Burn-in memory
Three Goblin Art

Janaina Medeiros
Xuebing Du
trying on a metaphor
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

if i look back, i am lost
ojovivo
Sade Olutola

blake kathryn
Stranger Things
d e v o n
occasionally subtle
we're not kids anymore.
Acquired Stardust
Cosmic Funnies

â

seen from Uruguay
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Portugal

seen from United States

seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia

seen from Uruguay

seen from Singapore
seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from TĂźrkiye

seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from United States
@crow-b
Burn-in memory

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Quick smopkins doodles
poor Pete
Starting with an animation âď¸
Song: murder was the case - Snoop Dogg
deltajune is here! which means that deltarune ch1-4 will be out deltasoon....... so deltasoon that im getting kind of scared. ahhhhhh
anyways heres some doodles i made in anticipation of the new chapters! i havent been able to stop thinking abt the consequences of alternative routes for years. can u tell

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flustered tenna,,, pretty please,,,
P I N K
Edit: ofc i forgot his tv pin even tho i wrote A STICKY NOTE AND PUT IT ON MY LAMP
"The family's fighting again"
how r u gonna have a divorce so bad the TV has abandonment issues LMAOOOOOO
waiter waiter! more toxic yaoi please!
propaganda
Some delta doodles, spoilers ofc for the ones below
Gotta love tension with ur best friend, gotta love a ghost getting it on with his newly acquired tv

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Is this too much for tumblr uuuhhhhmmmmm
Now nothingâs the same | Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader
Summary: You know it isn't your Mark the moment he steps into your room. The blood on his suit isn't his. The way he looks at you isn't right. The things he whispers aren't things your Mark would ever say. Yet, you let him stay. And more.
Pairing: Alternate!Mark Grayson x Male!Reader
Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, frottage, overstimulation, rimming (R receiving), belly bulging, unprotected sex, spit as lube.
Tags: any Mark variant, Reader is lowkey not okay, and heâs a virgin (so prob unrealistic sex?), Unrequited love (for original Mark), Top!Mark, Bottom!Reader.
w.c: 12.2k | a/n: English isnât my first language. This is the first time I write smut so it probably sucks, but hey, I wrote 12k? How did that happen? Yikes⌠Feedback is appreciatedâas longs as is respectful. Also, I wrote this with no particular Mark in mind, so feel free to imagine your favorite variant! The only exception is Mohawk Mark, since his unique hairstyle would immediately reveal he's not the mainstream version at the very beginning (unless you prefer to imagine the reader being dense and oblivious to that glaring detail...).I guess it doesnât really matter. IMAGINE ANY MARK! And enjoy!!!
| Part 2 (COMING SOON)
Ever since the news broke about cities around the world being destroyed by multiple versions of Invincible, youâve been hiding. Itâs the only logical thing to doâfor someone powerless like you, thereâs nothing else to do. You can only wait for the nightmare to end, for the heroes to rise victorious. For Mark to rise victorious.
So you stay in your home, clutching your phone, waiting for somethingâanythingâto change. A day passes, and Mark still hasnât answered your messages. Heâs busy, you tell yourself, burying your face in your pillow to stifle the ache in your chest. Of course heâs busy. How could he not be? His hands are full with the weight of the world on his shouldersâfighting, saving, surviving. The news keeps reporting on the Invinciblesâ rampage, updating the world daily. A stupid text messageâof course Mark doesnât have time to reply.
(You try not to think about how Mark has been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasnât looked at you the same. How you shouldâve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. But you didnât, and now nothingâs the same.)
So you wait, trapped within your four walls, your chest heavy with worry for your friendsâyour hero friendsâwho are out there risking their lives. You cling to the news like a lifeline, watching as the Invincibles tear through city after city, leaving thousands dead, all while they smile like itâs a game.
So you wait, and pray. Anxiety coils tight in your chest, pressing against your ribs until it feels like you might burst. But eventually, hunger forces you to move. You drag yourself to the kitchen, hands trembling as you fumble with the bread. You barely register the motion, your mind drifting to every terrible, unlikely scenario where Markâyour Markâdoesnât make it. The thought alone makes your throat tighten.
Itâs not good. You shouldnât be this negative. But there are so many Invincibles, and if theyâre anything like the Mark you know, then even the strongest heroes must be struggling. People will die. People you care about. And you tryâGod, you tryânot to think about who, who, who.
Maybe thatâs why you donât hear him.
Not that thereâs any particular sound to warn you. No footsteps, no creak of the floorboards. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of the curtains by the open window.
One second, your eyes are on the bread on the counter, and the next, an unexpected voice brushes against your ear.
âFound you,â he whispers.
Your heart leaps into your throat, and you freeze, the knife slipping from your hand and clattering to the counter. Your breath hitches as you turn your head slowly.
(Vaguely, you think about Mark fussing over you like a mother hen, that familiar crease forming between his brows. âYou really shouldnât leave your window open like that,â heâd chide, voice laced with exasperation. âAnyone could get in.â
But youâd just laugh, brushing off his concern. âItâs a sixth floor, Mark. And youâre the only weirdo who does.â
Iâll always leave my window open for you, you wouldnât say.
Iâll always be waiting for you to come, you couldnât say.)
And then, there he is.
âMark?â you breathe, relief crashing over you in an overwhelming wave. You donât notice the differencesâhow his suit is wrong, smeared with fresh blood and viscera that drip onto your clean floor. How his eyes are too wide, too unblinking, something wild lurking behind them. You donât see any of it. All you see is Mark standing there, safe, alive. âOh my god, Mark.â
You rush to him without hesitation, arms outstretched, wrapping him up in a desperate embrace. Youâve been so worried, so consumed by the gnawing anxiety of losing him, that just hearing his voice, just seeing him, shatters any rational thought.
For a moment, he stiffens against you. But then, his arms lock around you with a force that nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. Itâs too tight, too much, an intensity Mark has never held you with before. That should have been your first warning. But as soon as he hides his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, you forget about everything that seems wrong. You forget about the blood, the wild look in his eyes, the way his grip feels almost possessive. All you can focus on is the way he inhales deeply, as if heâs been starved of thisâof you.
You shudder, heart pounding for reasons you canât quite explain, and then he sighs, low and satisfied, the sound vibrating against your skin.
(âYou smell really good,â Mark would murmur, crowding into your space, his nose nearly brushing your neck as he inhaled deeply. âLike, really good.â
Youâd shove at his chest, face flaming despite yourself. âChrist, Grayson, youâre not a dog. Back off.â
Heâd laughâthat stupid, sunshine-bright laugh that always made your pulse stutterâand lean against the lockers with infuriating ease. âJust being honest⌠Hey, you could tell me what perfume you use. Maybe then Amber would actually like me on our next date.â
Your chest would tighten, eyebrows knitting together before you could stop them.
âCanât help you there, pretty boy,â youâd say, slamming your locker shut harder than necessary. When he raised an eyebrow at you, youâd flash a razor-thin smile. âTurns out itâs natural. One hundred percent me.â)Â
âItâs youâŚâ Mark whispers, his lips brushing against your neck. You hold your breath, trying to suppress the goosebumps rising on your skin, but itâs futile. His voice is low, almost reverent, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He squeezes you tighter, his arms like steel bands around you. âOh, itâs you.âÂ
âMark?â you ask hesitantly, confusion laced in your voice. âWhat is it? Are you hurt?âÂ
You try to push yourself away, hands pressing against his shoulders to create some spaceâbecause you canât do this. You canât handle him holding you like this, his voice hoarse and low against your neck, his breath hot enough to make you weak. Youâre friends. Only friends. Heâs made that much clear, and thisâthis isnât fair.
But you barely manage to put a few inches between you before he whines, a sound so raw and desperate it catches you off guard. In an instant, he pulls you back in, burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his grip unyielding.
âMark?â you whisper again, voice trembling.
âNot yet,â he replies, his tone pleading. âLet me hold you one more minute.âÂ
And you donât have the strength to refuse him.
Yet, as the seconds tick by and he keeps clinging to you like a child afraid to let go, you canât help but notice the things youâve been ignoring.
Why is Mark here? Why would he suddenly show up at your apartment when heâs supposed to be out there, saving the world? Why would Markâthe same Mark whoâs been keeping you in this strange, distant limbo for weeks, who barely speaks to you beyond polite conversation, whoâs been looking at you with a mix of discomfort, guilt, and something else you canât quite placeâbe holding you so desperately right now?
Then your attention drifts to his clothes. His suit, but not really his suit. The bloodâthe thick, dark blood that, now that youâre truly paying attention, doesnât belong to him. And itâs a lot, pooling around your feet, staining your floor, soaking your clothes.
A sickening weight settles in your stomach, curling, twisting, nagging at the back of your mind. Your arms go slightly limp around him, hesitation creeping in where relief had been just moments ago. Your brain, which had felt so light, so grateful just a minute ago at the sight of him safe, suddenly flashes back to the news. The destruction. The Invincibles terrorizing the world.
And you wonder.
Finally, he exhalesâa slow, steady breath, like someone bracing themselves. Then, he lets go, his hands lingering on your arms as if heâs reluctant to break contact entirely.
âY/NâŚâ he whispers, a wide grin stretching across his face. Itâs an unusual smile, unnatural, amused when it shouldnât. âHereâs where youâve been hiding, huh?â
âHiding?â you ask, unsure. âWellâI canât really do anything else, can I?â
Mark smiles spreads. But his eyesâthereâs something in them you hadnât noticed before. Wide, almost frantic, something raw burning behind them. The dark circles under them make him look exhausted. His hair is a mess. And yet, his expression softens as he studies you, gaze tracing over every feature like heâs trying to memorize you. Itâs so intense, so intimate, it nearly steals your breath away.
âWhatâWhat are you doing here?â you ask, glancing away, flustered. âIs itâis it over? The fight?â
He coos, a gloveless hand reaching for your chin to tilt it back toward him with a grip thatâs firm, almost possessive. âOh, itâs over. Thereâs nothing to worry about anymore,â he says, voice light, too light, too nonchalant for someone who just came from a battle. Mark doesnât speak like this after a fightâheâs never so casual, so detached.
(Markâs hands would dig into his hair, shoulders slumping in defeat. âIâm justâI keep fucking up.â
âYouâre not,â youâd tell him, hand pressing warm circles between his shoulder blades. âYou save people, Mark. Every single dayââ
âBullshit!â Heâd jerk upright so fast youâd recoil, chair screeching against the floor. âMore people die than I save!â Heâd pace, fingers twisting in his hair. âStopâjust stop telling me Iâm not fucking up! Stop trying toâto make me feel better! You donât understand how I feel!â
Your chest would tighten, fingers curling into empty air where heâd been. âI know I donât.â
âThen stop!â
âHoweverââ youâd stand up as well, eyes locking onto his as you caught his face in your hands, palms pressing gently against his cheeks. Mark would freeze, his breath hitching, wide eyes locked onto yours. âHowever, I know the world would be worse without you in it. Just thinking about the possibility of not having Invincible on our sideâit scares me. Because youâre the only one strong enough to protect us. The only one who can stand up to the worst threats.â
Your thumb would brush over his cheekbone, touch impossibly gentle.
âAnd Iâm sorry you have to carry that responsibility, Mark. But youâre not failing. Not to me.â
His expression would crumble, his eyes glistening with unshed tears before heâd pull you close, burying his face in your shoulder. His breath would shake, and youâd feel his fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt.
Your cheeks would burn, heart stuttering, but you'd swallow your feelings and offer only the comfort a friend should.
âIâm sorry,â heâd murmur, voice thick. âIâm sorry.â
Youâd breathe in, closing your eyes. âDonât be.â)
Your cheeks burn as he tugs you closer by the chin, forcing you to look straight at him. Your hand instinctively reaches for his wrist, but you donât pull away. You should. But you donât. Yet, you canât stand the weight of his stare, so intense, so close, it feels like itâs peeling back layers of you, exposing everything youâve tried to suppress.
âNothing to worry about?â you force the words out, trying to ignore the heat flooding your face and the fluttering sensation in your stomach. âYou sure?â
âIâm sure,â he nods, his voice low and steady. Then, without warning, he leans closer again, his face burying into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply like he just couldnât get enough. âOh, shit. How I missed this.â
âMark?â you ask quietly, voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it. His breath is hot and electric against your skin. The warmth blooming in your face spreads down, coiling through your body. âWhat are you doing? Jesusâthis isnât like you.â
âOh, really?â he hums, lips ghosting over your pulse. The brush of themâso soft, so deliberateâmakes you shudder. âNot even a little?â
âNoâŚâ you exhale, shivering when his arms snake around your waist, squeezing hard enough to make you squirm. âNo. Mark. Whatâwhat are you doing?â
Your hands reach for the counter behind you, gripping the edge tightly, desperate for something to anchor you. But Markâhis scent, his body pressed so tightly against yours, his breath burning against the most sensitive part of your throatâmakes it impossible to focus, impossible to think. Itâs like everything around you is spinning, and you canât make sense of any of it.
âWhat do you think Iâm doing?â he asks, his tone amused and teasing, like this is all some game to him.
And that finally makes you scowl, the heat in your cheeks now burning with a mix of anger and humiliation. You inhale sharply, trying to regain your senses, but an ugly feeling of shame and hurt settles heavily in your chest.
You lift a hand and push him, or at least try to, your strength no match for his. Still, he complies, pulling away with a reluctant sigh, an annoyed expression flickering across his face as he finally tears himself from you.
âThis isnât funny, Mark,â you say, glancing away, unable to bear the intensity of his stare. âStop it.âÂ
âStop what?â he complains, his fingers digging into your waist as if heâs reluctant to let you go entirely.
âThat,â you snap, gripping his wrists and prying his hands off. âYou canât justâjust ignore me for weeks and then suddenly show up and treat me this way. Itâsâit messes with my head! Itâs not fair, Mark!â your breath comes heavy, your chest rising and falling as you struggle to form the words. Your eyes drop to the floor, and you add quietly, âJust stop.âÂ
Heâs silent for a moment, and you can feel his gaze burning into you, searching, analyzing. His head tilts slightly, as if heâs trying to piece something together.
âWeâre not⌠together?â he asks after a beat, his voice incredulous, like the idea is absurd.
The question makes you flinch, and a fresh wave of anger surges through you.
(âIâm sorry,â Mark would mutter, his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding yours. âI justâdonât see you that way.â
Youâd glance away, your lips pressed together in a tight line, trying to hold back the sting of rejection. âIâm sorry too.â
âItâs justâthereâs someone else I wanna try it with.â
âI get it.â
âIâm sorry.â
âI know,â you sigh, wanting Earth to swallow you whole and disappear forever. But this is Mark, and you couldnât bear living without Mark. âWeâre still friends, right? This doesnât have to change anything.â
Heâd smile at you, his eyes creasing at the edges in the way you adored. âYeahâFriends!â)
âOf course not!â you snap, voice rising. âYou made it very clear youâyou love someone else!â
You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you take a step back, putting some much-needed distance between you and his overwhelming presence. Was he mocking you? Playing some cruel joke?
But then again, as you pace around the kitchen, trying to hold yourself together, your eyes flicker to his odd suit, to the blood clinging to him, to the confused, almost baffled look on his face. And you think againâwhy is Mark here? Why, really?
Is he even Markâ
âBut Y/Nââ he whines, trailing after you like a lost puppy, his voice pleading, ââI would never, and I mean never look at anyone else but you!â
You frown, shaking your head. âI canât even believe youâre saying this to me right now,â you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady. âDid you hit your head too hard fighting those lunatics?â
You donât notice the way he tilts his head at your words, donât catch the way his eyes darken, flashing with something unreadable.
âIf you donât have anything better to do, then just leave,â you huff, bitterness lacing your tone. âI donât wannaâhumiliate myself any more than I already have. You had your fun. So go away.â
You turn on your heel, heart pounding as you stride toward your bedroom where your phone is charging. Thereâs a gut feeling gnawing at you, a sensation you canât shake, and you need confirmation. You need reassurance.
Is the Mark standing behind you even your Mark at all?
Your gut twists violently, but you canât shake it. The second you step into your bedroom, your hand fishes for your phone, fingers trembling as you scroll through your contacts and press the button.
But Mark hasnât left. He follows right after you, moving with an easy, unhurried stride, and when he realizes what youâre doing, a slow, knowing smile spreads across his face.
âO-ho?â he hums, amusement dripping from his voice. âMy, my, Y/N, whyâre you calling me?âÂ
His hand moves, effortlessly covering yours, fingers warm and firm over your knuckles. The phone ringsâonce, twiceâand Mark leans in, his breath brushing against your ear, voice low, teasing.
âIâm right here, sweetheart,â he murmurs. âYou donât need anyone else.âÂ
Your breath hitches. The sound of the third ring barely registers before he plucks the phone from your grasp with unnerving ease. You donât even resistâyour fingers tremble as they slip away from the device. Not that it would have done anything, anyway. The fifth ring echoes into silence, then clicks to Markâs familiar voicemail. Useless.
The air in the room shifts, heavy and overwhelming. You watch, frozen, as he casually places your phone on your desk, just far enough out of reach.
Then, the moment your eyes meet his, you know.
This isnât the Mark you know and love.
Mark hums, content, utterly unbothered as he slides back into your arms like itâs the most natural thing in the world. He sighs, pleased, like he belongs there, like nothingâs wrong.
Maybe youâre in shock. Maybe itâs fear, or disbelief, or survival instincts.
Because you let him.
Your arms fall open, letting him settle more comfortably against you, his weight pressing into you as he nuzzles closer. His warmth, his scent, the way he holds you tightâitâs all too much. And youâweak-kneed, breath unsteadyâlet him.
âAre you going to kill me?â you canât help but ask eventually, voice quiet, barely a whisper.
He makes a confused sound in his throat, the vibration brushing against your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. âHmmânot yet.â
Not yet. You should be terrified. Every nerve in your body should be screaming for you to run, to fight, to do something other than stand there, frozen, pliant in his grip. You know heâs dangerous. You know he could snap your neck without a second thought.
Yetâa curious thing happens in your brain.
Youâre not afraid. You canât be.
Because when your eyes settle on this Markâand he looks exactly like the Mark you know, the Mark you have feelings forâsomething just⌠doesnât click the way it should. Fear doesnât come. Disgust doesnât rise in your throat. Dread doesnât tighten its grip around your chest.
Because he looks so much like Mark. And duhâhe is Mark. But not yours, and that alone should be enough to make you want to bolt. Yetâas he nuzzles into your neck, his hot breath tingling against your skin, his solid body pressing into yours with a firmness that feels both grounding and overwhelming, and the way he called you âsweetheartââit all makes you want to give in to him.
The feelings youâve buriedâthe ones youâve shoved down since the day Mark rejected you, since the day you forced yourself to be okay with just being friendsâare clawing their way back to the surface, stronger, faster, more consuming than ever.
âOh yeah, you donât have to worry though,â he says, his lips brushing against your pulse in a way that feels deliberate, calculated. âItâd be such a waste to kill you so fast. I came here for you, after all.â
His lips trail along your neck, slow and purposeful, and despite everythingâdespite knowing this isnât rightâyou sigh, shivering at the unfamiliar, intoxicating affection. He moves upward, lips ghosting over your skin until he reaches your ear, nipping at your earlobe.
âMarkâŚâ you breathe, eyes fluttering shut, body melting under his touch.
âOhh, I know, baby,â he mutters, voice thick with amusement, dripping with smug satisfaction. You can feel the smirk curving against your skin. âI know everything you like. I know every inch of you. Let me show you.â
Your body betrays you.
Your mind knows betterâknows that this Mark isnât yours, that the weight of his body pressing into yours should send alarms blaring through your head. But when his fingers skim your waist, when his breath fans hot against your skin, when he sighs like he belongs hereâyour body doesnât fight him.
It welcomes him.
Your hands twitch at your sides, uncertain, but you donât push him away.
âI canât believe this universeâs Mark wouldnât date you,â he muses, fingers wandering, exploring, curling behind your back before cupping your ass and squeezing. A choked sound catches in your throat as heat floods through you, your knees nearly giving out. âI meanâlook at you.â His voice dips, teasing, triumphant. âBarely resisting.â
You bite your lip, swallowing a sound you refuse to let escape.
He laughs thenâopen, mocking, and so, so cocky. âAnd here I thought Iâd have to fight this Mark over you, butââ his grin widens, wicked and pleased. âI donât think I have any competition, sweetheart.â His lips brush against your jaw, his grip tightening possessively. âYouâre all mine.â
He starts to push against you, forcing you to walk backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of your mattress. You fall onto the bed, breathless, your heart racing as he looms over you, his eyes dark and hungry.
âJust mine, okay?â he growls, his voice low and dripping with possessiveness. âI wouldnât let anyone else touch youânot even him. Not even this universeâs pathetic version of me.â He scoffs, his hands gripping the hem of your t-shirt and tugging it off with a harsh, almost desperate motion. âLoving someone else? When I have you? Heâs a fool. He doesnât know what heâs missing. Y/Nâyou have no idea how much Iâve missed you, how much IâveââÂ
He groans, biting his lip hard enough to leave a mark, his eyes raking over your exposed skin like heâs starving and youâre the only thing that can satisfy him. You shiver, a deep blush spreading across your face. Itâs too much, too fast, and you feel utterly exposed as his gaze devours every inch of you. His expression twists, a mix of desperation and adoration, as if heâs memorizing every detail of your body, committing it to memory so heâll never forget. His fingers twitch, hovering over your skin but not touching, like heâs savoring the moment, stretching it out just to make you squirm.
Itâs too intimate, too intense, and for a fleeting second, you forget that heâs dangerous.
âStop staring,â you weakly complain, turning your face away.
âOooh, oh-ho-ho, yeah, baby, youâre just like I remember...â he laughs, his breathing uneven, his voice shaking with a wild, almost manic energy. âYeahâIâll never let him have you. Never let anyone else even look at you. Youâre just mineâholy shit.âÂ
And then he dives.
His lips crash into yours, claiming rather than kissing, his entire body pressing you down into the mattress, forcing your legs open. Itâs desperate, feverishâstarving. His tongue pushes past your lips, stealing your breath, and you moan into his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you struggle to keep up with his messy, frantic rhythm. He kisses you with a ferocity that leaves you dizzy. He groans and growls against your lips as his hands roam your body, gripping and groping every inch of exposed skin. His fingers brush against your nipples, teasing and possessive, and you can only take it, breathless and overwhelmed, your mind spinning as he claims you in every way he can.
âYeah, baby, keep making those sounds for me,â he murmurs against your lips before diving in again, swallowing every breath, every whimper like it fuels him. âSo, so good. Fuck, you have no ideaâit keeps me going.â
Your breath stutters as his fingers pinch your nipple, hard enough to make your back arch, a sharp gasp escaping your lips. His free hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat as he grinds his hips down. Your legs part without a second thought, welcoming him, urging him closer until heâs right there, pressing into you, slotting himself between your thighs.
âThatâs it, spread wider for me,â he pants, voice dripping with dark approval. âYouâre still so good, fuck.â
Your lips burn, swollen and tingling from his kisses, and when you blink up at him through your lashes, you catch the glint in his eyes. His pupils are blown wide, the usual warm brown of his eyes swallowed by something feral. That smirkâall sharp teeth and predatory hungerâshould terrify you. Because the Mark you know has never looked like this before. This unhinged and unsteady. Itâs a sharp, gut-wrenching reminderâthis isnât your Mark. This isnât the sweet, awkward Mark who you fell for, the one you trusted. This Mark is wrong, a twisted mirror image, and you should be fighting him, shoving him away, clawing your way out even if itâs futileâ
But then he leans down and presses the softest, faintest kiss to the tip of your nose.
And your mind blanks.
Because holy shitâMark, the man youâve been pining over for months, years, is kissing you. And it feels so good, so intoxicating, it messes with your head, scrambles your thoughts into something dangerous.
You know itâs wrong. You know this isnât him. Itâs like pouring your feelings into a stranger, a shadow wearing his face. But fuckâthis Mark grinds against you, slow and deliberate, and you feel him, the hard press of him against you, thick and aching with want.
You gasp, body tensing, startled by how badly he wants you.
âOhh, baby,â he whines, voice thick with desperate need, like heâs been starving for this moment for lifetimes. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, marking you as his. âLet meââ His hips roll again, dragging his thick length against your own, and you choke on air. âLet me make you feel good. Let me make you come, please, baby, please.â
Teeth scrape along your jaw before finding that sweet spot beneath your earâthe one you didnât even know was sensitiveâand you arch off the bed with a broken moan when he sucks harshly at the skin. His lips, his tongue, his teethâhe maps every inch of you like heâs memorized you, like he already knows every single weak spot before you even realize them yourself.
âPlease? Please?â he keeps begging, voice so raw, so desperate, so utterly pathetic it makes you dizzy.
And youâyouâre still too caught off guard to react properly. Because Markâyour Markânever looked at you like this. Never even wanted you like this. But this Mark? Heâs rutting against you like an animal in heat, his massive cock straining against his suit as he whimpers your name, making your head spin.
Itâs wrong. Itâs so, so wrong. Because Mark rejected you. Because you told yourself youâd be fine with just being friends. Because this isnât even himâjust the evil, dangerous version of him.
(Mark would slip into your open arms, his body heavy with exhaustion.
âI justâIâm scared,â heâd admit, voice muffled against your shoulder. âScared of turning into my father. Scared of hurting people. And after everything with AngstromâŚâ his voice would trail off, fingers twitching against your back like heâs afraid to hold on too tightly.
Youâd run a soothing hand along his spine, grounding him. âWhat do you mean?â youâd ask, gentle, coaxing him to keep talking.
âHeâhe talked about me like I was a monster,â Mark would whisper, voice tight. âLike thereâs a version of me out there who destroyed everything. A version of me whoâd kill everyone I love. A version of me whoâd⌠destroy you.â
A slow, quiet exhale would leave your lips. âBut youâre this Mark,â youâd remind him. âYouâre my best friend. And youâd never do that.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. Then, slowly, Mark would sags against you, burying himself deeper into your warmth.
âYeah,â heâd murmur, barely more than a breath. âNever.â)
But when you moveâwhen you grind up into him, your body answering before your mind can stop itâhe makes a noise, something between a groan and a sob, and itâs so wrecked, so full of relief it makes your stomach twist.
Your arms loop around his neck, dragging him closer, pressing your bodies so tight together you can feel his heartbeat hammering against your own. And when his teeth sink into your throat, sucking so hard you know itâs going to bruise, a sharp, broken sound escapes your lips.
The room burns around you, filled with the obscene sounds of his desperate whines and your shaky gasps, the slick friction of fabric between your joined bodies.
âYeahââ you gasp, nails raking down his back as pleasure coils tight in your gut. âFuck, Mark, justâDo it. Do it.â
He groans, deep and guttural, a sound so full of possession it sends a sharp pulse of heat down your spine. Then his teeth sink into your neck againâhard enough that you know heâs breaking skin. And when his tongue licks the wound, sucking the blood like he owns youâyou know heâs got you.
Your mind fractures into white-hot static as every rational thoughtâthe blood crusted on his suit, the madness in his eyes, the thousands heâs slaughtered, the fact this isnât your Markâdissolves into primal need. Nothing exists but the electric pleasure coiling tighter in your gut with each desperate grind of his hips.
âMark,â you sob, voice breaking as your body arches against him of its own volition. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him closer. âOh god, Mark. Fuck. Mark.â
A guttural snarl vibrates against your throat as he claims your mouth again, his tongue pushing past your lips in a violent mimicry of what his hips are doing against yours. The growing dampness between your thighs should shame you, but all you can focus on is the delicious friction, the way his teeth scrape your bottom lip when you moan too loud.
But itâs still not enough.
Not with these fucking clothes between you, not with the way youâre both rutting against each other like wild animals, frantic and insatiable. Itâs maddening. You need more.
Your nails claw at his back, at his suit, needing to feel his skin the way heâs feeling yours.
âGet it off,â you manage to gasp between feverish kisses. âPlease, Mark.â
With a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine, he rears back just enough to grip his suitâs collar. The fabric shreds like tissue paper beneath his strength, revealing sweat-slick skin you immediately map with trembling fingers. His pupils blow wider at your touch, chest heaving as he crushes you back into the mattress.
âOh yeah, Y/N...â he purrs, his voice thick with satisfaction as his fingertips trace the dark marks blooming across your neck like bruises. Proof that you belong to him. âBet this universeâs Mark never made you feel this way, did he? Never touched you like this?â his grip tightens suddenly, making you gasp. âIâm the first, arenât I? The only one whoâs ever had you like this?â
You whimper, nodding without thinking, legs locking tight around his waist, keeping him close, keeping him there.
His grin stretches, wild and triumphant. âHe doesnât know what heâs missing,â he murmurs, his hand trailing down with agonizing slownessâdown your neck, across your heaving chest, brushing over your sensitive nipples, gliding down your stomach... Until, finally, his fingers settle between your legs, pressing against the thick, aching bulge in your sweatpants, squeezing just enough to rip a needy moan from your lips. âLook at you,â he breathes, eyes wild with possessive hunger. âSo fucking perfect for me. So ready to be mine. Does your Mark know what a desperate little thing you are? How easily you fall apart under my hands?â
His smile tilts, both awestruck and predatory. Then, he leans in until his lips brush yours, his hand working you through the fabric with rough, perfect strokes that have you trembling.
âSo hard just for me,â he murmurs against your mouth. âHe could never make you feel like this. Never touch you like I do.â His teeth graze your bottom lip. âHe could never compare. Iâm better, Iâm strongerââ
He peppers kisses along the corner of your mouth, your flushed cheeks, tender and teasing, a sharp contrast to the way his pace quickensâfaster, rougher.
ââI could make you feel even better,â he purrs, pressing his lips against your ear, voice so low, so filthy it makes you shudder. âMake you scream my name, so loud and clear, maybe the other Mark could even hear you.â
Your breath stutters, a deep moan slipping from your lips, body twisting under his touch.
âOhh, youâd love that, wouldnât you?â he chuckles, breath warm against your neck, teasing, taunting. âYouâd love to let him watch. Love to let him see you break for me. Let him realize what heâs lostâwhat heâll never have again.â
His voice dips lower, sinking into something darker, something twisted.
âYouâd let me fuck you in front of him, wouldnât you?â
Your body jolts, heat flashing through you in a violent rush, shame curling in your stomach like a vice.
âN-noâ!â you gasp, eyes squeezing shut, face burning with humiliation. âNo, I wouldnâtââ
But your body betrays you. Trembling, surrendering, completely giving inâyour hips rut desperately against his hand, your pre-cum soaking through the fabric, staining it.
âLiar,â Mark breathes against your swollen lips before crushing them again in a kiss thatâs hot, rough, and bruising. âI can feel how much you want it. How much you need it.â
His thumb presses cruelly against the head of your cock, rubbing slow, torturous circles through the fabric, making you see stars. Your whole body jolts, a strangled gasp tearing from your throat.
âMaybe I should drag him here,â he whispers, grinning against your lips. âMake him watch as I fuck you so good, you forget heâs your Mark Grayson. Make him see how perfectly you take meâhow you were always meant to be... ours.â
You shake your head frantically, words lost between your ragged gasps. âNoââ
But your back arches, cock throbbing obscenely against his palm. The more he whispers these filthy fantasies, the harder you get, hips stuttering, desperate and eager, seeking more, more, more, as his words sink deep into your brain, filling you with something forbidden, something wrongâsomething you like.
The pressure builds unbearable. His fingers move with ruthless precision, stroking, squeezing, dragging you to the edge, pulling sounds from you that should be humiliatingâbut you canât stop.
Then you think about it. About your Mark. The one whoâs still out there, fighting, struggling, exhausted and worn down. You think about what would he think. What would he do if he saw you like this. You imagine your Markâs confused face watchingâthe horror in his eyes as he sees you come apart under his doppelgängerâs touch, moaning and whimpering like some cheap slut desperate for any version of him.
âMark,â you sob as waves of shame and pleasure crash over you. âMark, Markââ
Mark exhales a breathy chuckle, eyes dark with fascination. âOh-ho-ho. Thatâs it, baby. Iâm here. Iâm right here.â
And then it hits you.
White-hot pleasure blinds you completely as you spill in your sweatpants like some untouched virgin, his name tumbling from your lips in a broken prayer. Your body arches violently, convulsing as your legs clamp around his waist like a vice. Your hands claw at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him, to this moment, to reality itself.
âJesusâŚâ he exhales, almost in awe, his grip tightening possessively. âMy god⌠so perfect.â
Youâre reduced to a trembling, gasping messâshaky legs, toes curling, vision whiting out as the aftershocks rip through you. Mark watches it all with a smug, hungry smirk, his eyes locked onto your face, drinking in every twitch, every quiver like heâs trying to memorize it, to brand it into his mind.
âYeahâlet it out, Y/N,â he whispers, voice thick with satisfaction. âI did this to you. I made you feel this good.â
(âDoes that feel good?â Mark would mutter into your ear, his hands still working awkwardly at the knots in your back.
Youâd groan, face mushed into the pillow. âYup. Feels good. Really good.â
âI still canât believe youâre making me do this,â heâd grumble, brows pinching together.
Youâd stifle a laugh, eyes fluttering shut. âYou lost the bet, Grayson. Now keep massaging my back. My muscles are still wrecked from all the damn work you put me through covering you at Uni.â
âWilliam never complains.â
âBecause William sucks at covering! The only reason youâre not suspended is because Iâm just too good at lyingâOh! Yeah! Right there, donât stop,â youâd sigh, melting into the mattress. âOh my god, yesâŚâ
His hands would freeze, fingers pressing hesitantly into your skin. ââŚCan you stop making those sounds?â
âWhat sounds?â youâd murmur, half-dazed.
Mark would be quiet for a beat, then resume with a sigh. âNever mind. How about this? Does that feel good?â
âMmmh, holy shitâyes!â)
Finally, you sink into the mattress, chest rising and falling in desperate, uneven breaths as your climax wears off. Your head falls back against the pillows, glazed eyes barely tracking Markâs movements. His fingers leave the bulge in your sweatpants, moving to your waistband, fumbling briefly before tugging your sweatpants and underwear down, inch by inch.
âJust let me take care of you,â he mumbles, dazed. âAlways gonna take care of you.â
The cold air bites at your oversensitive cock as he yanks it free, his pupils blown wide as he stares at whatâs his. Before you can even process the exposure, Mark flashes you a wicked grin before his lips wrap around your cock, hot and wet and devastating. Your hips jolt, body convulsing at the sensation. His tongue swirls, savoring, exploring, a deep groan rumbling in his throat as he tastes you. The overstimulation is unbearable, electric. A strangled, pathetic cry rips from your throat as your hands fly to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, tryingâfailingâto push him away.
âMark!â you jolt, thighs snapping shut around his head, trembling, squeezing, clutching. âOh my god. Oh my godâoh my god. Noââ
A deep, satisfied groan rumbles through him, vibrating against your cock and making you yelp. His hands pin your thrashing hips down, holding you there, making sure you take it.
âMarkââ
âMine,â he snarls between filthy, wet sucks. âGonna taste every fucking drop.â
The overstimulation borders on painful as he works you ruthlessly through your sensitivity, your cries growing increasingly broken. And yet, somewhere beneath the overwhelming pleasure, a traitorous part of you preens at being so desperately wanted.
Wanted. By Mark. Not your Mark, not the one whoâd gently rejected you, but a Mark all the same. A version from some twisted reality whoâd torn through dimensions just to claim you. And it sickens youâthe satisfaction curling in your gut, the twisted pleasure of knowing that somewhere, in some reality, Mark has always wanted you. Craved you. And if heâs here, willing to ruin you, to unravel you with nothing but his mouth, then who are you to stop him?
His tongue works you over with filthy precision, hot and wet and perfect in ways youâd never dared fantasize about. You writhe beneath him, sheets twisting in your fists, as your gaze drops to where heâs sucking you offâMark Grayson, on his knees for you, eyes close in joy. The sight alone punches a broken noise from your throat.
âF-fuckâ!â you arch violently, tears spilling as pleasure crests into near-pain. âFuck, I canâtâMark, please, I canâtâ!â
Finally, he lets you go with a slick, obscene âpop.â He pants, breath heavy, lips red and wet as he leans over you. Youâre gasping too, your chest rising and falling in erratic bursts, your body trembling like youâve run yourself into the ground.
Mark watches you, gaze trailing over your flushed skin, your wrecked, tear-streaked face. And then he grins.
âI love you like this,â he murmurs, voice rough. His thumb swipes at the wetness on your cheek. âLove it when you cry.â
(âI hate when you cry,â Mark would say, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. âI hate it even more when itâs me who made you cry.â
Youâd slap his hand away, face twisting into a scowl. âShut up, Grayson. How dare youâhow dare you act upset.â Your voice would shake, anger sharpening every word. âYou canât even say sorry. Canât even fake an excuse for why youâve treated me like this, ignoring me for months⌠And donât try to deny itâWilliam noticed too!â
Heâd wince, eyes darting away. âI canâtâI canât say it.â
âThat youâre sorry?â youâd scoff, disbelief dripping from the words.
Mark would bite his lip, shaking his head desperately. âNo! Of course not. Itâsâthe reason.â
âThe reason youâve been pulling away?â youâd snap, swiping the back of your hand across your wet cheek. Then, it would hit youâheart lurching. âIs it⌠because I confessed? I thought we were past that. That weâd still be friends no matter whatâŚâ
Your voice would crack, gaze dropping to the floor.
Mark would flinch, shoulders slumping in defeat. âItâs part of the reason.â
âI donât understand,â youâd murmur, voice breaking. âYou said it didnât matter. You promised it wouldnât change anything.â
âI donât understand either,â heâd admit, hand scrubbing roughly through his hair. âJustâjust give me time. I need to⌠figure some things out.â
âYou wonât even tell me?â
Mark would press his lips into a tight line, guilt flashing across his face as his gaze caught on your tear-streaked cheeks. âI canât.â)
A helpless sob rips from your throat as he surges forward, capturing your bruised lips in a desperate, feverish kiss. He moans into your mouth, deep and needy, and you can taste yourself on his tongueâhot, salty, intoxicating. The realization only makes you burn hotter.
Then, a moan rattles in your chest as his free hand trails lower, fingers teasing where youâre most sensitive. Your gasp is sharp when one presses against your entrance.
âW-waitââ you huff, shaky hands pressing against his broad shoulders. âNo⌠Iâve neverânever done thisâŚâ
Mark freezes, his expression shifting from surprise to something terrifyingly euphoric. âOohh, Y/N can you get any more perfect for me? My godânot even in my universe were you a virgin.â He chuckles, low and dark. âWere you saving yourself for him? Hoping heâd finally see you the way I do? Heâs such a foolâBut I will make you feel good. Iâll make you feel so good.â
As he speaks, his hands roam, gripping your thighs with an iron hold before pushing them upâforcing you open, leaving you vulnerable beneath him. Your face flushes with embarrassment and arousal, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets tightly at the sheer obscenity of the position. He flashes a playful grin, his breath warm against your ass, causing you to gasp and breathe unevenly.
âWhatâ What are you doing?â you stammer weakly, squirming uncomfortably, peering down with shame as Mark leans over your hole, a wide smirk across his face. You realize a second too late was heâs up to. âWait, waitâOh my god!â
Your back arches, mouth letting go a deep, throaty groan and your eyes rolling back when Mark inserts his tongue, licking and lapping at the inner walls of your hole, sucking and nibling and kissing. Your head throws back against the pillows, skin burning so hot you swear youâll melt into the sheets. The sensation is overwhelmingâMarkâs hot tongue delves between your cheeks with shameless enthusiasm, licking and probing with obscenely wet sounds that make you squirm uncontrollably. You writhe in delicious contradiction, torn between pulling away and pressing deeper into his merciless mouth.
âMmh, look at youââ Mark pants between greedy licks, his voice thick with arousal. âThatâs it. Let me hear how good I make you feel.â
Youâre beyond responding, your hips stuttering and your asshole clenching and unclenching with the unfamiliar, yet intoxicating sensation. The pleasure is so intense you bite your lip raw trying to contain the filthy sounds fighting to escape. Itâs useless, though, because Mark keeps eating you out and it only takes a few minutes of this sweet torture until you start whimpering and mewling like a little whore.
âF-fuckâ!â the curse tears from your throat as your toes curl and back arches off the bed. Your cock stirs back to full hardness, dripping pathetically against your stomach. âFuckâMark, my god! Donât stop, fuckâOh my godââ
Youâve never been touched like this beforeâit never even crossed your mind, not even in your wildest fantasies. But damn, itâs the best thing thatâs ever happened to you. Who would have thought that being pleasured like this could feel so incredibly good? You might just climax right then and there with Markâs warm, skilled tongue working its magic, and youâd die happily. Your erection is unbelievably hard, leaking pre-cum onto your stomach, but you donât dare touch yourself because youâre too busy gripping the sheets for stability.
But then Mark pulls away, and you moan and whimper with need, trying to tighten around him in an attempt to draw him back.
Mark smirks and chuckles, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at your own lewdness.
âGod, baby, youâre so perfect for me,â Mark rasps, pulling back just enough to loom over you. His lips glisten with your taste, his breath coming in ragged bursts. âLook at youâalready falling apart just from my mouth. Think youâre ready to take me, sweetheart? Think that pretty little hole can handle my cock?â
You hadnât noticed before, too lost in the haze of pleasureâbut Markâs hips have been moving restlessly the whole time, fucking the air with desperate, instinctive thrusts as he devoured you. Now, as he looms over you, you can feel him, hot and throbbing, grinding against your thighs through the thin fabric of his suit. And fuckâheâs massive. Even through the material, you can feel the sheer size of him, the way he twitches with every needy thrust. And yeahâhis mouth has left you slick, loose, ready to be filledâbut shit. Viltrumites have monster cocks, and it scares you.
And yetâand yet, as Mark moves against you, teasing, testing, making sure you feel the sheer girth of him even through fabric, all you can feel is hunger, a desperate need.
So, huskily, with glazed eyes, you whisper, âYes, Mark. Yes.â
He doesnât make you beg twice. One hand tears the remaining suit away like tissue paper, his cock springing freeâthick, veiny, and already leaking. The flushed tip bobs against your thigh, leaving a sticky trail as your breath catches.
âFuck, Y/Nââ Markâs voice breaks as he strokes himself, his wild eyes drinking in every tremble of your body. âYou have no idea how long Iâve waited for this. How many nights I dreamed of this moment. Youâhere, with me again.â His breath shudders, his grip tightening. âHad to find you. Had to make you mine again. I missed you. I missed you.â
His feverish rambling sends your pulse into overdrive, and for one fleeting moment, you wonder about that other lifeâwhat version of you could make a man this desperate, this feral with need? What was their relationship like? How did it end? How did Mark end up here, in your universe, searching for you? But then Markâs strong hands are spreading your thighs wide, his body settling heavily between them, and all coherent thought evaporates in a rush of dizzying arousal.
Shit, shitâMark Grayson, the boy youâve been in love with since eighth grade, is about to fuck you. And shitâthat thought alone makes your cock ache, your hole clench with anticipation, even as your mind screams that this isnât your Mark. Your real Mark is probably fighting for his life somewhere. Maybe even dying. And here you are, letting his evil counterpart have youâwillingly.
That makes you a horrible friend. Youâre disgusting. A traitor. Youâre giving in to every dirty fantasy youâve ever had, every longing youâve buried for years, all because this Markâthe wrong Markâlooks at you with the hunger youâve always dreamed of seeing in your Markâs eyes.
Itâs sick. Itâs twisted. Youâll never be able to look your Mark in the eye again. Guilt twists in your gut, heavy and suffocating.
You should stop.
You should have never let it go this far.
But thenâ
âShh, baby, I got you,â this Mark whispers, shattering your spiraling thoughts. His voice is soft, almost reverent, as he lines himself up. âI got you. Gonna make you feel so good.â
You shiver, heat flushing your skin as his cock presses against your entrance, thick and hard and real. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, locking behind him, pulling him in.
Mark groans, deep and satisfied, his fingers pressing into your thighs as he grins down at you.
âFuck, yes,â he hums appreciatively, running possessive hands along your trembling thighs. âYouâre so good, Y/N. So good.â
His fingers dig deep enough to leave bruises as he drinks down every gasp, every shudder of your oversensitive body like a man starved. And just when desperation coils in your gutâwhen the teasing pressure at your entrance becomes unbearableâMark sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust.
âFuckâ!â your cry shatters the air as your body bows taut, back arching off the bed. The stretch burns, his thickness forcing you open in ways that make your vision whiten at the edges. âFuck, fuck, fuckââ
Heâs massive, painfully so. You can feel every ridge, every vein as your body struggles to accommodate him. Itâs too muchâyouâre certain heâll split you in two.
And yet... The fullness is intoxicating. It burns. It aches. But it also satisfies something deep within you, a primal need you hadnât even realized was there. Tears prickle at your eyes as you clench the sheets, overwhelmed by the sheer reality of Mark Grayson buried inside you.
âFuck...â Markâs voice is guttural, dripping with satisfaction as he bottoms out. âGod, youâre tight.â His hips grind deeper, wringing a broken whimper from your throat. âTaking me so perfectâfuck, you feel incredible. Like you were waiting just for me.â
And then, slowly, oh so fucking slowly, he begins to pull back out, dragging a wrecked moan from your lips. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something solid, something to hold onto as he sets a rhythm, each movement sending heat curling through your veins.
âThatâs it,â Mark pants against your neck, his breath scalding as he inhales your scent like an addict. âJust like that⌠youâre perfect. Nobody else could take me like this.â His teeth graze your pulse point possessively. âOnly you. Only mine.â
The next thrust is deeper than the last, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your hips jolt up instinctively, a surprised sound catching in your throat.
âOh god, Mark,â you whine, nails digging into his back, voice breaking on a breathy moan. âAhânghâfuckââ
The agonizingly slow drag of his cock has your vision swimming, pain and pleasure blurring into one overwhelming sensation. Heâs so thick, so long, so heavy inside you. Every time he pushes in, it feels impossibly deeper, stretching you, filling youâuntil it makes your stomach bulge slightly, a small bump appearing in the flat plane of your abdomen.
Mark groans, eyes going wide, his hand settling at the base of your belly. âGod, look at you,â he breathes, awed. His fingers press into the bulge, tracing the outline of himself inside you. âFuck, Iâm buried so deep in you. Right here, Y/Nâyou feel that? Thatâs me claiming you. Oh-ho-ho, goddamn, look what I do to you.â
His dark chuckle vibrates against your skin even as awe colors his voice. He punctuates each word with a punishing thrust, fingers digging into the visible outline of himself inside you like he wants to brand the shape of his possession into your flesh. And you canât look away eitherâbecause holy shit, this is the first time youâve ever felt anything like this, and itâs almost too much. Too intense. Too consuming.
Tears streak down your flushed cheeks as your legs tremble violently. The initial pain has melted into overwhelming pleasure, your body adjusting to his impossible size with desperate, shameful eagerness.
âMore,â you rasp between gasps, arching up shamelessly. âFaster. Harder. Pleaseââ
Mark chuckles darkly, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deep. âYeah, sweetheart,â he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. âGonna make you feel good. Gonna ruin you for anyone else.â
The dark promise in his words should terrify you. Instead, it sends another pulse of white-hot pleasure straight to your aching cock. Then he movesâharder, fasterâtearing the air from your lungs, leaving you breathless and reeling. Your body clenches around him, every nerve alight as a broken whimper escapes your lips.
âMarkâMarkââ you mumble his name between gasps, unable to form anything else. âMark, ahâMarkâmmhâfuckââ
A sharp cry rips from your throat as Mark shifts his angle, hitting a spot inside you that sends a violent shudder through your entire body. Heat surges down your spine, forcing you to arch off the bed, toes curling, every nerve alight with raw, electric pleasure.
âFuck! There! Markânghâfuck!â you moan, biting down on your lip so hard you taste the faint tang of blood. Mark growls, his movements deep and unrelenting, each thrust pressing you further into the mattress. The bed creaks beneath the force, your skin burning where his grip tightens. âThere! Keep going! Fuck, it feels so goodâMark!â
Thenâthrough the haze of heat, through the sinful sounds of skin against skin, of your wrecked moans and his low, animalistic groansâsomething intrudes. A sharp, buzzing vibration. Your ringtone.
Your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, flickering toward your deskâjust a few feet away, where Mark tossed your phone. Youâre aware the screen glows, the sound ringing in the background, before another brutal thrust wipes all coherent thought away. Let it ring. Nothing matters except the way Markâs splitting you apart, remaking you as his with every snap of his hips.
The phone rings and rings⌠then stops. And you donât even notice when it goes silent, too preoccupied with the drag of Markâs cock inside you, the way your nails sink into the broad expanse of his back, leaving behind deep, angry marks.
âPerfect,â Mark rasps against your ear, his voice wrecked and reverent, âTaking me so fucking good, Y/N. Made for this. Made for me.â
Your thighs shake violently around him, toes curling as his filthy praise reduces you to nothing but lustful moans and pleading whimpers.
Thenâyour phone starts ringing again.
This time, Mark notices.
He stills inside you with a low snarl, his body tensing as he straightens slightly, casting an annoyed glance toward the device. But when he reaches for itâhis cock still buried deep inside you, making you whimperâhis expression darkens with wicked amusement as he reads the caller ID.
âWell, well,â he purrs, looming over you once more, planting one hand beside your head while the other dangles the phone just inches from your flushed, dazed face. âTake a look at this.â
Your stomach drops at the familiar name flashing on screen. Itâs Markâyour Markâcalling you.
âShould we answer it, baby?â he muses, tilting his head as his lips curl into a smirk. âLet him hear what you sound like when youâre properly fucked?â
âNoâ!â you gasp, wrecked and breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs as you reach for the phone, desperate to snatch it from his grasp. âMarkââ
But heâs quicker.
âAh, ah,â he tuts, lifting a single finger in mock reprimand, effortlessly keeping the phone out of reach. His other hand tightens around your hip, keeping you pinned. âYou need to get your shit together first, Y/N. Wouldnât want him to know what youâre doing, now would you?â His eyes gleam with wicked delight. âWith that pornographic little voice of yoursâso wrecked, so needy for my cockâŚâ He leans in, his breath fanning over your ear. âI bet heâd figure it out immediately.â
A shudder rips through you.
Your vision blursâtears welling at the edges, cold fear twisting deep in your gut. But worseâworseâis the way your body betrays you. The way you clench around him involuntarily at the thought. At the sheer humiliation of it.
Of your Mark listening on the other end. Unaware. Oblivious. As his variant fucks and ruins you.
âSee? I know you,â he murmurs, his voice syrup-thick with satisfaction as he strokes your cheek with unnerving tenderness. His free hand cups your face, his thumb dragging over your lips. âI know exactly what kind of fucked-up little thing you are.â
His grin widens as he watches your lips tremble, your breath coming in quick, uneven pants.
âIâm glad youâre the same here as you were in my universe, Y/N. I adore you like this.â Then, his tone dips lower, velvet wrapped around something dangerous. âNowâtry to keep him distracted while I take my time with you, yeah?â
Before you can react, he thrustsâsharp and suddenâjust once, but itâs enough to steal the air from your lungs. A strangled gasp escapes you, body reacting on instinct, pulse hammering as he stills once more.
Mark leans in, his breath hot against your parted lips, his amusement dripping with warning. âOtherwise, heâll keep calling,â he murmurs. âAnd I donât want him interrupting us.â
Your stomach twists in knots of anticipation and dread. The phone is still ringing, still just out of reachâMarkâs name flashing on the screen, a second away from being answered. And all the while, this Mark remains inside youâhot, solid, pressing deeper with each second of silence.
âOkay...â you breathe, forcing air into your lungs. âOkay.â
Markâs smirk turns predatory as he brushes a featherlight kiss to your nose before tapping the answer button, offering you the phone backâand as soon as you grab it and press it to your ear, he immediately resumes his slow, deliberate thrusts that make your toes curl.
âY/N? Y/N!â The real Markâs voiceâfamiliar, concerned, kindâcrackles through the speaker. He sounds breathless, frantic. âAre you okay? You called and I couldnât answer but thenâbut then I called back and you didnât pick up, and IâmâIâm worriedââ
You squeeze your eyes shut, teeth sinking into your lip, fighting so hard to keep quiet. But the Mark above you doesnât make it easy, his hips moving with cruel precision, his smirk deepening as he watches you struggle.
ââŚY/N?â
âIâm here,â you choke out, voice miraculously steady despite the way your body arches into each thrust. The not-yours-Markâs eyes glint with dark amusement as he increases his pace. âIâm... okay.â
Your voice wavers. You canât help it. A shaky sigh escapes when he ducks his head to nip at your throat, his hot breath raising goosebumps across your oversensitive skin.
âThank God,â your actual Mark exhales, the relief in his voice almost painful to hear. âListen, Cecil justâ he lost track of a variant. Said he was heading your way, Y/N.â
The not-yours-Mark stills inside you, his expression shifting to something dangerously intrigued. âOh?â he murmurs against your pulse.
âY-yeah?â you blurt too loudly, praying the real Mark didnât hear him.
Your fingers dig into the sheets as the not-yours-Mark begins moving again with renewed purpose, each thrust calculated to wring helpless sounds from your throat while you struggle to keep your breathing even.
âYeah,â your actual Mark replies through the phone, his voice strained. âIâllâIâll come your way. Or the GDA will pick you up, butâitâs dangerous to stay in your apartment! Please, justâjust leave. Right now.â
You choke back another gasp, barely holding yourself together. Noâyou canât let Mark come here. You canât let the GDA get involved either. The humiliation would be unbearableâagents witnessing you like this, being taken apart by the same monster who probably leveled cities and slaughtered thousands before claiming you in your own bed.
âNo!â you blurt out, voice cracking under the weight of too many emotions. âNo, nngh, fuckâyou canât!â
Youâre losing control. This Markâthe wrong Markâis hitting your prostate with every brutal thrust, his teeth sinking into that sensitive spot on your neck while his fingers twist your nipples mercilessly. Stars explode behind your eyelids as another lewd groan escapes you. Virgin or not, thereâs no way you could stay quiet under this assault. You realize with dawning horror that he doesnât want you quietâhe wants you loud, to moan, to let your Mark hear you. To let him know.
That yeahâheâs here.
And yeahâheâs fucking you.
For a moment, thereâs only silence on the other end of the call.
Then finally, Mark speaks again, slower this time. âThisâthis isnât negotiable, Y/N,â he says, though thereâs something offâa hesitation, a shift in his tone as your breath stutters audibly. âAre you⌠okay?â
No. Youâre not okay. Youâre overwhelmed, wrecked by pleasure more intense than anything youâve ever known, losing your virginity to a twisted version of the man you love. Hot tears of shame spill down your cheeks as a sob tears from your throat.
â...Y/N?â Markâs voice sounds distant now. You can barely hear him over the rush of blood in your ears, over the slick sound of skin meeting skin, over the obscene, broken whimpers falling from your lips.
âMmmh, fuck,â you gasp as the pressure builds unbearably inside you. âFuckâMarkââ
âThatâs it, baby,â not-your-Mark whispers in your ear, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. âYou wanna come, donât you? Wanna scream my name?â
The dam breaks. âYes! Fuck, yes, yes!â Your voice shatters with each punishing thrust. Dignity forgotten, you arch desperately against him, meeting every movement as you beg mindlessly. âMarkâI canâtâoh god, please, please...!â
The line goes silent for an agonizing moment, the static crackle carrying more weight than words ever could. You squeeze your eyes shut, shame and guilt and disgust warring with the pleasure coiling tight in your bellyâbut itâs too late now. Far too late.
âY/N...?â his voice comes through the receiverâyour Markâs voiceâstrangled and low, thick with realization.
Your stomach drops. He knows. Oh god, he knows. He fucking knows.
Not-your-Mark lets out a pleased hum against your neck, his fingers lazily plucking the phone from your trembling hand while his hips snap forward, forcing a needy moan from your lips. The wet sound of skin on skin is unmistakable. Thereâs no way your Mark could mistake whatâs happening.
Not-your-Markâs eyes glint with something wicked as he presses the phone to his ear, smirking.
âToo late, dickhead,â he says, just as breathless as you, his voice dripping with smug victory as he punctuates each word with another brutal thrust. âHeâs already mine.â
Markâs furious roar bursts through the speaker. âYouâ!â you close your eyes, mortified, tears falling down your cheeks because this is the moment Mark realizes youâre a horrible friend. âIâLL FUCKING KILL YOââ
But the sound is cut off with a sickening crunch as not-your-Markâs fingers tighten, phone shattering, fragments falling like dust.
âOops,â he pouts mockingly, tilting his head with feigned innocence before his expression darkens. His hand snakes around your throat, not tight enough to hurt but firm enough to claim. âNow where were we, sweetheart?â
When he slams back into you, you arch off the bed with a broken scream, your legs spreading wider of their own volition. He chuckles darkly, hands sliding under your thighs to fold you nearly in half, opening you up so completely that each thrust punches the air from your lungs.
âFuck,â he growls, pace turning erratic as his control fractures. âLook at youâtaking me so perfect. Tell me. Tell me how much you love this. How much you love taking my cock.â
âI love it,â you gasp without thought, your mind obliterated by pleasure. âFuckâI love it. I love you.â
A deep, guttural moan tears from his throat, his grip on you tightening as he nods frantically. âYeah? Love me? Fuckâ I love you too, baby. I love you so fucking much.â
And you know heâs not your Mark. You know your real Mark is probably flying at full speed right now, minutes, or even seconds from bursting through your window. But Christâhearing those words, in Markâs voice, from his lips, with his face twisted in raw, desperate worshipâit makes you dizzy. It makes you happy.
âI love you,â you say again, fingers twisting into his dark hair, dragging him down until your panting mouths brush. âI love you. Always haveâfuckâsinceâsince before you even got your powers, Mark!â
âYeah?â
âYes! Ahâfuck, yes!â The words dissolve into moans as you kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips sliding messily against his. âWhen you were such--a nerd! Loved you since we were kids. Love you now. I always willââ
He groans, swallowing your words with a feverish kiss, his hands squeezing your cheeks until your mouth falls open, surrendering completely. Tongues tangle, breath mingles, and he moans right into youâ
âI loveââ he pants, his movements growing erratic. âI love you, Y/N. FuckâGonna take you home with me. Gonna keep you forever. Steal you from that idiot...make him see what he threw awayââ
Thenâsuddenlyâhis hand wraps around your cock.
Itâs been untouched this entire time, leaking wildly against your stomach, and the moment his fingers curl around it, a sharp, broken whimper escapes you. Your hips jerk helplessly, legs trembling as pleasure rips through you.
âFuuuuck,â you sob, shuddering against him. âDonât stopâdonât stop. Iâm gonnaââ
âI got you, baby,â he growls, stroking you faster, fucking into you harder. âGonna make you feel so fucking good. Gonna take you away. Gonna own you!â
And God help youâhis words donât sound like threats when youâre drowning in white-hot ecstasy. In this moment, youâd let him drag you through dimensions, would beg him to claim you completelyâbecause he wants you. He loves you. He craves you in a way youâve always ached to be craved. And right nowâyouâd let him take you. Youâd let him do whatever the fuck he wanted.
âAhâah, Markââ Your body locks up, stomach tightening, hole clenching around him as the pressure on your cock becomes unbearable. âIâm gonnaâfuckâIâm gonna comeââ
âYeah, baby, let it out,â he growls against your lips, his hand working your cock in perfect sync with his punishing thrusts. âCome for me. Now.â
You shatter with a strangled scream, body jerking violently as you spill across your stomach in thick, hot stripes. Your vision whites out, every muscle locking and spasming as pleasure tears through.
Mark groans like a man possessed, his thrusts faltering as your hole flutters and clenches around him. âFuckâfuckââ He slams into you one final time, burying himself deep, and then heâs coming too, hot and thick, filling you to the brim. His grip tightens as he grinds himself deeper, prolonging every last spurt, wringing every aftershock from you until youâre trembling and spent beneath him.
You canât move. Canât speak. All you can do is lie there, trembling, as he keeps pumping into you, dragging out your orgasm until youâre sobbing from oversensitivity. His hips grind against yours, forcing every last drop into you like heâs determined to make sure you remember this.
When he finally pulls out, you whimper at the loss, your body limp and wrecked. Sweat and come cling to your skin, your chest heaving as aftershocks wrack through you. Every inch of you is markedâbruises blooming where his fingers, his teeth, his lips claimed you.
You barely register the mattress dipping as he lays beside you, his arms wrapping around your exhausted frame. A soft, lingering kiss presses to your forehead, his voice a soothing murmur against your damp skin.
âShh, shh, Y/N,â his fingers trace lazy circles against your back. âGo to sleep. Iâll take care of everything.â
Even in your dazed, post-orgasmic haze, you understand what âeverythingâ means.
It means your Markâyour universeâs Markâis on his way. It means a fight is inevitable. It means blood, destruction, the clash of two forces that look the same but could never be. And when that moment comes, youâll have to face himâface the shame that will devour you whole.
Because how dare you?
How dare you moan his name for someone else? Whisper desperate I love yous to the wrong version of him? Come undone beneath a man who wears his face but isnât him?
And after you told him it was fineâthat you were fineâstaying just friends. After you swallowed every aching, desperate feeling just to keep him close. But in the end, you gave in. You let temptation pull you under. You let yourself have himâor the closest thing to him. And now, thereâs no taking it back.
You know youâre wrong.
You know time is running out.
And you know that when he says heâll take care of everything, this Mark intends to kill your Markâjust as your Mark wants to kill him.
But your body betrays youâmind foggy, muscles lax with satisfaction, the afterglow pulling you under. As consciousness fades, this not-quite-Mark draws you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. His breathing steadies, his solid frame surrounding you in deceptive safety.
(And vaguely, you think about your Mark. About how heâs been pulling away from you, slowly but surely. How, ever since you confessed your feelings and ruined everything, he hasnât looked at you the same.
âI promise Iâll tell you,â heâd say, a week ago, his eyes avoiding yours in a way that pains you. âI promise Iâll tell you the truth. All of it. Andââ
Then heâd looked up, and something in his gaze pinned you thereâfervent, almost feverish.
âIâllââ heâd stop himself, cheeks coloring faintly, and yet he wouldnât relent his steady gaze. âIâll tell you the reason Iâve been acting like such an asshole to you. And I hope...you can forgive me after.â
âWhy not now?â youâd ask, puzzled, fingers curling into your palms. âWhy not when Iâm asking you, Mark? Right here, and right now.â
Heâd flinch, his eyes closing for a fleeting second before opening them again. âJustâgimme one more week,â heâd rasped. âOne more week andâI promise Iâll tell you everything. Iâllâconfess everything.â
And as heâd turn around, his broad back to you as heâd take offânot before glancing at you with troubled eyes, an intensity in his eyes you canât quite placeâyouâd only guess heâs gonna say he hates you. That heâs gonna say, now once and for all, he can no longer be your friend.
And how you shouldâve kept your heart locked tight, your love buried deep, just so you could keep him close. How you shouldâve never, ever opened your big mouth and let your feelings spill out.
But you did, and now nothingâs the same.)
âIâll take care of it,â Mark murmurs again as you drift away, his voice a dark promise. âNever gonna lose you again. Never.â
The last thing you register before sleep claims you is the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek.
And in the final flicker of consciousness, a single thought drifts through your mindâ You wished Mark had told you the reason.
Now, he never might.
Invincibleâs special healing treatment | Mark Grayson x Male!Reader
Summary: Your healing powersâmarketed as âRevitalizersââmade you a vital asset to both heroes and civilians. They erased fatigue, sealed wounds, boosted strength, and mended broken bodies like magic. Everyone loved them. Especially Mark Grayson.
That is, until he found out the secret ingredient behind your power was⌠your spit.
Pairing: Mark Grayson x Male!Reader
Warnings: Suggestive Content, Heavy Making Out, sort of Spit Kink? (subtle), thereâs some grinding at the end but nothing explicit.
Tags: Reader Has Healing Powers, humor?, Fluff, mutual pining, and Mark being totally whipped.
w.c: 7k | a/n: English isnât my first language, so there may be some mistakes here and there. This was a draft I started ages ago and finally decided to finish. It was supposed to be kinkier than it turned outâI have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote the first draft back in January... I was probably just horny or something. I guess I couldnât live up to the expectations of past me. I donât even like it that much but I wanted to get rid of it already!!! (And yes, I still owe you pt. 2 of âNow nothingâs the sameâ, but please accept this as compensation.) Hope you enjoy it!
It starts when Markâs nose scrunches in disgust as he stares at the small plastic cup in his hand, the truth of its contents finally dawning on him.
âOh my god, stop being such a baby,â you groan, rolling your eyes as you monitor his vitals on the med-bay screen. âYouâve been drinking this for months and never complained before.â
âYeahâwhen I didnât know it had your spit in it!â he snaps, pushing the cup away like it personally offended him. His face twists into a grimace, torn between horror and betrayal. âThis is disgusting. Someone shouldâve told me! I have a right to know what Iâm putting in my body!â
You cross your arms, irritation prickling under your skin. âItâs just a bit of saliva, Mark. And itâs mixed with, like, 80% water. You literally canât taste it.â
He pouts, eyebrows knitting together stubbornly. âStillâŚâ
âYou know what?â you snap, cheeks flushingâpartly from anger, partly from embarrassment. It isnât your fault your healing powers work this way. âFine. Donât drink it. Enjoy waiting a month for your ribs to heal naturally. Iâll let Cecil know youâre benched until further notice.â
Before he can protest, you snatch the cup from his hand and down it yourself, locking eyes with him in a silent challenge. It tastes exactly like water. No big deal. Mark is being ridiculous. When you finish, you set the cup down with a shrug, feeling refreshed and perfectly fine.
âThere,â you say curtly, grabbing your things along with the report of his vitals. âNow suffer alone.â
âWait, waitâ!â Mark jerks forward, wincing as his injuries protest the sudden movement. âYou canât just leave! IâI need to heal fast! I canât be sidelined for a month!â
âOooh,â you drawl, mocking. âWell, that was the last one left. Too bad, Invincibleâoh, wait. Guess youâre not so invincible right now, huh? Stuck in a hospital bed, bruised up, with broken bonesâŚâ
You shrug, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you turn for the door again.Â
Markâs face falls. âWait. Youâre joking. Thereâs no more?âÂ
âNope,â you say, popping the p, watching as his eyes widen in panic. âI came here to make more stock for Cecil. Felt bad for you, so I whipped up one on the spotâbut hey, you didnât even want it, Grayson.âÂ
âWait, Y/Nââ he scrambles, voice turning desperate. âCâmon, Iâm sorry, okay? I need that Revitalizer! I need to keep training! Please? Please?âÂ
You pause at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a slow, unimpressed stare.Â
âSo now you want my spitâthe one that was âdisgustingâ literally ten seconds ago?â You arch a brow. âYeah, no. Have fun with the crutches. Later, Grayson.âÂ
Markâs desperation instantly shifts to irritation. âHey! You canât just leave! This is your job! So do your job, Y/N, orâor else!â
You stop again, a brow twitching. âOr else⌠what, exactly?âÂ
Mark fumbles, his bravado faltering. âOr else I⌠I dunnoâIâll tell Cecil to fire you or something?âÂ
You let out a dry, humorless laugh. âOh, sure. Because firing me, the guy who keeps all his damn heroesâincluding youâon the field, is such a brilliant idea.âÂ
Mark crosses his arms, smirking like heâs found a loophole. âWell, youâre not exactly keeping me on the field now, are you? And by the way, Iâm his best guy. Cecilâs not gonna be happy youâre refusing to heal his best guy.â
You press your lips into a thin line, irritation bubbling in your chest as Markâs cocky, self-assured smirk grates on your last nerve. He was already pushing it, eating up time you didnât have, and now he was really pissing you off.Â
But there was no more stock left. Making a new batch would take at least ten more minutesâminutes you couldnât spare. What could you do?
Then a dark, petty idea slithers into your mind.
âFine,â you mutter, shutting the door and stepping back into the room. âIf you insist.âÂ
With swift strides, you move toward him, grabbing his face between your hands, fingers pressing into his cheeks just enough to squish them together. His smug expression falters, confusion flickering across his faceâjust as you lean in and kiss him. Full on the mouth. Tongue and all.Â
Mark makes a startled noise in the back of his throat, his whole body jerking as your tongue slips past his parted lips, brushing against his demandingly. You donât give him a chance to react, to pull away, to breatheâyou just press in deeper, holding him still, making sure he gets a direct dose of your healing power.Â
Because, yes, your saliva contains the ability to heal. Thatâs why you dilute it in waterâso heroes can take it without things getting⌠weird. It works. Itâs enough, and really, Cecil would never ask for more from you.
But thisâthis direct contact, exchanging spit with Mark, making sure heâs drinking it straight from your mouth instead of a diluted versionâis the raw, unfiltered version of your power. The kind that knits bone and flesh back together in seconds.
And if Mark was that desperate for it, then here. Take it.Â
His breath hitches, throat bobbing as he instinctively swallows the saliva between your entwined tongues. Under your fingers, you feel the swollen bruises on his face smooth out, the lingering pain vanishing in an instant. Only then do you finally break the kiss, a faint line of spit still connecting you both before it snaps.Â
âThere. Happy?â you pull away completely, scowling as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. âYouâre dismissed. Go home.âÂ
âW-what?â Markâs mouth opens, then closes. A flush creeps up his neck. âIâyouâwhat theâŚ?âÂ
You look away, your own face heating up. âThis is the last time Iâm doing this. Donât tell anyoneââ your voice drops to a dangerous whisper ââor Iâll kill you.â
And with that, you turn on your heel and walk out, leaving a spluttering, red-faced Mark behind.
The second time it happens is while youâre both on the field.
Mark is in the air, fighting off the bad guys. Youâre on the ground, checking on injured civilians and offering help.Â
Youâre not really paying attention to what Invincible or the other heroes are doing. Your focus is entirely on offering assistance, stabilizing wounds, and evacuating as many people as you can from the area. You donât worry. You never worry. Not when it comes to themâand especially not when it comes to Mark Grayson.
The boyâs basically a force of nature wrapped in a spandex suit. Inexperienced, sure. A little reckless at times, yeah. But strong, strong. The kind of strength that makes his skin impenetrable, his body durable, and his raw power overwhelming. The kind of strength that makes you believe, really believe, in corny hero names like invincible.
Thatâs why youâre so surprised when he suddenly comes crashing down from the sky, his body slamming into the asphalt like a meteor, carving a trail of shattered pavement before slamming through the side of a building. Concrete buckles. Steel bends. The whole structure groans under the impact.
One second passes. Then two. Three. Ten.
And he doesnât get up.
Panic grips you, and youâre already sprinting before you realize it.
âInvincible?!â you call, voice cutting through the air as you swipe the dust from your face and enter through the whole he made. âShitâInvincible?âÂ
The building creaks ominously around you, but you push forward untilâ
A low groan echoes from the rubble.
There, buried in a mess of rubble and twisted metal, lies Mark.
Your eyes narrow, instincts kicking in as you assess his condition with clinical precision while carefully making your way over. Heâs in bad shapeâbruises swelling across his face, blood smearing his skin, breaths ragged and uneven, and one of his arms is bent at an angle it definitely shouldnât be.
The sight twists something sharp and awful in your chest, but you bury the feeling beneath your professional mask. You canât afford to panic.
âInvincible?â you mutter, kneeling beside him and brushing debris off his chest and shoulders. No answer. Just a weak, pained soundâbarely more than a groan. âMark?â you try again, softer now, a hand slipping behind his head to lift it gently. He lets out another weak noise, eyes fluttering, but thereâs no real awareness behind them.
No, you realize quickly, the Revitalizer wonât cut it. Not for this. Not fast enough. Markâs breathing is shallow and quickeningâtoo quick, too sharp. Collapsed lung, maybe. Add that to the concussion and the internal injuries youâre certain heâs hiding under the surface. The diluted solution of your power works on minor injuries and fractures, but this is beyond that.
You pause, weighing your options, the conflict mounting in your chest. Outside, the battle still ragesâthe heroes definitely need Markâs help if the panic and screams are anything to go by.
Which means this calls for a direct transfer. Maximum potency. And you know exactly what that means.
Your jaw clenches.
âGoddammit, Grayson,â you whisper to his barely-conscious form, already making the decision. âPeople need you out there.â
The building groans and creaks ominously above you, dust raining from the ceiling. But you pay no mind, heart hammering.
One hand slides behind his neck, the other tilts his chin up. âSorry for this,â you mutter, even though you doubt he can hear you. Your gaze flickers briefly to his lips, the sudden thought making your stomach churn. âTrust me, man, I donât want this more than you do. So when you wake up⌠no hard feelings, okay?â
And then, without another second of hesitation, youâre sealing your mouth over his. Your tongue pushes past his lips, shoving the raw, undiluted potency of your power straight into him. Itâs messy, desperate, laced with the taste of blood and grit. Mark jolts under you, a weak groan trapped between your mouthsâbut you donât stop. You count the seconds in your head, focusing on the transfer, making sure he gets enough. Enough to mend everything.
Then you feel itâthe sharp, deep breath he takes as his lung reinflates. His ribs shifting under your palm, bones snapping back into place. His arm realigning itself with a sickening crack.
Then, the soft gasp you swallow when his consciousness starts to return.
Mark makes a confused noise, his tongue brushing against yours, clumsy and startled. You freeze, heat rushing to your cheeks in a mix of embarrassment and shock, and pull back immediately.
âY/N...?â Markâs voice is hoarse, and it makes your skin burn. âWhat... did you justâ?â
You glance away, quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to hide the flush creeping up your neck. âCan you stand?â
Mark blinks, still dazed but healed, already flexing his newly-mended arm. âI⌠yeah. Yeah, I thinkââ
âGood,â you snap, grabbing his arm and hauling him upright. âThen move.â
But Mark just stands there, staring down at himselfâthen at youâthen back at himself. And then, with a breathless laugh, he beams.
âOh-ho-ho, I feel amazing!â he exclaims. âI feel great! Like, better than great!â
To prove it, he hovers a foot off the ground, spinning in a gleeful pirouette like a complete idiot. You fold your arms, glaring at him as he flexes his muscles and stretches, putting on a ridiculous display of his newfound energy.
Then the building groans againâa low, warning sound that cracks through the air.
Mark halts mid-spin, looking up at the ceiling. âThat... doesnât sound good.â
âYeah, no shit,â you mutter, eyeing the unstable column just behind him. âWe better go beforeââ
You donât get to finish.
The ceiling gives out with a thunderous crack, and before your brain can catch up, Markâs arms are around your waist, yanking you off the ground. Your eyes squeeze shut instinctively, arms wrapping tight around his neck as he blasts up through the collapsing hole he made when he crashed through earlier.
The world whips past you in a blur, and when you blink again, youâre outside. The building is falling behind you, collapsing in on itself, sending up a cloud of dust and debris that engulfs the area.
You both land a safe distance away, unscathed, while the building continues its dramatic descent.
âAw, shit,â Mark mutters, pouting as he stares at the wreckage. âI did that?â
You hum, shooting him a side glance. âYouâre lucky I evacuated that thing before it came down.â
Mark turns to look at you, his pout deepening like a sulky kid. But this time thereâs a shift. Heâs... uncomfortably close. Closer than you realized. You can feel his breath against your cheek, the rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours. Thatâs when you realizeâhis hands are still curled loosely around your waist. And your arms are still looped around his shoulders.
Both of you seem to notice at the same time.
Mark drops his arms like heâs been burned, quickly turning away to scratch the back of his neck and coughing into his hand. You shift your weight, eyes darting anywhere but him.
âWellââ his voice cracks, avoiding eye contact. âThanks for, uh. The whole. You know. The thing with theââ he makes a vague gesture toward his mouth.
âSure,â you reply, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. âAnytime.â
A mutual, full-body cringe.
The moment is mercifully shattered by Immortal calling out to Mark, urging him to get back in the fight.
Mark jolts like heâs been electrocuted. âRight! Yeah. Duty calls. Gottaââ he gestures weakly toward the fight, already floating backward. âSo, uh. Thanks. Again. For theââ
âGo,â you interrupt, already turning toward a group of civilians still trapped in the area.
He throws you a final awkward half-wave, then rockets awayâbut not fast enough to hide the way his ears burn crimson. You watch him fly away, cheeks heating up, too.
The third time it happens, Mark isnât bleeding, broken, or even remotely in danger.
Noâheâs bored, crashing into your workspace at the GDAâs hospital wing, apparently done with his hero duties for the dayâand, shockingly, with catching up with his college classes too. How he manages both, you have no clue. But here he is, picking up and poking around your things like a kid in a candy store.
âWhat doesââ
âI swear to god,â you cut in sharply, patience already fraying, âif you ask one more time what anything in this lab does, Iâll gut you, Grayson.â
Mark pouts, carefully placing a large syringe back where he found it. âYouâre no fun.â
âThis isnât a damn playground,â you mutter, returning your focus to the screen in front of you. âNow, unless youâve got a severed limb or third-degree burns, get out.â
Mark flops into the nearest chair with a groan, legs sprawling like a petulant teenager. âOkay, fine. Iâm here for, uh⌠a headache.â
âOh no, how tragic,â you donât even glance at him. âTake a pill.â
Thereâs silence.
An unnaturally long silence.
Long enough that you sigh and finally drag your gaze from the screen to find Mark staring at you with the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes youâve ever seen.
âWhat,â you ask flatly.
Mark fidgets under your stare. âI justââ he sighs. âThey take forever to kick in, okay?â
âSo?â you arch a brow. âSuck it up, Invinci-boy. Iâve seen you take a hell of a lot more and never flinch once.â
âYeah, butââ he glances away, wincing while pressing his fingers to his temple exaggeratedly. âThis is a migraine. Like, brain-melting pain. Totally screwing with my focus.â
You narrow your eyes at him, suspicion flickering in your gaze. But as he keeps avoiding your eyes, fidgeting awkwardly, wincing every time he shiftsâone hand pressed to his templeâyou finally sigh and lean back in your chair.
âFine,â you mutter.
Mark straightens up immediately, his eyes wide with surprise, cheeks flushing a faint pink. âReally?â
You blink at the sudden change in energy, head tilting. âYeahâŚ?â you say slowly, reaching into your desk drawer. Inside are several little Revitalizer cupsâ80% water, 20% your saliva. You grab one and set it in front of him with a soft thud. âHere. Thank me later. Cecilâs weirdly strict about the inventoryâhe hates wasting these on stupid things like a damn headache.â
Without waiting for a response, you turn back to your computer, resuming the work youâd been organizing before Mark decided to drop in unannounced.
Silence falls againâlong, lingering, and just awkward enough to pull your attention back.
You turn to him, exhausted. âWhat now.â
Markâs expression sours into a pout, his shoulders slumping as he stares down at the little cup, as if itâs the most disappointing thing heâs ever seen.
He sighs, closing his eyes before weakly reaching for the cup. âNothing. Itâsânothing.â
Mark pops the lid off, staring at the clear liquid with exaggerated contemplation before drinking it all in one gulp. You watch silently, noting the way his throat moves as he swallows. Finally, Mark exhales, setting the empty cup on the desk.
Then he blinks, licking his lips with a curious hum. âHuh. Now that Iâm really paying attention... it really does taste like nothing.â
âIt tastes like water,â you point out distractedly, returning to your task.
âAnd water tastes like nothing,â Mark grumbles. He puts a hand to his chin, like heâs suddenly contemplating lifeâs biggest mysteries. âBut itâs weird⌠did you know your spit has a taste?â
Your fingers freeze on the keyboard. Slowly, you turn your chair to face him fully. âHuh?â
âYeah!â Mark springs up, suddenly animated, twirling the empty cup between his fingers. âItâs got this...I dunno, this flavor. KindaâI canât describe it.â
In all your years working with the GDA, through countless medical exams and power analyses, neverânot onceâhas anyone mentioned your saliva having a flavor.
Your brows knit together in confusion. âYou mean... like how everyoneâs spit tastes?â
âNo, no way,â Mark insists, shaking his head vigorously. âThis is different. Itâs likeââ he waves his hands around, struggling to articulate. âSort of... sweet? But not too much. More likeâa feeling. But also a taste? And it lingers. You really canât tell? Itâs your spit after all.â
You tilt your head, gaze drifting in thought. âNot really.â Then your eyes narrow. âCan you taste your own spit? I donât think so.â
âYeah, fair,â he admits with a shrug, though his cheeks are now dusted with a light flush. He glances back at you, this time with a different kind of glint in his eye. âHeyâso. This thingââ he shakes the empty cup, ââhasnât really worked yet.â
âItâs been, like, fifteen secondsââ
âThe other method was instant.â
You glare. He looks away like he finds the ceiling lights particularly fascinating.
âThe other method?â you repeat slowly, raising an eyebrow. âYou want me to kiss your migraine goodbye or something?â
Mark chokes on air, spluttering. âNo, no, I didn't say that! I just want, uh, I wantâI just want to know what your spit tastes like!â
A long beat.
âFor science!â he rushes to add, flustered beyond salvation. âI wouldnât want to kiss you! I mean, ew, eugh, no, IâthatâsâI donâtââ
You hum thoughtfully, tuning out the rest of his babbling. The scientific implications are intriguing. Flavor? In your saliva? Thatâs a whole new variable. Could you isolate whatever this is? If thereâs something in the taste that links to your powerâs effectiveness, maybe you can concentrate it, increase the strength of each Revitalizer beyond the current 20% dilution. If Markâs being honest about all this⌠it could be groundbreaking.
ââand kissing dudes? Not my thing! Not that thereâs anything wrong with that! I justââ
âAlright,â you cut in sharply, standing up from your side of the desk. âCâmere.â
Markâs mouth snaps shut with an audible click. âHmm?â
âCome here,â you repeat, already grabbing a notepad. âYouâre going to describe this supposed âflavorâ in exact detail.â
Markâs mouth hangs open, eyes wide in disbelief, and for the first time in the last five minutesâheâs finally silent.
âWaitâso youâre sayingâdoes this mean weâreâŚ?â
You roll your eyes. âWhat do you think, Grayson? Unless youâve suddenly changed your mind.â
Mark scrambles to his feet so fast he almost knocks over his chair. âNo! I meanâyeah, I want to,â he says, and you catch the subtle bob of his Adamâs apple as he adds, weaker, âfor science.â
âFor science,â you echo with a slow nod, watching him as he rounds the desk with nervous, rigid movements. âThen I need you to be very attentive, okay, Mark?â
âSure,â he says quickly, voice lower now, eyes flicking over your face before landingâand stayingâon your lips. âSuper. Attentive. So... how exactly do weââ
You reach for his chin, thumb pressing lightly on his lower lip. âShh.â
He goes still, sucking in a sharp breath.
Then you guide him in, sliding your hand to the back of his head as you draw him into a kiss. Mark comes willingly, lips already parted. The moment your mouths meetâwarm, tentative, tongues brushing in a slick, electric glideâit sends a jolt through you both. A quiet groan rumbles from deep in his throat as his body melts into yours, tension giving way to something softer, needier. You take a single step back from the force of it, your breath catching, but neither of you pulls away.
You move slowly, letting your tongue sweep languidly against his, the taste of him mingling with your own as saliva slicks between your mouths. As the seconds pass, Markâs movements grow more eager, his confidence rising with the heat between you. Then, without warning, he licks and sucks on your tongue in a way that makes your whole body shiver, goosebumps scattering across your skin.
âMmh,â you groan softly into the kiss, one hand drifting to his chestâhis firm, toned, distractingly solid chestâand you try to pull back just enough to catch your breath.
But Mark whines, his grip tightening, pulling you back in.
âMmph?!â you mutter, muffled and breathless.Â
His hands, which had been awkwardly hanging by his sides, finally move, fingers sliding up to your hips. His touch is hesitant at first, then turns urgent, twitching with anticipation. Your heart pounds in your chest, lungs burning from the lack of air, as his lips move hungrily against yours. His grip tightens, drawing you impossibly closer, until you feel every inch of him pressed against youâthe steady beat of his heart syncing with your own.
Hell, you can even feel the bob of his throat as he drinks from you.
When you finally wrench your mouth free, a glistening thread of saliva connects you for one obscene second before it snaps. Mark chases after your lips like a man starved, but you press a cautious hand against his mouth.
âGrayson,â you pant, âthatâs enough. I needâdata.â
Mark blinks, dazed. âHuh?â
âThe flavor,â you remind him, voice rougher than youâd intended. âThe point was to, yâknow, describe it.â
His pupils are blown wide, lips parted and panting. He looks confused for a secondâthen realization dawns across his face.
âRight! Right. Itâs, uhââ his tongue darts out, licking his swollen lips. âDefinitely... sweet. But like, honey-sweet? Onlyâmore subtle. I thinkââ he clears his throat, voice rough, âI think I might need... further testing. For accuracy.â
âAccuracy,â you repeat flatly, raising a brow.
At this point, you seriously doubt he came here out of curiosity about the taste of your spit, or that he gave a damn about the âscienceâ, or that he ever had a migraine to begin with. That realization makes your cheeks burn hot, your heart thudding harder.
Still, you pull him closer, noses brushing. âWell,â you murmur, âit canât be helped, then. We do need to be extra accurate. So pay attention, yeah?â
His breath hitches, forehead resting against yours as his fingers flex on your hips. âYeahâŚâ he breathes. âIâll be super attentââ
You cut him off with another kiss.
Science demands repeat trials, after all.
It keeps happening as the weeks go by, for reasons you canât quite understand.
If Markâs seriously injured, itâs become your go-to methodâbecause, really, the world canât afford to have its strongest hero benched for weeks just waiting to heal. If heâs just feeling sore or tired, itâs your method tooâbecause otherwise, heâll whine and mope and follow you around all day. And if he says he just needs an energy boost, claiming your powers make him feel like he could fly to another universe and back, then yeah, itâs your method againâbecause he wonât stop asking until you finally snap and kiss him just to shut him up.
But this time, itâs not Mark whoâs critically injured.
Itâs Rex.
Somehow, he survived a bullet to the head, severe blood loss, and an amputated hand. And even now, after all the surgeries and treatments, still confined to a hospital bed, he has the nerve to act cocky and cheerful.
âCâmoooon,â Rex groans the second you step into his room to check his vitals. âYouâre my only hope here, Y/N. I canât take another day in this prisonâIâve read every magazine Eve brought me twice, and Iâm dying of boredom.â
âNo,â you reply, not even glancing up from his chart. âYou know Cecilââ
âCecil doesnât let you waste your powers like this because itâs âpointless,â because heâs got it all covered, blah blah blah,â Rex mocks, rolling his bloodshot eyes. âI just donât get why we have a healer hero whoâs not actually healing me, yâknow?â
âYou are healed,â you mutter, irritation seeping into your voice. âYou just need to stay in bed, rest, and let it be.â
Rex glares. âThatâs not being healed. Thatâs the boring process of healing!â Then he squints at you, brows scrunched. âWhy are you even here if youâre not gonna do your job?â
You scoff and drop the clipboard onto the end of the bed with a thud, fully turning to glare at him. âFor your information, the only reason youâre still alive is because my Revitalizers kept your dumbass brain together while they rebuilt your skull.â
âOh, those little cups?â Rex shrugs, unimpressed. âYeah, theyâre fine, but we both know thereâs a way faster method to get me out of here.â
You press your lips into a tight line, brow twitching as he gives you a pointed look, waggling his eyebrows obnoxiously.
âNo.â
He sighs dramatically. âCâmoooon, Y/N. Itâs not like I want to do it either, but ifââ
You donât hear the door slide open as you continue glaring at him.
ââa kiss is all it takes to fix me up, then get over here, baby,â Rex puckers his lips, closes his eyes, and starts making exaggerated smooching noises. âOne little magical mouth-to-mouth and weâre both outta here. Câmon, lemme taste some of that miracle spit, mmh?â
You open your mouth to go off on Rex, but another voice cuts in, sharp and disbelieving.
âWhat.â
You whip your head around, glare softening instantly as your eyes land on Mark. Heâs standing at the doorway in his civilian clothes, wide-eyed and frozen.
âOh, hey Mark!â you say quickly, snatching the clipboard from Rexâs bed as you move to leave. âCame to visit Rex? Good luckâheâs extra insufferable today.â
âHey!â Rex shouts, trying to prop himself up, waving his good arm like a flag of protest. âDonât bail yet! What about our special healing session?â
You scoff, eyes still fixed forward. âDidnât promise anything, asshole. Bye now.â
Mark doesnât move. He stares at you, then at Rex, then back at you again with a look of wide-eyed panic and something suspiciously like betrayal. Just as you reach for the door, he suddenly jumps forward, blocking your path.
âWaitâ!â his voice cracks, just slightly. âDo youâdo you do that a lot?â
You blink, thrown. âDo what?â
Mark pouts, hesitating for a second before glancing over at Rex, whoâs watching the scene unfold with curious eyes. Mark scowls, jaw tense, then puts both hands on your shoulders and pulls you close, not taking his eyes off Rex.
âYou knowâŚâ he mutters, voice low and pointed, âthat.â
Your still confused, baffled expression only makes Mark deflate. He sighs, looking away shyly, his cheeks turning pink, though his face is still tinged with a touch of disappointment.
âYou knowâŚâ he mumbles again, quieter this time. âThe  âspecial treatment.â I didnât know it was⌠Rex, too. I thought I was the only one you kisseâmmph!?â
Mark is swiftly silenced when you slap a hand over his mouth with an echoing clap, panic rising in your chest as it hits you halfway through what heâs talking about. But by then, itâs too late. You know itâs too late.
Five seconds of pure silence drag on.
Then, behind you, Rex gasps dramatically. âNo wayâŚâ he whispers, eyes widening with dawning comprehension. And then, louder, âNo way!â
You bury your face in your hands. âOh my godâŚâ
âDr. Y/N!â Rex clutches his chest in mock outrage, his voice dripping with sarcasm. âKissing your patients? Thatâs highly unprofessional! What would Cecil say if he knew? You know he hates wasting your power like that.â
âOh my god,â you groan again, dragging your hands down your face, trying to hide from the embarrassment.
You whip around to glare at Mark, who shrinks under the intensity of your glare. But whatever you were about to say dies in your throat as Rexâs obnoxious cackling rings through the room, making your last nerve snap.
âSo you are into special treatment, huh?â Rex laughs, eyes squeezed shut in amusement. âYou were all high and mighty, denying it to me earlier. Well, look at you now!â Then he pauses, blinking in confusion, tilting his head. âWait wait waitâso why does Invincible get the premium package, but Iâm stuck with the watered-down version? Thatâs some bullshit favoritism! I donât wanna be stuck here any longer! Hey! Do your job!â
Your jaw clenches. In one fluid motion, you throw the door open, grab Mark by the collar, and turn back to Rex with your most dangerous glare.
âYour treatment is called shutting the hell up.â
And with that, you drag Mark out of the room, slamming the door behind you with a resounding bang.
Itâs silent at firstâjust the pounding of your heart and the flush burning across your cheeks. Embarrassment, dread, and the terrifying thought of Cecil ever finding out. You flinch just imagining the long, agonizing lecture heâd have locked and loaded if Rex opened his mouth. You have to make sure he doesnât. And oh, you can think of several ways to ensure Rexâs silenceâeach more creatively painful than the last, all of them temptingâ
âIâm sorry,â Mark says softly, cutting through your dark thoughts. âI didnâtâI didnât realize there were... others.â
His voice cracks on the last word, and damn it all, when he looks up with those wounded puppy-dog eyes, your anger dissolves into mist.
You cup his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. âMark. There are no âothers.ââ Your thumb brushes his cheekbone. âYou seriously think I go around swapping spit with every hero who gets a paper cut?â
He winces. âNo...â
âYou think Iâd kiss Rex of all people?â
His nose scrunches. âNo.â
âThink thatââ you pause, suddenly aware of the barely-there space between you. Of how your breaths mingle, how heâs leaning in without realizing it. Drawn to you like instinct. Like gravity. The next words come out softer than you mean them to. âThat Iâd do this with anyone but you?â
Markâs eyes widen. His lips partâwhether to answer or ask for clarification, youâll never know, because you choose that moment to shut him up the only way that ever really works.
Closing the distance and kissing him.
Your lips crash together, deep and intense and hungry. His tongue meets yours halfway, practiced and eager, moving against your mouth in the way heâs learned you like. His arms wrap around you, hands slipping down your back, pulling you in closer, pressing you tight until thereâs nothing left between youânot air, not space, not thought.
Your heart stutters and then races, excitement surging through your veins, raw and electric, leaving you lightheaded and weightless.
You hum into his mouth, slow and content, before finally pulling awayâonly to place one last, lingering peck to his lips.
Mark grins at you, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, that familiar giddiness and energy radiating from himâjust like always when he feels the effect of your power. You canât help but grin back, your chest warming at his boyish enthusiasm, before letting your forehead drop against his shoulder with a dramatic groan.
âCecilâs gonna skin me alive if Rex blabs about this,â you mumble into the crook of Markâs neck, feeling him shiver at your breath against his skin. âThat little bastardâs definitely gonna hold this over me...â
Mark stays quiet for a long moment, his hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. His warmth and steady presence grounds you, but you can feel the slight tension in himâthe guilt heâs trying to hide, stretching the silence longer than it should.
Thenâ
âWhat if...â he starts, hesitates, then tries again, voice low and unsure. âWhat if we just... dated?â
You blink, pulling back just enough to study his face. Heâs red. Like, really red. Avoiding your gaze like it physically hurts him to meet your eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows, clearly nervous.
âI mean,â he rushes to explain, âCecil canât exactly lecture you about healing kisses if theyâre just... regular boyfriend kisses, right?â He nods to himself, clearly pleased with this flawless logic. âTotally normal couple behavior. He canât be mad if your power just happens to work that wayâŚâ
You stare at him for a few seconds, the weight of his words slowly sinking in. You notice the way his lips pout slightly, the hopeful look in his eyes, and how his fingers twitch lightly where they rest on your waist.
âIs this your subtle way of asking me out by pretending itâs not a big deal?â you ask, eyes sparkling with mischief. âMark Graysonâoh, my hero, swooping in to do the favor of dating me so my boss doesnât scold me for kissing one of his heroes an unnecessary number of times, just because he whines and cries like a total baby when I donât?â
âHey!â he protests, though thereâs a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. âIt was justified! I wasâyâknow, in severe pain and everythingâŚâ
âOh yeah?â you tease, tilting your head. âLike that time you said you needed extra energy and a good luck kiss before your Mars mission? Was that also you being in pain?â
âWellâthatâI did get lucky from that, okay?â he stammers, cheeks flaring red. âAnd we succeeded, didnât we? Thanks to your power enhancing my power.â
You canât help but laugh, and soon heâs joining in, the sound warm and bright as you stay wrapped in each otherâs arms. His laughter does funny things to your heartbeat, sends warmth blooming across your cheeks.
Then he sobers, his expression turning uncharacteristically shy. âSo... is that a yes? To the... dating thing? OrâŚâ
You smile softens, fingers brushing along his cheekbone with tenderness. âWell,â you murmur, eyes flickering to his lips, âwe did skip a couple of steps, didnât we?â
He huffs a breath of laughter, relaxing a bit. âYeah⌠I guess we did.â
âThen why are you even asking, Grayson?â you murmur, lips brushing just barely against his as you lean in. His breath catches. âOf course Iâll date you.â
The kiss that follows is sweeter than any before itâslow and certain, filled with promises rather than excuses. Mark sighs into it, his arms tightening around you as if to say mine, finally mine.
You smile into the kiss, kissing him back with just as much eagerness, heart full, lips willing. You werenât going anywhere.
It happens late at night, when Markâs bruised, battered, and still trembling after a draining fight with Angstrom. The man hurt his mother, his little brother, and left him stranded in some godforsaken alternate universe. Markâs body is shaky, yet heâs profoundly grateful to be back, grateful that your healing powers pulled his family together in minutes as soon as you learned of it. Grateful that youâre here now, with him tonight, wrapped in his arms, sharing a bed, and sharing kisses, because thereâs nowhere else heâd rather be.
His kisses are desperate thingsâraw, needy, equal parts gratitude and desire, as if heâs trying to imprint the feel of you beneath his hands into his memory in case the universe decides to be cruel again.
âYou know,â you murmur against his mouth when he pauses to breathe, âsometimes I think you like my powers more than me.â
Mark nips at your lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp, his hands sliding down your sides with possessive certainty.
âCourse not,â he growls against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver through you. His knee slots between yours as he rolls you gently onto your back. âI like you because itâs you.â His teeth graze your jaw, sending a shudder down your spine. âBecause youâre stubborn.â A soft kiss to your pulse point. âAnd brilliant,â he adds, as his hands mold to the curve of your waist, fingers slipping beneath your shirt like heâs desperate for more contact. âAnd you taste like warmth.â
You hum, rolling your tongue against his in a slow, deliberate movement, a tease that leaves his breath hitched and ragged. The slick slide of your mouths against each other fills the quiet room, punctuated by Markâs low, guttural groan when you suck gently on his tongue. His hips buck instinctively, pinning you deeper into the mattress. His body is warm and heavy and grounding. His hands roam, bolder nowâurgent with the need to feel you, have you, anchor himself to you after almost losing everything.
And you let him.
Because you need it too.
âIt wouldnât matter anyway,â you whisper, breath hitching as you rock your hips up, seeking the delicious friction of his body against yours. A soft moan escapes his lips in response. âEven if you didnât⌠like me back or whatever. Iâd still let you have me. Give you anything you needed.â
Markâs head snaps up.
âBut I do like you,â he says, like it physically hurts him to think youâd believe otherwise. His hand slides down, purposeful and shaking just slightly, squeezing the growing bulge in your jeans. He swallows your gasp in a hungry kiss, lips messy and desperate. âShitâI love you. I love you so much.â
The second the words escape him, Mark freezes. His whole body stiffens, eyes going wide with panic, like he hadnât meant to say it at all. Like the confession yanked itself out of him before he could stop it. He pulls back, breath catching, lips parted like heâs about to take it back or apologizeâ
But you just laugh softly, even as your heart slams against your ribs.
âI love you too, Grayson,â you murmur, pulling him back down by his collar, lips brushing lightly against his. âSo donât go getting yourself trapped in some alternate wasteland again, okay? You scared the shit out of me.â
Markâs entire body sags with relief, the tension melting from his shoulders as he nuzzles into your touch like a starved man.
âOkay,â he says with a breathless laugh. âIâll try. I meanâIâd really rather not be stuck in a version of reality where Iâm not with you. Or where you donât exist. Thatâd suck.â
You huff, amused and affectionate. âThen be more careful next time.â And before he gets a chance to reply, you seal your lips over his.
Mark groans against your mouth, his forehead pressing to yours as you tug him flush against you.
âYeah,â he breathes between kisses, his voice rough with longing, his hips rolling against yours in a way that makes your vision blur. âYeah, Iâllâmmphâbe real careful nextââ
The rest of his promise dissolves into the hungry press of lips and the slick slide of tonguesâbut the way his fingers lace through yours, squeezing like heâs afraid to let go, says everything he canât put into words.
Then, of course, Mark ruins the moment.
He pulls back with a breathless chuckle, eyes locking with yoursâdark, dilated, cheeks flushed, forehead damp with sweat, and chest rising and falling rapidly.
âHey soââ he rolls his hips deliberately against yours, drawing twin groans as denim strains between you. âThe way you keep kissing me like that?â Another teasing grind. âThink I might have enough energy to last all night and morning.â His lips brush your earlobe. âWhat dâyou say, baby?â
You stare at him, heat blooming across your cheeks like fireâbut you canât help the smirk that creeps in.
âWell,â you say, playing along easily, âI donât exactly have anything better to do the next couple days⌠Might as well give the worldâs strongest hero all the healing treatment he needs.â
Markâs answering kiss is filthyâall tongue and teeth and saliva, like heâs trying to drink every last drop of your power straight from the source.
Then he pulls back just enough to pant, âGod, I love your powers.â
You grin cheekily. âYeah, yeah. Just remember who they belong to.â
He huffs a laughâand before you can say anything else, he steals another kiss. Thereâs nothing patient about the way Mark movesâlike heâs got something to prove, and youâre the only one he wants to prove it to.
No matterâyouâre happy to let him.
A/N: Oof, I know... I didnât really know where I was going with this either. I swear this was supposed to be worseâlike, a lot kinkier, definitely 18+âbut here we are. Thank you for reading!
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