Thank You For This Meal.
Sinister!Mark X GN!Reader (NSFWish?)
**Content Warning: Cannibalism as foreplay, obsessed behavior, cannon typical violence, idk if this counts as dubcon but I'm going to tag it anyway to stay safe 👍 Dead dove do not eat, basically **
Authors Note: as someone whose main blog's most liked post is about cannibalism metaphoring obsessive love you know I had to do it to ‘em. It's not super over the top but I respect when it's not someone's yum.
“You look absolutely mouth-watering right now, dear,” Mark hums. Despite the saccharine-sweet tone, it comes off as mocking.
You try to remind yourself to breathe, it would only encourage him more if he thought you were scared. He liked when your heart pittered in your chest like a rabbits in a hound's jaws. But in a way… weren't you?
Mark's reign of terror had come fast and brutal, as he operated with most things in life. Funnily enough, you'd never really known the extent of your powers until he'd taken over. Figuring out you could regenerate had been easy enough; a few scraped knees and papercuts fading in an instant had been enough to clue you in, but you still felt the pain when it happened, so it had never felt practical to do anything with it.
It had remained a convenient lucky draw for most of your life the way other people ended up with a fast metabolism or a few extra inches in height.
Then he took over.
People died by the millions, it was harder to stay alive than it was to give up at this point. Cities lay in ruin or leveled all together. Scavenging for food and water was to risk being spotted and being made into an example for anyone still foolish enough to resist Mark’s rule.
For the first few weeks, you’d naively thought yourself one of the lucky ones. Wounds sealed shut in seconds, while others suffered through severed limbs and festering infections. You never had to fear bleeding out, never had to fear dying.
But there were fates much worse than death.
Being discovered by Mark was a freak accident that had somehow become the new primary event your life orbited around.
You had banded together with a small camp of survivors, hoping to make it to Canada, where whispers of a resistance had begun to spread when Mark had found your little party.
It had been over in seconds. Wet blood and intestines had painted the dirt like a bad contemporary art piece.
You hadn't been spared either, it was the first time you'd really had put your powers to the test.
You'd gasped and coughed up thick iron as muscle rewound together under repairing torn flesh and blood reflowing its way through your veins as if the clock had been rewound. Your body rejecting Mark's easy destruction, refusing to stay ruined.
And Mark… Mark had looked at you like he'd never seen anything more beautiful.
His smile had felt like a death toll.
It's hard to say what exactly you'd become to mark. Some fractured version of a beloved pet maybe, on call and in demand at all times, affection and complete obedience was expected, and if it wasn't given? Mark had zero issues putting your powers to work. Bones turned to dust like brittle sticks under his hands, muscle peeled away like slow-roasted ribs, tendons snapped with a sicking ease, and just about anything popped with the right amount of pressure.
Tonight was just another night in a long list of obscenities.
The position you found yourself in was humiliating at best. Bound with rope, bare, spread out on the table, gagged, arranged with meticulous intent. The position meant to look equal parts erotic and appetizing, meant to stir some fine line between lust and hunger in the man stalking you like a starved wolf eager to indulge in both.
He closes in enough to run a gloved hand over your exposed thighs. Your muscles betray you and tense under his feather light advance, as he licks his lips.
“What would I do without you, huh?” He thumbs over the rope preventing you from closing your legs.
“So pretty so… appetizing.” He squeezes the fat of your thighs, drinking in the way your breath picks up.
He leans in between your legs, nuzzling against you, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. Watching you through dark eyelashes, eyes half lidded but gaze no less sharp as he takes in every twitch, every flinch, every reaction. You swear he salivates when your muscles go taunt.
“What's wrong, baby? Scared I’m going to–” He nips at your thighs then laughs at the way you flinch from the graze of his teeth.
“Yeah, I’d say I don’t bite, but… we both know that’s not true.”
Your breath hitches, and your eyes flicker up to the dark ceiling, knowing what's to come. The relief is short lived when Marks hand wraps around your chin with a grip like lead.
“Hey.” He forces you to meet his eyes, the amusement gone in an instant.
“Look at me. You know I hate when you do that.”
He reaches over to dip two of his fingers into some sort of dark sauce before he spreads it across your thigh in a slow deliberate motion that borders on reverent.
“I've been thinking about how you taste” he murmurs, licking the dark liquid off his fingers.
He smirks at the way you eye him.
“Oh don't have such a dirty mind. You know what I meant, although… that's not such a bad idea either.”
He puts his hands on your knees and spreads you impossibly further forcing you to arch your back slightly to stay in the position comfortably.
“Maybe after?” He muses almost thoughtful, “As a treat.”
Despite yourself, your heartbeat flutters. Whether out of fear of what's happening or the anticipation of what's to come you don't know, Mark has a weird way of making arousal and terror feel identical.
His grin sharpens, and you sympathize with the lowly fawn stalked by the lion. It never had a chance, and it seems…
Neither did you.
“Thank you for this meal.”
Mark's mouth opens and for someone who looked so human he had a way of making it feel like it was a maw that was about to wrap around the meat of your leg.
Blunt teeth start to break skin and you can’t tell if the droplets hitting the wood below are remnants of the sauce or the first beads of blood spilling out of you.
It hardly matters. It'd be back as soon as it was gone, mouthfuls of warm flesh for him to sink his teeth into and sate his never ending gluttony over and over again.
Because Mark Grayson broke everything he touched.
And finally, he'd found something that could survive it.
