#invincible mark grayson

[splodencible]

what should i work on first?

track 31 - rex splode: the playlist

origins of viltrum!mark x alien!reader - request

rex splode x older!reader - sort of a request?

part 2 of rex splode x stripper!reader

chapter 5 - fire walk with me

Remaining time: 13 hours 59 minutes

[glimmerfics]

In a blink gone ⋆˚｡ | Omni Mark x Fem!Reader

🖊️ by olibean 🏷️NSFW Choose-Your-Own-Adventure CW: Noncon/Dubcon

You and Omni-Mark end up trapped in a forest, left with nothing but each other. Will you give in to your desires?

🔗 READ/PLAY HERE 📖 Episode 1 of 1 🌙 A Midsummer Night's Dream submission! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

MARK AND HIS NINJAHOLIC BOYFRIEND

Cooley note: the disowned ninja prince who refused to marry and rather be a beer drinking kunai throwing alcoholic hero maybe? (Mark grayson x male ninja!reader)

The first time Mark met you, he was tied to a chair in a warehouse that smelled like rust and rain. His captor lean, masked, and humming off-key—had just finished counting a stack of bills when they sighed, tossed the money aside, and muttered, “Client didn’t pay the full amount. Guess you’re free, hot stuff.”

They cut the chains dow with a flick of a blade, smirking as Mark stretched his body. “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to put you through all that bondage today. Cute boys look good tied up, you know what I mean?”

Mark didn’t know whether to run or laugh. He did neither. When you offered to buy him a drink, for the trouble he said yes.

Now, months later, Mark sat in a dim bar watching that same morally ambiguous ninja his morally ambiguous ninjabbelt out a karaoke rendition of a pop song with the enthusiasm of a tipsy god. Your voice cracked halfway through the chorus, but the grin never faltered.

You were a lightweight, a dangerous contradiction of steel and softness. One drink too many and they’d end up blackout drunk, sprawled across Mark’s dorm bed in nothing but boxers, mumbling in Japanese about the moon and love and how his hair smelled like summer rain.

Mark should have been horrified. Instead, he was obsessed.

Your not a hero. Not really. You killed sometimes mercifully, sometimes brutally. Mark had seen the aftermath: blood on your hands, eyes sharp and unreadable. And yet, when you turned to him, something in your expression softened.

He hated how much he liked it. How much he liked you.

You wrote him poems on napkins, whispered sweet nonsense in Japanese, and laughed at his attempts to debunk ninja myths.

“Yes, ninjutsu is real,” you'd say, rolling your eyes. “No, I can’t do a Rasengan. That’s anime, babe.”

The Guardians the city’s shining superhero team adored you. They called you an “asset,” a “wild card,” a “necessary evil.” Mark couldn’t help but feel a sting of jealousy. It had taken him years to earn their approval, and even then, he never quite fit in.

Not in high school. Not in the superhero world. Not anywhere.

But then you came back after a drinking-off with Immortal and putting Rex in a headlock, (showing him real material arts) half-drunk and ranting.

“These are the guys you’ve been so hung up about trying to impress? Jesus, baby, you’re twice as cool as any of them combined. I’d rather drink with a snapping turtle than an Immortal again. That dude’s a douchebag. How do you deal with it?”

Mark blinked, caught between laughter and awe.

“What’s with that face?” you teased, leaning close, eyes glinting under the bar lights. “Come on, I’m only here for this gathering for you.”

And just like that, Mark’s world tilted.

The Guardians, the fame, the expectations all of it faded into background noise.

Because sitting there, drunk and radiant, was his chaotic, bloodstained, poetry-writing ninja prince.

And for the first time in his life, Mark felt like he belonged.

[cephora]

Some alternate marks

[glimmerfics]

In which you and Omni-Mark end up trapped in a forest, left with nothing but each other in this NSFW Choose Your Own Adventure...

🔗READ/PLAY HERE to make your own choices! [Playthrough by Anonymous] CW: Noncon/Dubcon

"Then let me take care of you."

Your hand is still wrapped around him, and you feel the tremor that runs through his body at your words. His eyes search yours, raw and open, stripped of every layer of defense he's worn since you met him.

He doesn't speak. He just nods.

You shift, guiding him onto his back. He goes willingly, settling against the quilt, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. The golden light spills across his body—the sharp lines of his collarbone, the ridges of his stomach, the thick curve of his cock standing heavy against his belly.

You move slow.

Your hand trails down his chest, fingers dragging through the sparse hair below his navel, before wrapping around him again. He hisses through his teeth, hips twitching into your grip. You stroke him leisurely, watching his face—the way his jaw goes slack, the way his eyelids droop, the way his hands fist in the quilt beside him.

"Look at me," you say softly.

His eyes find yours. Dark. Dazed. Utterly undone.

"That's it." Your thumb sweeps across the head, gathering the slick bead of moisture there. His breath stutters. His hips press up into your hand, chasing more. "Just let me take care of you."

"Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Your hand still moves on him—slow, watching the way his hips twitch into each stroke. His eyes are dark, blown wide, his chest heaving beneath the golden light.

He lets out a shaky breath. His hand finds yours, stilling your movement, lacing his fingers through yours.

"I want—" He stops. Swallows. His thumb traces circles on the back of your hand. "I want my face between your thighs."

The words come out raw, scraped clean of pretense.

"I want to taste you until you can't think straight. Until the only thing you remember is my mouth on you." His gaze holds yours, desperate and open. "Please. I need you to sit on my face."

A flush climbs his chest, creeping up his neck, but he doesn't look away. His grip on your hand tightens, just slightly.

"I've dreamed about it," he continues, voice lower, rougher. "The way you'd sound. The way you'd move. The way you'd fall apart on my tongue." He licks his lips, unconscious. "Please. Let me have that."

You lean down and kiss him.

His mouth meets yours immediately, hungry and soft all at once, his hand sliding into your hair as he pulls you deeper. The kiss says thank you. It says please. It says I trust you with every broken piece of me.

You break the kiss slowly, trailing your lips along his jaw, his throat, the hollow of his collarbone. His breath hitches when your mouth drags across his chest, your tongue flicking against his nipple before you continue your path downward. His hand stays tangled in your hair, not guiding, just holding.

You shift, swinging one leg over his chest, then the other, until you're straddling him, knees bracketing his ribs. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and reverent, his hands finding your thighs immediately—stroking, gripping, pulling you forward.

"Come here," he breathes. "Please."

His hands guide you higher, past his chest, past his throat, until your knees settle on either side of his head. His breath ghosts over you, warm and uneven, and he looks up at you like you're something sacred.

His fingers press into the soft flesh of your thighs, thumbs stroking inward. His mouth parts, lips brushing against your inner thigh—a kiss, then another, trailing higher, taking his time.

"I've dreamed about this," he says against your skin, voice wrecked. "I've dreamed about this pussy, Y/N." His tongue darts out, tracing a line up your inner thigh, stopping just short of where you need him. "Thought about burying my face here and never coming up for air."

You shift your knees forward, positioning yourself above his mouth, and lower yourself down.

The first contact is featherlight—his breath ghosting over you, warm and uneven. Then his lips part.

His tongue meets you like a question, a single slow stroke through your slick folds, and the sound he makes vibrates against you—a deep, wrecked groan that travels through your core and up your spine. His hands grip your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, holding you steady.

"Fuck," he breathes against you, the word muffled, half-lost. Then his tongue is inside you, curling, tasting, and you feel his whole body shudder beneath you like he's the one being ruined.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you. His mouth is wet, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and hungry.

"You taste better than I ever imagined."

Then he dives back in.

His tongue works you with focused desperation—lapping, circling, dipping inside before dragging up to find your clit. He groans against you with every movement, like he's tasting something he's been starved for his whole life. One hand leaves your thigh, his thumb finding your entrance, pressing in slowly while his mouth works your clit in tight, deliberate circles.

Your hips rock forward, and he moans in approval, his grip tightening, pulling you closer, closer, like he'd crawl inside you if he could.

Your fingers thread through his hair, gripping the thick strands at the crown of his head, and you pull him closer.

He groans against you—a deep, desperate sound that vibrates through your core and makes your hips roll forward involuntarily. His tongue doesn't stop. If anything, the pressure intensifies, his mouth sealing over you like he's been starving for this exact taste.

You tug harder, holding him there, and his response is immediate—a low, wrecked moan that travels from his throat into you. His thumb curls inside you, finding that spot that makes your vision blur, while his tongue works your clit in tight, relentless circles.

"That's it," he gasps against you, breath hot and uneven. "That's it—let me hear you."

Your thighs tremble on either side of his head. The heat coils tighter in your belly, winding, building, every flick of his tongue dragging you closer to the edge. His free hand grips your hip, fingers digging in, anchoring you as you rock against his mouth.

He groans again, the sound muffled, and the vibration pushes you over.

Your orgasm crashes through you—sharp and sudden, a wave that starts in your core and radiates outward, pulling a gasp from your throat. Your fingers tighten in his hair, holding him there as you ride it out, and he doesn't stop. He works you through every tremor, every shudder, his tongue lapping soft and slow as you come down against his mouth.

Wanna make your own choices and see what happens next? READ/PLAY HERE! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

🎮interactive fanfic "in a blink gone ⋆˚｡" by olibean

[somestarguy]

Hi

I friggin love Markrex 🤤🤤🤑🤑

[villain-goda]

[villain-goda]