#mohawk mark grayson

For You  | @lumineya

while you are protecting the world during the Invincible War you come across one of the Invincible Variants

I WANT SOMEONE BADLY | @digitald0rk

after a hard night of fighting crime, you take mark back to yours to spend some extra time with him, one of your closest friends. he is a yearner, through and through.

and they called it puppy love | @sqgeism 

a man | @/sqgeism

a mans greed | @/sqgeism

Hold me while you wait | @damselneedssaving

An ordinary movie night over at your place with your favourite crime-fighting vigilantes ends in a knock at your door and you wrapped up in the embrace of a complete stranger claiming to be your boyfriend of another world—much to the blatantly obvious dismay of your house guests. Batboys X Reader, Mark Grayson X Reader

Cut Deep, Kiss Hard, Part Two, Part Three | @wordsofwhimsy

Your dangerously unhinged not-boyfriend threatens to “take care” of the friends of yours that keep trying to pull you away from him, and you are having none of it. literally a crazy stand-off

All the Pretty Girls | @/wordsofwhimsy

Three weeks after a breakup he can’t shake, Mark finds himself aimlessly nursing milkshakes and regrets—until William drags him out for a night at the club to help him “move on.” But no amount of drinks, dancing, or pretty strangers can quiet the echo of what Mark lost.

If I Was Your Girlfriend… | @/wordsofwhimsy

Mark just needs to be close to you dammit and he can’t stand that you’ll be that way with your girl friends but not him

Shy Girl Supremacy | @/wordsofwhimsy

You & Mark have been going steady for awhile. You’re the personal assistant to Cecil – handling all the jobs that are too low for Donald (think coffee runs, taking calls, etc.). You’re shy, reserved, and quiet. So the night you come crawling out of your shell and take the reigns in bed? Mark becomes your biggest fan, your personal hype man, and a man on the edge of religious experience.

misery of a superhero | @certifiedlovergirlsstuff

a new dawn begins | @/certifiedlovergirlsstuff

ROLLED UP ‘N RUINED | @slutla

you try to teach your friend how to smoke a blunt—instead, you learn something entirely different.

“A” 4 EFFORT | @/slutla

mark, smart, awkward, and far too soft-hearted, made the mistake of doing one too many assignments for you. a bully in heels, unhinged and relentless, you’ve taken a liking to him in the worst way possible.

They Do It In Porn | @sobbingscripter

Daddy Dearest | @tiramissyoucake

A possibility of a powerless firstborn is raised, where the child is almost entirely earthling. Nolan is not happy.

Omni-Mark's loving housewife | @/tiramissyoucake

Being a hero was exhausting work, but maintaining a wife's satisfaction and happiness was an 'enjoyable' way to unwind

Your Only Good Boy | @/tiramissyoucake

Mark loved being praised by you, he loved being good for you. on days where he could be himself in your lap, he was the happiest.

Variants x Fem! Reader,  Pt. 2 | @mirai-lunar

Right There, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt.5, Pt.6ish | @acenanxious

mask on | @ruusawa

Just for Practice | @cherryyluvs

What started as homework turns into something else entirely… and it involves kissing Mark

You're All I Think About | @/cherryyluvs

Mark becomes obsessed with you, stalking your social media, learning your routines and slowly inserting himself in your life.

Late Night Confessions | @/cherryyluvs

late night calls and movie nights with you slowly turn into something more.

Little Notes, Big Feelings | @/cherryyluvs

Notes in your locker, simple, and anonymous. A little bit sweet. You never expected Mark Grayson confessing that he likes you.

Third Wheel Trouble | @/cherryyluvs

Mark was supposed to have a romantic skating date with you. But thanks to Debbie, he now has an unexpected plus one, his very nosy little brother

Don't Wake Up My Parents | @/cherryyluvs

You're staying over at Mark’s house. He sneaks into the room late at night and things get… risky

Study Break | @/cherryyluvs

Who needs textbooks when Mark's teaching you anatomy like this?

Varient!Invincible x reader MasterList | @slutoru1207

Multiple versions of Mark Grayson from different dimensions find the reader, each desperate to keep her because they lost their version of her. Now, they refuse to let her go.

Imagine Invincible!Mark x reader window moment | @/slutoru1207

You're Dead Everywhere But Here, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, | @readingbunny44

You were thrown out to the wolves—well, in this case, Invincibles and they seem a bit too eager to see you.

IF YOU CARE | @controld3vil

In this version, where Mark only ever saw you as a comrade, you were spared the worst. You escaped the fate that awaited you in every other reality.

u love me and i love you | @/controld3vil

Mark accomplished what his father couldn’t – he conquered Earth. Accepting that wasn’t the hardest part; living with it wears you down.

big flirt | @grimmsbride

the almighty invincible has no problem showing his lovely girlfriend how beautiful she truly is..

Touch | @/grimmsbride

mark grayson doesn’t give a damn what you can do, or how fear hurting him; he would touch you again and again no matter the consequences.

best time | @/grimmsbride

an opportunity presents itself that your beloved mark grayson simply can’t give up. sinister! Mark

boyfriend material, pt 2 | @0bticeo

“boxers? as boyfriend material?” you shrug, your movements stifled from your position between his legs, your cheek pressing up against his thigh. you shift a little, the pleats of the oversized tee you’ve stolen from him somehow having gotten stuck under his leg. “what? you can’t tell me these-” a gesture towards his boxers, the ones you’re currently wearing “- aren’t the type of stuff a hypothetical girlfriend would steal.”

takeout mishap | @/0bticeo

mark stumbles in, looking wrecked—bruised, bloody, barely holding himself up—but guess what? he still has a takeout bag. the paper’s stained red, but he just grins like an idiot and goes: "still hot." priorities.

love me like an innocent (and hold me tight) | @/0bticeo

viltrumites are war-borne. the only love mark grayson has ever known is the crushing weight of his father's fist. you remedy that. 

"in every dimension, Mark Grayson falls for you, but not this one." | @swightops

Inexperienced Boyfriend Mark Grayson | @angelltheninth

Mark Grayson Sees You Get Hurt | @/angelltheninth

Mark Grayson x healer!reader | @thegr33nc0met

Second Chance At Love, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 | @tokoyamisstuff

During the war, one particular variant searches for someone he once lost.

Psychosocial | @/tokoyamisstuff

Yandere! Sinister Mark x Reader

Payback | @/tokoyamisstuff

After killing you in his timeline, Mohawk is seeking you out to do it again.

cuddling with mark | @sanguineterrain

The Ones That Belong to Me | @markeater

After fulfilling his part of the deal with Angstrom, he moved on to the main clause of the agreement. What he truly wanted to possess. Still the differences between universes could be quite strange. Sinister Mark x F!Reader

boyfriend hcs | @ditzybeee

he's in love, pt 2 | @starzyangel

How Mark Grayson Realizes he’s in Love with his Best Friend and how he always has been

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑂𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝐸𝑥𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 | @your-s-truly

in every universe, mark grayson turns into his father and seals his destiny as a true viltrumite. what if things are different this time around?

Mark talking you through it | @justevelynnnn

your first time together gets ruined by sex pollen | @sunaskura

Hello, You | @earlgreylatte

Of course he would come to see you. You’re the reason he’s here, after all.

Another You | @/earlgreylatte

In one life, Mark loses his sister too soon. In another life, you willingly left him behind.

Unyielding | @/earlgreylatte

You’re usually at his mercy.

I Can Feel It in My Bones | @couldeatthatgirlforlunch

Being Invincible’s pet is cruel, but you manage to find comfort in it.

Masterlist | @/tiramissyoucake

Viltrumite Mark Masterlist | @/tiramissyoucake

Dad Viltrumite Mark | @/tiramissyoucake

CHERRY BOMB | @/digitald0rk

he’s whipped — more than the cream on your milkshake.

NERD ALERT, pt. 2 | @/digitald0rk

in which mark falls for the new comic book store employee who matches his nerd and realizes he wants that effing cookie SO BADD.

mark grayson/ invincible Masterlist | @/justevelynnnn

BABY, IT’S COLD | @/starzyangel

you ever seen the northern lights? me neither

FLYING | @/starzyangel

Mark takes you on a date flying

Of Moons, Birds, & Monsters | @/earlgreylatte

Where Mark Grayson having a sister changes everything and nothing.

Eldest Daughter Syndrome | @/earlgreylatte

Where being the daughter of Nolan Grayson was a burden in itself, despite him wanting the best for you.

dad mark HCs | @/ruusawa

not so secret identity | @/certifiedlovergirlsstuff

touch …. | @/grimmsbride

mark grayson doesn’t give a damn what you can do, or how fear hurting him; he would touch you again and again no matter the consequences.

nothing ever happened in this dump at this hour surprisingly. no rampaging villains to put through a wall, no collapsing buildings to prop up last-minute, not even a damn bank robbery to spice things up. just the same old houses, the same old people, the same old nothing. he sighed, tilting his head back. maybe he should just bail—go home, flop onto his bed, and finally read the new issue of seance dog that had been sitting on his desk for two days.

he pushed himself up, rolling his shoulders, ready to take off—

"invincible."

cecil’s voice crackled through the earpiece in his right ear, sharp and no-nonsense. mark groaned, tapping the device. "what."

"we’ve got an unidentified object approaching earth at high speed. trajectory puts it landing in your area. intercept and assess—neutralize if it’s a threat. you know the deal."

mark’s lips curled into a grin. finally.

he barely had time to glance up before something streaked across the sky—a blur of green and purple, moving way too fast to be a meteor, way too alive to be space junk. it slammed into the park across the street with a boom that rattled windows and sent birds scattering in panic.

mark didn’t hesitate. he kicked off the roof, the air whipping past him as he dropped down, landing hard enough to crack the pavement near the smoldering crater you’d left behind. dust swirled in the air, thick and choking, but as it cleared—

there you were.

and oh, this just got interesting.

you were… colorful. like, stupidly colorful. not in some tacky, neon way—more like the kind of vibrant that made mark’s brain stutter for half a second. your skin was a warm, sun-kissed gold, like you’d been dipped in honey and left to glow under some star. your hair—wow, your hair—was a wild mess, strands floating slightly as if gravity had given up trying to tame it. and your eyes. bright, glowing green, like two emerald suns blinking up at him, dazed but sharp.

mark’s gaze dragged lower, slow and deliberate, drinking in the sight of you like he’d just stumbled across something precious. yeah, you were built like him—lean but layered with tight, coiled muscle, the kind of body that spoke of battles fought in zero gravity, of limbs trained to twist mid-air and strike like a comet. but where mark was all rough edges and impatient energy, you were polished. sleek in a way that made his throat feel weirdly dry.

your outfit didn’t help. deep, royal purple—the kind of color that shifted in the dying light, almost metallic, like liquid amethyst poured over your skin. it clung to you perfectly, hugging every dip and curve of your frame, leaving your arms bare and flexing, biceps tensing as you tested the cuffs. the fabric looked smooth but impossibly tough, like it could take a hit from a plasma cannon and barely singe.

then there were the details—the silver metal sleeves encasing your forearms, running from wrist to just beneath the swell of your bicep. sleek violet boots, fitted like they’d been forged onto you. and that collar—high, armored, framing your jawline and flaring over your shoulders like some kind of alien royalty. it gave you this… presence. like you hadn’t just crash-landed in a park. like you’d meant to make an entrance.

mark’s lips quirked. space prince. a really pissed-off one, judging by the way you were glaring at your restraints.

interesting.

mark's eyes dropped to your wrists, where thick, pulsating cuffs glowed with an eerie violet light. they weren't just restraints—they were alive with foreign tech, humming like a trapped wasp nest, their surfaces crawling with strange, liquid-metal runes that shifted under his gaze. you groaned through clenched teeth, the veins in your biceps standing out as you wrenched against the cuffs which were flashing brighter in response as if mocking your efforts. a frustrated snarl ripped from your throat, one that made the hair on mark's arms stand up—there was something distinctly predator about it.

"well, well," mark drawled, his arms crossing over his chest, fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against his bicep. "looks like earth's got itself a new intergalactic tourist." his lips curled into that trademark smirk, the one that usually made people nervous. "let me guess—not the welcome party you were expecting, right?"

your head snapped up at that, those glowing green eyes narrowing. for a second, you just stared at him like he'd grown a second head, your nose wrinkling in a way that might've been cute if not for the dangerous glint in your eyes. when you spoke, it was like listening to a storm given voice—words that rolled and crashed in impossible rhythms, some syllables sharp as broken glass, others smooth as molten gold. the sounds curled through the air between you, carrying the scent of ozone and something distinctly not-of-this-world.

mark blinked, his smirk faltering for half a heartbeat. "uh. yeah," he said, shaking his head as if that might dislodge the foreign sounds from his ears. "no idea what the hell you just said."

your expression darkened, those glowing eyes flickering like a dying neon sign. he saw the exact moment you gave up on communication—your jaw tightening, the muscles in your shoulders coiling like springs. then, in a burst of motion so fast it left afterimages, you were gone. one second you were there, kneeling in the smoldering crater, the next you were nothing but a comet's tail of emerald and amethyst streaking upward, the shockwave of your takeoff sending dirt and debris spraying in all directions. the air where you'd been shimmered with displaced energy, the scent of burnt ozone hanging heavy in your wake.

"oh, hell no," mark growled, the words tearing from his throat as he kicked off the ground hard enough to crater the pavement beneath him. the air screamed past his ears as he shot after you, his mohawk flattening against his skull from the sheer velocity.

the chase was a goddamn lightning strike—you moved like starlight given form, all emerald and violet streaks against the twilight sky. you banked hard around a skyscraper, your restrained hands somehow not slowing the fluid way you carved through the air, dipping between buildings with impossible grace before rocketing toward the distant tree line. mark gritted his teeth until his jaw ached, pushing his limits to match your speed. you were quicker, yeah, but he was all stubborn rage and earth-born grit, refusing to let some cuffed-up alien outfly him in his own damn city.

the forest came up fast—too fast. the two of you crashed through the canopy in an explosion of splintered branches and shredded leaves, the scent of pine resin thick in the air as you skidded to a stop in a small clearing. dirt and debris sprayed outward from your landing, the impact sending small creatures scattering into the underbrush. you spun to face him, your cuffed hands held in a defensive position despite the restraints, those glowing green eyes burning like solar flares in the dim light. your chest heaved with each breath, but your stance never wavered—balanced, dangerous, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

mark barely had time to flash that infuriating smirk before you lunged.

your first strike shouldn't have been possible with bound hands—a vicious, glowing green haymaker that left afterimages in its wake as it rocketed toward his jaw. mark barely ducked in time, feeling the superheated energy of your fist singe the tips of his hair as it passed. he countered with a sharp jab to your ribs, but you twisted mid-air with impossible flexibility, your knee coming up in a brutal arc that connected with his diaphragm. the impact lifted him clean off his feet, all the air rushing from his lungs in a pained "oof" as he skidded backward through the dirt, his back slamming against an unfortunate sapling that snapped in half from the force.

"the hell—?!" he wheezed, his vision swimming as he struggled to draw breath. his ribs throbbed where you'd hit him—that shouldn't have hurt so damn much. why the hell do your hits feel like freight trains?

you didn’t let up. another punch—sharp, precise—aimed for his ribs. a spinning kick that nearly took his head off if he hadn’t ducked in time. every movement was fluid, calculated, like you’d spent years mastering how to fight even with your hands bound. mark blocked what he could, arms stinging from the impact, but damn, you were good. not just strong—trained. like someone had carved you into a weapon and set you loose.

"alright, enough," he growled, finally snatching your wrist mid-swing, his fingers locking around the smooth metal cuff. you snarled, muscles straining as you tried to yank free, but he held firm, his grip unrelenting. "i’m not trying to fight you, dumbass!"

you froze. your chest heaved, sweat glistening along your temple, those glowing green eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made his pulse stutter. for a heartbeat, neither of you moved—just the sound of ragged breathing between you. then, slowly, your glare softened into something uncertain, almost curious. you huffed, nostrils flaring, before your gaze flicked down—to his lips.

then—

you lunged.

mark’s brain short-circuited. one second, he was glaring at you, ready to snap another insult—the next, your mouth was on his, warm and burning, like kissing sunlight given form. your lips were softer than he expected, but there was a roughness to it, a desperation that left him dizzy. your scent flooded his senses—something wild and electric, like ozone and crushed juniper berries.

he didn’t even realize he’d started kissing you back until you pulled away, and god, his body moved before his brain could catch up—chasing your lips in a hazy, instinctive daze, as if you’d stolen the air from his lungs and he needed it back.

you broke the contact with a quiet smack, licking your lips like you’d just tasted something fascinating. your tongue darted out, slow, deliberate, as if savoring the flavor of him.

"there," you murmured, your voice smooth now, laced with an accent that curled around the words like smoke. the glow in your eyes flickered, satisfied. "now i can understand you."

mark just stared, his lips still buzzing with the phantom warmth of yours, his heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape. he could still taste you—something sweet and foreign, like starlight given flavor. "...what the fuck."

his hand rose slowly, the back of it dragging across his mouth in a rough gesture, like he could wipe away the lingering sensation. it didn't work. "what the hell was that?" his voice came out strangled, higher than usual.

you blinked, your glowing green eyes wide with sudden concern. the way your brows knitted together was almost... cute. damn it. "i am sorry," you said carefully, each word deliberate like you were testing how they felt in your new tongue. your head tilted slightly as you spoke. "my people... we learn speech like this." you raised your cuffed hands slightly, fingers brushing your own lips in demonstration. "lips must touch. to know words."

mark's face burned hotter. "so you just- what, kiss people to talk to them?"

"yes." you nodded earnestly, then hesitated. your nose scrunched as you searched for the right words. "but... not for... pleasure? only learning." you gestured between the two of you. "now i understand you. but your face..." your hand hovered near his cheek, not quite touching. "you look... burned? did i hurt you?"

"no, i'm not- that's not-" mark sputtered, running a hand through his mohawk in frustration. he could still feel the shape of your mouth against his. "it's just... humans don't usually do that, okay? we learn languages the boring way. with books and shit."

your glowing green eyes widened, the light in them pulsing faintly with genuine surprise. "that sounds... very slow." you said it with such sincere, heartbreaking pity—like mark had just confessed he still walked everywhere instead of flying—that his lips twitched despite himself, a choked laugh threatening to escape.

mark groaned, his calloused palm dragging down his face hard enough to briefly distort his features. "unbelievable," he muttered through his fingers. "welp, there goes my first kiss. first alien i meet, and they're a total weirdo."

your head tilted slightly to the side, those luminous eyes blinking once, twice. the movement was so distinctly not human—too smooth, too precise—that it sent an odd shiver down mark's spine. "weer-dee-oh?" you repeated carefully, the unfamiliar word rolling awkwardly off your tongue. your nose scrunched adorably as you tested the syllables. "this is... a bad thing?"

the innocent question, paired with your utterly serious expression, finally broke mark. a sharp bark of laughter escaped him before he could stop it. "oh my god," he wheezed, shoulders shaking. "you're killing me here." he waved a hand vaguely in your direction, struggling to compose himself. "no, it's just- yeah, okay, maybe a little bad. but mostly... you're just different. in a... in a way that makes my brain hurt."

you considered this for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "then i will be... careful with your brain." you said it with such grave sincerity that mark had to bite his lip to keep from laughing again.

the sudden crackle of cecil's voice in his earpiece nearly made mark jump. "invincible. report. was that explosion our new visitor?"

mark sighed, pressing a finger to his ear. "yeah, yeah. we're all good. turns out tall, glowing, and stab-happy here isn't actually—hey!" he interrupted himself as he caught you twisting your wrists violently against the cuffs, your teeth gritted in frustration. without breaking his conversation, he reached over and snapped the remaining restraint like it was a stale breadstick. "—isn't actually a threat. just... real enthusiastic about first impressions."

"you're telling me you've made peaceful contact with an unknown extraterrestrial in under five minutes?" cecil's dry tone could've withered flowers. "should i alert the press about your stunning diplomatic skills?"

"shut up," mark muttered, pointedly ignoring the way you were now staring at him with those big, glowing eyes—like he'd just saved your family and your cat instead of breaking some stupid cuffs. your fingers flexed experimentally, green energy already crackling around your freed hands. it was... distracting. "look, they're harmless. mostly. just... really into the whole kissing thing."

a beat of silence. "...i'm going to pretend i didn't hear that."

"good call," mark said, watching as you shook out your wrists, that ridiculously grateful expression still plastered on your face. he pointedly turned his back, feeling his ears heat up. "anyway, we're cool here. no invasion today. probably."

"your confidence is overwhelming," cecil deadpanned. "anyway, bring them to headquarters immediately—the guardians and i will want to assess this situation properly."

"what? no, he's fine—" mark started, but cecil cut him off.

"that wasn't a request, grayson. headquarters. now." the line went dead with finality.

mark groaned, turning back to see your stupidly earnest face. "stop looking at me like that," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "it was just some cuffs."

you blinked, then smiled—slow and bright like a sunrise. "to you, maybe." your newly freed hand reached up, almost hesitantly, to brush against his arm. "to me... it was everything."

mark's stomach lurched violently, like he'd just missed a step going downstairs. that uncomfortable warmth spread from his chest up to his ears, burning under his skin. oh, this was so not good. with a sharp turn, he pivoted on his heel, deliberately facing away from you so you wouldn't see how flushed he'd become. "anyway, we gotta move. looks like we're taking a field trip," he muttered, voice rough around the edges as he started walking a little too fast.

you blinked, your glowing eyes widening slightly as your head tilted at that perfect, infuriating angle that made your hair sway. without hesitation, you floated after him, keeping pace effortlessly. "field... trip?" the words sounded foreign in your mouth, your accent wrapping around them curiously.

"yeah," mark grumbled, dragging a hand through his mohawk. he could already imagine the interrogation—cecil's piercing stare, the guardians' skeptical looks, and god, if his dad got involved... his shoulders tensed at the thought. "to meet my coworkers. and my boss." he shot you a sideways glance, trying to sound casual as he added, "try not to kiss anyone this time, okay?"

you gently shook your head, the motion sending little emerald sparks dancing through your hair. "there is no need to worry." your voice was soft but certain, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "i won't kiss anyone else other than you."

mark's steps faltered. he whirled around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. "what do you mean by that?" his voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched.

you looked at him with mild surprise, those luminous eyes studying his flustered expression with open curiosity. "i meant that i'll only ever kiss you if i needed to learn more of the language." a small, knowing smile played at your lips as you added, "though, i doubt i'd need to."

mark's brain short-circuited. the way you said it—so simple, so matter-of-fact—left no room for argument. that uncomfortable warmth in his chest bloomed hotter, spreading down to his fingertips. he swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.

oh. he was so completely fucked.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

mark absolutely hated this. hated how you floated after him everywhere like some glowing green shadow. hated how you’d tilt your head at every little thing—vending machines, pigeons, traffic lights—like they held the secrets of the universe. hated most of all how cecil had dumped babysitting duty on him with that infuriating smirk. "just keep him out of trouble, grayson. how hard can it be?"

it was impossible. you were a walking disaster wrapped in purple uniform. yesterday you’d tried to "help" him stop a bank robbery by smiling brightly at the thieves and asking why they needed the money, as if you were going to try out to talk-no-jutsu them into not doing the crime anymore. the day before, you’d somehow set a hot dog stand on fire because "the meat tubes smelled sad and wished to be free." and now? now you were hovering two inches behind him as he tried to buy coffee, your chin practically resting on his shoulder as you stared at the cashier with terrifying intensity.

"dude. personal space," mark grumbled, elbowing you back gently. you didn’t move—just blinked those stupidly big eyes at him and whispered "the small human is giving you paper with numbers. is this a threat?"

mark’s eye twitched. "it’s called money, space case." he shoved a twenty at the cashier before dragging you away by your wrist, ignoring how your fingers immediately curled around his like some overgrown, alien puppy. "we’ve been over this. no interrogating minimum wage workers. no ‘investigating’ trash cans. and for the love of god—" he yanked you back as you started drifting toward a police horse, "—no trying to communicate with earth animals!"

you pouted, all soft lips and wounded dignity, your glowing eyes shimmering with genuine concern. "but the furry one looked lonely."

mark's stomach did that stupid, traitorous flip again—the one that made his ribs feel too tight. he hated that most of all. hated how you'd somehow woven yourself into every fucking corner of his life these past four weeks. you were practically living at his house now, curled up on his couch like some exotic housecat whenever his mom made tamaranean-friendly snacks (which she learned for hours from your instructions). debbie adored you, always saving the snacks just for you, laughing at your terrible attempts at earth jokes. even his father—stone-cold nolan grayson—had started giving you those barely-there smiles when you correctly answered his space trivia questions.

the guardians treated you like some precious child they had adopted. darkwing let you fiddle with his tech. war woman sneaked you candy. even cecil, the human embodiment of a migraine, had gruffly admitted you were "tolerable and nice for your own good." everyone loved you. and mark? mark was so, so fucked.

what he hated most were the nights. those quiet, vulnerable nights when you'd slip into his bed after nightmares about your crashed ship, wearing nothing but his stolen seance dog hoodie (now permanently smelling like starlight and something sweet) and those stupid black boxers that rode too low on your hips. you'd curl against him like a contented star, your warm fingers tracing constellations across his cheekbones, his collarbones, the hard planes of his chest—always to the rhythm of that damn song he'd first introduced to you. he never told you to shut up whenever you would hum or even sing the tune, not because your voice sounded nice or anything, but because it just so happened to be his favourite song. your humming vibrated through his skin, your breath warm against his neck as you studied him with that reverent gaze, like he'd hung every fucking star in your sky.

mark would lie there, barely breathing, his heart pounding so loud he was sure you could hear it. he'd focus on keeping his muscles relaxed, on not shivering when your fingertips brushed his nipple accidentally, on pretending he didn't notice how your thigh kept sliding between his in order to tangle your limbs with his. and if his cock stirred in his sweats, thick and heavy with want? well. that was just biology. didn't mean anything. couldn't mean anything. because if you realized he was awake, if you saw the desperate hunger in his eyes, if you felt the way his hips twitched toward your touch—

it would ruin everything. and mark couldn't lose this. couldn't lose you. so he stayed still, stayed quiet, and let you have these stolen moments—even as they slowly drove him insane.

(≧∇≦)ﾉ☆

"i've always been curious about these tiny little metal things on your face." your voice was soft with wonder, fingertips hovering just above his skin like you were afraid he might vanish. slowly, so slowly, you traced the silver buds by his eyebrow, following the curve like it held some cosmic secret. your touch drifted down, feather-light, to brush the labret piercing at the bottom of the corner of his lip. when your thumb accidentally grazed the fullness of his bottom lip, mark's breath hitched—just for a second. "why did you get them?" you whispered, glowing eyes searching his.

mark had learned many things about you these past weeks. like how you were practically made of starlight and touch, always finding ways to connect—a hand on his arm when laughing, fingers threading through his when nervous, your entire body pressed along his back when curious about what he was doing. at first, it had been shy little brushes, like you weren't sure you were allowed. now? now you draped yourself over him without hesitation, leaning in close to whisper terrible jokes in his ear just to feel him shake with laughter.

("you know," red rush had said once, smirking as you clung to mark's arm like a vine, "most humans don't just... climb their friends like jungle gyms."

you'd just nuzzled into mark's shoulder, completely unbothered. "but mark isn't most humans." and damn if that hadn't made his chest feel too tight.)

mark had thought about setting boundaries. once. for about five seconds. then you fell asleep on his chest during movie night, and the idea evaporated like morning dew.

now, with your fingers still tracing his piercings, mark swallowed hard. "dunno," he muttered, trying (and failing) to sound casual. "thought they looked cool, i guess." a beat. then, softer: "my mom cried when i came home with the first one."

your glowing eyes crinkled at the corners. "i think they're beautiful," you murmured, thumb brushing his lip again—and okay, that was definitely on purpose this time. "like... constellations. but on your skin instead of the sky." your other hand came up to cradle his jaw, your touch warmer than any sun. "may i...?"

mark's heart was doing that stupid pounding thing again. "may you what?" he breathed, already leaning into your palm.

instead of answering, you closed the distance between you, pressing the softest kiss to each piercing—first his eyebrows, then the corners of his mouth. when you pulled back, your smile was brighter than any supernova. "now i'll always remember how they feel," you whispered, like it was some precious secret.

mark was pretty sure his lungs had forgotten how to work. "you," he croaked out, voice rough like gravel, "are such a weirdo." but his traitorous hands were already dragging you closer, fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips as his forehead fell against yours. the words came out thick with something he wasn't ready to name—something that burned in his chest whenever you looked at him like that. and god, that smile—the one that lit up your whole face, the one that was only ever for him—it sent a wave of heat crashing through him, turning his cheeks and neck an embarrassing shade of pink that matched the sunset bleeding through his bedroom window.

"is that still a bad thing?" you asked, already shifting like this was your rightful place. in one smooth motion, you straddled his thigh, your legs bracketing his like they were made to fit there. your arms looped around his neck with practiced ease, fingers playing with the hairs at his nape like you'd done this a thousand times before. mark's breath hitched as your weight settled fully against him—the firm press of your ass against his thigh, the way your biceps flexed under his fingertips, the heat of your bare skin where his shirt had ridden up. and fuck, if he didn't focus real hard on the ceiling, he was going to lose his mind over the unmistakable press of your cock against his stomach, barely concealed by those stupid thin boxers you always stole from him. he was just wishing you didn't notice the raging boner in his.

mark swallowed hard, his own traitorous body responding in kind. "no..." he managed, voice muffled as he buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling the scent of starlight and his own shampoo on your skin. one hand came up to cradle the back of your head, holding you close like you might disappear. "not with you." his lips brushed against your pulse point, the words spilling out in a whisper he couldn't take back. "never with you."

Mark grunts when your hips fall back down around his cock, your brutal and unforgiving pace sending animalistic noises from deep within the confines of his throat cascading out as you ride him. He tilts his head back, easing the tightness of the collar around his neck just slightly. But his reprieve doesn't last long as you're quick to yank back on the leash, causing his head to jerk back up into place. he keeps his eyes glued to you, the way your body rocks and the way your tits bounce when you move up and down on his cock with a quick rhythm, cruel and callous.

"No, no. None of that." you scold, tone assertive and disciplonary, like one you'd use to speak to a misbehaving animal. "Look at me." You're quite sure that whatever he keeps tilting his head to look at on the ceiling is far less interesting than what's going on down here, and he grits his teeth so hard you swear that you can hear them scraping against one another in his mouth, and the sound is occupied by a snarl as you slam all the way back down onto the base of his cock, walls clenching tightly as they swallow around him.

The leash, so tight around his neck that you can see the faint pink and purple whispers of bruises beginning to blossom around his neck, seems to be the only thing holding him back from flipping you over and taking you exactly the way he really truly wants to. Pressing you so deep into the mattress and just fucking ruining you. Even though he easily could if he wanted to, he chooses against it even as his fingertips press into your sides, nails digging into your skin just enough for you to register the slight pain—Though it feels distant and numb and not all there as your hips guide him through the hazy, blurry mess of feelings that are his own pussy-drunk mind begging him for more, more, more.

Marks gaze is trained on you, and it takes all of his effort to not let himself get lost in his thoughts or let everytjing he's feeling cloud over the words you said, the order you had given him; "look at me" you said. Mark has to have it play on loop in his mind just so he doesn't forget it.

"God, fuck..." He barks out between grunts and the low growls that escape his agape mouth when he pants, breathy and worn and tired. despite his.. Usually hostile nature, and the fact that he's killed probably millions at this point, he still has a weak spot for you. Something that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to rid himself of.

"See?" You start in that sickening, all too sweet tone that makes him think you're teasing him—it's almost irritating. And if it does get under his skin, he doesn't let you know. "You can be good when you want to be, right?"

"Yeah, yeah..ah, fuck.." He chokes out mindlessly, saying whatever he can to make you happy. Dogs aim to please, and he's already on a collar and leash. can't get much more embarassing than that, can it? Might as well try and be a good boy for you.

His sounds only grow in both volume and frequency, like he's losing himself inside you and becoming this animal, this dangerous thing and you swear for a split second that you can see his eyes black out as his pupil expands, leaving no room for the usual dark color in his iris until his eyes flutter shut in a blink and reopen, returning to their normal brown.

He looks almost feral like this, still trying to cling to some sense of normalcy with a vice grip that slips with every noise, every whimper you drag out of him when your hands come up around the leash to tug and pull, he got off on it. And you can tell hes getting close by the way his hips buck up into you and throwing off your steady yet grueling pace like it was an instinct, something programmed into the way his mind worked.

The action sends a startled moan to escape your mouth, and it's something that neither of you expected, uncalled for and surprising to both of you. But especially Mark, because he lets out this noise like a low hum that sounds sort of gutteral, and a half snarl, half grin tugs at his features. And it's all sharp canines and wet lips on account of the fact that he's practically drooling at the sight of you so perfectly poised above him.

The noise, the unplanned one you let out unleashes this wild look in his eyes like he's starved for more, chasing his orgasm as best he can under the restrictions of the collar so tight around his neck that he can feel the pressure bubbling up in his throat.

And eventually he finds it when you come back down around him, stroking over that spot that makes his cock twitch inside younand before you know it you're being his come pumping into you with each time you rise and fall around him, overflowing and spilling back out messily onto him with dirty, wet sounds that you only hear because his ragged breaths slowly ebb off as you milk him dry, post-climax exhaustion washing over him and replacing that feral need he had just experienced moments prior.

It's something straight out of a porno film, the way his hands shake even though they never left your skin, and the way his chest rises and falls sporadically. You're both quick to come to the realization that this is something you'll never get enough of. And neither will he.

Marks hands ball into fists at his sides, and he looks between you in front of him and the wall at his side like he can't decide which one he wants to barrel his fist into first. "Fuck, why?!" He shouts like thunder, voice cracking above the silence, and it makes you jolt.

His eyes are rimmed with tears that blur his vision, but he still makes out the shape of you, standing frozen in your room where he'd been so many times before—By choice? Or paralyzed with fear? He cant tell. But that was back when things were different. When they weren't... whatever this is. This temper tantrum breakdown of his, it was something you've never seen before. Sure, he had a temper sometimes, something would tick him off just the right way and Mark would get foul mouthed moreso than he usually was. But it had never brought him to tears like this.

Even before he conquered Earth, he would tell you about his plans. About how there was "Nothing you could do" To stop him, and he was dead set of having you rule alongside him. When you turned down the idea, he thought you'd come to your senses. Pick the better of two evils. Live safe alongside him and all his horrible atrocities, or suffer a fate far worse with the rest of the people he'd soon conquer as slaves.

When the day came, and the world was in ruins at his hands, Mark tried to be nice about it at first. Lure you in with promises of a life better than anything you'd experienced. He offered you a life of luxury, as long as you were by his side.

But when you still refused, he got angrier. Things started to boil to the surface. He started to threaten your family, your friends, he stole away all the things you loved. Mark had you practically trapped in a corner. There was no line he wouldn't cross to get you to join him. But you still refused, defiant as ever. That was something he used to love about you. Now it was just getting in the way. Fuck.

He calms as he approaches you and it's sudden and unexpected. his hand is outstretched and hovering above your waist, looking conflicted between pulling you closer or shoving you away. He chooses the ladder and his arms are quick to wrap around you. The tidal waves of his anger begin to wane with each passing second as he buries his face into your shoulder. And when he speaks again it's muffled, voice shaking like he's about to cry all over again.

"Please, please. You're so pretty, so beautiful, I don't want anyone else to rule with me. Only you. Only you." He repeats it like a mantra, like you were some goddess, some deity, and this was his pathetic attempt at a prayer and if he rehearsed it over enough, you'd give in.

You gasp when his legs buckle beneath him, the weight of everything suddenly all to heavy to hold as he collapses to the ground with a thud, groveling on his knees with desperate hands that slide down your waist along with him, tugging at your clothes like a petulant child that clings to their mothers leg when they don't get their way as a last resort.

"Why? Just... Why? I've done everything for you. Fucking everything! You're just— You're impossible." He rants, voice fluctuating upwards between quick yells and then back down to that pathetic, raspy pleading tone he had worn like a mask just moments before.

"You don't understand. You— Fuck! I could give you everything. Everything, anything! Anything you want. Don't you want that? Me? Forever?" He doesn't give you the space to answer his questions as he chokes on sobs and coughs out cries, rushing out his words before another sound threatens to squeeze his throat and make speaking an impossible feat.

Mark pauses for a moment, looking down at your feet before going silent as if trying to find something else he can say that will work to convince you, because his mindless begging doesnt seem to be working all that well. And when he still can't find any other tactics to use, he lets out a frustrated half groan, half yell. "Please?! Just say yes. that's all you have to do. Why can't you just— Fuck, please. I need you s'bad, I can't... Just say yes. And then we can— I can be done with this... shit!" he curses profusely, looking up at you with eyes that swim with a toxic mixture of violence and a boyish innocence as he begs and begs and begs you all over again.

"I can take care of you, I promise! Why are being you so difficult? You'd be—You'd be so much happier with me." Anyone would be accepting of this offer, especially when the world outside your bedroom was in ruins. But his words fade into distant sounds that you stop paying attention to as you begin to think.

He's stubborn. Too stubborn for the likes of you, and you realize as his gaze meets yours when you look down at him that you're impossibly outmatched here. You realize he's not going to give up. he just won't, that's not something he does. It's not how Marks brain is wired to work. He'll keep trying and trying and trying to sway you, persuade you, convince you. He'll do whatever it takes.

"Okay. Fine." You exhale finally with a shakey breath, and he looks up at you with pleading eyes at the realization that you're finally giving in. Finally accepting his offer. "I— Yes, fine. Okay? Just.. Stop, Mark. Please." You say it to appease him, but you're quick to realize you've just signed a lifelong contract.

"What? Why?"

"I mean, it's kinda my fault you're here." He paused. "I was the one who invited you to hang out at that café."

"Oh, Mark. That's not your fault."

"I just keep thinking… maybe if I did things differently, you wouldn't have gone through something so traumatic."

You regarded him quietly. Then, you squeezed him. "If the Earth were just a little bit closer or a little bit farther from the sun, life on Earth would've been impossible."

"Huh?"

"I'm trying to say that worrying about what ifs is useless, Grayson. The important thing is I'm alive now, and with all my limbs in tact."

He frowned.

You let go and motioned for him to come closer.

He bent down and you caressed his cheek. "Has anyone ever told you that your eyebrows look like swords?"

"You…" He let out a sound of disbelief, then he chuckled, leaning into your touch. "You have the weirdest non sequiters, you know that?"

"In China, sword-shaped eyebrows are associated with resilience and heroic figures."

"Are you saying I look like a superhero? Because—"

"But…" You examined his face intensely. "You look more like a wet puppy right now. It's cute, don't get me wrong, but it doesn't suit someone with your sharp features."

"Is this your way of cheering me up?"

"Is it working?"

"It's doing something." He scoffed, but cupped your hand. "I'm glad you're safe, princess."

"Me too. Remind me to send Invincible flowers."

His fingers twitched. "What? Why does he get flowers?"

You cocked an eyebrow. "He did save me, didn't he?"

"Oh. Oh, yeah, yeah. He doesn't need flowers, saving people is his job."

"Even if he gets paid, he still deserves to know we appreciate his work."

"I guess." He pouted.

You resisted the urge to laugh. "Hey, Mark? Can you come closer?"

"Closer than this?" he asked, but he was already moving. "Why—!"

You pressed a chaste kiss on his mouth.

[Ding. Affection: 78.90%]

You flopped back on your pillow, leaving him wide-eyed. You whispered, "I really like kissing you."

His tanned complexion glowed red as he beamed, exposing his canines. He leaned down so you didn't need to strain your neck. He stared at your chapped lips.

"I really like kissing you too."

***

Rex Splode went flying straight to the wall of their training hall, his body imprinting into solid brick.

“Ow! What the fuck!?”

Eve, who was sparring with Dupli-Kate, stopped and ran to his side.

Rex threw a glare at his own sparring partner. “What’s your problem, man?”

“Sorry,” Mark said, not sounding the least bit remorseful. He didn’t even check up on Rex. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re not even going to take me to the clinic? Hey!”

But Mark was already out the door, nearly knocking Cecil Stedman over on his way inside.

"Whoops, sorry," Mark spouted instinctively, not even sparing his boss a look as he checked his watch. "I'm off for the day."

Cecil, who was surprised at what he considered to be Mark at his most polite, blinked. "Sure."

"And if you're gonna beep me on my free time, it better be because everyone else is half-dead. See ya."

"Asshole!" Rex yelled after him.

Mark slipped into his civilian clothes on the hospital roof. He tossed his backpack behind the water tank, but he was careful not to damage your bouquet.

He squeezed into an elevator, where he was gawked at by some nurses and a few medical interns. Mark was used to attention. He made use of his popularity many times, but he was done with that life.

One of the nurses hit on him, but he could only give a polite smile before exiting. He was a taken man now, after all.

Hospital rooms didn't have locks, but you requested that your door be closed at all times. You were a private person. No surprise there.

Mark knocked on the door and waited for your soft "Come in."

"Hey, princess," he greeted. "How are you?"

"I haven't showered since yesterday, so I feel as bad as I look."

Mark tipped his head, grinning boyishly. "So, you're doing amazing?"

"Ha-ha," you huffed mechanically.

You must have thought he was teasing you. If only you knew…

It felt impossible to think of you as anything less than attractive.

He had helped you remove your makeup before bed, and today your face remained bare and swollen, but the desire to kiss you hasn't subsided one bit. If anything, it's gotten stronger. He couldn't sleep a wink last night. It took a lot of self-control not to imagine kissing you; your cheeks, your forehead, your lips. And other places.

"You got me flowers," you said brightly, dragging him out of his cesspool of thoughts. 

"Yup. What's the point in hospitalization if you're not going to get flowers?"

"You're right, I should do this more often."

His smile slipped and you quickly changed the subject, "I'm feeling better than yesterday."

"That's good." He handed you the bouquet and pulled a chair. He plopped down next to you. "Eve sends her love. She wanted to visit but I told her you wanna be alone."

"Thanks. She and Amber actually messaged me last night, and I told them the same."

"My girl is so popular."

"Not as popular as you," you muttered under your breath.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, nothing. Some of the interns asked about you while they were doing rounds."

Mark stilled. "Does that bother you?"

You fingered the petals of a lilac blossom. "I don't like the idea of others ogling my partner. And while exes are understandable, it's not exactly fun to think about you kissing other girls."

Mark's brain stopped. One, you just called him your partner. It was a basic, neutral word, not even romantic, but it gave him chills—the good kind that made him all giddy.

And two—

"Princess, are you jealous?"

You shrugged. 

He gently reached over to touch your cheek. "Can you look at me please?"

"No."

Your skin was hotter than normal, and unless he was suffering from a hormone-induced hallucination, you were definitely pouting. Your confession, your shyness, your expression. The very fact that you were jealous had the blood from his skull rushing southward. 

"No way—you're really jealous?"

You didn't say anything.

"You don't have to worry about my exes, y'know. We are exes for a reason."

"I know that, but you're essentially my first boyfriend, Mark. I don't like knowing that you can compare me to countless of women and I only get to compare you to Mr. Darcy. It's immature and petty, I know, but it… it's…"

"Disarming? Disheartening? Demoralizing?"

You held the bouquet like a club. "Don't make me hit you."

He hid his mouth behind his arm. 

"Don't laugh! I was being vulnerable—that's what couples are supposed to do."

"I'm sorry, you're right. You're right. Thanks for being honest with me." He meant it.

He captured your mouth with his. "Princess?"

"Hm?" 

"I'm sorry for calling you frigid."

"You already apologized for that."

"You forgave me too quickly." He kissed you again. Longer this time. Then, he said, "I was wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for calling you all those mean things."

Your affection was clumsy but sincere. You liked him. He didn't know if you considered being in love with him yet, but Mark knew where his heart was.

In your ink-stained, fast-typing hands.

***

Forty-eight hours later, you were discharged from the hospital.

"Are you sure that you don't want to stay here for another week? Just to be completely sure," he asked, pushing your wheelchair.

"No. And can we please get me out of this thing? I can walk."

"You heard the nurse. It's hospital protocol."

You were aware, but you missed walking. You missed being able to do anything alone. Mark had been obnoxiously attentive the past two days. Between offering to spoonfeed you (which you rejected every time) and carrying you to the bathroom (he was scared that you would lose your balance on the way), you haven't had a moment's peace.

You understood from a logical standpoint that this was his way of expressing affection. But on a spiritual level, you really missed being alone.

No, you reprimanded yourself.

You glanced at Mark. When he felt your eyes on him, he gazed down and winked.

You weren't sure how to react so you just grinned awkwardly and focused on your lap.

You shouldn't be complaining. Not only was Mark tall, dark and handsome, the triad for the ideal man, he was smart, financially independent and kind. So what if he was a tad bit clingy?

Was this not the kind of love people write about?

[Why are you thinking so hard about this?]

Ugh.

[I heard that.]

I know.

[You're acting like you two are actually together.]

We are together, you idiot.

[Pfft. You virgins kill me.]

You're starting to sound more and more human-like.

[Oh, how you wound me, Host.]

You rolled your eyes.

[If playing house with this Mark fills that corruption meter, then that is fine with me. However, for your sake, I hope you don't forget that this is all pretend.]

I know that, you replied as you looked back at Mark.

He gave you a smile that filled your chest with warmth. Each beat of your tachycardiac heart spread that same warmth into every part of you, from your ears to your toes.

The system clicked its spiritual tongue. Considering how clinical you were when you bombarded the system with questions, it assumed that you were sex and romance-averse.

[You like studying, don't you? Mm.]

You weren't even listening anymore.

Its seniors were right. The system can warn you but nothing beats experience.

[This should be a good learning experience.]

taglist: @weponxwrites, @ratkidcalledallie, @qxuanii, @lilacoaks, @gluttonousriceflour, @phisen, @sleepyzzz3, @whaaaaaaaaat111, @ik33ponmakingc00ki3s, @lonely-entity, @noxus123, @ilovecoffe0, @luffypixie, @smuttyanimeslut, @iwuzhere, @mousetrapss, @melsland, @bbmgirll, @23s0fia, @lapaufabi, @urminebutidontwantyou, @umbrasilens

If you want to be part of the taglist, please leave a comment on the masterlist so I don't lose track. Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: The image used in this post does not belong to me. The image of the Alternate Invincibles is from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

CHAPTER 14: Coming soon.

Chirps, whistles, and trembling trills drift up from the water beneath you, sounds so unfamiliar you can’t decipher whether they’re warnings or songs.

You veer left; he mirrors you. You slow; he slows more. A long, warbling whistle rises from below—too soft for an orca, too deep for a beluga. He emits clicking patterns that mimic your calls and mess with your instincts. If you rest, he stops moving entirely, hovering like a guard.

He tends to vanish after your failed hunts, slipping away when your fear is at its peak and your morale is at its lowest, only to return moments later with the very prey you were chasing clenched between his sharp, webbed claws. Pushing the food towards your direction with too much enthusiasm.

Your acceptance of his offering ignites something inside him, and he doesn’t bother to hide it. He rolls onto his back, pectoral fins stretching open in a bold display, hands laced behind his head like he owns the entire sea, satisfaction blatant on his face. Cocky doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Not even an hour after he fed you, he’s already chipping away at your nerves, steadily working to narrow the distance between you and him despite all your careful attempts to keep it wide.

He drifts too close to your tail fin, and you feel the graze of his sharp fingers along your spotted skin—light enough not to pierce, but enough for you to throw him a glance, to which he gets the hint and slightly backs away.

Not for long though, never for long.

He moves nearer, hesitating for a moment before letting the length of his tail brush softly against yours, skin gliding across skin. It’s almost awkward, like he’s unsure how much pressure to use, unsure if you’ll pull away. But he tries anyway. His inverted orca patterns trace your spotted length with a warm, unhurried stroke. It’s not forceful. Not aggressive. Just… close. Too close. A gesture meant for someone who understands what it signifies—and you definitely don’t. Still, when his soft touch drifts along your tail again, followed by a deep orca rumble that melts into a high, soothing beluga whisper, you catch the unmistakable shape of his name echoing through the water.

Your lips struggle to repeat it, forming the faintest imitation of his name—barely a breath—right as he pulls back from you.

Mark. Call me Mark.

It takes you far too long to realize that he wasn't stalking you.

He has been trying to court you.

🐳🐬🐳