william gasped dramatically, hands cupping his own cheeks. “nooo. not the partners.”
you finally looked up, deadpan. “guess who i got.”
he squinted. “please don’t say—”
“mark grayson.”
william slapped the table. “OH MY GOD.”
“lower your voice!” you hissed, looking around.
“sorry,” he said, not sorry at all. “this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
amber nodded. “he thinks it’s a personal attack.”
“everything is a personal attack to him nowadays. this isn’t new.” william leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “have you considered… talking to him like a normal person?”
you blinked. “don’t be disrespectful.”
“you have to get his number,” amber added. her neatly emerald painted acrylics tapped lightly against the screen of her phone, not even bothering to look up at the two.
“absolutely not.”
“it’s a group project.”
“i’ll email him like a professional.” you offered. sure, it’s outdated and totally inefficient, but you would rather swallow a nail and praise white america than ever talk to mark grayson.
william was already pulling his phone out. “orrrr we speed this up.”
your eyes widened. “what are you doing?”
“i have him in my calc group chat from last semester,” william said casually, thumbs moving way too fast. “man barely talks but he answers texts.”
“william.”
“relax.”
“william.”
amber leaned over, trying not to laugh. “don’t make it weird.”
“i never make things weird.”
you and amber both stared at him.
“…on purpose,” he added.
your heart started beating faster for absolutely no reason. “don’t you dare.”
“too late,” william looked up from his phone with a smile that was enough to encourage your urge to choke him out right here and now. “asked.”
you dropped your fork. “you WHAT.”
“i just said, ‘hey, random question, can i give your number to your project partner?’ very normal. very chill.”
you covered your face. “delete it. unsend it. throw the phone away.”
“that’s not how texting works.”
your phone buzzed in your hand.
all three of you froze. slowly, you lowered your hands and looked at the screen like it might explode.
unknown number.
your soul left your body like a serial killer was standing right in front of you.
william grinned. “oh that’s him for sure.”
amber leaned in. “open it.”
“i don’t want to,” you whispered.
“too bad,” william said cheerfully. “not only is this gonna get rid of.. whatever arc you’re going through right now, you need to learn how to talk to other people, [y/n].”
ouch. were you really that unapproachable? nah, can’t be. that glare on your face is just your default expression, everyone has an RBF. same with that small huff you do whenever someone asks you a question, you’re just exhaling a little too loudly. you’re not rude, you’d just rather keep to yourself and hang out with the same two people for the next 3 years.
yep. totally.
“i can talk to people.”
“uh huh, and i’m megan thee stallion.” amber chimed in.
you squinted your eyes as you examined amber’s face, as if actually trying to see the resemblance. “y’all do look a like kinda-”
“don’t piss me off, [l/n].”
your phone buzzed in your hand again. all three of you froze like the world had just ended and there was no hope anymore.
the notification of doom and despair flashed on your screen.
unknown number: hey, william said you’re my partner for hale’s project.
you stared at it.
amber leaned so far over the table she was practically in your lap. “open it open it open it—”
“i did open it,” you hissed. “this is so fucking stupid, will switch partners with me.”
william grinned like he’d just orchestrated a proposal. “[y/n], grow a pair, actually. this is character growth right here. ”
“this is not growth. this is harassment.”
another buzz.
unknown number: this is mark btw
you looked up slowly. “i have kill myself. amber, help me kill myself.”
“technically that wouldn’t be killing yourself now would it,” amber said, already too invested. “now shut up and text him back.”
“no.”
“you have to.”
“watch me not.”
william reached across the table and gently pushed your phone closer to you. “be professional. use your little ‘polite email’ voice or whatever you call it.”
you took a deep breath, thumbs hovering over the keyboard like you were defusing a bomb.
hi. yeah. project partners. okay.
delete. too dry.
hello mark, yes william mentioned—
delete. god, why are you an actual robot?
too formal. you sounded like you were emailing a landlord.
“why is this so hard?” you muttered.
“because you’re dramatic.” amber said.
“because you’re in denial.” william added.
you ignored them and typed again. each letter that you wrote felt like you signing a death wish rather than just texting someone.
y: hey. will gave me ur number bc we’re partners for this project
you stared at it. okay, not too eager. not rude. not flirty. neutral. safe. you hit send before you could overthink it. immediate regret.
you dropped your phone on the table like it burned you. “i can’t do this.”
amber grabbed it. “oh my god relax.”
buzz.
she actually looked stunned for a second. “he answered fast.”
william leaned in. “read it.”
amber cleared her throat dramatically. “‘yeah, that sounds good. i’m free most afternoons after 3. library or somewhere else?’”
you blinked. “…that’s it?”
“what were you expecting,” william asked. “a villainous monologue?”
“i don’t know. arrogance? probably a menacing sentence. somethin’.”
amber handed your phone back. “he sounds normal.” you frowned at the screen like that personally offended you.
“he ain’t normal,” you said. “this is a facade. a trap. psychological tactics.”
“or,” william said, sipping his drink, “he’s just a guy trying to pass biochem.”
you typed again, jaw tight.
y: library is fine
send.
you immediately stood up.
“where the hell are you going?” amber asked.
“to process,” you said. “and maybe drink till i drop. or scream. haven’t decided yet.”
william watched you walk off, then looked at amber. “ten bucks says they’re dating before midterms.”
amber nodded. “you’re on.”
mark was halfway through a protein bar and rereading the same sentence in his notes for the fourth time when his phone buzzed.
he glanced down.
w : hey random question, can i give ur number to ur project partner for hale’s class? 🙏🏼
mark blinked. project partner? since when? oh. right. the metabolic analysis thing, he vaguely remembers the professor saying something about that before tuning him out entirely.
“yeah, that makes sense,” he murmured to himself. group projects required communication. this was normal. healthy, even.
m : yeah that’s fine ദ്ദി ^‿^)
he went back to his notes.
three seconds later, another buzz.
unknown number: hey. will gave me ur number bc we’re partners for the project
unknown number: this [y/n] btw
mark sat up a little straighter.
oh.
oh that was… you.
he reread the message twice, like the tone might change if he looked hard enough.
it sounded normal. polite. professional.
not hostile.
which confused him, because he was at least 60% sure you hated him.
or maybe you were just weird like that. humans are strange to say the least, he’s pretty sure people don’t act like this on viltrum from what his father has told him when he was a boy.
he typed carefully.
m : yeah, that sounds good. i’m free most afternoons after 3. library or somewhere else?
he stared at the message before sending. was that too eager? too vague? did “somewhere else” sound weird??
too late.
sent.
he dropped his phone onto the desk and exhaled slowly, like he’d just diffused a bomb instead of scheduled a study meeting.
his phone buzzed again.
you: library is fine
short. efficient. impossible to read emotionally.
mark nodded to himself. the library was safe. neutral territory. books didn’t judge you.
unlike certain classmates.
“okay,” he muttered. “i can do this. just… be normal.”
you spotted him before he spotted you.
unfortunately.
he was already at one of the long wooden tables near the back of the library, laptop open, a neat stack of papers to one side, highlighters lined up like he was preparing for academic surgery.
of course he was early.
you slowed your walk, debating turning around and pretending you’d gotten the day wrong.
too late. he looked up. your eyes met. it felt like the world stilled for just those moments as your eyes locked onto each other.
he froze for half a second like a deer in headlights, then gave you that same awkward, unsure smile you’d seen in the library weeks ago.
not smug. not cocky. just… nervous?
weird.
you walked over, forcing your face into what you hoped was a neutral, professional expression and not a barely contained scowl.
“hey,” you said, dropping into the chair across from him.
“hey,” he replied quickly, sitting up straighter. “uh, thanks for meeting.”
“yeah. project’s kinda important.”
“yeah. for sure.”
silence fell.
thick. awkward. painful.
you pulled your laptop out of your bag with more force than necessary. “so. metabolic pathway regulation.”
“right,” he said, nodding. “i was thinking we could split it by mechanism — like hormonal vs allosteric control?”
you paused.
that was… actually a good idea. who the fuck died and made him king of biochem?
“that makes sense,” you admitted carefully. “i was looking at case studies we could reference. there’s one on insulin resistance that might work.”
his face lit up slightly. “oh, that’s perfect actually. that ties into feedback loops too.”
you blinked.
he wasn’t arguing. he wasn’t dismissing you. he was… building on your idea.
you didn’t know what to do with that.
for a few minutes, you both focused on your screens, typing, occasionally exchanging short, surprisingly normal comments about sources and data.
no smugness. no competition.
just… compatibility.
it threw you off so badly you almost forgot to be mad. almost.
your hands reached for the same notebook at the same time.
your fingers brushed. light, just enough to feel the callouses atop of his hand. you both jerked back like you’d been electrocuted.
“sorry,” he said immediately.
“it’s fine,” you muttered, heart beating way faster than the situation called for.
he cleared his throat. “uh, you can take it.”
“we can share,” you said before your brain could stop you. you both froze at the same time.
shared? since when were you sharing with mark grayson?
he nodded, a little surprised. “okay. yeah.”
you leaned in slightly to see the page.
and for the first time all semester, mark grayson didn’t feel like he was an enemy.
he felt like a very warm, very real person sitting a little too close to you in a very quiet library.
which was somehow worse.
authored by - invincidiiaries . do not repost my work to unauthorized third parties, plagiarize, or steal my work
synopsis ◞ you’re a relatively quiet person—y’know, not in anybody’s face, go to class, head to your dorm, bust out your laptop and get the assignments out the way and boom—go to sleep and repeat the following day. until one fateful day, your quiet and productive routine is interrupted by some guy you’ve never even heard nor seen before tops you when exams roll around. who the hell is this guy?
MARK GRAYSON.
a name that’s been floating around in your ears more than you’d like. mark grayson — the quiet, unreadable type half of your peers in the course can’t stop whispering about. mark grayson — who finishes exams early, hands them in face-down, and walks out like it was second nature. mark grayson — whose name you’ve seen one line above yours on every ranked list this semester. mark fucking grayson — who sits in the back like he’s not single-handedly ruining your gpa.
you swear you’re not a petty person, really! so what if he’s a tad bit smarter? that doesn’t matter, you’re still incredibly gifted! is what would have reassured you had this spiky-haired prick not rubbed it in your face every chance he gets.
it started off small — a quick glance each time your professor announced with a, “highest score in the class was a 92… impressive, grayson,” while you stared holes into your test with a big fat red ‘81’ written on it.
then it piled on.
as you walked through the hall, you’d catch his smirk that ruined any slice of joy in your day. or that one time you walked over to the shelf in search of research material for your major.
you’d practically power-walked through the stacks, backpack bouncing against your shoulders, fingers already curling in anticipation of pulling the book from the shelf. a turn down the aisle. a quick scan of the call numbers.
empty.
just a clean, accusing gap between two thick volumes, like the book had never existed at all.
frowning, you had pulled out your phone and refreshed the page.
status: checked out — 2 minutes ago.
and lo and behold, mark grayson stood at the checkout desk, student id between his fingers, posture relaxed like he didn’t have a single academic enemy in the world. the librarian scanned the book in his hands — your book — and the soft electronic beep echoed louder than it had any right to.
he thanked her quietly, slung his bag over one shoulder, and turned.
for half a second, his eyes met yours.
a shit-eating grin played on his face.
that day sealed the deal on this silent, mutual rivalry.
“[y/n], seriously, you have got to let this boy live,” amber said, sitting across from you with her cheek in her hand. william, beside her sharing the same exact expression as he listened along to your daily rants that have the new norm apparently about this 'mark grayson.'
“i actually doubt grayson has anything serious against you, and i think you made this whole rivalry thing up in your head.” william added on, taking a bite out of his meal.
you just rolled your eyes. these two wouldn’t get it.
“you think my life is that boring i’d waste my time on some cheater?”
“first off, yes. yes, i do think that. 100% just bored. and secondly, have you two even talked to each other?”
she got you there. you’ve barely even heard what his voice sounds like, but that isn’t the point!
“look, i know when someone’s fucking with me. if anything this is completely healthy; it motivates me to work even harder than before.”
amber sighed heavily as she patted your hand in pity, deep eyes looking at you like you were some lost cause. amber sighed heavily as she patted your hand in pity, deep eyes looking at you like you’re some lost cause. william took a sip out of his drink, rubbing his temples as if he’s the one going through this. “well, when you two start getting it on, lemme know—” “william!” like hell that would ever happen. never in a million years—no, make that a trillion years! who would even want to date someone like him? he’s more of a robot than a person, looks like he’d clobber you through a wall if you even breathed around him wrong. it makes you shudder just imagining it. no thanks.
plus dating is a total distraction. that co-dependency shtick just isn’t for you. you’ve been down that lane before, never again.
“what? i don’t think that’s ridiculous to say that. c’mon, you can’t tell me with a straight face you haven’t thought about it at least once!”
“you’re so gross.”
“he totally has.” amber snickered.
“i know a closeted man when i see one. can spot it miles away.” you groaned audibly, covering your ears to shield them from their nonsense. it amazes how your patience hasn’t worn out by now. whilst amber and william talk amongst themselves, your eyes wandered on their own in the dining hall, unintentionally landing on your so-called “nemesis” for the semester. has he been staring at you this whole time? there goes your joy. you glare at him, maybe if you stare hard enough you’ll grow lazer beam and melt his stupidly perfect sculpted features off his stupid face.
then this bastard had the audacity to scoff. what a pretentious asshole.
“i’m not hungry anymore, i’m heading to the rec.”
“right now?? [y/n]—“ william tried to stop you but you were already packing up and heading out the double doors at the end. both amber and william shared a look — equally concerned yet curious.
“how long do you think he realizes how he actually feels?” amber questioned as she twirled a stray curl falling on her shoulder.
william shrugged, “i’d give it a month in a half, you know how he is.”
𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡
you swear it’s like an invisible test sent by god or something, and if it was, you’re failing horribly. your shoes crushes the fallen leaves as you walked along the gravel towards the back of the main buildings. you’re not usually like this. so.. frustrated at something. this unnamed thing and mark is ruining your life, maybe you should take a break off for a few days.
from around the corner, that familiar red shirt peered about just a few feet ahead of you. you came to a stop — how did he even… the dining hall is across campus from this path towards the rec. oh great, does he have super speed too or something?
a silence fell over, the wind howling lowly in the background as if too invested in this tension. you inhaled deeply. it’s now or never.
for whatever reason, under his gaze, your feet seem to be heavier than they normally are. as if something was intimidating you. as you brushed past him, his scent tickled your nose. sharp, yet strong. even his cologne is sophisticated.
something twisted inside your chest, this whole thing was deeper than just scores. deeper than just taking the last book coincidentally. deeper than just a smell.
“i’m going to get better. i’m not gonna let you win this time. mark my words, grayson.”
for a moment, he actually looks stunned. his mouth falling open a little as if he wanted to speak but no words came out. with one last glance, you continued your much needed break cooly down the path.
as soon as you turn the corner, your whole facade fell. jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you? who even says that to someone they’ve barely even talked to?
you need help.
or alcohol.
maybe both. both would probably fix this.
𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡
mark hadn’t meant to look over.
really.
he’d just been halfway through his fries, zoning out like he usually did when the cafeteria got too loud, when he felt it again — that weird, prickly sense of being watched.
he glanced up.
there you were. sitting with amber and william, very clearly mid-rant, judging by the way your hands were moving like you were conducting an orchestra of spite.
he looked away immediately.
not obvious. be normal.
he took a sip of his drink.
then he heard his name.
that definitely got his attention.
he didn’t mean to eavesdrop — he really didn’t — but you weren’t exactly whispering.
“—waste my time on some cheater?”
mark choked. just a little.
cheater??
he stared very hard at his tray. okay. cool. great. you thought he was cheating now. that was… new.
william said something else he couldn’t quite catch, and then—
“when you two start getting it on, lemme know—”
mark inhaled sprite into his lungs and immediately started coughing.
a girl at the next table looked concerned. he waved her off, face red, soul trying to leave his body.
getting it on? with who? me??
he risked another glance.
you looked horrified. offended, even.
okay. good. that was good. mutual not-wanting. excellent. normal. everything was fine.
except it clearly wasn’t, because a second later your eyes wandered again — and landed directly on him.
he froze like a deer in headlights.
had he been staring too long earlier? did he look weird? did he do something with his face??
you glared at him like he’d personally canceled your future.
he panicked.
and, in a truly galaxy-brain move, accidentally scoffed.
not an intentional scoff. more like an awkward exhale through his nose because he forgot how to breathe under pressure.
you stood up so fast your chair screeched.
oh no.
you stormed out.
william tried to stop you. amber looked between the two of you like she was watching reality tv unfold live.
mark stared at the doors long after you disappeared through them.
“…dude,” william muttered across the room, not quietly enough. “he totally has no idea.”
mark looked down at his tray.
no idea about what??
𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡𓎢𓎟𓎡
he should’ve stayed inside.
he knew he should’ve stayed inside.
but patrol later meant he needed fresh air now, needed to clear his head before suiting up, before switching from awkward college guy to someone who could lift cars without thinking about it.
so he cut across campus, hoodie up, hands in pockets.
and then he saw you.
walking toward the rec path. fast. like you were trying to outrun your own thoughts.
he hesitated.
there was still time to turn around.
but then you noticed him.
and stopped.
oh.
great.
awesome.
this was happening.
the wind picked up just enough to make the silence feel dramatic, which felt unfair, honestly.
you started walking again, straight toward him.
mark resisted the very strong, very stupid urge to check if there was a villain behind him you were actually mad at.
nope. just him.
as you passed, he caught a hint of your shampoo — something light, clean. his brain, unhelpfully, decided this was vital information to store forever.
then you spoke.
“i’m going to get better. i’m not gonna let you win this time. mark my words, grayson.”
he blinked.
win… what?
this was a competition?
he’d been studying because if he didn’t keep his grades up, his mom would worry, and if his mom worried, she’d ask questions, and if she asked questions, he’d have to lie about why he came home bruised and exhausted half the time.
this wasn’t a rivalry.
this was survival.
but you looked so serious. so fired up. like this meant everything.
his mouth opened.
nothing came out.
because what was he supposed to say?
“sorry i accidentally keep outperforming you while also secretly stopping alien invasions twice a week”???
yeah. no.
so he just stood there, stunned, watching you walk away like you’d just declared war.
after you turned the corner, he let out a long breath.
a smile, for whatever the case, had crept up on his face.
without trying, without even understanding how—
he had become your nemesis.
and he didn’t even know the rules of the game. but games are fun, no?
@ authored by invincidiaries - do not plagiarize , reuse on unauthorized sites , or steal
accidentally in love — invincible fic | mohawk!mark
a/n - hope you enjoyed this ! ^^ mohawk is def one of my fav variants . alsoo this came out like so sm later bc my dumbass got sick 😞💔
synopsis - after a few tutoring sessions, mark here caught feelings for his nerdy tutor ! how cute ! while he battles his inner turmoil and denies his feels, he finally succumbs to them and his fantasies .
tags: small fluff, nsfw, gn!reader, fast pacing, author rushed this bc hes dumb and gay, friends to lovers, ooc mohawk mark probably, not proofread
warnings: minors dni please, nsfw, light nipple play, kissing, cliffhanger (haha), unfinished, mohawk is a freaky frog
ever since that night he’d gotten himself off to the thought of his cute new tutor, mark had convinced himself he’d be fine—that he could handle it, that it was just a passing thing. wrong. he’s been an absolute mess ever since, and somehow, you’re only making it worse.
it’s like you know exactly what you’re doing to him, the way you hover so close, lean in when you talk, laugh at his half-baked jokes. the way your soft voice tugs at something in him he doesn’t understand. but you’re so blissfully unaware—bright and oblivious as a flower that’s never known what it means to be picked.
you have no idea how many nights he’s lain awake, staring up at his ceiling, replaying every second of the day. the way your braces catch the light when you grin, how your hair falls into your face when you’re scribbling out equations for him, the quiet hum you make when you’re thinking. it’s all burned into his brain like a song he can’t stop humming. even just a quick wave in the hallway or a casual, “hey, mark!” is enough to wreck his focus for hours.
he’s torn—caught between the need to keep this under control and the aching urge to just give in. to stop pretending he doesn’t feel it every time you smile, every time your knee brushes his under the desk.
it’s only been a few weeks, and already his stomach flips at the mere thought of you. which is ridiculous. love? him? no way. love is for saps who doodle hearts in their notebooks and write bad poetry. he’s not that guy.
except… lately, he’s starting to wonder if maybe he is.
now he’s sitting on your dorm room floor, surrounded by open textbooks and half-finished notes. you’re perched neatly on the edge of your bed, still as put-together as ever, while he’s slumped with his head in his hands, muttering about how his “brain’s about to explode from all this stuff.” you laughed softly and suggested a break, which he—naturally—took as a sign. a hopeful, stupid, wishful sign that maybe you wanted the same thing.
he’d imagined you crawling into his lap, whispering his name, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw before you kissed him breathless. instead, you hand him a water bottle, smile that blinding, effortless smile, and start talking about your favorite superhero. something about courage and kindness and how even flawed people can still save the world.
mark just stares at you, lips parted, heartbeat hammering in his throat. you have no idea what you’re doing to him.
and maybe that’s what terrifies him most.
though it wasn’t completely all that bad. hearing you talk so passionately, your [e/c] eyes sparkling with a kiddish charm as you rambled about superhuman beings saving the world—it did something to him. there was something magnetic about the way you spoke, the way your hands moved with every word, how your smile lingered when you mentioned hope. you weren’t talking about him, not really, but somehow it still felt like you were. like you were unknowingly thanking that secret part of him—invincible.
his heart twisted, tightening with something he couldn’t name. the words in his chest burned to be let out, but they caught in his throat, heavy and trembling. and before he could think, before he could stop himself, his body was already moving—closer, toward you.
the sound of your voice faltered mid-sentence. you looked up at him, eyes wide, confusion flickering across your face.
“mark? you okay? sorry, i must’ve been talking up a storm again.”
he blinked, trying to shake off the storm in his head. “it’s fine. wasn’t listening anyway.”
you laughed—a soft, lilting sound that made his stomach flutter. it was ridiculous how much that sound could undo him. he moved again, just a little, but it was enough for the air between you to shift. it felt heavier somehow, like every breath he took was pulled from the space you shared.
everything about you made him feel safe. grounded. like he could forget the blood, the pressure, the headlines. with you, he wasn’t invincible. he was just mark.
“you know,” he started quietly, his voice rough at the edges, “you talk about heroes like they’re… perfect.”
you tilted your head, smiling. “well, they kind of are. they save people, make the world better. they’re—”
“they’re just people,” he cut in, softer now. “they screw up. they get scared. they want things they probably shouldn’t.”
you blinked, the corners of your smile fading into something gentler. “mark… what are you trying to say?”
his breath caught. he didn’t mean to let his guard slip this far, but now that it had, he couldn’t stop.
“i just—” he laughed quietly, shaking his head. “i don’t know how to say this without sounding stupid.”
“try me,” you said, voice low, patient.
he looked at you then—really looked. your eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, soft and searching. his chest ached.
“i think about you,” he whispered. “a lot. probably more than i should. and when i’m with you, it’s like everything else disappears. all the noise, the weight—it’s just… gone.”
you stared at him, lips parted, breath catching on the edge of his confession. your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.
“mark,” you breathed, “i—”
he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. his hand lifted, hesitating midair before brushing against your cheek. his touch was trembling, careful, like he was afraid you’d fade if he pressed too hard.
“you make me feel like i can be something else,” he murmured. “someone else. not a screw up. just… me.”
you smiled, small and sincere, leaning into his touch. “then just be you, mark. that’s who i like.”
the world seemed to pause. the air stilled.
he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away—but you didn’t. your breath mingled with his, warm and shallow, and when his lips finally met yours, it was like everything fell into place. the kiss was soft, unsteady at first, but the longer it lasted, the more certain it became. his hand slid to the back of your neck, thumb tracing slow, dizzying circles against your skin.
you could feel the tension leaving his body, melting into the kiss. it wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was honest. fragile. real.
when you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, breaths mixing in the quiet.
“guess you were listening after all,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
he smiled, eyes half-lidded, lips still ghosting yours. “yeah,” he said softly. “guess i was.”
his pierced lips trail down from your soft lips to your delicate neck, the cold silver pressing against your skin. a slow exhale escapes you, his hands snaking up to encircle your wrists. firmly pressing them into the mattress, his kisses feel hot and reverent against your unmarked skin. a deep hunger in the pit of his stomach led him down lower and lower, leaving little nips to your collarbone.
“mark,” you breathed, hands flexing as you squirmed underneath his persistent kiss. “this doesn’t usually happen in my comics.” mark let out an audible groan, fighting back a laugh at how dumb yet stupidly cute you are.
“try not to ruin this for me, dork.”
you giggle, sinking back into the intimate and personal moments as he briefly removed your wrists from their captivity. his hands slowly slide up under your jumper, breath hitching at how soft your skin was underneath his rough hands. hands that were stained with blood of villains, stained with evidence of his own desires. you probably have no idea what kind of world he lives in, and he doesn’t know whether that brings him comfort or creates an invisible barrier.
your moan pulls him back into the present, face burning at your own sound with a hand clamped over your mouth. mark’s hands ventured too far, finding themselves at your chest, thumbs lightly swiping at your sensitive nipples. “what? did that get you going?” he smirked, slowly circling around the peaks that perked up in attention at his touch. the noises you let out make his body heat up. you just sound so adorable, the way your spine arches just a little off the bed, your hands fisting around your blankets, and your perfect lips parted in a moan.
"if that's enough to get you wet, then you're gonna fucking *crumble* at what i do next."
ᯓ★ mark is currently struggling with his classes, luckily he has a cute tutor to help him!
warnings :: cursing , perverted thoughts, gn!reader but male leaning , ooc mark probably
an's note :: very short cuz i was on a time crunch:(
ᯓ★ day 1 ( but posted on day 2 ikik ) kinktober!

school is a fucking bitch. like, seriously, what kind of super hero gives a shit about this place? in what scenario is he going to use calculus when he's saving civilians epic style?
well, his mom clearly doesn’t understand with her constant nagging about his poor grades. saying he can kiss that hero stuff goodbye if he doesn't get his act together. they aren't even all that bad, d's and c's get degrees, don't they?
here he is, sitting in this lame ass library. studded, beat up boots propped up on the clean wooden table with music blasting top volume in his ears whilst he waits on some tutor that was supposed to help him pick up his grades.
thing is… the damn tutor isn't even here. maybe he should just leave, maybe an excuse—
"uh- excuse me, are you mark?"
in the midst of getting up, he freezes at the sound of a meek voice. dirt colored eyes zeroing in on the culprit.
and hello.
mark swears he feels his heart move just a little faster than normal, eyeing you up and down like a spider analyzing its dinner. black square-framed glasses that are damn near on the tip of your nose, perfectly positioned hair that reaches just past your nape, and holy shit are those fucking braces
he's certain doves fly up behind you every time you enter a room, maybe even a chorus plays.
if he had known this was going to be his tutor, he would've came ages ago.
he aborts the mission of ditching this session so hard it turns into a full-body spasm, catching himself just in time to awkwardly grab onto the table.
and you giggle. you fucking giggle at his behavior and goddamn does it make his pants feel tighter than normal.
"sorry i came so late, i was finishing up a project and totally forgot all about this," you explained, pulling out the chair to sit down as you opened up your backpack to bust out your sticker ridden notebook. can you get anymore adorable?
"so, what do you struggle with the most?" your eyes glimmer up at him like you're genuinely interested in helping, and he's struggling the most to not grab you by your collar and seeing all the cute sounds you make.
"err.. ap biology?" he settles, keeping his eyes trained on your rosy lips. freshly glazed with a chapstick, he wants to taste them so fucking badly.
"alrighty! let's get started then, yeah?"
.
.
.
.
.
the entire session all he could think about was cornering you up against a bookshelf and feeling your sweet lips against his, smushing your fronts together as he took what he wanted. would you whine? avoid his gaze because of how embarrassed you are about getting caught? or would you kiss him back—
"—and that's about it, really. did you catch any of that?" fuck. he was too busy daydreaming. he looked down at the lined paper, scribbled with biology notes and even little drawings to simplify it. hell no, he didn't catch any of it but he nodded anyways.
"sure sure, yeah, uh when do i see you again?" he prays he doesn't sound desperate, a toothy grin creeping on his face.
"uhm.. i don't have any classes thursday, would that work?" "perfect, yeah."
and then you smile—sweet like he was the
most prized thing in the universe. "okay! see you then. cool hair, by the way."
cool hair.
cool hair.
you like his hair.
yeah. he's gone. forever. call the coroner. mark grayson just died in the library.
.
.
.
.
.
that day, mark went straight to his room. didn't greet his mom, answer cecil's stupid calls, nothing. slamming the door behind him, he slid down till he hit the floor. staring holes into his bulge that was begging to be released the second you stepped into that room.
his breath gets heavy, a crazed grin on his face as his hand slides down to unfasten his studded belt to free his aching dick.
he sucked in a breath when he grabs the chub of his cock, eyes closing as he lets his mind take the wheel.
usually he'd fantasy about women with exaggerated features, but all the roads in his mind led straight back to you.
fuck, would you whine out his name while he teased you? would you get shy while you bounced on his cock? would you grab at his hair while he went down on you?
you'd be so loud, wouldn't you?
with each of these vulgar thoughts passing by, his fist pumped faster and faster. desperately trying to reach that aching high.
he liked when you said his name. you say it so softly like you're trying out a new word.
that's when he crumbled.
mark cries out—raw, broken—as heat spills on his hand, body trembling under fist's relentless touch. his legs flutter wildly before going slack, breath coming in shattered gasps.
a / n : some words ( spec. dialogue ) may be accidentally not color coded , apologies ! oh and swap is slightly mean in this as a result of his AU basically being destroyed in UNDERVERSE .
⚠️ this work is written by pupz ⚠️
“121.. 122.. 123..” the royal guard in training grunted out as he lowered his body down to the ground in time with his counting. somehow, he was struggling with such a simple workout which is very strange since he’s practically the strongest in the underground of his AU. well, he wouldn’t be struggling right now if there was a certain someone on his back right now. “c’mon blue. how are you gonna be my knight in shining armor if you can’t do a simple push up?” dust snicked as he sat comfortably on top of the latter’s back as swap did his pushups. to be honest, he doesn’t really care about swap getting that position in being a royal guard. obviously, he’s gonna support his boyfriend anyway that he can but he doesn’t understand why he’s so determined about it.
suddenly, swap felt a very noticeable change in dust’s weight that caused him to collapse from being caught off guard. blue magic? seriously? “d-dust! i’m gonna kill you..!” swap grunted out as he struggled underneath dust’s blue magic. “oh noo! gravity is crushing.. down on me..” dust lied dramatically as he snickered at the way the royal guard in training struggled against the heaviness of his blue magic. “no itsss nott!” “it is too, babe. same thing happened yesterday.” dust defended his obvious lie when he recalls the way he forced swap to stay home so he wouldn’t go to work by clinging onto him and holding him down with blue magic. dust chucked at swap struggle as he finally let up.
“124 pushups. proud of you, baby.” dust praised as he leaned forward and pressed his teeth against swap’s skull as a small kiss. “you’re horrible.” swap grumbled as he sat up which made dust fall off his back, making the latter chuckle. “awee, poor babyy.” dust cooed as he wrapped his arms around swap’s neck. “ugh, you stink. when was the last time you showered, dust?” “why do you always ruin a good moment.” dust rolled his eyelights at the comment. burying his skull into the blue fabric of swap’s scarf, smelling the familiar scent of cigarette smoke from papyrus and the smell of cologne. it was comforting to say the least.
“i just wanna hold you.. you’re always trainin’, we barely get to see each other. you don’t even call me anymore.. i miss you, blue.” dust admitted as he tightened his hold on swap slightly. swap had to admit, he was being neglectful. it’s not like it’s his intention, he’s just so busy with everything that he barely has time for dust anymore. “i know, i’m sorry. i just..” swap sighs as he left his sentence unfinished, not knowing how to excuse his actions. “just stay with me.. that’s all i need. please?” “of course, sweetheart.”
.
.
.
“swaaappp! i’m hungryy.”dust whined, keeping his arms wrapped around the smaller’s waist. dipping his head into swap’s shoulder as he waited patiently impatiently for swap to finish up cooking dinner for the both of them. “if you get off, it’ll go much faster.” dust grumbled as he stayed put. “just make sure it’s yummy.” “are you doubting me?” dust let out a small laugh as he pressed small kisses to the sides of swap’s skull. “nah.” swap smiled at the affectionate kisses as he let the meat sit in the pan to cook.
“to hell with that!” fell retorted as he kept a death grip on fresh’s sleeves, his body shaking as he stood awkwardly on the skateboard that decorated in various stickers and covered in colourful graffiti. to be honest, he doesn’t even know how fresh managed to get him to do this. “keep tensin’ like dat n’ yer gonna get a charlie horse, ya dig?” “i’m bout to give ya a charlie horse if you keep playin’ with me.” fell threatened that made fresh laugh.
keeping his free hand on the latter’s back to support him, he gently guided him through the process of riding a skateboard. and while he was trying to be as supportive as he can, fresh couldn’t help but giggle a little when he would teasingly let go of fell. “fell, babygirl, it ain’t even dat hard. ya just gotta loosen up, ya get what i mean?” fresh instructed while walking with fell, who was as stiff as a statue on the board. “fu- funk no.” fell replied.
fresh snickered when he censored fell’s foul mouth, “ya know i gotcha, dollface. look, see? ya got it.” fresh praised as he subtly loosened his grip on fell to try and build up his confidence. fell kept his eyelights glued to his shoes as he wobbled a little bit. “this lame as fu- funk.” “brah, no it’s not. its very bodacious.” fresh defended with the writing on his glasses changing to the word ‘radical’, soon his hand that was on fell’s back moved away, however fell was still clinging onto his sleeves for dear life. “ya gon make us fall, babes.” “if im goin’ down, ya comin’ with me.” fresh snickered as he continued walking a bit with fell before he gave him a little push.
“ya doin’ great!” fresh called out after fell as he watched him skate down the street, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick photo of him, giggling to himself. meanwhile, fell was slowly gaining confidence in riding as he straightened up his back as let his body do what felt natural, still stiff as hell as the speed of the board picked up. “fresh? fresh!” fell called out that made the latter look up from his phone, causing fresh to immediately run after his boyfriend who was going fast as hell down the street. “baby, break!” “how!?”
fresh panted, using his magic to teleport closer towards fell, unable to get exactly where he was because his focus was torn between two things; the coordinates of where he needs to go and trying to get fell to break before he hurt himself. “your foot! no-! your other foot!” fresh yelled out, chasing after the other. he knew he should’ve worn his heelies.
successfully, fresh managed to gain enough focus to teleport in front of fell. however, his calculations were a little off because as soon as he landed, fell had crashed into him. the impact knocked the damn wind out of him as he made contact with the gravel of the street, the graffiti covered skateboard hitting him in the shin as his arms instinctively wrapped around fell’s body to try and break his fall.
“diggity dang, dude.. you good..?” fresh asked, his voice strained as he lifted his head up to see fell holding onto him for dear life with his skull buried in his jacket. “never again.” “agreed.” fresh let out a huff, giving fell one last squeeze. “i shoulda recorded dat- ow!” fresh yelped when he felt a punch to his ribs.
the bigger skeleton murmured, lifting his face up from cross’ chest with his red eyelight glowing and slowly dilating at the sight of the other, who was half-listening to the t.v. that played in the background. “what’s up, baby?” replied cross, rubbing the latter’s back as he turned his attention towards horror. “w..would ya- would ya..-“ “horror. slow down, it’s okay.” cross’ patience made him
nod slowly, the fracture in his skull that damaged his speech and his mental state had messed up the way he communicated with everyone permanently. often, his words would come out fast to the point where it was unrecognizable.
nightmare, was too busy or rather, didn’t care enough to try and help. killer would poke fun at him. and dust tried a little to help horror with communication. but he quickly got bored and annoyed at the realization how long it actually took to aid him. cross, a new addition to the team but was here before horror, was the only one with a kind enough soul to help him. cross stood by him, helping him with his writing, his vocabulary, and his spelling. he stood by horror for who knows how long, helping him improve everyday.
horror wasn’t dumb, by any means, oblivious maybe, but he wasn’t exactly stupid. but when you’re struck in the skull by a spear that leaves a huge gap, it obviously damages your daily life. to horror, cross was like an angel sent from the heaven gates. as exaggerated as it sounds, it was true. with just that simple act of kindness in this miserable life that was filled with nothing but anguish and misery all through his life, he finally found something worth keeping alive for ( bye this sentence is so corny ). “would.. ya like.. me more.. if i was.. normal..?” the question made cross tilt his head to the side.
“horror, baby, what are you asking? what does ‘normal’ mean?” cross asked gently, rubbing his hand up and down horror’s back. “like.. not like.. this..” horror mumbled, pointing towards the gaping fracture in his skull that was beyond repair. oh. *oh*. it took a few minutes for it to click, his hands immediately going up to cup the sides of horror’s skull, trying to think of the words that horror needed to hear. “horror.. why do you think you need to change for me to like you more? you’re perfect in my eyes and-“ “yer still scared of.. me..” that made cross pause for a moment.
thinking that he got over his fear of horror, he would still flinch a little whenever horror would call out his name in that husky and low, or when he would awkwardly shift side to side when he truly realized how much bigger horror is. though, it’s not easy to get over a fear so quickly, in general it’s not easy to not be afraid at all. he barely had time to adjust to his new life here under the orders of nightmare and just a month ago, horror joins the team. how could he *not* be a little scared?
“i’ll be honest with you, horror. yes, i am still scared of you.” that sentence alone made horror drop his head back into cross’ chest in defeat. “but not for the reasons you think..! you’re scary in ways that admirable, y’know? like your uh, strength for example. and your body too! it’s a little intimidating but it’s you, isn’t it? that’s why to me, you’re perfect.” although cross’ comforting skills were..not the greatest in the whole world, it made horror feel better. he may not got the brains like cross but he’ll use his brawn to protect cross. even if it costs him his soul. “th.. thank y.. you.” seeing horror a little happy made cross feel better as he leaned down to gently press his teeth against horror’s skull. “you’re welcome, bud. i love you.” “i love.. you.. more..”
