walking in on mark grayson jerking off to you is a sight you don't want to look away from. his half naked body, hem of his shirt tucked between straight white teeth, and painfully hard cock is your siren's call.
he's trying to keep his whimpers to a low volume, but the way his thumb keeps playing with the weeping slit of his cock is making it rather difficult. the crease in his brows grows more evident when his back arches off the mattress of your shared bed. his heels are dug into the bedding, while in the crudest fashion possible, mark fucks his fist like he would fuck you if he knew you were here.
the few sparse pubic hairs surrounding his thick shaft tickles the curve of his fist with every hurried pump downward. his abdomen clenches and relaxes in waves due to the pleasure racketing down his curved spinal column. he's chasing a orgasm that's frustratingly stubborn at getting away from him.
" please . . .please " he begs through drool soaked cloth. " please let me cum, baby."
your hands turn sweaty at the lewd show. tongue heavy and dangerously dry in your mouth. every fluid you are made up of has rushed south. your greedy pussy demands to soak the crotch of your panties because your boyfriend is jerking off to the thought of you.
his whines turn higher, voice cracking when his free hand goes to cup his swollen ballsack. fingers massaging and rolling sensitive package in a crappy rendition of how you touch him there. it seems you know his body better than he does, which is utterly pathetic. but pathetic looks good on Mark Grayson. it makes him look like a kicked puppy, all watery eyed and runny nose. crying for his pretty thing to come fuck him and suck him, or suck him and fuck him either way. he wants to cum, and it seems like you're the only one to make him orgasm now.
Invincible!Mark taking you out on a surprise date to Tokyo and trying new foods.Â
âIâm soooo excited for you to try this!! I made some reservations so I hope you like it!â
Invincible!Mark cuddling you and laying a hand on your tummy while his head is on your chest. He feels a lot safer with you knowing you're alive and the person that loves him. Hearing your heartbeat is something he memorized.
Invincible!Mark whispering in your ear about how much he loves you and heâll make sure nothing ever happens to you. He loves you so much he memorized your heartbeat, it's a melody that brings happiness and peace to his life. He makes sure to buy you his favorite perfume you wore the first time he met you, oh how he loves that smell on you and you only.Â
Invincible!Mark who makes sure to buy you flowers any chance he gets because you deserve them and he just loves you so much. He loves seeing you smile, it makes his heartbeat accelerate.Â
Invincible!Mark who loves to hear your voice all the time, he makes sure to tell you that he always listens when you feel like you talk too much. Whenever he stares at you it feels like everything will be okay, the light around you starts to focus on you and the only thing he sees are the sparkle in your eyes and the shine of your smile.Â
Let me know if you guys would love a part 2 or make a story or just creat it as i go !! :))
NOTE: You guys aren't giving enough love for my bb Flaxancible :((, I crave him so much that its too much even for me. Getting the hang of Tumblr, semi-proof read.
Paring: Flaxan!Mark Grayson x f!Reader â Female Anatomy and She/They + You Pronouns, Established Relationship?
Sypnosis: Flaxan Mark probably did the right thing â attacking the Pentagon and fucking you before ReAnimen beat his ahh up
Warning: Smut
Arriving a new universe probably wasnât for the weak. Thanks to Angstrom â or not, heâd promise something for each and every one variant, like Phantom Mark who wanted his mom back, Maskless Mark who missed William and Sinister Mark who just wanted to destroy everything that is in sight. Every Mark variant had something theyâd lost or an ambition.
Flaxan Mark on the other hand, he had everything heâd wanted, power, strength, everything, thus he even conquered over the Flaxans that tried to destroy earth, heâs already an emperor. But still, something wasnât right.
Flaxan Mark flew over the city of this current universe; Arlington, Virginia. As if heâs trying to find a certain place.. or institution?
He hovered above the building of the Global Defense Agency, observing it before dashing into the place, damaging the base, the establishmentâa wreck by such a small entrance. Tons of rubble fell, alerting the people and Director of the GDA to find the culprit.
He made his way towards the empty sleek halls, his feet softly padding against the floor that had just been splattered with the blood of his victims, eventually finding himself in a somewhat empty hall. His eyes slightly widened, finding her.
âMark? Is that you?â we really need your help andââ your rambling came to a halt, realizing that he wasnât Mark. Oh fuck. âShitââ You cursed, trying to dial Cecilâs office but you get cut off when he took it away from you.
You turned to look at the hallway but found it empty, gently pursing your lips together. You shuddered when you felt him breathing and looming over you, you looked back at him with fear. To your surprise, it definitely wasnât your Mark.
âStay awayâ I- Iâll press this button.â You gripped the switch tightly, holding it between you and him. That button was the one that Cecil used on Mark before, a copy from that creature he fought that emitted a wail so powerful enough to stun him as he was making a treaty with Queen Aquaria and with that Cecil gave you a copy, in which you reluctantly accepted at first. Thankfully right now, itâs going to be useful to you.
âYouâre just as beautiful as I remember.â He whispered, gently caressing her skin as he lowered her hand that held the remote. This variant looked so much different from Mark. Much more shorter hair, the flaxan attire? Is he a flaxan?
âYou look just like her.â He weakly said, his voice trembling in anticipation as he ran his thumb across her features, analyzing her eyes, skin, and lips before slipping it between her mouth, earning a yelp out of protest from her. You bit his thumb that he stuck in your mouth, Flaxan Mark immediately retracted it back, replacing his thumb with his lips.
âYou are her.â You melted into the kiss. He kisses just like Mark, he is Mark after all. You fluttered your eyes open gently, slowly reaching out for his wristband. He noticed this small movement, gripping her wrists on the side with his hand, restraining her. He knew this too well.
âMmh- Mark.â You moan into his lips, back pressed against the wall behind her. Flaxan Markâs hands dared to touch her, too afraid to hurt her, too scared to lose her, so he made sure he wasnât bruising her wrists when he restrained her up.
He broke his lips away from her, resting them over her cheek, relishing how she felt once again in his arms. He trailed his lips from her cheek to her jaw, his hands that restrained her wrists shifted to your shoulders, resting there as his fingers flexed against her skin. He made his way to her neck, kissing over the moles, the way he used to do so with her before. His teeth nibbling, refraining himself from leaving marks as he is actually scared to hurt his beloved that he just once again found.
His swallowed, hearing her soft sounds, he knew her too well, too well that in every dimension, sheâs the same. He loved the fact that she was like her. His you in his dimension.
One of his hands landed on her figure, gently caressing your skin trough your uniform. âNot enoughâ time.. To make love with you.â He grunted, looking over their surroundings before hiking your skirt up. He was impatient, a parallel to Mark. He unbuckles his armor, freeing his veiny dih, the tip twitching with anticipation as she watched it brush against her thigh.
He slipped himself with no thought â actually a thought, a thought of fucking and probably breeding her in some way? Imagine losing her in his dimension and finding her in anotherâs dimension, all unbothered, so he took the risk before losing the chance to ever see her again.
âGotta breed this fucking pussy before I slaughter them allâ shit..â The Flaxan penetrated her, the feeling of his dick was too overwhelming for her, making her mind go numb. She clenched her gummy warmth around him as he thrusted, in and out of her hole. a small sound escaped his lips at the feeling of feeling her around him once again after being separated for so long he couldnât even imagine. Bros stupid ahh did not slaughter them all.
âDonât you leave meâ donât you dare fucking leave me.â His hips stuttered against her as she clutched onto the cold wall behind her and clutching onto his Flaxan armor that gleamed. She moaned incoherently, his metal-clad fingers digging on her sides painfully. The frequency button fell out of her hands, landing with a small thud on the floor.
You moaned, holding onto his with dear life as he rutted his hips against hers. He paused, feeling a lump forming on his throat before taking a deep breath and trying to put his desire into words. âFucking- shit..â He hesitated, looking away for a moment before back up at her. The sudden change of position made her gasp quietly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her hips up to his level. Her eyes met his as well, her breathing getting a bit heavier as more and more anticipation spread through her.
He held her with one arm while the other went between them both, his fingers brushing against her folds, his thumb gently circled her clitoris. He ran a pad of his fingers across her folds whilst he slowly penetrated her. She felt so warm, so tight around him. It made the poor Flaxans head spin almost.
His hand moved to her hip, his grip firm and possessive. The muscles in his arm flexed as he guided himself forward, his body trembling with coiled tension. As he slowly slid into her, the sensations overcame him. The heat, the wetness, the way she clenched around him sent a shudder of pure pleasure through his entire body.
âFuck.â
He cursed.
Already cumming between her folds.
Her climax came after his, gushing all over his dick, clamping his appendage, milking him. You fell onto him, body weakening under his resolve, he kept his small pace, drawing their climax to its end.
NOTE: âWhat was that? 8 seconds?â â Guinevere Beck from the Netflix Series, YOU
Characters: Cap Mark, Full Mask Mark, Maskless Mark, Shiesty Mark, Sinister Mark, Viltrumite Mark
Cap Mark
The hot husband who gets hit on by everyone. He knows he has a pretty face and has a more detailed skincare routine than you. He is vain and takes great pride in his physical appearance and can be quite the charmer when he needs to be.Â
While he likes the attention, he never entertains them. He has eyes only for you after all.
Heâs a gossip, too. He knows everything about everyone in the neighborhood, likes to spill the tea while you two are in bed.Â
One of the Marks who can cook better than their partner, or at least, without destroying the appliances. He loves feeding you. Gives you snacks almost every two hours. You blame him for your weight gain, but he canât help it. Youâre so cute when youâre eating.
Full Mask Mark
Yearns for a simple, peaceful family life. His biggest dream after marrying you is to give you children, not because thatâs âthe mission,â but because he genuinely wants to be a good father.Â
Because he is (lovingly) a mommaâs boy, the two of you spend holidays with Debbie. You donât mind because hello, itâs Debbie.
He tries so hard to honor his commitments to you, but he is still so soft-hearted, he couldnât just ignore a little girl crying because her balloon was stuck in a tree or a sweet old lady crossing the road. He is always late to your dates. He always feels guilty, but you reassure him each time, because he was almost never late to the important things.
Almost because he was late once and lost you completely.
Maskless Mark
Total introvert. His friends and teammates donât worry when he doesnât look at the messages in their group chats or see him outside of work. He genuinely would rather spend his free time with you, alone, in the house.
Strong cat dad energy. You two adopted a stray momma cat once and he used to sleep on the floor next to her when she was too tired to move.
He wants to learn to cook, but donât let him. He will set off the fire alarms. One time he tried to make you lasagna and you came home to find fire trucks surrounding the house while your husband hugged a big fat cat and her kittens by the driveway.
Shiesty Mark
A total manchild, but beneath all that roughness, heâs thoughtful and devoted.Â
When you express disapproval of certain habits, like leaving the toilet lid up when not in use (gross) or drinking the milk straight out of its carton (again, gross), he will pout but wonât do it ever again.
He is extremely protective, they all are compared to normal, well-adjusted people, but this one will fuck up anyone who looks at you the wrong way. He tends to get angry on your behalf, too, like when you tell him about your abusive boss or annoying co-workers.
He is a touch fiend and always has one hand on you. It doesnât have to be sexual, sometimes he just likes the feeling of your bare chest and the fat of your thighs between his fingers.
Sinister Mark
Quite the romantic, also super competitive. He laughs at humans who get divorced, because in his eyes, that makes them failures. But thatâs not to say that he approves of idiots staying together while they destroy each other. Divorce is funny, but pretending to be in love? Thatâs downright pathetic.
Love is supposed to be fun, but he also knows that itâs about effort. This man doesnât believe in letting the flame die. He will bring you flowers everyday after work without fail. He will open doors for you, carry your things even when theyâre super light, buy you chocolate, and take you to dinner every week, and it doesnât have to be fancy, maybe you prefer McDonaldâs over a sushi restaurant, thatâs cool with him.
Despite his own philosophy, he actually doesnât expect you to treat him the same way. Just agreeing to spend time with him and accepting his presents are more than enough. All he wants from you is to always have you by his side until the end of time, is that so much to ask?
Viltrumite Mark
Awkward and naive, but always willing to learn.Â
Due to his upbringing, he is the typical will fix the problem for you type of guy, which can be annoying when you just want to vent. On the bright side, he is a straightforward fellow. He may not understand why you get mad or frustrated when he offers you solutions, but he will do his best to go against instinct when you tell him your feelings.
He is an attentive husband who quietly helps you around the house. He doesnât keep track of the chores and just does it when he can, for example, when you leave one used mug in the sink (you swear youâll deal with it when there are more dishes) he will wash it without saying a word.Â
Despite, or perhaps because Viltrum does not share Earthâs marital customs, he was one of the Marks most eager to marry you. He could not picture life without you, and he would sooner bite his tongue off than think of you married to somebody else.
MASTERLIST
Husband Headcanons for Emperor Mark, Mohawk Mark, No Goggles Mark, Omni-Mark, Prisoner Mark
Hello! đ Can I request semi-public sex with Mohawk Mark? You make him unhinged like he actually is and I love that. (And I know this is very specific but.. can you include the doggy position? I feel like heâd be very into it, and the readerâs ass in general.)
BENT FOR A KING â mohawk! mark grayson x reader
INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST
WARNINGS: smut, semi public sex, swearing, slight degrading, getting caught.
It starts with his hand around your throat.
Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make you breathe a little differently, feel the weight of who he is. Mohawk Markâunhinged, dangerous, and untouchableârules this world with blood-stained hands and a half-smirk that never quite reaches his eyes. Youâre lucky he hasnât crushed you under his boot like the rest of them.
No, heâs chosen you.
And tonight, on the rooftop of a crumbling building overlooking his broken kingdom, youâre reminded exactly what that means.
âStay quiet,â he murmurs into your ear, voice low and hot. âOr donât. Either way, Iâll still fuck you like youâre mine.â
His hand slides down the curve of your back, and the moment it reaches the small of your spine, you know exactly what he wants. You always do. Heâs a man of habit, of power, and of instinct. His fingers grip the flesh of your hips, tugging you into position, pulling you closer to him as though youâre the only thing that matters in this worldâthis world he rules with fire and blood.
You can feel his gaze on you even before he speaks, his eyes burning with an intensity that both excites and terrifies you. Itâs the way he looks at youâlike youâre the most precious thing, but also the most breakable. Itâs not just that he wants youâhe needs you. The kind of need that consumes everything in its path.
His obsession isnât just about your body, though thatâs a large part of it. Heâs consumed by the way you respond to himâhow you give in to him, how you arch for him when he demands it, how every inch of your body fits into his hands like it was made just for him. He sees something in you that no one else doesâa rawness, a vulnerability, a surrender that he canât find in anyone else. The power he exudes comes with a deadly confidence, but with you, itâs different. Thereâs a tenderness hidden beneath that twisted exterior, a need to control, but also to keep you, to protect whatâs his.
You drop to your hands and knees, the gravel biting into your skin as you do, the roughness of it grounding you in the reality of your situation. The city sprawls beneath you, its flickering lights barely reaching your high perch, but thereâs a strange sense of thrill that makes your heart race. The riskâthe fact that someone might look up and see you like this, used, wrecked by him, the king of this crumbled world, it ignites a fire in your chest.
But what feels even more dangerous is how you donât care. Not even a little bit.
Youâre here with him, in the most vulnerable way possible, but itâs an honor. Itâs more than just sex, more than just being his favorite. Itâs a privilege that you canât find anywhere else in the world.
Thereâs no one else who would ever claim you like thisâno one else who could. He owns you, yes, but in a way thatâs deeper than possession. You are the only one who gets to see the cracks in his armor, the only one who gets to feel the raw, unhinged version of himâthe one who could tear down everything for you, or burn it all to the ground if anyone ever tried to touch whatâs his. Youâre his, and he makes sure everyone knows it.
And thereâs a twisted satisfaction in knowing that the world watches him rule with bloodshed and fire, but only you get to experience the darker parts of himâthe parts that are soft and broken, the parts that see you not as a trophy, but as the one person who can hold him together when the rest of the world wants to tear him apart.
Being with him isnât about just giving your body. Itâs about surrendering to him completely, trusting that no one else could ever hold the same power over you, the same hold on your heart. When he calls you his, it means something. It means youâre the one person who can shatter him, who can make him feel something real in this warped world. Itâs an honor to have that kind of accessâto be his addiction, his salvation, and his destruction all in one.
His hands grip you tighter, pulling you toward him, and the thrill of being seen as his breaks through your every thought. You close your eyes for a second, feeling the weight of his presence, the honor of being the one to witness it. You know that, as broken and twisted as he may be, youâre the only one who gets to call him yours.
Thatâs the honor. And it makes every part of you ache to keep giving more.
Mark pulls your hips back into him, hands rough, greedy. His nails bite into your skin. âFuck⊠look at you,â he groans, one hand gripping your ass hard, spreading you open so he can stare. âMade for me.â
You whimper when he slides inâslow just to tease, but you know he doesnât have patience. Not really. Not when heâs like this.
He slams forward, and your breath escapes in a gasp. His thrusts are brutal, rhythmic, like heâs trying to fuck the shape of his cock into your body, so no one else could ever forget who you belong to.
âSay it,â he growls, fucking into you hard enough that your palms scrape against the gravel. âSay who youâre for.â
âYou, Markâonly you,â you gasp out, voice broken and sweet.
He growls like an animal. One hand snakes up to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back so he can lean over your trembling body.
âDamn right. The whole world bows for me. And youââ he punctuates the next thrust with a sharp slap to your ass, making you moan helplessly, ââyou bend over for me. Perfect little thing. My perfect fucktoy.â
The way he says itâit doesnât feel demeaning. Not from him. Not from the man whoâs torn empires apart with his bare hands, whoâs crushed entire rebellions for daring to even look at you the wrong way.
You know what you are to him. Not just a toy. Not just a body to fuck.
Youâre the center of his madness. His favorite obsession. His only softness in a world he rules through fear and fire.
And when he calls you his perfect fucktoy in that low, hungry voice, it doesnât make you feel small. It makes you feel chosen. Desired so completely that it borders on worshipâtwisted and dark, but real in a way nothing else in his world is.
He shows it with every punishing snap of his hips. With every brutal thrust that steals your breath and leaves you gasping for more. With the way his hands clutch at you like heâs trying to mold your body to fit himâlike no other shape exists but the one you make together.
âYouâre mine,â he growls again, more animal than man now. His hips slam into you with a desperate rhythm, frantic and raw. âYou donât breathe without me. You donât come unless I say.â
Your moans are soft, broken things, muffled by the way your cheek presses against the rooftop, but he hears every single one. Lives for them. You can feel how deep it runsâthis need to own you, brand you, bury himself so far inside you that even death wouldnât tear you apart.
His grip on your waist tightens. One hand drifts back to your ass, squeezing it, spreading you wider like he wants to see the way you swallow him whole. He groansâlow, filthy, reverent.
âLook at that,â he murmurs darkly. âEven your body knows youâre mine. Takes me so well.â
You canât speak. Your voice is lost in the pleasure, in the way his cock keeps hitting that spot over and over, making your toes curl, making your thoughts go white. But you feel itâhow much he needs this. Needs you.
And underneath all that violence, all that terrifying strength, thereâs something else. A desperation. A fear of losing you.
Because in a world he could destroy in a heartbeat, youâre the only thing that matters enough to keep. And heâs going to fuck that truth into you until itâs carved into your bones
You lose track of timeâof everything but the sounds of him. The raw rasp of his breath, deep and grating, almost primal as he fucks you with relentless force. Every exhale he takes is a promise of something darker, something more savage that you need him to give. The rhythm of his hips becomes your only anchor in a world spinning faster and faster, leaving you gasping for something, anything, to hold onto.
The sting of his hands on your skin is electricâeach touch searing, a claim. His fingers grip your body like heâs afraid someone might take you from him, like thisâthis very momentâis something he canât afford to lose. His nails scrape over your flesh, marking you, and the pain only drives you higher, deepens the hunger coiling inside you. Itâs as if your body is made for this, for him, for the way he owns every inch of you with just a touch.
And then thereâs the heat building deep in your core, growing impossibly hotter with every thrust, every roll of his hips. Itâs frantic, itâs all-consuming, a molten fire flooding through your veins, turning your mind to mush. Your body canât take it much longer, but you donât want it to stop. Not now. Not when you feel so alive, so completely his.
Your voice starts to waver, climbing higher and higher, until itâs a desperate cry. Itâs not just the pleasure anymoreâitâs the way heâs tearing apart everything youâve ever known about yourself. The way heâs filling you up in every sense of the word. Your voice gets breathless, broken, like youâre drowning in him, in his touch, in the heat heâs flooding you with. And Mark? Mark lives for it.
His grin stretches wider, lips pulling back over clenched teeth. His eyes gleam, almost predatory, like heâs watching you break, like he wants to see you shatter completely under him. It thrills him, that power. That control. And every strained, breathless sound you make only pushes him further, encourages him to go harder, faster. He wants to hear your voice crack, wants to taste every shred of desperation in the air between you.
His hands grip you tighter, pulling you deeper into him as if your body was a tool meant for his pleasure. But you know, deep down, itâs not just about that. He wants youâwants to claim every inch of you, and the dangerous part is that youâre more than willing to let him. Your submission isnât out of fear, but out of respect. Respect for the man who could crush the world beneath his boot, yet chooses to keep you close, tangled in his every whim.
His voice cuts through the air, dark and rough, just as commanding as his actions. âYou like this, donât you? Knowing that no one else could ever have you the way I do. No one else gets to see you like this. Not like me.â His breath hitches as he thrusts into you, his fingers digging into your hips.
You bite your lip, barely able to suppress the moan that threatens to escape. You can feel the rawness in his voice, the possessiveness, and you canât help but smile, your body betraying you with its eager response. âYes, Mark,â you breathe out, voice trembling. âOnly you. Iâm yours, all yours.â
His growl sends a shiver through your spine. âDamn right you are.â His hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sound of it echoing across the empty rooftop. You gasp, but itâs not from painâitâs from the satisfaction of knowing that each strike is his mark, his claim.
âYouâre so fucking perfect,â he mutters, the words nearly lost in the raggedness of his breath. âYou arch for me like you were made to. Every part of you⊠made for me.â
His words are like fire, igniting something deep inside of you. You feel his grip tighten as he begins to push deeper, harder, fasterâhis rhythm wild, untamed. You can hear his breath grow more frantic, like heâs losing himself in you, like he canât control the force of his desire.
âYouâve got to be mine, donât you?â he growls, his voice rough, hungry. âSay it. Tell me youâre mine.â
You arch your back more, meeting his thrusts, every inch of you burning with need. âIâm yours, Mark,â you gasp, your words shaking. âI belong to you. Only you. Iâll always be yours.â
He growls, low and pleased. âGood girl.â The praise is a rare gift from him, and it makes you shiver. His hands move to your hair, tugging it back so he can lean down, his breath hot against your ear. âYouâre mine, and no one else gets to have you like I do. Not now, not ever.â
A dark thrill pulses through your veins at the thought. The idea that youâre the only one who gets to feel thisâthe only one who knows what itâs like to be held by him, controlled by him, taken by him.
His pace doesnât slow. If anything, it picks upâfaster, harder, until the world around you disappears. The only thing that exists is him, the hard press of his body against yours, the raw intensity of his thrusts, the sound of his voice demanding your complete submission.
âDonât ever forget who you belong to,â he grits out, his hand tightening around your throat again, not enough to choke you, but enough to remind you of his dominance. âIâll make sure you remember. Every time I fuck you, youâll remember who owns this body.â
You gasp again, your voice shaking with need. âIâll always remember, Mark. I belong to you. Only you.â
His lips curl into a dark smile against your skin, and for a moment, his pace falters as if heâs savoring the sound of your words. âThatâs right,â he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. âYouâre mine. And youâll never forget it.â
âThatâs it,â he murmurs through a wicked grin, his hand clutching your hip, forcing you back against him as he slams into you with unrelenting force. âLet me hear you scream. Let me hear how badly you want me, how fucked up you are for me.â
You can barely form words anymore. Youâre so closeâso close to the edge, your body trembling with anticipation, but still, thereâs something inside you, something twisted and desperate, that wants to drag this moment out. You want him to keep breaking you, keep pushing you, to keep using you until thereâs nothing left but his name on your lips and the raw burn of his hands on your skin.
His laugh comes out in short, jagged bursts, almost cruel in its delight as he watches your body tremble, your breath hitching with each deep, punishing thrust. He can feel it, tooâthat delicious tension, that impending explosion.
âCome on,â he urges, his voice low, almost mocking. âLet go. Iâm right here, baby. Iâm right fucking here.â And thatâs it. Thatâs all it takes.
The heat inside you bursts wide open. Your body goes rigid, muscles locking as you lose yourself completely in him. The cry that rips from your throat is nothing but a raw, guttural thingâa mix of pleasure and surrender. And Mark, Mark watches you as you fall apart for him, watches as your whole body shakes with the force of it.
And with a final growl, he follows you, burying himself deep, claiming you in every possible way. He finishes with a low, satisfied groan, burying himself deep and holding you thereâhis hands gripping your hips like he owns every inch of you. And he does.
âNext time,â he whispers, lips brushing your skin, âweâll do it on the Capitol steps. Let them all see who you belong to.â
And the worst part? You want that too.
You collapse forward, trembling, skin slick with sweat, knees sore from the gravel, but it doesnât matter. None of it does. Not when heâs still inside you, so deep it feels like heâs fused to your spine. Not when youâre dizzy from the aftershocks, from the way he took youâlike he needed it, like heâd fall apart without it.
You feel him exhale behind you, breath ragged, chest heaving against your back as he leans over you. His hands are still on your hips, thumbs rubbing absent, possessive circles into your skin, grounding himself in the feel of you.
ââŠfuck,â he breathes, more to himself than to you.
Thereâs something wild in the way he touches you nowâsofter, almost reverent. His fingers trail along the bruises blooming on your thighs, the prints he left behind, the heat radiating off your skin. He doesnât apologize. He never would. But thereâs a tenderness in the way he shifts, lowering you gently onto your side like youâre something breakable. Something precious.
âYou okay?â he asks, voice quieter now but still rough, still his. His mohawk flutters in the wind as he hovers above you, studying your face like heâs looking for cracks, for signs you might slip through his fingers.
You nod, breathless. âIâm yours, remember?â
That gets a smirk out of himâcrooked and dark, but itâs the closest thing to peace youâve ever seen in him. âDamn right you are.â
He lies beside you on the rooftop, pulling you into his chest like a dragon curling around its treasure. The stars blink above the ruined skyline, and for a second, the world is still. He tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers rough and calloused but shockingly gentle.
âI hate this world,â he mutters. âFilthy. Weak. Useless.â
You hum against his chest. âBut you like me.â
He pauses. The kind of pause that means heâs battling something insideâsomething he never lets anyone else see. Then he answers, low and deadly serious:
âI donât like you. I need you. You keep me from turning this whole fucking planet to ash.â
His fingers trail down your spine, resting low over your assâhis favorite place, the one he claims over and over like it belongs on an altar. âIf I lost you⊠there wouldnât be a world left.â
You believe him.
You shift closer, tilting your head up. âYouâll never lose me.â
He kisses you then. Not soft. Not sweet. Just real. Teeth and heat and need. The kind of kiss that says: Youâre mine. Forever. Even if I have to tear through every universe to keep you.
And you kiss him back, silently telling him what he already knows. Youâd let him.
Youâre still on the rooftop, curled in his jacket, legs weak and heart slowly returning to a steady rhythm when you hear itâ the crunch of boots on gravel below.
You freeze.
Mark doesnât even flinch. His eyes snap open from where he was lazily nuzzling your shoulder, his body already tense, ready. On edge. ââŠHello?â a voice calls from down below. âIs someoneâshit. Hello?â
You move toward the edge of the rooftop, careful but curious, peering over with Markâs massive jacket barely covering your thighs. Below, a young manâprobably a patroller or workerâstands in the alley, looking up. His eyes land on you, wide, startledâ
And then his gaze lingers. He gasps. âOhâuhâI-Iâm sorry! I didnât mean toâ!â His face goes red as he stammers and immediately looks away, hands raised in apology. âI thought the place was empty!â
You blink at him, unsure whether to laugh or cover yourself more tightly. âItâs okay. Just⊠donât look.â
He nods furiously. âRight, yes, of course, I didnâtâI wasnâtâ!â
But that was enough. Behind you, you feel it: the air shifts. The weight of fury. The silence before the storm. And then, in a blur of motion, Mark is gone. CRACKâthe impact below echoes up like thunder.
You rush to the edge again just in time to see the man slammed into the alley wall, feet off the ground, Markâs hand tight around his throat. His naked body gleams in the moonlight, but modesty is the last thing on his mindâhis rage is all-consuming.
âYou looked,â Mark snarls, voice low and lethal. âYou looked at her.â
The man chokes, hands clawing at Markâs wrist. âIâI didnât meanââ
âShe spoke to you. You spoke to her.â Markâs grip tightens. âThat aloneâs worth breaking your spine.â
âMark!â you shout, grabbing the edge of the rooftop. âStop!â
He doesnât. âI should fucking kill you,â Mark growls, eyes glowing like a warning. âYou think you get to see her? Get to hear her voice?â You leap down, landing hard and stumbling, Markâs jacket still clutched around you. âMark, please. Stop.â
He growls, muscles trembling with restraint as he glares at the man, whoâs turning pale under his grip. You move in front of him, pressing a hand to his chest. âHe didnât touch me. He didnât even try anything. Heâs just a dumb kid who looked up at the wrong time.â
His jaw is clenched so tight you can see the muscle ticking. You cup his face, forcing him to look at you instead of his prey. âPlease, Mark. For me.â He breathes through his nose. Once. Twice. Then he rolls his eyes with a grunt and drops the man, who crumples to the ground, gasping for air.
âYou should be dead,â Mark growls at him. âYou even dream about her, and Iâll rip out your tongue and force you to swallow it.â
The man whimpers and crawls backward, disappearing into the shadows without another word. Silence returns. You look up at Mark. âYou didnât kill him.â He tilts his head. âDonât act like that wasnât impressive restraint.â
You laugh softly, stepping closer. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âI am,â he says, dragging you flush against him, voice dark and low. âAnd you love it.â
His hands settle low on your hipsâpalming the curve of your ass again, possessive and unrepentant. âLet someone try that again. Next time, I wonât ask for permission.â
You kiss him, rough and quick. âNext time, donât make a scene while Iâm still half-naked.â He grins, wicked and wild. âThatâs your fault. Walking around looking like sin in my jacket.â
And before you can argue, he lifts you into his arms like nothing in the world matters but you and takes off into the sky.
at the insane stage of character obsession where i start getting the urge to post pngs of them every five seconds like im showing ppl a picture of my stupid ass boyfriend that nobody likes but me
headcap!mark, viltrumite!mark, lenseless!mark, & shiesty!mark & chubby/curvy!readerâČ theyâre superheros, do you really think a little (or even a lot) of chub bothers them??
đ„ àŁȘË tagsâ ⯠reader is depicted as having a chubby / curvy body type. if that is an issue please donât read. i also intended to write this in a non âchubby chaserâ way however if you catch those vibes i personally apologize as that isnât my intention. | separate hcs & blurbs | pet names | ooc characters (??) | spreading the mark loves chubby woman agenda | face sitting | rough sex | breath play | foul mouthed shiesty mark | being held up while being fucked | etc..
đ„ àŁȘË authorâs notesâ ⯠mark loves woman of all sizes like itâs the truth, and iâm plenty sure his variants feel the same or at least a little similar (and if they donât?? who cares! đ) as always please excuse any typos and grammar mistakes
HEADCAP!MARK.
( you canât run. )
headcap! mark doesnât go easy on anyone, not a little purple kid and especially not you. he enjoys pushing limits in your relationship, especially in the bedroom.
each thrust is rough, each rut is deep; stirring you up and leaving you to do nothing but take every single strike. and the manâs behavior is only exemplified the moment he realizes you simply can not escape him. granted, if you were any smaller you wouldnât be able to either, but; with how tightly headcap!mark is gripping you, you canât run.
and that fact will always rile him up.
the man hadnât even fully slipped out of his suit before pursuing you; previously carelessly tearing at his pants and tossing them to the side. hands were all over your body, securing around your hips, waist, thighs, everywhere he could reach as his hips rutted against you.
your body shook with each powerful thrust, pleasure thundering through your body as he fucked you with no mercy. you couldnât get accustomed to anything, it was far too much, tears streaming down your face as you rocked against your mattress. your fingers clawed against the plush blankets, sweet muffled moans escaping into the damp fabric.
headcap!mark was so deep, deeper then you sure was humanly possible; pressing up against your cervix, rubbing against that little spot that had you throbbing. and when you felt his hand switch around your body to spread your folds just a bit moreâ easily finding that little bud nestled between them, you couldnât help but whine, pitching into a little shriek when he rubbed fierce circles upon the bud.
desperately you tried to crawl away, surely scratching up your blanket from how tightly you were holding. you got an inch, only an inch before headcap!markâs free arm was slithering around your waist, pulling your ass flush against him.
âah, ah..â the man tutted, lips curled into the shittiest little grin as he stared down at your withering body. âkeep trying to run and you might hurt yourself..â the words meaning only seemed to amplify the moment his hand rose, quickly taking both of your wrists and pressing them right against the bedâ all while leaning over to lay over you completely, trapping you.
you weeped softly, feeling your combined juices trickle down your thighs as pathetic little begs escaped your bruised lips. with the closeness you could hear the way he chuckled so deeply, feel his chest fall and rise with each release.
âmâmark.. fuck, please, pleaseâ!â
âshh.. let me show you how much i missed you.â
VILTRUMITE!MARK.
( you donât trust how strong he is? how rude, heâll just have to show you. )
itâs common knowledge strength is the most important value to the viltrum empire. every moment of their life is a battle, and if you fail to come out on top itâs death. plain and simple.
only this wasnât a fight viltrumite! mark was used to. falling for you, learning how little you valued your body. he didnât care to understand it really, but it did tick him off when you were always so.. scared.
the restraint in your body; getting tense when getting undressed, resisting being picked up, the whole nine yards. itâs to the point the man is genuinely offended.
half-viltrumite or not he was strong, strong enough to lead and defend his empire. you were nothing compared to half the things heâs fought.
and he has no problem showing you.
you couldnât help but whine feeling his fingers dig into your skin as he lifted you. how odd was it that you could practically feel the power coursing through the digits, rising you without a single sweat. your legs wrapped around the manâs waist, his hips never stopping despite the new angle.
âbaby, pl..pleaseâ have to put me down!â your body betrayed your words, entire being rocking and throbbing as viltrumite!mark fucked up into you. his tip nudged against that spongy spot, stretching you so perfectly without a single care. your arms wrapped around his neck, nails dragging across his skin to steady you.
âmm⊠too heavy!â
viltrumite!mark sucks his teeth at your declaration immediately, a tight glare in place of his usual neutral expression. that glare did wonders, your pussy throbbing around his length, devouring the expression with a blurred gaze.
âiâm sick of you going on about that.â the man practically spat, tone low and expressing his frustration with each pointed thrust. a groan thrummed from his throat, enjoying the way your gummy walls clamped around him far too much. âdo you truly think iâm incapable of holding you however i want? does it look like iâm struggling?â
you whimpered at his words, shaking your head rapidly, keening the moment you felt a hand shift between the two of you; pinching your little bud. you caught on quickly, a swiftâ âno!â escaping in a jumbled speech.
satisfied with your answer viltrumite!mark tugged you even closer, hands sliding to your ass, kneading the flesh as blunt nails dug in.
âgood. and iâll continue to drill that fact into your headâ no matter how many times it takes.â
LENSELESS!MARK.
( come on, too much? all he sees is more to love! )
lenseless!mark, the sadistic little freak who could only grin while fighting immortal. who thrives and lives off receiving and dealing out pain. affection nor love wasnât a primary objective of his, but he didnât mind finding youâ perfect little you.
your size wasnât much of a concern, sure he noticed it but he truly didnât careâŠ
until he realizes something.
you didnât expect to end your afternoon like this, seated upon your loverâs face while he devoured on you like some full course meal. his arms, strong and large were wrapped tightly around your legs; refusing to let you move, keeping you secured against him with no escape. your hands clenched the headboard, forehead resting against the cool wood as sweet sobs escaped. lenseless!mark has been toying with you for what it seemed like hours, sucking your folds and little bud raw.
see, lenseless!mark realized something about himself rather quickly. he enjoyed tipping the line during sex, especially when it came to air. he couldnât count on a single hand how many times heâs had you wrap your pretty little hands around his throat to squeeze. so when the man actually used his head for once, realizing how thrilling it would be having you sit right on his faceâ he was practically begging for it.
and oh, did he love every single second of it. the weight of you, the sweet taste; each breath came out as some weak little shudder, your thighs pressing against his ears to the point he could only hear his own swift heartbeat. lenseless!mark wondered if he could pass out like this, maybe even drown right in your juices.
fortunately he didnât care, not one bit. there was nothing like sucking your little clit just to feel you wither, clench, and trickle more juices.
this was heaven on earth.. or more specifically, heaven on his face.
SHIESTY!MARK
( give him a second, his favorite show is on starring you; and the ripples of your body. )
weâve gotten to the point itâs clear no mark in any universe gives a damn about his loverâs size. and even if there was one, it certainly wasnât shiesty!mark. foul-mouthed and all, do you truly think he would love you any different any other size? really, itâs like you donât know him at all.
granted, it is pretty obvious how much he loves your body. the stretch marks etched into your skin, the way a shirt cupped those pretty titsâ shiesty!mark especially loved the way your body jiggled. rippled, shookâ whatever word; he loved it. far too much..
there was just something so hypnotizing about how your body moved whenever he drilled into you.
âfuck, baby..â the words are whispered in a low drawl, pure amazement tugging every single letter. like some leering pervert shiesty!markâs gaze was settled onto your body, struggling to pick between your back and ass to watch. every inch was simply amazing, adding to the absolutely wonderful feeling of your walls sucking him in greedily.
soft plaps echo throughout the room as his hips slammed against you, the perfect pitch to the melodic moans that escaped your wet lips. you hadnât a clue what had gotten into him. one moment youâre jumping into some jeans the next theyâre on the floorâ forgotten completely.
your cheek pressed against the blankets, turning and glancing at the man with blurred vision. you couldnât place it, but he seemed to be in a tranceâ under some type of spell only you could muster. shiesty!markâs lips were parted, quick breaths and even quicker swears escaping as he thrusted into you.
âlook at that..â heâs muttering to himself again, a hand sliding from your waist to grab an ass cheek. the flesh fills his palm easily, spreading you to watch his cock disappear within you before coming out even slicker then before. âshit, so fucking good. shaking like a damn leaf.â the moment shiesty!mark notices your eyes on him heâs grinning, gripping your flesh as his thrusts become just a little more pointed.
pretty moans fall off your tongue, eyes pinching close as your entire body shook with the movement. his name emitted from you in broken sobs, legs shaking as you could do nothing but take each thrust.
all while shiesty!mark smiles, throughly enjoying it all.
âmaybe i should record next time.. then youâll be able to see how good you look like this for yourself.â
hi. i really need youngbin possessive boyfriend. jealousy. whatever kinks u want. pls.
I'm gonna do bullet points for this! (Mainly cuz you didn't mention if you wanted a scenario đ)
Warnings: 18+ and written for female anatomy. The regular ones really. Choking, spanking, daddy/sir kink, possessive duh, marking, dirty talk đ, edging, overstimulation. Lmk if I need to add more.
Jealous Possessive Youngbin will include:
Oh man you know you've fucked up big time when he gets jealous cause he's quite calm bout almost everything
Legit the moment you enter your room or any secluded room, you're pushed up against the nearest wall or bent over a clean surface
He will grip your ass with as much strength as he has omg
Bruises bruises BRUISES FOR DAYS
Definitely manhandles you, not too much tho don't worry đ
Now it might go in two ways from here
Situation 1
He will pull down just your pants and underwear or rip them
Basically exposes your heat and removes his pants too and just goes to town
Very rough đ€€
Spanks you so much you ass is red almost purple
Grips your hair hard enough to make you cry
merCILESS
Ends up overstimulating you while chasing his own high
Makes you beg him to stop
Moderately low chances of choking you
Dirty talks so much
" You are mine. Just mine. All mine." as he's literally pounding into you
" You think they could fuck you better? Make you cum as many times as I can?"
His daddy kink comes into play đ€ only if you're into it
Okay but he'll drive his dick into you at such a fast pace you're moving away from him cause it's too much
But you can't move away cause there's no space so you end up squirming so much it makes him smirk his evil smirk
Vampire bites your neck
When you cum for the final time he's made sure that you physically can't stand on your legs anymore
Super caring after tho đ„ș
Situation 2
Comes up close to you, presses his body to yours so you cam feel his hard cock on your ass
One hand moving your hair to one side while the other applies pressure to your throat
Licks your ear before talking to you
Makes his voice super deep and lustful đ€
" I didn't really like the stunt you pulled today. Maybe I should teach you a lesson babygirl. "
Brings you to the bedroom, ties your wrists together so you can't touch him :(
Fucks your face for sure
Bends you over his knees, asks you to counts the number of spanks đ¶
Suddenly slips like 3 fingers into your aching wet hole, no warnings what so ever as his thumb will find your clit
Teases you while interrogating you
Better respond with 'Sir' or you won't get to cum tonight or a week
" Aren't you my good girl? Why were you acting like that? Have I not trained you enough by now? " With such a calm voice that it seems like an Innocent question
Edges you so many times. Like 7 or 8 times đł
Finally gives in and fucks you like you two are the only people who need to repopulate the earth
Chokes you as he leaves so many hickies on your neck and oh Lord you won't know how to cover them no matter how much you try
bro ik mark whines and whimpers so pretty. i mean, heâs got to be sensitive. like an achilles heel kinda. i mean, heâs practically <title card>, obviously heâs gonna have a spot thatâs super sensitive. itâs a mandatory character flaw for characters like that and for the sake of this iâm gonna say that his dick is the weak spot. so obviously he cries so pretty. how could he not, with your hand wrapped around his cock, slowly tracing the veins that run up and down his shaft, giving him a slow pump every once in a while. and he whines so prettily, muscled tummy caving in as he curls in on himself, his hips bucking shallowly, chasing more friction. he lets out the sweetest whine and you just coo and swipe your thumb over his slit, watching as his whole body twitches slightly and he lets out a cute little whimper. and when he finally cums? heâs absolutely gorgeous. head thrown back as he lays back on the bed, his back arched as he squeezes his eyes shut and parts his lips. cum spurts from his flushed pink cock, his hips rocking slightly with each spurt that covers his tummy, and he whines so prettily as he tries to hide his face in the pillows, hands grabbing gently at your wrist and your hips and anywhere he can reach, honestly. and then heâs slumping back fully on the bed again, pretty brown eyes opening to peer up at you as he thanks you for giving him pleasure like that
warnings: 18+, nsfw, afab! reader, hand job, praise kink, toxicity, dacryphillia, crying, humiliation, degradation, misogyny if u squint, usage of bitch, slut, whore, etc. spitting. i canât think of anything else but lmk if i missed anything.
an: minors dni the basicâs. you can very clearly tell who my fav is. iâll prolly make a p2 with the rest of the variants if this is well loved
SINISTER ! MARK: DACRYPHILLIA
Mark fucks like he fights; brutal, relentless, without apology. Thereâs no hesitation in him, no softness when heâs like this. Just raw force and the thrill of taking, of claiming. He watches you beneath him, shaking, gasping, breaking apart with every thrust. And he loves it. Loves the way your body trembles trying to keep up. The way your voice cracks on every moan, every whimper. The tears slipping from your lashes like they belong to him. He drinks in the sight, your wrecked face, your parted lips, your eyes wide and dazed, sparkling with the last flickers of resistance heâs hell-bent on snuffing out. It makes something in him throb, deep, satisfied. Not just because heâs fucking you hard enough to leave bruises, but because youâre taking it. Letting him use you, ruin you, wreck you in the image of his own hunger. And that? Thatâs what gets him off. Youâre a mess beneath him, slick, stretched, sobbing. And he thinks youâre beautiful like this. Shattered and helpless. His. Every thrust is a statement. Every groan he pulls from you is a victory. Heâs not gentle, he never learned how to beâbut his hands still cradle your face when he drives into you like heâs trying to fuck the stars from your soul. Thereâs something almost reverent in the way he watches you come undone. You fall apart for him, and he watches like a man starved. Every sound, every twitch, every tear feeds something deep in him. He makes you cry, and he smiles. Not out of cruelty, but because in those tears, in that surrender, he sees something honest. Something real. Heâd ruin you a thousand times just to see you crawl back into his arms, tears drying on your cheeks, whispering his name like it still means something.
MARK GRAYSON: PRAISE
All the blood, the broken ribs, the ringing in his ears after every fight, Mark takes it. He always takes it. The weight of the world shoved onto his spine like itâs his birthright. Cities crumble and rebuild around him, and he just keeps moving. Keeps saving. Keeps bleeding. And Cecil? Cecil never stops. Always calling, always reminding him of the bigger picture while ignoring the boy whoâs still barely holding himself together inside the man. Heâs tired. Not just in his body, but in that deep, heavy way that presses on the soul. But then thereâs you. You donât beg him to save the world. Donât want anything but him, raw, bruised, and starving for something soft. With you, heâs just Mark. Not a hero, not Nolanâs shadow, just a man whoâs been torn apart and is desperate to feel whole. Your hands on himâslow, soft and possessiveâpiece him back together, stroke by stroke. Your voice, low and sultry, âYouâre so fucking good for me, baby,â and those words hit harder than any punch heâs ever taken. Your fingers curl around his cock, thick and throbbing, already slick with pre-cum that betrays how much he needs this. You stroke him with a tenderness heâs not used to, but itâs deliberate, filthy in its careâlike youâre not just jerking him off but claiming every fractured part of him. Your lips graze his jaw, his throat, and heâs lost in itâthe heat of your breath, the scent of your skin, the way you consume him. His balls are heavy, drawn tight, aching with a desperation heâd never show in the daylight. Heâs trembling, not just from lust but from how you see him. Not as a weapon. Not as a savior. Just as Markâaching, loving, breaking. You donât rush him. You unravel him slow, your hand gliding over his length, slick and relentless, while you whisper filthy praise in his ear. âLook at you, so hard for me, so needy.â The world takes and takes, but you giveâyour hands, your mouth, your words wrapping around him like a lifeline. He clings to you, hips bucking, moans spilling from his throat, raw and unfiltered. When you drag your tongue along the sensitive spot just below his ear, heâs fucking done for. His cock pulses in your grip, leaking more, and you hum in approval, like youâre savoring every second of his surrender. When he comesâspilling hot and messy over your hand, hips jerking, eyes screwed shutâitâs not just release. Itâs a surrender to the safety you offer, to the way you hold him together when the world tears him apart. He gasps your name, voice wrecked, and for once, he feels like heâs enough.
MOHAWK ! MARK: DEGRADATION
He calls you his nasty slut like itâs a prayer and a curse in one breath. Voice low, ragged, reverent. The way your cunt grips him, tight and greedy, sends his brain sputtering; thoughts wiped clean, all instinct, all need. You make him dumb, and he loves it. He spits on your lips, your chest, between your thighs, inside youâwherever he can leave a mark. He wants it messy. Filthy, even. The kind of dirty that sticks to skin and lingers in the air. Heâs obsessed with the way your face contorts when his calloused hand cracks across your cheek, or lower, where your thighs are slick and trembling, soaked to the bone with your own dripping need. The wet slap, the sharp sting, the way you choke out a whimperâit sets his blood on fire, his cock pulsing, leaking precum. He fucks you like heâs trying to break you, merciless, pounding your legs up so high theyâre pinned to your shoulders, splitting you open to plunge into your womb. He wants to carve himself into you, to fuck so deep you feel him in your cervix, until thereâs no line between his flesh and yours. Every broken moan you spill gets you a new name, âNeedy bitchâ growled through gritted teeth, his voice raw with hunger. And fuck, he loves it ân the way it makes your eyes roll back. Your cuntâs a sopping mess, gushing around his cock, drenching him in thick, slippery heat that drips down his balls. He loves the obscene squelch, the way your pussy clutches him like itâs starving, milking him for every drop. You take him so fucking well, every brutal thrust, every inch rammed home, like you were made for his cock alone. Heâs addicted to the way you unravel, to the slick, messy proof of your surrender, to the way you let him ruin you.
hmmm... thinking about someone forcibly taking care of you. bathing you by hand, brushing your hair for you, dressing you and grooming you, brushing your teeth for you, hand feeding you etc etc. not just as a form of affection but also to assert control over your every breathing moment...
nerd!gojo always holds his hand over yours when you jerk him off. he guides your fist up and down on his cock like he's doing it himself and the whole point of your hand being there is null and void. he might as well be masturbating.
you get upset about it one day, sitting back on your heels and giving his cock a gentle squeeze so he slows down. he looks at you with wide, hazed eyes, glossy with lust and need and everything else that makes him so fucking pretty! "why'd you stop?"
"you could do this yourself," you nod down to where his larger hand wraps around your smaller one, still closed around his weeping cock. "you're doing all the work, toru."
you try to loosen your grip and pull back, maybe suggest some other way of getting him off together, when he tightens his grip and forces your hand to still on his cock. he's a little red in the cheeks, long lashes fluttering under his glasses as he musters up the words he needs.
Pairing: Lenless [No Goggles]!Mark Grayson x f!Reader
Warnings: Fucking fiiiilth, smut bitches!!!
Tags: Threats of violence including self harm, absolutely toxic behavior, reader matching his freak in the worst way
Word Count: 2,814
Inspiration: âNone of Ur Friends Businessâ â Ginuwine
Synopsis: Your dangerously unhinged not-boyfriend threatens to âtake careâ of the friends of yours that keep trying to pull you away from him, and you are having none of it. literally a crazy stand-off
a/n: you know i had to jump on it after this anon message!! god heâs such a damn psychopath, need that đ€Ș
His hands are warmâtoo warmâpalming your waist like he owns it. The soft press of his mouth against yours is hungry but practiced, like heâs done this in his head a thousand times and tonight heâs just filling in the details.
Youâre trying to stay focused. Trying not to melt into him completely. But his knee is nudged between your thighs and your hands are fisted in his shirt andâGodâhe smells like the night. Wind and sweat and danger.
And he feels it. The shift.
Mark pulls back just barely, his breath brushing against your lips. âWhat?â
You blink up at him, chest rising and falling too fast. âI⊠I donât know if this is a good idea.â
He laughsâlow, sharp, a little breathless. âYou say that with your hands still on me.â
You pull back further, guilt blooming under your skin. âItâs not me. My friends⊠they donât think I should be around you.â
Markâs eyes flicker, and something inside them cracks. Not anger. Not surprise. Something worse. That slow, dangerous amusement he gets when heâs too far gone to care.
âOhhh,â he says, sitting back on his heels, still straddling your legs. âThem.â
You shift, tugging the hem of your shirt down, suddenly too aware of how vulnerable you are underneath him.
âThey think youâre⊠I donât know, unstable,â you murmur. âThat Iâm not thinking straight when Iâm with you.â
He tilts his head, watching you like youâre some kind of puzzle heâs already solved. âAnd are they wrong?â You hesitate. His grin widens. âDidnât think so.â
âMarkâŠâ
He leans down again, slower this time, arms caging you in as his voice drops to a whisper. âYou think they know what this is? What we are?â
Your heart stutters. âItâs not that simple.â
âIt is,â he murmurs, mouth brushing your jaw. âThey donât get a say.â
âYou canât justââ
âYes, I can.â His eyes meet yours. Calm. Controlled. Unsettling. âBecause I donât care what they think. And you donât either, not really.â
You shake your head, but itâs weak. Your resistance is paper-thin and he knows it.
âThey donât know what itâs like when you look at me like that,â Mark mutters, voice velvet-dark, âlike you want me and hate yourself for it.â You swallow hard, trying to find your footing in a conversation thatâs already sinking fast.
âTheyâre just looking out for me,â you say, weaker than you mean to.
Mark hums, dragging his fingers up your thigh like heâs barely paying attentionâwhich only makes it worse.
âYeah? Then maybe they should spend less time worrying about you and more time fixing their own messes.â His tone is too casual. Too cutting.
You frown. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
He looks at you like itâs obvious. Like heâs been holding back and is just now getting bored of pretending.
âLetâs start with Lauren,â he says, like heâs choosing a weapon. âSheâs real concerned about your well-being for someone whoâs still sleeping with her ex behind her current boyfriendâs back.â
You freeze.
âAnd Maya?â He laughs under his breath. âSheâs got a lot to say about how âtoxicâ I am for a girl who gets blackout drunk just to forget she texts her therapist at 3am.â
âMarkââ
He leans in, grinning, like heâs telling you a secret. âThey donât care about you. They just donât want you to have something they donât have.â
You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, voice dropping low and dangerous.
âEspecially your girl Sadie.â His eyes are locked on yours now, completely still. âThe way she looks at me?â
Your breath catches.
Mark's lips curve into something thatâs almost a smirk, but there's something sharp underneath. âSo obvious. Like she wants me to look at her the way I look at you. Like sheâd lose her mind if I touched her the way I touch you.â
Your skin prickles. âYouâre imagining things.â
He chuckles, and the sound is mean. âYou really think I donât notice? She doesnât even breathe when I walk into a room. Like sheâs hoping Iâll slip and touch her by accident.â
His fingers trail up your arm, slow and lazy. âBut I wonât. You know why?â
Youâre quiet.
He leans in, mouth just brushing your ear. âBecause sheâs not you.â
You shove at his chestânot hard, but sharp enough to get the message across. âYouâre such an asshole.â
Mark barely moves. Just blinks, lazy and slow, like a cat watching its prey squirm.
âYeah,â he says. âAnd?â
You sit up, untangling yourself from under him, heart pounding. âYou donât get to talk about them like that. Theyâre my friends, Mark.â
He watches you now, eyes darkening. The grin slips, just slightly.
âTheyâre hypocrites,â he says coolly. âThey donât like me because I donât kiss ass and pretend Iâm something Iâm not. And youââ He leans in before you can react, voice low and dangerous. ââyou like that about me.â
You flinch back. âYou donât know what I like.â
He scoffs. âDonât I?â
His hand shoots out, grabbing your wristânot hard, not painful, but firm. Controlled. You freeze.
âThat little act you pull?â he says, head tilting. âLike youâre just so confused, like you donât know if this is right?â His thumb brushes your pulse. âItâs bullshit. You keep coming back. You let me touch you. You want me here.â
Your stomach flips, anger warring with the way your skin burns under his touch.
âI want you gone,â you whisper. He laughs again, and this time itâs ugly. Sharp and disbelieving.
âNo, you donât.â He shifts closer, crowding into your space again. âYouâre mad because I said what youâre too scared to admit. That your friends arenât saints. That Sadie wants me. That deep down, you love the fact that she canât have me.â
âMarkââ
âYou want me all to yourself. And you hate that you do.â
You yank your arm back. âYouâre insane.â
He smiles. Thereâs no denial. No apology.
âYou knew that when you let me in your bed.â
You stare at him, heart pounding, jaw clenched so tight it hurts.
âYouâre sick,â you whisper, voice shaking. âYou think this is normal?â
Mark doesnât even blink.
âNo,â he says easily. âBut I think itâs honest.â
You push at him again, harder this time. He lets youâfor now. You scramble off the bed, putting distance between you like that could somehow make this safer. Make him safer.
âIâm done,â you say, trying to sound stronger than you feel. âThis was a mistake.â He tilts his head, eyes tracking your every move like heâs amused by the performance.
âI really donât like how much they distract you,â he says, tone casualâtoo casual. âYour friends.â You go still. Markâs gaze sharpens. âAlways in your ear. Telling you what to think. What to feel. Pulling you away from me.â
âDonât,â you say, voice rising. âDonât go thereââ
âIâm just saying,â he cuts in, standing now, slow and unbothered. âMaybe itâd be easier if they were gone.â
Your blood turns to ice.
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â
Mark shrugs. âJust a thought. Clean slate. No distractions. Just you and me.â
Your mouth opensâno sound comes out. You swallow, steady yourself, and find your voice. âYou donât mean that,â you whisper. âYouâre just trying to scare me.â
His smile is all teeth. âWhy would I want to scare you?â He starts to cross the room toward you and you instinctively step back. âI like you,â he says softly. âI donât want to scare you. I want to protect you. And if that means getting rid of people who are bad for youâŠâ
He trails off, as if heâs genuinely thinking it over. ââŠthen maybe itâs not that crazy.â
âIf you touch a single hair on their heads,â you hiss, âI swear to God, you will never get to touch me again.â
Mark goes still for a second, like heâs processing that, weighing it. Then he scoffs. Loud. Dismissive. Cruel. âYou think you can stop me?â he says, stepping forward with that wolfish grin. âIf I want youââ His voice drops an octave, sickly sweet, almost a purr. ââIâll just take you.â
And in one motion, without flinching, without breaking eye contact, your hand shoots out to your desk. The cold metal of the scissors hits your palm.
Markâs smile falters as you lift them up, pressing the tip against your own throat. Just hard enough to leave a mark. Just long enough to make your point.
âI will literally end it right here,â you hiss, voice shaking with furyânot fear. âDo not fuck with me.â
Silence.
Heavy. Dense.
Mark stares at you like he doesnât even recognize you. Like you just flipped some internal switch he didnât know existed.
His chest rises, then fallsâslow. Controlled.
ââŠWhoa,â he breathes.
You press the blade in just slightly deeper, enough to make his jaw clench.
âIâm not your little toy,â you snap. âYou donât own me. You donât get to hurt the people I care about just because youâre obsessed with me.â
âIâm notââ
âYes, you are,â you spit. âYou are absolutely obsessed. And Iâve let you get away with it because youâre hot and you kiss like you invented sin, but I swear to God, Markââ
You jab the scissors toward him now, and he flinches. The grin is gone. Heâs listening.
âYou pull one more psycho stunt, and Iâm gone. Not just goneâI will erase myself from your life so fast, itâll make that little broken brain of yours crack in half.â
He blinks. Then runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little like he doesnât know whether to be angry, aroused, or in awe.
âJesus Christ,â he mutters. âYouâre out of your goddamn mind.â
You lower the scissors, your voice cool and even.
âTakes one to know one.â
Mark just stares at you. Breathing hard. Jaw clenched. That frayed little thread of control he was holding onto? Itâs gone. Burned up in the fire between you.
And youâyouâre still gripping the scissors. Chest rising and falling like you just ran a marathon straight through hell.
âYou are,â he says finally, voice low, wrecked. âSo out of your fucking mind.â
You toss the scissors onto the desk with a loud clatter.
âGuess you finally met your match.â
He takes one slow, deliberate step toward you. Then another. Eyes locked on yours like heâs looking at the only thing in the world that makes sense anymore.
âYouâd really do it,â he mutters, half-laughing. âYouâd die just to spite me.â
You blink once. âAnd youâd kill for me.â
He stops right in front of you now, inches away. His smile is wild. Reverent.
âIâd kill for you,â he echoes, voice rough and quiet, âand youâd die just to spite me.â
A beat passes. Then another.
And it snaps.
He grabs your face with both hands like heâs afraid youâll disappear, crashing his mouth into yours with zero hesitationâhungry, desperate, possessive. Like heâs been waiting forever to kiss you like this and now heâs afraid someone might take it away.
You kiss him back just as hard.
Thereâs no hesitation left. No doubts. Just teeth and hands and ragged breath, both of you pulling like youâll tear the other apart. His hands are everywhereâyour waist, your back, fisting in your shirt like heâs anchoring himself.
You gasp into his mouth, tugging at his hair, and he groans like itâs killing him.
âI need this,â he pants against your lips. âRight now.â
You nod, forehead against his, eyes burning.
âThen take it.â
Thatâs all he needs.
Mark doesnât hesitateâhis mouth crashes back onto yours like gravity just stopped working and youâre the only thing keeping him grounded. One hand fists in your hair while the other slides down, grabs the back of your thigh and lifts, walking you backward like he owns the floor youâre stepping on.
Youâre on the bed in seconds. Breathless. Legs parting before you can think, just to feel him there, all heat and muscle and sharp, chaotic want.
âYou drive me insane,â he growls, dragging his mouth down your throat. âYou threaten me with scissors and then tell me to fuck youâwhat the hell is wrong with you?â
Your hands claw at his shirt, yanking it up over his head.
âI learned it from you, asshole.â
He laughsâdark and low, mouth brushing your collarbone. âGuess Iâm a good influence after all.â
And then heâs everywhere.
His hands are rough, impatient, sliding under your shirt, dragging it up like he canât get to your skin fast enough. Lips on your chest, your stomach, leaving bruises he wants you to see later. Mark is marking youâno pun intendedâlike itâs instinct, like he needs people to know whose you are the second they see you.
Your touching him back, his skin is hot under your handsâlike heâs burning from the inside out, like if you peeled him open youâd find wildfire and want. His mouth doesnât just kissâit consumes, dragging over your skin like heâs trying to eat the memory of your friends, your doubts, your resistance. Like he wants to own every piece of you youâve ever tried to keep from him.
You feel his smirk when you gasp, when your legs wrap tighter around his waist, dragging him closer. Youâre not even sure who started it anymore. You canât remember who kissed who first. Just that it was inevitable.
âYou like this,â he growls against your throat, lips brushing just under your jaw as his fingers trail lower, dragging over your ribs like heâs memorizing them.
You try to sound strong. You try to bite it back.
But the sound you make when his hand slides between your legs? Itâs not strong. Itâs needy.
Mark fucking shudders.
âJesus,â he whispers. âYouâre soaked.â
âShut up,â you snap, flushed and breathless. He laughs, and the sound vibrates through you.
His mouth ghosts over your nipple, tongue flicking, teasing. He pulls your underwear down slow, smirking when you arch into him.
His teeth sink into your thigh, just enough to leave a mark, and he groans like heâs been waiting his whole life to hear you say that. And when he finally slides into you, itâs with a low, rough growlâlike it takes everything in him not to lose it then and there.
Youâre so full, so tight, so perfectly wrong for each other it makes your eyes roll back.
His hips grind deep, hard, like heâs trying to bury himself somewhere beneath your skin. Heâs panting in your ear, messy and raw, fingers tangled in your hair while yours scratch down his spine hard enough to leave tracks.
He likes it. You can feel it in the way his pace stutters, the way he moansâraw and low and real.
âI could ruin you,â he gasps against your lips. âYou know that?â
âYou already did,â you breathe.
And thatâs it. Thatâs when he snaps.
He grabs your thigh, hikes it higher, and slams into you with a force that knocks the air from your lungs. The headboard cracks against the wall, but neither of you care. The room is nothing. The world is nothing.
Just this.
Just him.
Just you.
Your moans turn to sobs, his name ripped from your throat like a confession. âHarder,â you whisper against his neck.
He doesnât hold back.
Your bodies move like war and worshipâteeth clashing, breath tangling, sweat slicking your skin. Every thrust is a promise and a threat.
You moan his name and he mutters, âSay it again.â
âMarkââ
âLouder.â
âMarkââ
He leans in, lips brushing your ear. âYouâre mine.â
You donât disagree.
Heâs everywhere.
Heâs everything.
And when you cumâshaking, gasping, half-cryingâhe watches you like heâs witnessing something holy. Like heâs the one being touched by God.
âMine,â he pants, grinding deeper, chasing his own release. âYouâre mine, youâre fucking mineââ
And when he finishes, itâs with a broken, desperate groan, spilling into you like heâs giving you a piece of his soul and doesnât care what you do with it.
Breathless silence.
Only the sound of your heaving chests, sweaty limbs tangled, skin burning.
Mark buries his face in your neck. His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. ââŠYou scare the shit out of me.â
You grin weakly, fingers threading through his hair. âGood.â
HEADCANON: rough!mark grayson + his aftercare
AUTHOR'S NOTE: hello this was based off this lovely request so kisses to whoever submitted that! my inbox is always open if any of you have ideas for main!mark hehe. all that i say warning-wise is that while it isn't non-con, the reader does get so uncomfortable that she has to use the safeword. aside from that, enjoy xoxo MDNI PUHLEASEEE
( the scene )
Lemme get something straight first and say that you using the safeword HAS NEVERRRR HAPPENED. Mark is excellent when it comes to using his superpowers for an advantage in bed, never for abuse.
He loves how he can manhandle you so easily or keep you in place exactly where he needs you to be. And he ALWAYS makes sure he's being careful with you- making sure he's not crushing you, making sure your expression in your face shows everything of pleasure and nothing of pain.
But...there was this one particular night that he'd fucked up.
It was after a shitty, rough mission. What should have been a simple in-and-out job turned into something torturous: hundreds of aliens plaguing the city with their psychic abilities- using mind control and hallucinations to turn one person on another. And the Guardians of the Globe weren't shy from these powers either. One of the aliens had sent Mark into an endless mind loop, showing images of the death of his loved ones and...you. By the time Mark had snapped out of it, he'd killed the alien in a blind-rage.
So, when he finally came home- your bedroom, he was all raw, shaken and barely holding it together. He was so desperate to ground himself in you, eager to let go of the headspace he was now put in.
Mark opened your window with trembling fingers, and when you eyed him up and down, his body told you everything that it was a rough fight.
Split lip, messy hair, blood on his jaw and that wild look in his eyes...
"Oh, Mark," You whisper, sympathy furrowing your brows as you grabbed his hand with tenderness and softness- a simple reminder that you were here and safe, "Why don't I run you a bath? And then we can eat ice-cream?" He was motionless. You frowned, "Or we can just cuddle?"
But, your words served no purpose in this moment because he was already releasing your hand off him and, with efficiency, he unshed his suit. With every inch of bruised and cut skin exposed to your orbs, he lowered and lowered more until...
Oh.
"Oh."
He was hard.
It's not the first time Mark's needed to fuck you after a fight or mission. In fact, it's probably the best sex you get- with all the pent-up frustration and adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he's gotta release it somewhereâŠ
You could say it's the perks that come with having a superhero boyfriend
So, with no further questions, you let him take you as he pleases.
But this time it's...it doesn't feel right. Sure, he kissed you passionately as he backed you until you were sitting on the edge of your bed, and his hands were roaming every inch of your precious, delicate skin like he needed to make sure all parts of you were intact.
But, it just...it felt rushed and rough- there was not an ounce of praise slipping off his lips as it so easily does and if there were any words, it was-
"-Need you- fuck," He grumbled against your neck- your skin already trailed with deep, maroon-kissed hickeys. He had already pulled your pyjamas off, and you couldn't help but whine when you heard the tear of your favourite undies as he so effortlessly ripped them in half. Of course, they weren't anything expensive, but comfort beats labels- does it not? "Need you now, baby."
You'd hope that rubbing your arms up and down his biceps that pulsated with raging muscles and veins would have encouraged Mark to slow him down, "Mark, can you just- Mark!" You were cut off with a gasp at the harsh bite of his teeth on your skin- your soft, smooth, delicate fucking skin.
He. Fucking. Bit. You.
Mark never bit you. And sure, it didn't hurt enough for you to stop him, but God, were you gonna have a word with him.
So you had let it go, only to then choke again when Mark suddenly flipped you over so your stomach was resting on your bed. His calloused, large hands that usually reminded you of a flower's petals, or the bridge of a baby's nose now felt rough, harsh...unfamiliar.
You tried to push the feeling of discomfort that was arising away to the back of your brain, and better yet, bringing forward the phantom breathy moans of Mark's voice telling you how pretty you are and how you're doing so, so well for him amongst your racing mind.
But it wasn't until Mark brought your ass closer to him and he pushed your head down into the bed roughly and you actually couldn't move against his force did your heart begin to race, though not out of the usual excitement and arousal.
No, this was...this was panic- discomfort.
His cock was just grazing the entrance to your hole when you realised that he wasn't even going to stretch you, to prepare your walls for him, to...to even fucking please you.
So with a sharp inhale, you said it.
"Red!"
Once the word left your lips, Mark had stopped everything.
Let's just say that you using the safeword was the slap back to reality he didnât know he needed.
He froze.
"Wait- what?" And when he flickered his eyes down to your face, screaming of seriousness and panic, he immediately took his hands off of you, "Baby- fuck," And he watched as you silently - definitely from the shock, not to ignore him - manoeuvred yourself so you could stand up and away from the bed.
And as he observed your figure with worried eyes while you walked around the room and picked up your pyjamas, he couldn't help but feel like his stomach just got punched worse than any villain ever could.
His voice changed immediately- from that deep, breathless edge to a broken concern, "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
( the aftermath )
The aftermath was hard at first because aftercare was Mark's favourite part of sex, but clearly you weren't in a good headspace for that.
While he wanted nothing more than to curl his body around you, cuddling you until you fell asleep as he whispered his sorries, it's more important that you collected your feelings first.
So, the first thing he did was let you have your space.
You made him have a shower so you could sit in your bedroom by yourself- the one room that was your safe space now felt...ugh, it felt dull. And you hated that because all you wanted to do was shake whatever negative thoughts you had out of your brain, but you couldn't do that when your eyes wouldn't stop staring at your teared underwear on the floor.
You're not mad, nor upset at him- just frazzled at how uncomfortable and weird it was for you. It didn't feel like your boyfriend, your Mark.
Mark had the quickest shower he's ever had. Ignoring the aches his cuts winced against the hot water and soap, and his muscles whining with how efficiently he cleaned his dirty body- Mark was in and fucking out, not wasting any more of a second being away from you.
But, even after Mark got out of the shower and he frantically stumbled into your room with only a towel wrapped around his hips, you didn't look up at him- didn't want to.
And fuck, did it break his heart.
His baby, his sweet girl was like this because of him.
But, after you walked past him and began showering yourself, you did come eventually around. And thankfully, Mark was right there for you.
( the aftercare )
Cue Mark's aftercare!!
You just finished having your shower. And as you walked back into your room with wet hair and new pyjamas, you immediately noticed the difference in atmosphere in your bedroom; it didn't feel so sickeningly odd anymore, instead, it was oozing back into that familiar sense of safety and comfortability.
Your bedsheets were neatly fixed, and your bedroom lights had been flicked off, only the individual-lit candles circulating your room with warmth were the only lights provided for your eyes. There's a couple of sweets and snacks on your bedside table, along with a freshly filled water bottle (yes, it's got lots of ice too).
And Mark, now in sweats and a shirt he usually left at your place for emergencies like this, was just standing there...nervously.
"IsâŠis this okay?" He asked, immediately scratching the back of his neck, and if you really looked close enough you probably would've noticed the rosy-kissed blush spreading just below his jawline.
You tilted your head a little, examining the room just one last time before you attached your gaze back onto his. And, with a little smile, you nodded, "This is a start."
Mark sighed in relief.
Good. That's all that he needed so far.
Mark knew your weakness. He knew one of the many things that made you melt, made you feel at peace...
Warm blankets that were just fresh out of the dryer.
So as Mark wrapped said blanket around your body, he then sat on your bed with his chest against the headboard- and pulled you into his lap gently. It's so reverent, so incredibly warm as you rested your cheek against his covered chest, while one of his hands cradled your head and the other stroked your back.
With your ear pressed up against his chest, your heart was able to beat to the same rhythm as Mark's, only helping to relax you more to the natural white noise provided just for you.
Then, the questions came.
Mark's the type of guy to do that- don't tell me otherwise.
He just was so nervous- and with anxiety comes the constant need to be reassured.
So, he asked them one at a time with a frequency so gentle yet so eagerly that you could feel the faint vibrations of his voice pulsating through his body.
"Do you need anything else right now?"
"What size are you in underwear?"
"Do you want to talk about it?"
...
"Should I leave? Do you want me to leave?"
You sighed heavily, "Just stay with me," You ushered in a delicate whisper. And with that, Mark let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He clutched you tighter- though still careful.
You spent the new few hours like this, with your favourite show playing low on your laptop in the background and the occasional shift to your positions.
But, one thing never faltered during it all- Mark never let you go.
He's reassuring- maybe too reassuring. "I'm not gonna stop checking in now, okay? I don't care if we've done it a million times- I'm still gonna ask. I'd rather annoy you than hurt you again."
DID I MENTION HE'S SO WARM AND BIG AND UGH.
And he won't slide it under the rug either. He explained thoroughly to you what those aliens did, but even when your head started to feel heavy with sympathy as you listened to him, Mark hushed you. "No, what happened to me from those aliens should never have been your body's responsibility to snap me out of it. I should've had more self-control to just...get over it, rather than putting it all on you."
And even days later, he still was on about it.
Mark would keep reminding you how much he valued your trust, even when you forgave him and softly reminded him that: "Hey, that's what safewords are for, right?"
Mark kept his promise about constantly checking in on you, because now when you have sex, he is fucking relentless with how much he asks if you're okay.
He's also slower, more communicative, and soooo so gentle the first few times you're intimate again.
Everytime you encouraged him to be a little more rougher, Mark would double...triple check to make sure you were okay about it.
"Are you sure you want me to be rougher?"
"Yes, baby,"
"No but- are you...sure sure?"
You sighed, your knees and arms wearing thin with exhaustion in your current doggy position because Mark was not shutting up- even with his cock buried inside you. So, you turned your head, and directed his right hand that was on your waist down a little lower so it rested on your ass cheek. "Mark. Please slap my ass."
The invincible attacks didnât bother you as a super yourself. You werenât incredibly strong, you were more of a defense player in this world. It only bothered you that these variants were smearing Markâs character. The world would stand against this, still trusting invincible after the fact which was a blessing in disguise. You helped take down what you all had thought were the last of the variants. Cecil and Donald thanked you for your work, and you went off to finally rest at home. The shower was steaming hot. The last three days were challenging and the stress was washing away. Your powers had a small setback, anytime you felt relief of any kind, your body would emit a powerful scent of wet roses or anything you could imagine that would set the tone of relaxation and release. Your body had it. It was hard for you to work with the others and stay after fighting, even your sweat had the potential to be a little dangerous. You dried your face and body, finally wrapping the towel around you and pulling the curtain back. To your utter shock, it wasnât your worldâs mark, but instead, the Flaxan variant. You just stood in shock as you gripped your towel.
âDonât speakâ I just.. I needed to see you before I leave. I was sent here to destroy this world but I know your smell from universes away.â He whined.
He was affected horribly by your aphrodisiacal smells.
This Mark couldnât resist the urge anymore, he removed his armor and turned the hot water back on. He had a wristband on, you hadnât seen one of those since the flaxans attacked.. he was part Flaxan?
âGet back in.â He demanded. You threw your towel off, obeying his command.
The hot water steamed the bathroom back up, Markâs naked body collided with your own as he pulled you into a kiss, he was desperate, all due to you. He wanted more of you, more of the sensation of being with you and the only sensation that could beat that is coming inside you. He felt your breasts as both of your wet body parts reached for eachother. He knelt down catching one of your nipples in his mouth as the other was being played with by his hand. Your moans filled the bathroom, the scent getting stronger and Flaxan mark gettigg by more aroused. He was so hard it hurt. He needed the sweet release of your gummy walls now.
He turned you around and held your waist as he wasted no time kissing your entrance with his tip. He kept going until your entrance opened up for him, swallowing him whole.
âMmmmm..â he groaned.
âAh- right there.â You moaned.
He was gripping you tighter the harder he pounded, your wall as sucking him in and clenching around him so intensely.
âI-mmmm -Iâm not gonna last any longer lâ please.â He groaned.
It was your time to shine, pushing yourself back harder on his shaft as you heard the squish and squelch of both of you connecting. He held you still as he got closer and closer.
âThatâs it, just like thatâ ohh god Iâm gonnaââ
And just like that, Flaxan mark released into you, continuing to thrust until he was all out of cum. He was all tired out and you ? You were ready for round twoâŠ
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