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❝Too Far Gone❞
Mark Grayson x Brainrot Girlfriend!Readerᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
˗ˏˋ 𓉘 Part 2 of ”Corruption Complete” 𓉝ˎˊ˗
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
🦈 summary: mark’s corruption arc continues. he’s made it to the dark side—but the brainrot never ends. from forced meme bootcamp to cursed movie nights and chaotic friend group crossovers, mark’s peace is officially gone. and now… he might kind of like it?
🦈 contains: sfw. modern brainrot. fandom jokes. reluctant!mark, chaotic!reader. oliver returns with more menace. debbie thrives. william + rick join the chaos. wine obsessed!debbie. amber vs eve. tiktok audios. cursed AI videos. gacha reactions. passive-aggressive memes. „tragic boy 2.0”
🦈 wc: 2187
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: we’re back, baby. this was supposed to be a joke, and now it’s a saga. blame mark for folding like a wet napkin. shout-out to the “ballerina cappuccina” for lighting this fire. enjoy the chaos.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Mark stared at the whiteboard in front of him like it was written in an alien dialect. Which, to be fair, was only partially inaccurate.
“Okay,” you said brightly, tapping the marker against your palm. “Let’s review: What does it mean if I say ‘she’s giving One Direction in 2013 with a sprinkle of Tumblr Sexy Man pipeline energy’?”
Mark blinked once. Twice.
Oliver leaned forward like a predator scenting fear. “Say it, Mark. Say the answer.”
Mark sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “It… means she’s popular?”
“Popular how?” you challenged. “Contextualize it.”
“She’s… trending?” he tried.
“Wrong,” Oliver said, shaking his head gravely. “You’ve just been hit with a ✨deduction✨.”
He clicked a buzzer. Where it came from, no one knew. Where it went after that, no one wanted to ask.
You turned back to the board, adding another tally to the “Cringe Counter” in red marker. Mark’s score was now dangerously close to being labeled “culturally illiterate.”
“This is so dumb,” he grumbled. “This isn’t even a real language.”
“It is to us,” you and Oliver said in perfect sync.
Mark muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “cult behavior.”
You ignored him, moving to the next slide. A collage of pixelated TikTok reaction memes flashed onto the screen. “Okay, rapid-fire round: What’s the audio for this one?”
Mark squinted. “Is that… a raccoon in a nun outfit?”
“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you snapped.
Oliver gasped. “You don’t know the ‘Father, forgive me, but she was SERVING’ audio?!”
Mark opened his mouth. Closed it. “Why would I ever need to know that?”
“Because one day you might be the raccoon in the nun outfit, Mark,” you said, eyes burning with brainrot conviction.
He slumped back on the couch. “I regret everything.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
What was supposed to be a calm, relaxing day became a Friday Movie Night. Which, in your (the Graysons’) household, meant one thing:
No peace. No mercy. Only WiFi-fueled chaos.
It started innocently. You were lounging on the couch, half-scrolling and half-plotting dinner, when Debbie offhandedly said, “We should watch something tonight.”
You, of course, took that as a declaration of war.
Ten minutes later, the lights were dimmed, the coffee table was drowning in chips and half-melted gummies, and everyone had been emotionally blackmailed into joining.
(“Mark, you saved the world. You can survive one night of meme cinema.”)
Mark sat like a hostage. William arrived mid-chaos with Rick, who brought snacks and the wrong kind of emotional preparedness. Debbie brought wine. Oliver brought his entire personality.
You? You brought a curated playlist of AI-generated edits that actively offended the concept of linear storytelling.
“Okay,” you announced, remote in hand. “Tonight’s film festival opens with: Edward Cullen breakdancing in front of an explosion to Skyfall.”
“…Why?” Mark asked, already regretting being born.
“Art,” Oliver whispered reverently.
The video began. Within fifteen seconds, Comic Sans text scrolled across the screen:
‘When he says forever but leaves the Minecraft server.’
Rick blinked. “I have so many questions.”
William, eyes wide, leaned in. “And none of them matter.”
The next clip was somehow worse—or better. AI-generated Loki slow dancing with the Riddler at prom while Will Smith stood in the corner like a disappointed gym teacher. The audio? A slowed-down remix of Let It Go over Sandstorm.
No one blinked.
“I hate this,” Mark whispered.
“You’re watching it,” you replied sweetly.
“…Shut up.”
Oliver pulled out a scoring notebook. “Okay, rating time. Editing? 10. Trauma delivery? 12.”
“Is there symbolism?” Rick asked, way too seriously.
“Absolutely,” William said. “The Riddler’s bowtie was a metaphor for late-stage capitalism.”
Even Debbie chimed in with a solid, “The pacing in the Subway Voldemort edit was weird, but I respect the emotional core.”
By the third cursed slideshow, everyone had a ranking system, emotional stakes, and deeply divided opinions about whether or not Gandalf doing a TikTok dance counted as character assassination.
Mark didn’t get up. Didn’t leave. Didn’t even look away. He just sighed.
And for some ridiculously stupid reason?
He didn’t hate it.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
It happened on a Tuesday.
A simple, forgettable Tuesday. Rain outside. Soup on the stove. A blanket of rare peace over the house.
And then Mark opened his mouth.
“You’re being real ‘girl who fell off the swing in 2012 and never emotionally recovered’ right now.”
Silence.
Your spoon hovered mid-air.
Oliver, across the room, slowly turned like an animatronic coming online.
Debbie looked up from her crossword, one eyebrow arched with terrifying accuracy.
“What,” you breathed.
Mark blinked, backtracking immediately. “I mean—not like that. I wasn’t saying you were—It’s just—I saw a TikTok—”
“A TikTok,” Oliver echoed, mouth spreading into a villainous grin. “So you have been studying.”
“I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
“You quoted a cultural meme tag with precision,” you gasped. “Unprovoked.”
Mark stood frozen in the kitchen doorway like a raccoon caught in the fridge light.
“I blacked out,” he tried.
“You blacked in,” Oliver corrected, dramatically pointing. “Welcome to the hive mind.”
Debbie didn’t say anything, just sipped her wine with the smugness of a woman watching her son descend into madness she fully supported.
You dramatically slammed your hand on the counter. “You mocked us.”
“I still do.”
“And yet!” you shrieked, gesturing wildly. “You knew what that meant!”
Mark groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “This is your fault.”
“You’re damn right it is.”
Oliver held up the whiteboard from earlier and slapped a gold star beside Mark’s name. “Corruption milestone achieved: accidental meme reference in domestic context.”
“You’ve fallen,” you said softly. “You’re one of us now.”
Mark didn’t respond.
But he did mutter “she’s giving ‘delulu but functioning’” under his breath an hour later.
Oliver tackled him with a celebratory pillow.
You cried actual tears.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
What started as a casual group hang spiraled—as most things in your social circle did—into chaos within twenty minutes.
Amber had stopped by under the innocent promise of “a chill night.” She brought wine, even wore slippers. Her guard was down.
Eve was already there. Cross-legged on the rug, hoodie half-zipped, energy drink in hand like it was liquid law.
Amber settles in with a sigh. “I was promised snacks and serotonin.”
Eve flops down beside her, stealing a chip from Mark’s bowl. “And yet you walked into psychological warfare.”
The TV is paused on a cursed slideshow. The image? A freeze frame of Shrek photoshopped into a Renaissance painting, holding hands with a pixelated Garfield.
The caption reads: “when you and your emotional support cryptid walk into therapy”
Amber groans. “No. Absolutely not.”
Eve perks up. “Why not? That one’s a classic.”
“It’s blasphemy.”
“It’s art.”
“It’s Garfield in a toga.”
“Exactly.”
Amber throws her hands up. “Why is he glowing?”
Mark, exhausted from the last three meme dissections, doesn’t even look up. “Symbolism.”
“Thank you!” Eve beams.
“Don’t encourage her,” Amber mutters, taking a swig of wine.
You sit smugly between them, remote in hand, before asking. “Next slide?”
“Absolutely.” The red-haired girl encouraged.
“I will scream.” Amber promised.
The next image pops up—a tier list ranking internet boyfriends. At the top? Invincible, labeled: ‘tragedy-coded, would cry during WALL-E’
Directly beneath him—Paddington Bear and that guy who fixed his crush’s WiFi in a TikTok once.
Amber squints. “What does this even mean.”
Eve leans in like a scholar. “It’s a commentary on emotional vulnerability in male-coded narratives.”
“You just made that up.”
“I did, and I stand by it.”
William mutters, “I’d date Paddington. He’s stable.”
“That coat? Immaculate.” His boyfriend adds.
Amber glances at you. “Are your friends okay?”
“Absolutely not.”
Oliver, feeling slightly left out, stirs up some drama. “Mark’s at risk of joining the list if he cries during Finding Nemo.”
“I DIDN’T CRY.”
“You sniffled,” Debbie says from the kitchen.
By the end of the night, Eve and Amber are locked in a passionate debate about whether or not liking Remy from Ratatouille is a red flag, William is drawing diagrams to explain meme evolution, and Mark’s soul has visibly left his body.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
It was supposed to be harmless.
A passing moment. A flicker in the chaos.
You hadn’t even meant to record him. Not really.
You were filming Oliver’s dramatic reenactment of the “I’m just a baby!” audio using sock puppets and half of Rick’s hoodie when Mark walked by in the background—bored, hoodie half-on, sipping orange juice straight from the carton.
And then, with zero prompting, he did it.
He hit a trend pose.
Perfectly.
He didn’t even notice he’d done it. Just sipped, blinked, walked off like nothing happened.
Everyone stared.
“…Did he just—?” William whispered.
Oliver stood frozen mid-puppet grab. “Roll it back.”
You did.
And there it was: textbook trend behavior. Down to the head tilt.
“Put that on the internet,” Eve said, eyes wide. “Now.”
“No,” Mark said immediately, from the kitchen.
“Yes,” everyone else said in unison.
You posted it. You didn’t even try to be subtle. The caption?
’when the trauma makes you trendable. #tragedyboy2.0’
By the end of the night, it had 40k views.
By morning, 200k.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ The comments were chaos:
➤“he’s so emotionally charged I could fix him AND he’d thank me”
➤“when you cry to Mitski but still hit a clean pose?? king”
➤“tragedy boy 2.0 just dropped and I’m obsessed”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
Mark stared at your phone, expression blank.
“I didn’t even do anything,” he muttered.
“That’s the point,” Rick said, nodding.
“Tragic aura,” Amber added.
“It’s the silent suffering that sells,” William confirmed, sipping his smoothie.
You handed Mark your phone with a smile. “Congrats. You’re a meme now.”
He stared at the screen.
Then at you.
“…I’m deleting all of your editing apps.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“You need help.”
“YOU TREND IN SILENCE.”
From the hallway, Debbie called out. “Make sure to tag me next time. I’ve got burner accounts ready!”
Mark buried his face in his hands.
Somewhere, a comment called him “WALL-E coded.” Another simply said, “blink twice if you need therapy, blink once if you already went and it didn’t work.”
He blinked once.
The internet cheered.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿
It started out as a joke.
A throwaway mention. A cursed sentence uttered in the depths of a late-night scroll session:
“Imagine if there was a Gacha Life video of Nolan betraying Earth.”
You had said it. Mark had groaned. Oliver had gasped.
And twenty minutes later—you were all gathered on the couch, screen mirroring a Gacha reaction video with a thumbnail that read:
“Invincible Characters React to Nolan’s Betrayal (SAD/CRYING/REAL)”
The title card was Comic Sans. The music was royalty-free piano tragedy. The vibes? Devastating.
Mark looked like he was about to walk into traffic.
“Why is my Gacha self crying in the corner?” he asked, horrified.
“Character depth,” you replied.
The video played.
Pixelated Gacha!Debbie gasped in slow motion as Gacha!Nolan punched Gacha!Mark into orbit. A single animated tear rolled down her face and sparkled. The screen flashed:
“TO BE CONTINUED…?”
“Oh my god,” Rick whispered. “They gave it a cliffhanger.”
“Of real history,” William added. “This is art.”
Debbie blinked at the screen. “Wait. That’s supposed to be me?”
“She looks twelve.” Amber said.
Eve raised her martini drink. “I respect the commitment.”
Meanwhile, Gacha!Mark lay motionless on the screen, sparkles and red overlay blood pooling dramatically as a voiceover whispered: “He was just a boy.”
Mark put his head in his hands. “This should be illegal.”
Oliver patted his shoulder. “That’s what makes it so powerful.”
By the end, there was a montage of Gacha!Mark’s “best moments” set to a slowed-down nightcore remix of “My Heart Will Go On.” The subtitles read: “Mark… you were the light in our darkness.”
No one spoke for a solid fifteen seconds.
Then you wiped a fake tear and said, “They got your trauma arc better than the actual writers.”
Mark muttered, “I’m moving out.”
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
•∘˙○˚.⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨🪼୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•
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By now, the “Tragedy Boy 2.0” clip had gone viral enough to birth its own ecosystem—edits, fancams, conspiracy theories.
And Debbie?
Debbie was thriving.
She’d quietly created an account under the name @markgraysondefenseunit, and she was everywhere.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ Commenting on hate:
➥”he looks like he cries after arguments”
╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “He resolves his trauma. Do YOU?”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
Debbie hit send, sipped her wine, and smiled like she just ended a war.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ Fighting trolls:
➥“mid hero tbh”
╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “Tell that to the asteroid he punched.”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
She cracked her knuckles before typing that one. Felt good.
╭┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╮
ြ Replying to thirst:
➥“me n him rn [photo of two frogs cuddling]”
╰┈➤ @markgraysondefenseunit: “wrap it up sweetie, you’re not his type.”
╰┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄╯
Debbie raised an eyebrow, muttered “delusional,” and hit send without flinching.
For her defense—she did tell Mark about it, not her fault everyone thought she was just joking around.
So she stayed silent.
Until the day he scrolled through comments on his own post and paused.
“…Why does one of these accounts call me ‘my brave little meatball’?”
You smiled, innocent. “Huh. Weird.”
Oliver snorted into his juice.
From the kitchen, Debbie sipped her wine.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
a/n: this was supposed to be short. it was not. it got out of hand. again. also—did anyone clock my weird obsession with Tuesdays or are we all just politely ignoring it? be honest.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
With Love, @alive-gh0st
❝Corruption Complete❞
Mark Grayson x Brainrot Girlfriend!Readerᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
𓊆ྀིfeat. Oliver & Debbie Grayson𓊇ྀི
˗ˏˋ 𓉘 Part 2 — ”Too Far Gone” 𓉝 ˎˊ˗
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
🦖 summary: mark’s trying to enjoy a quiet night at home. too bad his girlfriend has just discovered a new hyperfixation—and now oliver’s in on it. debbie joins next. mark’s officially outnumbered.
🦖 contains: sfw. modern brainrot. fandom jokes. long-suffering boyfriend!Mark. brainrot!reader. tiktok trends. group roasting. oliver is a smug little shit. debbie is thriving. mark just wants peace. comedic fluff, banter, affectionate roasting, domestic vibes. silly chaos.
🦖 wc: 722
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: i wrote this instead of doing literally anything productive. it started as a joke and now it’s got lore. enjoy my descent. also, yes—i know, the title is 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
It started innocently enough.
You were sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, tears streaming down your face as you watched an AI-generated TikTok video.
“Mark—Mark, look!” You shoved your phone in his face. It almost smacked him in the nose, but it’s fine. He’s literally [Title Card].
Moving on.
He squinted at the screen. “Is that… a cat in a firefighter uniform?”
“Yes! It’s so tragic and inspiring. The kitten was rescued from a fire, grew up to become a firefighter, and then died heroically saving a child. And—listen to this—it reunited with its grandma in the afterlife.”
Mark raised an eyebrow. “You cried over an AI-generated cat video?”
“It’s not just a video, Mark. It’s art.”
➽─────────❥
The descent into chaos was swift.
A few days later, Oliver burst into the living room (nearly crashing into a wall), eyes wide with excitement.
“Have you seen the ‘Ballerina Cappuccina’ trend?!” he blurted, practically vibrating.
You gasped, sitting up. “Yes! The one with the cappuccino-headed ballerina pirouetting into the void?”
Oliver nodded vigorously. “It’s peak brainrot.”
Mark groaned from the kitchen. “Not you too, Oliver.”
“It’s a cultural movement, Mark.” Oliver said, deadpan.
Not even ten minutes later, real chaos began…..Debbie’s curiosity was piqued.
She entered the kitchen, holding her phone while pursing her lips.
“Kids, what’s this ‘Bombardino Crocodilo’ thing?”
You and Oliver made eye contact, then—without speaking—played the audio simultaneously: “FORZA BOMBA!”
Debbie blinked. Then looked at Mark—who didn’t even look up, just slumped lower against the cabinets like the universe was personally attacking him.
“Well, that’s… something.”
➽─────────❥
A quiet evening turned into a bonding session.
With Mark and Oliver out training because let’s be real—that boy needs some serious teaching, you and Debbie settled on the couch. She sipped her wine, a mischievous glint in her eye like she’s about to drop a bomb.
“You know,” Debbie says casually, “Nolan once gave me a whole tree instead of flowers.”
You blink, taking your eyes off the TV. “Like… an actual tree?”
“He said, and I quote, ‘Why bring a branch when I can bring the whole organism?’”
“I kept it,” she says. “Still in the backyard. Useless man, but decent taste in flora.”
You clutch your heart. “That’s the bar. If Mark doesn’t deliver a redwood to my house within 72 hours, we’re over.”
As if summoned Mark walks back into the house with snacks and an expression of pure betrayal. “I brought you chips.”
“Does the chip bag photosynthesize?” you ask sweetly.
➽─────────❥
The ‘Pass the Phone’ challenge ensued.
Feeling strangely inspired (which should’ve been a red flag), you declared: “Let’s do the ‘Pass the Phone’ challenge!”
Everyone agreed way too quickly.
You started the recording. “I’m passing the phone to someone who still doesn’t understand TikTok.”
Mark raised a brow, sighed like a man defeated, and took the phone. “I’m passing the phone to someone who’s been on TikTok for five minutes and already has a fan club.”
He passed it to Oliver.
The purple boy—who was just happy to be here—beamed straight up at the phone screen. “I’m passing the phone to someone who once received a tree as a romantic gesture!”
He hands it to Debbie, who only laughs.
“Guilty as charged.”
➽─────────❥
╒════════════════𝜗𝜚
ACTUAL QUOTES FROM THE EVENING:
➥ „I swear to god if you post that TikTok—”
➥ „Too late. It’s already at 40k views. You’re famous now, tragedy boy.”
➥ „You said you wouldn’t bring up Amber! And—why are people simping over my MUM!”
➥ „Because she’s a baddie, Mark.”
ꪆৎ════════════════╛
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
•∘˙○˚.⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨🐊୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Mark stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching his mom and little brother conspire with you over delusional fan theories and imaginary men.
“…I want in,” he said.
Everyone froze.
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
“I’m tired of fighting it. I need to understand the brainrot. Teach me your ways.”
Oliver threw his arms in the air. “HE’S CONVERTING.”
Debbie raised her wineglass. “To the dark side.”
You grinned, scooting over and patting the space beside you. “Welcome to hell, babe. First lesson—rank these fictional men based on how they would treat you.”
Mark sighed. “I already regret this.”
“You will,” you promised. “Now take this blanket. We’re about to watch a seven-part edit of Tim Cheese killing John Pork.”
“…and no, you can’t ask questions.”
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ With Love, @alive-gh0st
❝Always You❞
Mark Grayson x Childhood Friend!Reader ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི
-ˋˏ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ˎˊ-
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
❀ summary: you showed up uninvited, made his dad question all his life (and facial hair) choices, and never left. now you’re older, hotter, still annoying—and mark? very much in love. congrats.
❀ contains: sfw. childhood friends to lovers. slow-burn vibes. emotionally repressed!reader. soft!mark. reader has a difficult home life. light trauma but make it casual. fluff, banter and comedic tension. mark grayson being stupid-in-love.
❀ wc: 1899
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: first time posting just to feed y’all some mark grayson fluff.
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You don’t remember exactly how you ended up in the Graysons’ house that first day.
You’d only just moved in next door, and your mom was already yelling about boxes. The man she was with—this week’s guy—smelled like beer, sweat, and no patience.
So you left.
Well… not really, but something along those lines.
You wandered down the sidewalk barefoot, dragging your backpack behind you, until you spotted a house that looked safe. Lived-in. Rich. You rang the doorbell like it owed you something.
Debbie Grayson opened the door, took one look at your face, and smiled. “Hi there, sweetheart. You okay?”
You didn’t answer. Just walked right past her like you belonged there.
Mark was on the floor with a comic book. He looked up, mouth half-open.
You pointed at his dad. “Is that mustache glued on, or is it a punishment?”
Nolan nearly dropped his coffee. Debbie choked on a laugh. Mark blinked, unsure whether to be offended or amazed.
You were five.
By the end of the day, you were sitting cross-legged on their carpet, eating cookies like you’d always been there. You told Nolan he “sounded like a guy on TV,” which earned another chuckle from Debbie and a long sigh from the man.
By the end of the week, you were staying over so often Debbie started keeping a toothbrush for you.
By the end of the month, you were helping Mark build Lego towers in his room—then immediately yelling at Nolan for knocking them over “on purpose.”
(He did. He 100% did. Nolan Grayson, Earth’s strongest man, had personal beef with a five-year-old and no shame about it.)
And before long, Mark couldn’t remember a life where you weren’t in it.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Being around you was chaos wrapped in kindness.
You’d stick your tongue out at Mark and Nolan the second Debbie turned her back, then curl into her side during movie nights like you were her own kid.
You terrified Nolan with the things you said—adult questions in a child’s voice, bold and unfiltered. Like asking, “If you flew into space too fast, would your brain explode?” Or, more memorably: “Do aliens poop?”
“Enough,” Nolan muttered one night after your fifth question. “You’re worse than a Pentagon interrogation.”
“But I’m cuter,” you argued, and Debbie nodded like that settled the matter.
You were nine when you figured out Omni-Man’s identity.
You’d been watching the news over cereal, Mark beside you, both in matching Grayson hand-me-downs.
With squinted eyes at the screen, you groaned in disbelief. “Seriously? That’s your dad’s disguise? I can recognize that ugly mustache from space.”
Mark froze with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “Wait, what?”
“Dude, it’s so obvious.”
You didn’t even flinch when Nolan walked in seconds later, fully suited up but holding his slippers like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Morning,” you said sweetly. “Nice cape.”
Nolan grunted and turned on the coffee maker without a comment.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Debbie adored you. Nolan, surprisingly, respected you—maybe because you always challenged him without fear. And Mark? Mark had someone who understood him without even trying.
Your home life, though, was never something you talked about.
It wasn’t bad, not technically, but it didn’t feel like a home. The yelling never stopped. The guys came and went. You learned early not to ask questions, and that silence was safer.
So you stopped asking.
But one night—when you were eleven—you showed up at Mark’s window with bruises on your arms and dirt on your knees. You didn’t say anything. Just climbed inside and curled up next to him on the bed.
He didn’t say anything either.
He just pulled the blanket over you and let you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.
After that, the Graysons stopped asking if you were coming over. It was just assumed.
That’s how it always was.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
By middle school, the two of you were inseparable. You walked to class together, bickered over who got to name the group projects, and ganged up on anyone who tried to mess with either of you.
One day, in the cafeteria, some eighth grader bumped into you hard enough to knock your tray.
“Watch it,” he sneered, clearly expecting you to back off.
You looked him dead in the eyes while tilting your head innocently. “Try that again and I’ll make sure you’re crapping Jell-O for a week.”
The kid blinked.
Mark stepped in beside you. “She means that in a… non-lethal way.”
“Do I?” you asked.
Mark turned to you, deadpan. “Can you not threaten to rearrange someone’s insides with pudding in front of the lunch monitors?”
You gave him a shrug. “No promises.”
People thought you’d grow apart in high school. That Mark would change. That you would change.
But you never gave him the chance to drift. You clung—stubbornly, fiercely—like you knew if you let go, something in you would unravel. And Mark never wanted to be anywhere else anyway.
High school didn’t change you much. If anything, you just got bolder.
Mark got taller. You got sharper. People asked if you were dating. You both said no.
But neither of you looked too convinced when you did.
You still wore his hoodies. He still shared his fries with you without asking. You stole his blankets. He carried an extra charger in his bag just in case you forgot yours.
He never forgot your birthday. You never missed a single one of his baseball games.
It wasn’t just friendship. Not really.
Not with the way you rolled your eyes at affection from anyone else but melted instantly when Mark laid his head on your shoulder.
Not when you’d fight with him one minute and be curled up against him the next, hoodie sleeves too long, fingers grazing his under the blanket.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Mark watched you far more than he should’ve.
He noticed the way your laugh cracked just a little when you were too tired.
The way you hugged too hard, like you were making sure someone stayed.
The way you’d stand between him and anyone who dared to mouth off—like you were the one with superpowers.
He didn’t need to know the exact moment he fell in love with you. For him—it was always there, he just hadn’t been smart enough to understand.
Maybe it was that one day when you were watching cartoons on the floor, and Mark was pretending not to stare at you. You turned to him, grinning, and said something dumb like, “You’d probably get beat up in a real fight.”
But your eyes were soft.
He smiled back, and thought, God, it’s always been you.
But he never told you. Not really.
Because every time he almost did, you’d turn away. Or laugh. Or call him something close enough to a slur and throw popcorn at his face.
Maybe that was your armor. Or maybe it was his fear.
Either way, the words never made it out.
So he held onto them in silence. Carried them like bruises from a fight—but these ones never quite healed. Let them bleed out slowly over the years through lingering glances, soft touches, and unspoken understanding.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
You were sixteen when he nearly told you.
It was late. You’d been watching horror movies with you curled up against him, almost half-asleep.
“Hey,” he whispered.
“Mm?”
“You know I—I really—uh, care about you, right?”
You cracked one eye open. “Mark, if this is your weird way of trying to tell me you love me, just do it.”
His breath hitched.
You snorted. “Relax. You’re too chicken to actually say it.”
“Am not.”
”Then say it.”
He paused.
You reached over, poked his cheek, and mumbled, “Didn’t think so.”
And then you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder, blissfully unaware of how badly his heart was racing.
-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈
Even now, sitting in his room, you’re stretched across his bed with a random comic forgotten beside you, legs tangled in his blanket like you own the place.
(Because you kind of do—not that he’d give you the satisfaction of knowing that.)
Mark watches you from his desk chair, ’Seance Dog’ comic in hand, but he’s not reading a word.
“You’re staring again,” you mutter from his bed, cheek half-squished against his pillow, voice muffled and judgmental.
“I am not,” Mark lies—incredibly unconvincingly.
You glance over with one brow raised. “You always stare when you’re thinking something gross.”
“It’s not gross!”
“So it is something.”
“…Maybe.”
You sit up, stretching your arms overhead with a dramatic yawn. “If you’re about to tell me you’ve been in love with me since we were, like, eight, just say it. Don’t do the weird broody stare like you’re in some CW drama.”
Mark blinks. “I mean… okay, not since eight. But maybe since… twelve?”
You blink at him.
Then before he can overthink like always—you let out a long, theatrical sigh and flop back dramatically again. “Ugh. Finally.”
Mark startles. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me.” You shoot him a lopsided grin. “Do you know how annoying it is being the only one aware of the mutual pining in this room? I’ve been carrying this ship on my BACK.”
Mark’s mouth opens. Closes. “Wait—you like me?”
“I’m literally lying in your bed, wearing your hoodie, and insulting you in front of your anime figurines. What do you think?”
“…Okay, that’s fair.”
You pause. Then smirk. “So… now what?”
Mark thinks for a second, then shrugs. “I mean, I could kiss you, but I’m 99% sure you’d just roast me for it.”
You hum. “Depends. Are you going to do that thing where you hesitate awkwardly and make a weird-ass face?”
Mark throws a pillow at you.
You cackle, catching it midair. “I’m kidding, dumbass. Come here.”
And when he does—grinning like a total idiot, heart thudding like he’s about to leap off a building for the first time—you tug him forward by the collar of his hoodie and kiss him first.
It’s warm, a little clumsy, way too long overdue.
And when you pull back, breathless and smug, grinning against his mouth—whispering, “Took you long enough, Grayson.”
Mark laughs, his cheeks tinted pink.
His fingers are still in your hair.
And for the first time in years, his heart feels lighter than air.
Because he’s always been watching you.
But now, finally—you’re looking back at him the same way.
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-ˋˏ❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀ˎˊ-
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Later, as you both lay tangled in blankets and shared warmth, Mark breaks the silence.
“…Do you think my dad knew?”
The question lingers in the air, and your mind drifts back to the old days—the easier ones—before your eyes open.
You blink up at the ceiling. “That you’re in love with me? Yeah. He always knew.”
Mark groans. “Debbie probably has a betting pool going.”
“She does,” you say without hesitation. “Amber’s in on it too. I think William’s the bookie.”
Mark gapes at you. “Are you serious?”
You grin, smug. “Dead serious. I’m pretty sure I just made someone twenty bucks.”
Mark buries his face in the pillow. “God.”
Patting his back, mock-comfortingly, you snort under your breath. “Don’t worry. You’re still the last one to find out.”
“…That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“It wasn’t supposed to.”
And somewhere in the house, Debbie smiles to herself in the kitchen, sipping her wine like she didn’t just win her own bet.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌With Love, @alive-gh0st
ANIMAL ATTRACTION
𓏵𓏵 DON'T LET HER GET AWAY ! mark grayson ( invincible ) x fem reader ( catwoman ) synopsis : in which mark tries to put a kitty back in her cage. warnings ⤻ swearing, suggestive content, you are a tease <3 mentions of blood, sexual tension, grinding? no actual smut. w.c : 3.5k. notes — mark's still a rookie hero ++ new to the GDA so yeah :3 he's trying his best! not to let his hormones control him. title is indeed a swr reference.
/ᐠ - ˕ -マ taglist ! @vm4879bb-blog @fairii-majii @hihowyoudoin00 @rayaaa4444 @wadehowl3tt @luvvcharxo @lacesoflove @urmyvalentine1 @sweetb3rry
this wasn't how it was supposed to go.
the plan was simple: retrieve the stolen jewels from the infamous thief and then take care of said thief.
so why the hell is he just staring at you from the shadows as you toy with one of the shiny red rubies, holding it up and watching as the moonlight reflects off it prettily.
“mark,” cecil's voice rings in the half viltrumite’s ear, “are you there? can you hear me kid?”
“huh? i mean yeah, yeah i’m here.”
“you catch the thief yet?”
“uh no but i’m getting to it”
liar, it's been twenty minutes, he could easily overpower you — but he hasn't, yet.
“i’ll talk to you when i’m done okay? don't want her getting suspicious or something.”
“you know i can see you, right?”
oh fuck.
a nervous chuckle escaped his lips at that, he floats closer to you sitting on the roof — all clad in that leather body suit that makes him feel lightheaded and that damn smile, you know what you're doing, there's no way you don't know the effect you have on him. he rips his gaze away from your thighs, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.
“what you did was not very nice,” he says dumbly, his voice cracks slightly at the end and he wishes the ground would swallow him.
“oh i'm well aware invinciboy.” holy shit are you teasing him? you're still playing around with the gem in your hand, it's like you're not scared or even slightly fazed by his presence, he's not sure how to feel about that.
“ah, so you know who i am?” he huffs a little proudy, “you know stealing is a crime right?” he asks, again a very dumb question but his brain is a little fried right now especially with the way you're looking at him like that.
“i’m gonna have to take you with me,” he manages to say.
“a man who knows what he wants,” you put the ruby back in the sack full of other similar precious jewels and walk closer to him, hand pressed against his chest as you lean over to whisper in his ear, “i like that.”
he's going to die.
his heart jumps at the action — beating way too fast, it's almost painful, he's sure you can hear it too.
“listen lady, you're coming with me,” he says weakly, stepping away a little and trying to put some distance between you two for his own sanity, god you smell good.
“go on and try, pretty boy,” you challenge him, holding his gaze as you step away too — you sound a little too confident, too sure of yourself.
he'll just have to put you in your place.
or maybe he won't, he feels dizzy all of a sudden before his head starts pounding and eyes start getting heavy, he groans at the pain.
and just like that, you're swinging the sack over your shoulder and getting ready to run away, looking back at him through your mask, the wind making your suit's tail sway.
“wait,” he pathetically calls out, his body feels weak — what on earth have you done to him?
you throw his way the now empty small dart, with a pointy needle attached at one end, that you stabbed him with, which was probably filled with some sort of drug or worse poison, he assumes. so that beating of his heart wasn't that painful for no reason, you had stabbed him huh? he should've been more careful — shouldn't have underestimated you.
he tries reaching for you again but his knees give out, making him fall onto the cold rough floor of the building's rooftop, he grunts and looks up at you as he tries to keep his eyes open.
and you have the audacity to blow him a kiss playfully, “we'll meet again invincible,” you even send his way a wink for good measure before you make your escape, effortlessly moving to jump from one rooftop to another, landing precisely each time.
mark reluctantly falls into a slumber, hearing cecil’s worried voice as his eyes shut down.
he feels groggy and disoriented when he wakes up in the all too familiar GDA patient rooms.
“about time,” cecil’s voice makes him sit up a little bit straighter as he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
“how long was i out for?”
“almost six hours.”
it was supposed to be a simple job, in fact he only took it because he needed a break from all the intense, hard hitting, leaving-him-with-severe-injuries missions. he knows cecil is disappointed — heck, he's disappointed with himself too.
“get some rest kid, i’ll send someone else to take care of her.”
“no let me, let me fix my mistake, let me go after her again,” mark says without thinking. it's his job to stop crime, he'll do it no matter what — is it also an excuse to see you? maybe.
cecil sighs, “fine. but you better get that damn cat in her cage. and don't hold back this time.”
he's going to see you again.
“why are you smiling?”
“i’m not!”
“give me that bag right now,” mark demands.
the GDA was able to track you down easily — or maybe that's what you wanted, as donald had suggested earlier.
now here he is, standing in front of you in your little hideout, the bag of precious gems behind you as you guard them with a charming smile.
“i don't appreciate your tone, sweetheart.”
“well i don't appreciate you stabbing me with a sleeping drug either.”
“heard you superheros don't get enough sleep, i’m just trying to look out for my favorite one, love.”
you're messing with him — it's working, the thought of him being your favorite in any kind of sense makes his cheeks heat up.
“don't make me use force, cat,” he threatens, walking closer. except you don't back down, you never do and it annoys him deeply. he takes a hold of your neck and pins you to the wall behind with a loud thud, the sack worth probably millions momentarily forgotten — his eyes trained on you as if he's waiting for you to validate him, his strength.
“choking? well that's certainly kinky.”
“what?” he stammers out, he knows you're enjoying this — his cheeks are flushed from both the proximity and your words.
“you heard me,” you smile up at him like he can't just crush your bones in a second of he wanted to, “didn't take you for such a bold one,” you muse aloud, nails lightly raking against his suit from his neck down to his chest, the action sending a shiver down his spine that settles low in his gut, a familiar heat starting to bloom down there.
“you're coming with me,” his voice is rough as he turns you around so your front is pressed against the cold wall and he pins your hands behind your back with one hand while the other rests on the back of your neck.
his eyes not so subtly take in the view — the leather of the black suit clings to your body deliciously, the slight arch of your back and the way the fabric stretches across your thighs and ass has his breathing hitching.
“enjoying the view back there invinciboy?” you sway your hips side to side as if to taunt him which makes him huff, the sound annoyed but undeniably laced with some sort of fondness.
“you're so annoying,” he whispers into your ear — just like you did before you decided to drug him and knock him out.
mark presses himself against your body almost unconsciously, gulping when he feels the swell of your ass rub against his very obvious hard problem.
“is that a gun or are you just excited to see me?”
“shut up,” he mutters, embarrassed but still wishing you'd continue to grind back on him to offer him some sort of relief — relief which he hasn't been able to get ever since your first meeting.
“well then maybe you should put my mouth to good use.”
excuse me? his mouth goes dry at your comment.
and for a moment his teenage hormone driven brain even considers the very obvious inappropriate insinuation before he snaps out of it at cecil’s voice.
the bag.
mark drags you with him, manhandling you — something which you look a little too happy with but he doesn't comment on it, instead he grabs the bag with his free hand that's not restricting your arms but it feels suspiciously light.
so he empties out its contents carefully and lo and behold, it's only filled with a handful of gemstones — the bottom is filled with cotton and other trash of no use.
he glares at you, scoffing when you only playfully bat your eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.
“where's the rest of them?”
“maybe they turned into wool?” you shrug and his eye twitches.
“don't play dumb with me cat, where are they?” his patience is running thin.
“fineeee, they're in the vault down there, under the desk.”
he's still wary of you — for good reason, but he knows he can stop you if you try to run away and plus his main priority is those stupid gems so he lets you go, moving to locate the said vault.
he manages to find it, entering the passcode you gave him and opens the metal vault.
mark immediately gets hit in the face with some sort of gas can which leaves him coughing and wheezing, the purple colored gas leaking and making it hard to see, even his eyes start watering a bit as he tries to find where you are.
you yelp when he ends up yanking your tail, dragging you right to him and where the fuck did you get that mask? of course you planned everything till the end, you always do.
he's about to catch you, once and for all but you catch him off guard, pulling the dirtiest, most unfair trick in the book, a kick right to his family jewels. ouch.
he winces loudly and stumbles back a little, the purple haze only getting more dense as the seconds tick by making it even harder to see, he can make out the faint sound of your pretty voice through the gas mask, “sorry!” yeah right, you don't sound sorry at all.
his eyes feel heavy, not this again — does this woman have a thing for knocking people out or something? mark thinks as his consciousness starts to fade out, the sound of your footsteps fading away as well.
and just like that you've slipped through his fingers. again.
he'll catch you, just you wait.
he wakes up after god knows how many hours, why the fuck is he all tied up with a mirror in front of him — he groans in frustration when he comes to the conclusion it's probably your doing.
i mean who else would draw cat whiskers and a dot on his nose and leave him tied up in the same spot he was once again outsmarted by you — it is humiliating and he is definitely not turned on by the idea of you tying him up to do something else. nope. no.
oh right there's cecil, clearly not amused.
“mark.”
the younger man sighs, he knows he's in for it.
much to his surprise, the stolen jewels — half of them, were found in the same bag behind some important political building which mark would know of if he did actually pay attention in class and wasn't busy day dreaming about catching you, chasing after you — the thrill of it all is something he craves.
he knows you steal from the rich, but it's still a crime.
so when he catches you in the act of seemingly stealing another thing, in broad daylight this time, that honestly he could care less about, he wastes no time flying over and grabbing your tail — okay, he may or may not have a thing for pulling on it.
“cat.” he tackles you to the ground, palms sweaty at how close you two are— which to his amusement you look very happy about, being underneath him like this. it's almost as if you planned this too.
your bodies pressed together has him acting up, a soft almost imperceptible sound leaving his mouth. the softness of your chest against his, your nails lightly raking up and down his arms, he feels himself getting worked up.
“invincible.” you smile up at him like you can see right through him, like you know how red his face is beneath that mask.
“come on, just hand over whatever you've stolen.” he grunts when you swiftly move to roll over with him, he's now under you.
“you mean your heart? oh sweet boy it's right there,” your place your palm flat against his erratically beating heart, “although it seems like it will jump out any second,” you chuckle, those annoyingly alluring eyes staring right into his soul.
“stop that.” he says weakly even though his hands move to settle on your hips, his mind already going a mile a minute as he takes in the position you two find yourself in.
“stop what?” you shift slightly on top of him, sitting up and he pathetically chases the friction of your leather clad body rubbing against his bulge, a small sound escaping his lips much to his horror.
“looking at me like that.” it makes his skin feel like it's on fire.
wait, no why are you getting up? goddamnit it no!
mark can't help but gasp when your heeled foot rests on his chest, the heel slightly digging into his suit, the pressure is delicious and so is the view — you standing over him, looking down at him like that, like you'll eat him alive, he's not sure how his heart hasn't given out yet. if omniman finds out about this he's sure his father would never look at him the same.
and then you drag the heel down, from his chest down to his needy aching clothed cock and gently apply more pressure by shifting more of your weight onto it and he moans so prettily — a familiar throb settles between your legs.
he desperately bucks his hips up, but you pull away completely, leaving him flushed and panting oh so horny.
“you're evil,” he frowns up at you, reaching to tug on your suit's tail, holding back a chuckle at your little gasp as you lose your balance.
“you seem to enjoy it.” you're not wrong.
you throw his way the small pouch you stole before jumping down to make your escape like you always do, leaving him needy, conflicted and confused each time.
he sighs as he undoes the strings closing the pouch to open it, curious to see what you'd given up on so easily.
his jaw practically falls to the floor.
you fucking tease.
it's a pair of panties — your panties, a small note falls out of the pouch too, “have fun sweetheart,” it says, as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
he should've known, those wide eyes of yours as he caught you “stealing” were just for show.
he resists the urge to just relieve himself right then and there, hands toying with the soft fabric of the material in his hand, mouth going dry as he rubs his thumb across the gusset, mind going into overdrive.
god, does this mean you know that he's a pervert and touches himself to the thought of you?
he needs a cold shower.
with the way everything is going in the superhero business, mark decides to quit GDA to clear things up and just help people without cecil barking orders at him.
it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that cecil had to witness you two being horny bastards, grinding on each other because holy shit did you look good with blood on you.
mark blamed it on some villain's “sex pollen” afterwards, both cecil and him knowing it's a damn lie.
yeah no, he's going to stay away from cecil for a bit, that was embarrassing — although he has zero regrets.
“sorry for you know . . . kicking your balls and making you lose your job.”
you say it so casually like you didn't just once again somehow manage to knock him unconscious when he was on his way back to his house from a mission — where the hell are you getting all these resources and equipment from anyways?
and now he's here, hanging upside down by some flimsy rope that you both know he can easily break, but he won't.
last time he used his strength, you ran away and that did not sit well with him no matter how much he tried to deny it.
so he'll indulge you in your antics as long as your attention is on him and him only.
“apology rejected.”
you act wounded at his words like he's ripped your heart out or something with the way you're clutching your chest all dramatically, the action makes his lips twitch into a small smile.
“well that won't do,” your eyes sparkle with that gleam, dangerous and all too familiar to him, “how can i make you accept my apology then, invincible?”
it seems like you already have something in mind because you're leaning closer and closer, until your lips are only an inch apart from his.
except obviously you don't act all suave about it and have to say some shit like, “damn your lips are dry as hell,” which makes him laugh more than self-conscious, he knows they're not dry — he's been taking care of himself a lot more ever since you've stepped into his life, you know just in case you two kiss or something, a small innocent, okay maybe not innocent, but nevertheless a fantasy that he certainly does not dream about everyday.
his dad did not tell him that being a superhero comes with whatever this is, he was never told it meant being stuck with an annoyingly hot woman who he's ready to do a concerning amount of things for, just for the rush of adrenaline that he's sure he's grown addicted to.
just like he's grown addicted to your presence.
“i think you need to moisturize them,” you clear your throat, your flirty facade breaking the tiniest bit, eyes glued to his lips.
and he's not that dumb. he knows what you want and lucky for you he wants that too — maybe even more than you.
“yeah i really do, think you can help me out with that cat?”
“i think i can,” your lips brush against his teasingly — but you're holding yourself back, giving him the option to back away if you've read into the situation wrong but he doesn't. instead he firmly presses his lips against yours and for all the innuendos that get thrown around between you two and the undeniable sexual tension, the kiss is sweet, almost tender — his lips moving in tandem with yours.
it lasts for what feels like an eternity — but not nearly enough when you two pull away. he immediately regrets the action.
he doesn't need to breathe, he needs you.
mark chases your lips, fully expecting you to tease him about his clear desperation but you don't, you kiss him back, again.
“is my apology accepted now?” you mumble against his lips, he chuckles at your words having completely forgotten about that, “yeah,” he gives you a lopsided grin that has you smiling back.
“you gotta work on your morals, kissing a thief? now that's just low invincible”
“no no it wasn't kissing, remember? you were-”, he tried to do air quotes before realizing his hands are still tied, “you were helping me moisture my lips, no?” he teases you back, the playful banter flows easily between you two, like always.
“oh right, my bad, moisturizing.”
“i think my lips are still dry though.” he sheepishly says, hoping you'll kiss him some more.
and you do.
this is so wrong, he knows that, but your lips against his feel like heaven, your hand cupping his jaw oh so gently like he's made of glass just feels so right.
he stiffens slightly when he feels you lick a strip up his face. you menace, his eyes snap open and look at you in mock disappointment.
“are you ever not horny?
“that's bold coming from you invincible.”
“you're gonna leave me blue balled again, aren't you, you tease?” he sighs exasperatedly.
you gasp, “at least take me out on a date first,” your faux offense is adorable — like you haven't been making his life a literal nightmare with all those teasing touches and heated gazes.
he forgets whatever he was about to say when you gently force his jaw open, thumb tracing his jawline while you slide a piece of paper in his mouth, “close your mouth,” your tone alone is enough to make him obey, closing his mouth — teeth holding onto the paper’s edge.
“good boy.”
mark feels himself getting hot and bothered at your praise. he holds your gaze, hoping for an explanation.
“my number, love.”
oh, so you weren't messing around for once.
you press one last kiss, to the tip of his nose before hopping onto some building's ledge, your body moving gracefully, once again leaving him hanging — quite literally this time.
© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal, repost or translate any of my work. want more? click here ★
CHERRY BOMB
pairing : mark grayson x fem! reader [ implied childhood friends ]. synopsis : he's whipped — more than the cream on your milkshake. warnings : kinda suggestive. like one swear word. w.c : 2.0k. a/n : i cannot stick to a theme >:( taglist : @vm4879bb-blog @fairii-majii @rayaaa4444 @hihowyoudoin00 @hepdeerness @wadehowl3tt
this is pathetic.
he is pathetic.
william was showing him a song from some new band he discovered and all mark can think about is how this song reminds him of you.
his muse, his reason for living. his heart, it beats for you but it also aches — longs for you like no other. oh how he wishes you'd take the pain away and maybe kiss his heart better, like you kissed his small injuries better when you both were children.
he can't stop thinking about how he'd love to slow dance with you to this song, he's not the best dancer — he'll probably end up stepping on your foot, but if it makes you laugh, he'd make a fool out of himself every time, just to see your lips curl up into that beautiful smile and hear the sweet sound of your laughter again and again, the thought makes him smile out of nowhere, making william roll his eyes fondly.
“you with me lover boy?”
right, even william knows, but it's not because he's his best friend, hell almost everyone knows, it would be hard not to with the way his eyes go all soft, slowly blinking— pupils turning into hearts and a soft smile tugs at his lips at the mere mention of your name.
he's so far gone for you.
“what- yes ‘course i’m with you,” he clears his throat, lying through his teeth.
“and i’m not gay.”
it can’t be that obvious, surely.
he hears his phone buzz with the ringtone he’s set for you and immediately reaches for it, grinning like an idiot — a very lovesick one at that, happy you’ve agreed on going to the newly opened cafe with him.
it really is that obvious huh?
he's trying not to run his hand through his hair for the nth time as he waits for you nervously at the cafe, this isn't even a date — he would probably pass out from his nerves alone if it was.
he straightens up when he smells your perfume, the scent lingering in the air, ah hear you come. he quickly glances at his phone screen, making sure his hair isn't a mess or anything.
“hi,” you greet him, your voice — a melody he's grown incredibly fond of, it's something that has helped him so much when he was at rock bottom, it brings him unimaginable joy, yet it also sometimes makes him want to rip his ears off — that sweet voice of yours is also pure torture everytime he realizes he can't have you, he can't possibly risk your precious friendship, that's selfish. and he tries to convince himself everyday that he isn't selfish, but he's not so sure anymore.
“you okay?” oh right he hasn't responded yet, too busy staring at your face, the one he wants to kiss all over.
“yeah sorry . . . just you know,” he leans in, heartbeat increasing, “had another bad guy to take care of,” he whispers, eyes darting to your lips for a split second.
he shouldn't have done that.
not because you're one of his best friends, no, but because now he can't get the thought of pressing his lips against yours out of his head.
although he'd argue he'd end up thinking about that one way or the other.
“ah i see, hope it didn't tire you out too much”
“nah i’m good,” he flashes you a small smile, a kiss from you would be nice though, he thinks.
as you two decide what to order, his gaze keeps drifting to you — the way the light plays across your features, the subtle furrow of your brows as you contemplate what sweet treat to order, eyes focused on the menu unlike him.
and then a strand of your hair falls out of place right on your face. just great, now he has to hold himself back from tucking it behind your ear. it's like the universe is torturing him, but he'll take any of this torture as long as you promise to remain by his side, as long as you're here, he's happy.
he's too busy daydreaming about you so when the waiter asks for his order it takes him a while to snap back to his senses, quickly saying the name of the first thing his eyes land on.
“matcha?” you ask a little surprised as the waiter heads off to get your orders going.
he doesn't like matcha.
“uh yeah, thought i’d give it a try again, give it another chance” maybe you should give him a chance too.
okay he's getting a little carried away, but he can't really help himself. not when it comes to you.
as conversation flows easily between you two — packed with familiar banter, teasing and inside jokes, a warm fuzzy feeling settles inside his chest curling up around his heart, his heart overflowing with love for you.
but will you ever know the extent of his love?
he'd rather not think about that bitter thought while you're excitedly rambling about some new show you watched — god you're adorable, he wants to keep you in his pocket. he's all smiles and giggles, a soft flush adorning his cheeks which can be chalked up to the warm weather but, he knows better.
and maybe you should know better too and then kiss him.
he really wants to kiss you.
the softness in his eyes quickly disappears the second the waiter comes back with your drinks and food, muttering some flirty remark towards you.
his gaze bores holes into the back of the waiter's head, eyes only leaving him when he's out of his sight. he knows he has no right — you're not even his, but he can't bear the thought of you being with someone else, it makes him sick.
“go on, try it. i wanna see the look of pure disgust on your face,” you chuckle, taking a sip of your sweet strawberry milkshake.
oh right the matcha.
he gulps nervously, taking a small sip of his matcha, immediately regretting it, mark has always been expressive and by the looks of it, you were right.
“good?” you jokingly ask. he huffs amusedly, “so good,” he says sarcastically, playing along.
he's thankful you ordered him a piece of his favorite type of cake without him asking, you know him so well — or maybe you don't, considering you don't know how he'd give up everything he has just to be with you.
“this is really good,” he says absentmindedly as he savors the taste of the sweet treat, hands itching to wipe the small amount of whipped cream on the corner of your lips.
“really? can i have a bite?”
a bite? you've got to be joking. you know you can have the whole thing right? you can have him — his soul that he's sure is intertwined with yours with the way his chest aches when you're not around and his heart, it's already yours. it's always been yours, was never his to begin with. you can have the world, he'd give it to you to the best of his ability, but sure you can take a bite.
he can't stop himself from smiling when he sees you enjoying a piece from his cake, he wants to see you happy, always. he doesn't like when you get sad, especially when he gets hurt, he always feels so guilty afterwards.
you even feed him a generous spoonful of your cake, which he happily accepts. he wonders if the other people in this cafe think you two are a couple — the thought makes him awfully giddy.
the matcha grows on him, or maybe it's the fact your presence alone is enough to distract him to down the whole thing easily.
“you want my cherry?” you ask, already plucking it from on top of the whipped cream on your milkshake, he doesn't protest against your offer, instead boldly leans in — hoping you'll feed it to him.
and you do, his lips brush ever so slightly against your fingers but it's enough to send a shiver down his spine.
the action is oddly intimate, especially with the way you're holding his gaze as he eats the sweet cherry, his body feels like it's on fire.
what kind of foreplay is this? he's gotta ask william.
“thanks,” he manages to mutter out, his voice cracking slightly.
he watches as you finish your milkshake, lips wrapped around the straw-
woah not there mark! he holds his thoughts back from straying into that direction as he finishes his remaining food.
he sheepishly tells you about the whipped cream around the corner of your lips, handing you a tissue — he wants to wipe it off with his thumb, well he really wants to kiss it but he's not that bold. although sometimes he wishes he was.
but then maybe you two wouldn't have gotten this close to begin with — so he'll be himself, the mark you know, hoping one day he works up the courage to earn the right to shower you with all the affection and love in the world.
he smugly grins when you try to pay at the counter and then come to know he's already paid in advance.
“mark.”
“you can pay next time.”
“that's what you always say!”
“hm do i?” he makes a show of thinking long and hard, rubbing his chin and all as he gets a coffee for william — as he'd insisted mark get him something from the recently opened cafe in the area.
the conversation and shared laughter dies down as you two make your way out, it's time to leave and part ways, mark has been dreading this the second he got here.
don't leave me.
his chest tightens with unspoken words and affection when you bid him goodbye, with a hug. he doesn't want to pull away — arms lingering around for awhile even when you start pulling away.
don't go. please.
even though the words remain unspoken — his eyes speak volumes, even the feelings he's too scared to utter out loud.
and as the wind blows, rustling your hair — you look back at him one last time with that damn smile, he hopes the next time you two are together, it ends with you not leaving but instead in his arms, where you belong.
or well at least where he thinks you belong — he's getting ahead of himself again isn't he?
he smiles back although it doesn't quite reach his eyes, watching you walk away until you're out of his sight.
and now he's left there alone. he ends up taking a sip from the coffee to distract himself but it's bitter — almost bitter like the thought of never having you, never having you as his.
he sighs, god he's hopeless. better get back to william’s before his coffee gets all cold.
“you look like someone just drained the life out of you,” william teases him as mark hands him the coffee that's still somewhat warm, “don't tell me a vampire attacked you,” he jokes but mark’s mind is somewhere else — you.
he already misses you.
“quit moping around and spill the tea already,” william groans playfully, feigning annoyance as he sips on his coffee.
“i’m such an idiot.”
“tell me something new mark.”
“not helping.”
william scoots his chair closer to mark on the bed, “did you mess up?”
“no, i don't think so.”
“the why do you look like a sad kicked puppy?”
“i’ll never have-”
“oh my god not this again,” william sighs loudly, “we've been through this likea gazillion times mark.”
“what kind of foreplay is cherry eating?”
william almost spits out his coffee. “i beg your finest fucking pardon?”
and as mark rambles about you, reliving the memories of you sure makes him shy and giddy — he tells his best friend, “she asked if i wanted her cherry, and-”
“oh you do, real bad,” william snickers knowingly in a suggestive tone which makes mark pause and raise a brow.
“oh my god you are so dense, and you missed the perfect opportunity to flirt,” william rubs his temples like an overworked stressed parent.
“how did you know i want-”
oh.
that kind of cherry.
“william!” mark is quick to throw a pillow at his friend — embarrassed and cheeks starting to heat up, a blush creeping up his neck.
“oof,” william lets out a surprised noise, “hey you're not denying it,” he teases — earning another smack with a pillow from the half viltrumite.
“shut up.”
“you're still not denying the idea, real subtle there.”
“i hate you.”
© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal, repost or translate any of my work. want more? click here ★
I WANT SOMEONE BADLY
pairing — mark grayson x gn! hero reader. [ implied childhood friends ]
synopsis — after a hard [ immature laughing ] 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. [ end his misery pls 🙏🏻 ]
warnings — mentions of healing from nail biting / picking, mark and you paint each other's nails, he helps with your skincare, crazy pining, like two suggestive paras nothing too freaky though!
w.c — 2.2 k.
a/n — YES IT'S A JEFF BUCKLEY REFERENCE THE TITLE I MEAN :D I WANNA WRITE SMMM BUT i have two exams back to back and then my boards after them in like two weeks 💔💔 im cooked. ALSO HAPPY EID MUBARAK TO ALL THOSE WHO CELEBRATE ^_^ we getting rich this year gang 🤑🤑🤑 ALSO TYSM FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! luv you all mwah <3
taglist — @vm4879bb-blog @hihowyoudoin00 @fairii-majii @hepdeerness [ lemme know if you wanna be added! ]
“m- invincible,” your little slip up makes him chuckle, “pretty sure no one's gonna hear you on top of the highest rooftop in the city, but okay.” he teases you so he doesn't end up staring at you like you're the only person in the world.
“you can never be too sure,” you huff, playfully shoving him a bit followed by a fond eye roll when he pretends like you've punched his guts out or something, dramatically groaning and all.
“i was just wondering if you wanna come over? i barely have time to spend with you when i’m not being a superhero,” you start, slightly hesitant.
“ooh sleepover?”
“i mean if you want, sure.” you smile, happy to be spending time with him outside of beating people up.
stop smiling at him, please. he's already a lovesick fool, don't do this to him.
“yeah, i’m down!” he says, mentally scolding himself for sounding a little too excited, getting up he stretches a little, “let's go.”
you two fly together to your house, laughing at some stupid thing you saw, a meme or some other ridiculous thing — he wants to record your laugh and play it again and again, although his mind at night does just that so maybe there's no use of it.
he's laughing with you but his heart is beating like a drum, thank god your powers don't include super hearing or he's sure the super loud thump thump of his heart — which belongs to you and only you be concerning,
he catches a whiff of your perfume, the one you always wear — wait your hair smells different, is that a new conditioner? or shampoo? it smells nice, awfully nice. he takes a deep breath. get it together mark.
he has to maintain a little distance before he ends up doing something stupid like burying his face in your hair and kissing your head.
soon enough he finds you two on the balcony of your house, you slide open the window to your room, leaving it open for him to follow you in.
his palms feel sweaty, he's been here countless times. you two have even slept on the same bed twice. yes, you both were like ten but still!
he takes another deep breath, he steps into your room, you're nowhere to be seen. he hesitantly sits on your bed and of course it smells like you. this isn't good, his heart is going to give out.
he's toying around with your little black cat plushie when he hears the bathroom door unlock, eyes darting to your figure coming out, you've changed into your favorite comfortable pajamas.
he's going to die.
the soft material stretches over the curves and dips of your body in a way that has him gripping the plushie a little too hard.
“you're gonna suffocate him,” you joke, your voice snaps him out of it and he relaxes his grip on the soft back plushie.
flopping down onto the bed with a tired groan you prop yourself up on your elbow to face him.
the atmosphere is unusually tense, or well at least to mark. the soft flutter of your eyelashes and the way your shirt sightly rides up, revealing a slither of your soft skin has him acting like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.
“heard you actually got a good grade for once in chemistry.”
he huffs, nodding with a smile, “believe me, i’m just as surprised as you are.”
the tension breaks and you two fall into easy conversation, like always. he can't keep the smile off of his face when you pull out some seance dog issue to read together and it ends up in him explaining some villain’s origin story to you.
“yeah, so honestly it's not his fault-”
“i think his biggest crime is his new outfit” he laughs at your comment.
your body would occasionally brush against his. sometimes your knees bumping or elbow nudging him when you tease him about something, he wishes he could hold you and shower you with all the affection, give you everything he has.
“i’ve been trying to grow out my nails,” you put your palm flat against the sheets, showing him your progress so far, he knows you've been trying to break the habit of picking and biting your nails. he takes your hand in his without thinking, his thumb tracing over your long nails, “looks good,” a proud smile stretching across his lips.
“thanks, I've been meaning to paint them-”
“can i paint them?” mark blurts out, he honestly just wants to hold your hand for as long as you'll let him.
you jokingly make a show of pretending to think before nodding, “sure.”
you get out of bed, opening your closet to take out a small box of all the nail polishes and other supplies you own, he excitedly looks through the box, pulling out a pretty blue shade, giddy at the thought of his suit’s main color matching with your nails.
he helps you settle your hand on a small towel so your bed sheet doesn't get stained, he uncaps the small bottle, getting to work, he'd grumble a little when he messes up, his teeth slightly dig into his bottom lip as he focuses on painting your nails and every time his hand would make contact with yours — even the slightest bit of contact leaves him longing for more.
he listens to you speak about something that happened at school last wednesday, his heart rate would pick up everytime you'd say his name in that pretty voice of yours.
he looks so proud himself when he finishes painting all the nails on your right hand, gently blowing on them so they'd dry faster, you playfully join him, blowing on your now blue nails, your breaths mingle and oh boy he's holding himself back from kissing your knuckles and telling you how beautiful you are.
you examine his painting skills, watching him put nail polish on your left hand’s nails.
he works in comfortable silence, using the crumpled up ball of tissue to wipe off any excess blue liquid that is around your nails.
“you're actually good at this, makes me wonder if you've ever painted someone else's nails before,” you mutter, his eyes dart up to hold your gaze for a moment, he'd hold it for longer but he knows it'll unravel him, it'd just end up with him pouring out his feelings — baring his heart to you.
“nope, it's actually my first time,” he admits, putting the cap back on and once again blowing at your nails, he sneaks in a small brush of his thumb against your knuckles as he helps your hand up — which is just an excuse to touch you, he folds the small towel and puts it back in your small box of nail supplies.
“do you like them?” he asks.
“yeah, looks really pretty. thanks mark,” you flash him a happy smile and he's over the moon.
“yeah, real pretty,” he whispers, except he's not only talking about your nails, he's talking about you — all of you.
the moonlight along with the dim fairy lights of your room make you look like a literal angel, he swears he can see the wings and halo.
“let me return the favor?” you ask, if only you knew he'd give you the world if you let him, he doesn't even have to think before he's nodding, a dumb lovesick smile makes it's way onto his face as he lets you maneuver his hand around and paint his nails a pretty blue — the same shade he picked for your nails.
meaning you two are matching, he finds that adorable. he also finds you adorable and wants to just bite your cheek, just a little nibble. he shakes his head slightly as if he's shaking the thought away which works, not really.
“look we're matching!” you put your hand besides his, your long nails matching his in the same blue shade. “yeah we are,” he softly mutters, wanting to lace your fingers through his but ultimately holds himself back.
he feels sad when you pull your hands away once you're done painting his nails — he would hold your hand for eternity if you let him.
he feels the tension again, his eyes lingering a second too long on your figure as you put the supplies back in your closet, with your back turned to him he can only think about one thing, you — your waist and how he'd love to grab it while he presses needy kisses all over your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks, he wonders how you'd whisper his name when his touch gets a little rough and demanding, squeezing and groping all he can reach-
woah there, can't afford a boner here mark, calm down.
he wants to kiss every inch of your body and worship you, he wants — no, he needs to.
he shifts a bit under the sheets when a familiar feeling starts to settle in his gut, waiting for you to come back to bed. although he's almost sure it'll only increase the intensity of the heat he's feeling.
you crawl back into bed, shifting around to find a comfortable position. thankfully, your stupid jokes ease his nerves a bit. he finds himself leaning closer to you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so here you two are almost pressed against each other, lying side by side as you two watch tiktoks on your phone, wrapped in your balnket.
“why is your whole fyp brainrot?” he'd complain and then end up laughing, although he insisted it wasn't funny.
a few more giggles and shared laughter later, he realizes just how close you two are to each other, he'd barely have to move to kiss those pretty lips of yours, would you taste like that slushie you two shared earlier? he wants to find out, he really wants to.
a small yawn escapes your lips and he swears he falls in love over again.
“tired?” he asks softly, as if speaking a little too loud would ruin the tranquility of it all.
“mhm.”
“i'm not letting you watch tiktoks till 3am, come on, let's get you to sleep hm?”
he takes your phone away, his fingers brushing against yours, the contact making his heart skip a beat.
“i still have to do,” another yawn, “my skincare,” you mutter, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.
he sheepishly offers to do it for you, he quickly gets out of bed the second you tell him what you need and where your skincare products are because if he stays this close to your sleepy form a second longer he'll end up kissing your forehead and saying those eight letters he's been meaning to say for years.
he brushes your hair out of your face, helping you with your skincare. he rubs the sweet smelling moisturizer into your skin gently, first your hands, he smiles when he sees his nails matching yours, he's never going to shut up about this moment.
then he helps you apply it to your face, taking his sweet time savoring the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, his rough calloused hands working skillfully.
“mark?”
“hm?”
“thank you, seriously you're the best.”
he's going to scream, he's glad your eyes are closed shut or otherwise he's sure you'd be able to spot the flush that adorns his cheeks.
then comes the serum, and finally the cherry flavored lip balm. you pucker your lips and glide the tube across your lips, coating them in a shiny slightly sticky layer.
great, you just made them more kissable. he's going to crash out.
you innocently offer him some, he can't say no to you, even you should know this by now.
his heart picks up again when you apply your lip balm to his slightly dry lips, going back and forth a couple times for good measure, his lips now shiny.
and then the realization hits him — he just indirectly kissed you. his heart might as well just beat out of his chest with the way it's pounding so hard against his ribs, like a drum.
his self control is hanging on by a thread, you tuck yourself and him in bed, sleepily mumbling, “goodnight mark,” you sound so sweet, his name on your tongue — sweeter than honey, it’s enough to drive him crazy.
and as your eyes close to get some much needed rest, he mumbles back, “goodnight.”
once he's sure you're fully asleep, he adds, “goodnight my angel,” stroking your head gently, reverently.
he presses a small kiss to your forehead, maybe, just maybe one day, he'll tell you how his heart aches for you, how it longs to hold you and be held in your loving arms — his love for you is consuming, his heart overflowing with it, he's sure if you cut open his chest, your name would be seen engraved on his heart and he wouldn't have it any other way, he will always love you.
even if you don't.
but he prays everyday that you do.
© digitald0rk 2025. do not repost / steal any of my work or you'll get explosive diarrhea and rexsplode! want more? click here ★
ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 2 ]
![ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 2 ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/786c6a7dbf90d1c09ad9d8ae8d0b1c67/494d4a5edf2a68a3-92/s500x750/ac5634eeeffdddf8bfce99b451879667ef599c7b.png)
pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.
synopsis — nerding out with your beloved bf :3
warnings — slightly suggestive and uh the usual pet names? he calls you his angel too <3 NOT PROOFREAD!! also mentions of dante sparda because the dmc anime is coming out 'm so excited!!!
w.c — 1.5 k.
a/n — THANK U SM FOR 200+ FOLLOWERS WHAT THE HELL SJSHJEHSLSKD. love you all <3
taglist — @vm4879bb-blog @hihowyoudoin00 @fairii-majii [ lemme know if you wanna be added too ]
READ PART [ 1 ] HERE.
![ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 2 ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/eede045fe10cdadd4d47fbf5275f03ea/494d4a5edf2a68a3-8c/s500x750/a03d0ff0f1ebb4d69af5e71f2d37b5172d2c8367.jpg)
if you're into video games, he's going out of his way to learn all about your faves.
when it comes to fighter games, thinks he's soooo slick looking up combos and learning them, he's all like “heh :3 gonna sweep them off their feet” and then gets absolutely BODIED LMAO.
if you show him no mercy he'll eventually start to get frustrated, not at you obviously you're his precious angel <3
“i’m not sulking.” he says, while clearly sulking. he was supposed to impress you! why are you so good at this :(
if he doesn't get a single win he's gonna suffocate one of your plushies when you're out of sight, it keeps staring at him, is that little fella mocking him? oh it'll pay for that.
you look at him amusedly when you come back to see the very obvious dent on your plushie, caused by a certain someone's fist.
“mark.” your eyes dart between the deformed head of your plushie and your boyfriend, biting back a smile.
“yeah baby?” he's all :3 bats his eyelashes all pretty at you, acting like he didn't just beat the shit out of your plushie like BOY YOU'RE NOT SLY.
but he is pretty, so you'll spare him, for now, not in the game though :p
on the topic of video games, he's actually decent at competitive games :] he loves playing them with you but if you die in the middle of a match he gets unmotivated to finish it (-_-;)
unless someone was trying to rizz you up or something during the game then yeah, HE'S GOING TO WIN.
do not play dress to impress in front of this man, he gets awfully competitive about it.
“pretty sure even cecil can dress better than that.”
“baby i think that's an eight year old.”
“still, cecil has more drip.”
gets all smug when he wins, god forbid he's not in top three he's gonna go on a rant about how unfair the world is.
he'll always vote for your fits positively though! even though they might be…. questionable at times but he loves his baby :D
minecraft with your boyfriend is actually really fun! except he accidentally set the palace that you built on fire once and literally REFUSED to touch the game for weeks after that (╯︵╰,)
will get sad if an animal dies :(
has names for all your dogs and cats, calls them your children.
“don't forget, we gotta feed our children babe.” he tells you, sipping on his milkshake.
and normally you'd smile and say something equally silly except for the fact that you two were currently hanging out with a couple of friends and that sentence certainly earned some looks.
“you two-”
“in minecraft!” you'd clarify, and cue the feigned annoyance filled groans and mutters of how you two are insufferable.
also one time he got so invested in building that he literally stayed up for ten hours, building the perfect wedding venue for you two!
asked [ forced ] everyone to make minecraft accounts and invited them all to your wedding in minecraft.
he kisses you in real life too when your characters “smooch” in the pixelated game.
he's gonna marry you for real one day, just you wait.
![ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 2 ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/909b0fabc3398cd5ae0a32b91bbfaa61/494d4a5edf2a68a3-d3/s400x600/2abf31f517b4e79447762a13cbd265ecc133a2af.webp)
his irises turn into literal hearts when you pull up in a cosplay.
he would also love to cosplay with you!
bonus points if it's one of his favorite characters, his ass is NOT TAKING HIS HANDS OFF OF YOU LMAOOOOOO.
and if you two do end up getting freaky, like roleplaying as the characters then yeah rip bed.
matching literally anything! matching kirby socks? sure why the hell not. matching seance dog mugs? hell yeah! he's all for it!
and yes, you two have some nerdy matching pj set.
and matching underwear too :3 you jokingly bought them but he isn't playing around when he wears them seance dog boxers!
you both keep trying to recruit oliver in one of your favorite fandoms, although the little thraxan has other plans.
“guys no im not watching [ insert media name here ] !” “but oliverrr :(”
you're bother super annoying <3
sometimes mark will send you photos of oliver enjoying some piece of media you're into and act like a proud dad.
you two go to comic con together and get carried away, ending up with wayyy too much merch.
“mark, baby i love you but i don't think we need another signed poster.” you try reasoning with him, only to eat those words back the second he flashes you his sad puppy dog eyes.
you sigh, he really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn't he?
but you have him wrapped around your finger too, because when you look at him like that, asking him to take you to this signing event of your favorite foreign author, he wastes no time in picking you up and flying you wherever you want <3
no matter the time, he just wants to see his sweetheart happy :]
you two are insufferable with your references, sometimes people think you two are talking in some alien language.
rex hears mark on the phone, just who the hell is dante sparda? and why has mark mentioned this name like thirty thousand times in the past half an hour he's been on the phone with you?
as rex said, “you two match each other's freak to a degree that is dangerous to the public.”
“hey babe i got us these matching swords!” he smiles, all happy at four in the morning at your window like it's the most normal thing ever.
you squint a little before making out the sword's design, oh it's from your favorite game.
he doesn't protest in the slightest when you attack him with kisses, this is where he belongs.
he adores movie nights, you two cuddled up on his bed, watching something he loves? he's never been happier.
you two once had to stop making out because the plot got thicker, so you two locked in! even though your lips are swollen and shiny just like his from the shared passion a few minutes ago. he could care less about the next plot hole when you're right here, pressed up against him.
he can't stop staring at your lips, god you're addicting.
he snaps out of it when his favorite character dies though ( : ˘ ∧ ˘ : ) aw man.
building legos together! he gets all bashful when you praise him when he finishes a part of the main piece.
reward him with kisses and he'll melt.
he once tried making you pancakes, except he tried to draw one of your favorite characters with the pancake batter. and he's no artist, but he tried his best.
he's now on his 48458th attempt and it's looking like your favorite character….a little….. not really.
he'll just douse them in maple syrup, that makes everything better.
when you question the odd shaped pancakes in your sleepy dazed state, he ends up telling you the truth, embarrassed.
but when you kiss him oh so softly, your kiss far sweeter than any maple syrup, his nervousness melts off until all there's left is you.
you and only you.
you two take those extremely specific uquiz quizes together like "which xyz character would hate you the most" or "who do you kin from xyz"
if he doesn't get his fav when he takes a "which character are you from seance dog" quiz he'll be all :[
"this is rigged." he says, taking another one in hopes of getting his favorite character this time.
going to the sea and painting on the pebbles and rocks with him, he loves watching the sunlight reflect off of your hair, you look like an angel, his angel. and god your eyes-
“hey does this look like eric cartman?” you show him the paintwork on your rock, snapping him out of his lovesick trance.
“babe, why is he on ozempic?” that comment makes you two giggle.
he continues, “should've picked a bigger rock, my love.”
“i saved that one for you….. you know, if we were penguins i would you the shiniest, prettiest rock i could find, which is this one so….” you shift closer to him, placing the pretty rock onto his palm.
he presses a kiss to the side of your head, fiddling with the rock in his hand. “you're adorable.”
he presses a kiss to that same rock when he's away from you on a mission, it grounds him, knowing you're there, waiting for him.
when you two end up moving in together, unpacking things takes less time than decorating your shared room.
hanging posters with him, asking him if they're centred. putting your favorite figurines on the shelves along with your favorite comics, building your own safe haven. the whole room embodies you both so well, anyone who sets foot in this room would instantly be met with a bunch of your and his interests.
his dumbass <3 accidentally ends up leaving one of his figurines on the bed, so when you two are needily making out and grinding, excited that you two wouldn't have to be quiet or keep your voices down — straddling him and pushing him down on the bed, he lets out a small squeal of surprise.
you two stop, looking at each other all 0_0
“sorry, i think-” he starts, reaching behind his back to pull out the culprit of poking him in the back, and surely it was none other than his favorite seance dog figurine, the absurdity of it all is enough to make you chuckle, he laughs sheepishly with you. a little embarrassed that seance dog ruined the sexy atmosphere.
but when you put the figurine on the nightstand, turning it to face the wall, he realizes he's gonna have the best night of his life.
and oh boy was he right :3
© digitald0rk 2025. do not translate, copy or steal any of my work RAHHHH. thanks for reading and remember you're awesomesauce! want more? click here ★
ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 1 ]
![ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 1 ]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/24a4f8c7c94fcf64b8ba8d236b72a9f2/fce6f70d5a51bd6f-f0/s500x750/f53dbc8f103221dabb13d8abb2c8690c61de4b07.png)
pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.
synopsis — in which mark falls for the new comic book store employee who matches his nerd [ and he hopes his freak too :3 ] and realizes he wants that effing cookie SO BADD.
warnings — super duper self indulgent! mark being mark, mention of blood like once. sappiness overload RAHHHH. not proofread.
w.c — 2.1 k.
a/n — this is part 1 btw, the second part's gonna be focused y'all's relationship. this is SO SO SLEF INDULGENT LMAO. i am that annoying little fly that keeps buzzing when it comes to my interests, my ass keeps going, "holy shit is that xyz reference???" :0 like GIRL STOP PULLING THESE REFERENCES OUT YO ASS 🤓 if you're like this too just know i think you're super based and awesomesauce gang :D BE ANNOYING ABOUT YOUR INTERESTS!! it's honestly so refreshing, anyways :p lemme know what you think of this!
taglist — @vm4879bb-blog [ lemme know if you wanna be added too ]
READ PART [ 2 ] HERE.
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it was another normal ordinary day, he was just binging the new volumes of seance dog in his favorite little comic book store because being a superhero leaves no time for that, thank god he has some time off.
it was another normal ordinary day, that is until you walked in.
well more like look insanely good behind that cash register.
he asks himself, mind racing a mile a minute, how has he never noticed you before? are you a new employee? why the hell is his heart beating so fast? are you single?
the moment he sees you smile at some customer, he's doomed.
he has to talk to you. he has to-
oh god wait. he's been staring, hasn't he? no no no! what if you think he's some loser or worse a creep. [a weirdo what the hell am i doing hereeeee sorry had to lol]
and when your gazes meet for a split second, he whips his head away way too fast, if he wasn't a viltrumite he definitely would've gotten whiplash, his eyes immediately zeroing on the comic in his hand, which is actually upside down. not that he realizes because he's too busy thinking about how he'd love to get lost in your pretty eyes, he needs to get a grip, what is he fourteen?
it's just some dumb fleeting infatuation and-
then he hears a laugh. peeking up from the still upside down seance dog volume, hoping to god it's not your laugh because if it is, he longs to hear it again.
it was your laugh. oh he's in deep.
and he swears he's never heard a more beautiful thing. sap.
he needs to be the reason to make you laugh.
oh shit he's holding it upside down, hopefully you didn't notice (*_*;)
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it takes him a whole ass week to muster up the courage to talk to you, he'd only check out with his new additions and issues when it wasn't your shift.
he's checked himself in the mirror a gazillion times, his hair looks okay, maybe he should've worn the blue shirt, it makes his eyes pop out-
he's mark grayson, he's invincible for fuck's sake.
still his palms grow sweaty as he approaches you to check out, little do you know he already has these volumes, he's just desperate to talk to you okay.
"hi." and great, his voice cracks.
but your sweet smile makes him forget about it. he watches you as you scan his items, typing away as you do so.
he kind of wants to hold your hand. is that bad?
"so, seance dog huh?" oh shit you're making conversation with him? oh my god calm down calm down calm down-
"yeah, it's uh one of my favs." he flashes a small smile, a nervous one.
"no way! same!" you beam at him, sheepishly showing him the small seance dog hair clip holding your hair in place like it's some sort of national treasure.
you're telling him that you, the cute comic book store employee he's been crushing on for weeks now, likes seance dog?
he's dreaming.
he has to be.
right?
then you say something, something only a huge seance dog fan would know.
and he swears he hears wedding bells, he can already see walking down the aisle.
it takes him a ridiculously long time to recover, eyes widening comically as he processes that this is infact not a dream.
"you okay there?" you ask slightly amused.
your voice breaks him out of that little trance you just unknowingly put him in, his eyes flitting to the name tag on your shirt-
he can't help himself from muttering your name, soft and reverent like a prayer.
a little flustered giggle leaves your mouth.
oh.
oh.
he made you laugh? he feels like he's on top of the world, he introduces himself, his smile widening when he shakes your offered hand.
william's gonna have a field day with this one.
after that one conversation, he's grown comfortable around you over the past few weeks.
and he's fallen even deeper in love.
he's less tense and awkward around you, rambling about everything and anything, conversation flows easily between you two now.
you'd call him the second you'd read the new volumes of your shared favorite comics to talk to him about it, he does the same.
he puts you on his favorite comics, you put him on yours along with whatever you're big into. it's a win-win really.
he's never been happier.
you make him feel so seen.
he doesn't feel the need to hide parts of himself from you. he loves when you buy him matching merch or just little trinkets of his interests.
rex made fun of mark's little italian charm bracelet once, because what do you mean the strongest man on the planet has a matching charm bracelet with all the things he loves on it that he always wears?
it actually broke the first time he wore it to a fight because obviously, what was he thinking? gets very sad when he can't find all the pieces to put it back together, asks cecil to remake it with some metal that won't break from the impact of alien attacks or whatever decides to mess with the peace of earth the next time. he gets all pissy when he gets blood on it :(
"aw that's adorable!" rex would tease him, but mark would just get all excited because he gets to talk about you <3
cue him rambling about all the things you made for him or got for him that align with his favorite pieces of media and interests, rex does NOT understand half of those words but hey as long as invinciboy's happy.
rex is not making that mistake again lol, also he thought you were dating mark because of the way his eyes turn into literal hearts whenever you're mentioned, so imagine the look on his face when mark's all bashful like, "nah i wish :(" rex goes, "man you two are so fucking oblivious." and he's right.
even outside of your little nerdy conversations and hang outs, when he comes to you for comfort, he feels safe.
and that — feeling safe, not being on edge 24/7 isn't easy for him, but you make it easier than breathing.
he feels loved when you hold him, rub his back and make some dumb joke when he's having a bad day.
he lives for the references you make out of nowhere.
"holy shit is that-" you start excitedly.
"i was just gonna say that!" he laughs.
pointing out things that he thinks are references to his favorite media and you joining him, this has to be love.
"why does that cloud lowkey look lik-" he starts and you finish his sentence for him, he laughs at how you two are almost always on the same wavelength.
once the secret is out that he's invincible, he'll literally just fly to some foreign country to get you what you want, oh what's that? a new figurine of your favorite anime just dropped? it's only available in japan? it's already yours <3 anything for you, he's whipped. [ god bless his bank account i imagine it's in negative LMAOOOO because his ass is definitely not letting u pay :( ]
and when you oh so sheepishly hand him the seance dog plushie you crocheted for him as his birthday present, muttering something along the lines of how "it's not good enough" or "it looks a little funny", i mean yeah seance dog has seen better days for sure where his eyes are the same size, he has to physically stop himself from kissing you senseless, because how dare you be this thoughtful and sweet.
yeah he's in love alright.
after a lot of restless nights and convincing from william, he finally decides to ask you out after six months of longing and yearning.
you two are currently in your room, hanging out. you had invited him over to watch the new reboot of your favorite sci fi series, although the internet seems to have a different plan as the video keeps buffering and loading.
you groan in annoyance, refreshing the page, still nothing.
so when you give up and let it do it's thing, aka the good ol "pretending not to care so it'll load faster", mark takes this as a sign.
"hey uh-" he opens his mouth, he's going to piss himself, he can't do this.
"yeah?" you reply. he sounds awfully nervous.
he stares at you, holding your gaze, lips slightly parted before taking a deep breath.
he ends up immediately blurting out the words he'd practiced a thousand times, "iloveyousomuch", his words are hurried as if he's scared you'll leave him if he's not quick enough.
he pauses, realizing this isn't exactly going to plan. he has just confessed his feelings, it's done now. there's no going back from this and that scares him.
he's also considering just making a run for it, or well fly for it, your window's open afterall.
he avoids your gaze like the plague, the ground suddenly very interesting.
he hesitantly adds, "i have for awhile now actually", might as well serve his heart on a silver platter to you it's all yours anyways, it beats for you, he thinks.
his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. he can't stop his mouth, it moves on it's own, "im sorry if- if this ruins our friendship i just-"
"i love you too mark", you can't help yourself from confessing back, feeling your cheeks heat up.
"i just can't do this, i can't be friends when everytime i look at you i want to ki-" wait.
it's actually adorable the way he looks at you all wide eyed when his brain finally processes what you said.
did you just say you love him back?
nope, that's just his terrible hearing that comes with being a superhero, all wishful thinking.
but the way you're looking at him tells him otherwise and your words only confirm that his hearing is perfectly fine.
"you were saying?" you tease him, daring him to finish that sentence.
thank god the teasing is back, this is familiar territory. his nerves calm down a bit.
a minute of silence passes before he speaks.
"so that just happened", he chuckles, he wants to be all suave and cool and say something that'll make you blush, but he can't.
he doesn't need to.
because that's not him, he's mark grayson, he's awkward, a sweetheart and a big nerd. he just needs to be himself to make you swoon.
you know this, he knows this.
he knows you accept him for who he is, so he doesn't think twice about leaning in when you reach out to cup his face, leaning in as well.
your acceptance, your love, you. that's all he needs.
and the moment your lips meet his he realizes those six months were worth it.
he gently pulls you closer by your waist, his touch hesitant, it takes all his power to not just pull you flush against him and show you just how much he adores you.
when you pull him closer by the neck, his toned chest brushing against yours, he has to stop from letting out a small pleased groan.
you're just as desperate as he is.
kissing you like this is dizzying, he can even taste the sweetness and slight tang of the strawberry dessert you two had shared earlier on your lips and it only serves to drive him crazier.
his body practically aches when you pull away, chasing your lips. he can't get enough.
"easy alien boy", you chuckle, trying to catch your breath — resting your forehead against his, nose scrunching a little when he kisses the tip of it, nuzzling his own nose against yours afterwards.
his smile is sickeningly sweet and contagious. "i love you", he whispers.
and when you whisper it back he giggles happily, pressing a kiss to your head - he pulls you in his warm embrace. relishing in the feel of your body against his, fitting like a missing puzzle piece.
it's like you were made for him.
a scream from the tv ruins the intimate atmosphere, ah so now it decides to load. you two stare at each other, a collective look of "are you seeing this shit" is exchanged before you two burst into laughter.
both of you could care less about the show playing on the tv, too busy indulging in long passionate sweet kisses.
"the new issue of batm-" you jokingly start against his now swollen lips.
"baby! we're kinda having a moment here", he scoffs playfully, the dumb lovesick smile on his face only widening.
"no but seriously the new issue sucked ass. they mischaracterized him sooo bad and-", he complains, not moving a centimeter away from your lips.
"and you're a nerd" you cut him off, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt for another kiss.
"hey that's friendly fire!" he hopes you'll always shut him up with a kiss <3
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© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal any of my works :[ thank you for reading, interactions are always appreciated and welcome! want more? click here ★
SPOILED ROTTEN.
pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader. [ established relationship ]
synopsis — in which you spoil your boyfriend mark with a well deserved warm bath and lots of love ♡ after he comes home tired from a mission, filled with doubts.
warnings — slight cursing. angsty? as in nolan continues to haunt him and his doubts, so mentions of blood. also gets kinda suggestive, mention of reader getting wet because im ovulating okay 0_o mark being babygirl as usual.
w.c — 2.1 k.
a/n — TYSM FOR THE SUPPORT ON MY PREVIOUS POST OMG BSJHJMPS. ALSO THAT FINALE WAS SO GOOD! and i have a final in an hour LOCK INN. again, english is not my first language so apologies for mistakes in advance :D
knock.
knock.
a knock on your window? at this hour? well you know who that is, your beloved boyfriend, the one and only mark grayson or well invincible, invinciboy if you feel like being a little shit :]
as soon as you slide your window open he's on you immediately, almost knocking you down onto the ground as he clings onto you for dear life. his face in your neck and arms wrapped around you tightly almost as if he's afraid.
"baby?" you ask, concerned but slightly amused.
you're met with silence.
so you try again. "love?" a little less amused this time.
he doesn't say anything, breathing you in as he buries his head further into the crook of your neck, as if trying to fuse his body with yours.
then it hits you, ah the fight on the tv.
you can practically feel the tension radiating off of him, he's all tense. you know he's hurt, both physically and mentally. mostly mentally.
he was once again forced into a situation where he had to hurt someone again, badly. he had no other choice, it's not his fault.
"sweetheart, you know it's not your fault right?"
you hear him sigh, he nuzzles his head against your shoulder like a cat, the action making your heart flutter.
you can't help yourself but kiss his forehead, cupping his face gently like you're the viltrumite here, not him, like you'll break him if you're not careful enough, like he's the most precious thing in the whole world, screw that in the whole universe.
and to you he is indeed the most precious thing in the whole universe.
you look into his warm brown eyes which look so unsure, unsure of himself and it breaks your heart. your thumbs lightly stroke his cheekbones while you press sweet soothing kisses all over his pretty face, hoping to take away some of his pain.
your onslaught of kisses and affection does bring a soft smile on his face, he's holding back a giggle as you keep peppering kisses on his face, showing no mercy.
his eyes seem a little brighter now, which is progress!
playfully nuzzling your nose against his, his face still in your hands, you kiss the tip of his nose, laughing when his nose scrunches a little in reaction, god he's so adorable.
"i love you invincib-" you start cheekily.
"don't." he warns with a knowing look, a small smile still adorning his lips. he knows you too well.
"-boy" you're never gonna let that go, are you?
"oh fuck off" he lightly shoves at your shoulder, feigning offense before pulling you in for a kiss.
"love you too dumbass" the banter's back, he's already feeling so much better. how do you do it? he honestly doesn't know.
a few kisses and sweet words later, you're running him a bath. he can't say no to you, you both know this. plus he could really use a nice warm bath right now, he needs to relax his tense muscles.
you put in his favorite scented bathbombs and make sure the temperature is just right before telling him to get in.
he lets out a small bashful chuckle at your whistle when he strips out of his clothes, making a show of flexing his muscles somewhat cockily and almost ends up falling face first on the cold wet marble of your bathroom floor.
he's such a dork.
you can see the way his muscles relax under the hot water once he gets in, the way his face is all blissed out is actually really cute or maybe you're just crazy whipped for mark grayson, a bit of both maybe.
you sit on the edge of the tub, watching him almost doze off, he must be really tired.
gently carding your fingers through his hair, you can't help but admire him.
"my beautiful boy" you whisper, leaning over to kiss his cheek.
the little flustered giggle he lets out has become one of your favorite sounds ever since you've started dating him.
his pupils turn into hearts when you offer to wash his hair for him, you're so sweet, a literal angel.
he doesn't deserve you.
he's killed people.
he has blood on his hands.
he has a part of his father in him.
as you lather your favorite shampoo and work it through your boyfriend's hair, feeling giddy at the thought of his hair smelling like yours, you can't help but think he's being awfully quiet. it seems even the soothing sensation of you massaging his head oh so gently like that isn't enough to drown out the voices.
he's usually rambling about something, well it's either you or seance dog usually but still.
he's overthinking again, you're sure if you close your eyes and focus hard enough you could almost hear it.
"markus sebastian grayson." you say in a playfully serious tone, squishing his cheeks and leaning in a little to peck his now puckered lips because of you smushing his face with your hands, "stop thinking for a bit baby."
"what if i turn out like my father" he doesn't hold back, voice cracking a little.
"mark-"
"no, you don't understan- what if i end up like him? god what if i end up hurting you-"
a beat of silence passes before you speak.
"what if you don't? "
that gets him to stop, mouth agape, his gaze on you. he forgets what he was going to say and the way you're washing his hair, rinsing the shampoo out, your nails softly raking against his scalp just right, the way you put a protective hand against his forehead so none of the shampoo goes in his eyes, it does nothing to him to remember what he was going to say.
"you are not your father", you press a kiss to his forehead.
"just because you're his son doesn't make you him", then a kiss to his cheek.
"you are not undeserving of love because of something your father did, not you", then your lips brush against the spot between his eyebrows, easing the tension between them.
"your father's action have nothing to do with you, my love", you press small kisses to his shoulder, his neck, his chest, over his beating heart.
you hear him suck a shaky breath in at the action, his shoulders slightly shaking, the unshed tears releasing without warning in the form of a small sniffle, it rips your heart in two :(
"because you are you, you are still mark grayson no matter what."
you are going to be the death of him.
your lips gently brush against his before pressing firmly against his soft lips, hoping to convey more with a tender kiss than your words ever will, knowing they don't do your feelings for him justice. your lips move in tandem with his, he pulls you close by the back of your neck, your hands resting on his chest and neither of you want to pull away from this moment.
his grip on you is desperate, the kiss feels searing on your lips, your heart is pounding against your chest, convinced it's gonna beat right out.
you refuse to let go of him, hands sliding slowly up and down his body, almost reverently.
it's intoxicating and dizzying, you feel like you're floating with the way he's kissing you, like an inch of space is going to kill him.
when you do manage to get your gears working, eyes opening up a little, you gently wipe his tears, pulling away only slightly to breathe because you don't want to die- actually, on second thought, that's not a terrible way to go out.
"no- please-" he begs, don't leave him please. he's chasing your lips and slipping his tongue in your mouth, he needs this.
he needs you.
soft moans are muffled between your mouths, his hands are everywhere, everything's too much yet not enough at the same time, his touch leaves a trail of fire behind that leaves you wanting more.
and of course, he ends up "accidentally" pulling you in the bathtub with him.
"mark!" you let out a small squeal, followed by a small laugh from him.
"sorry babe" oh he sounds real sorry alright.
your attention falls on the small, thin string of saliva, still connecting both of your mouths, your heavy lidded eyes lock with his, he's all flushed, lips swollen and shiny.
"that was hot" he sheepishly admits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, all bashful like you aren't literally going crazy because of him. and now he's looking at you like you've hung the stars and the moon in the sky.
yeah, you're wet and not from the water i'll tell you that.
but that can wait, this night is all about pampering your beloved alien boy!
you see him open and close his mouth a couple times. words fail him, so instead, he grabs your hand and places a kiss to each of your knuckles one by one, a silent confession of the affection and love he holds for you that is downright overwhelming.
his eyes never leave yours, the whole thing feels raw and intensely intimate, no words are exchanged but rather they are felt, the unconditional acceptance from you and his immense gratitude, need no words.
"thank you" the sincerity in his voice is undeniable and so is the look of love in his eyes, that's reserved only for you.
you roll your eyes fondly when he playfully smears some of the bubbles from the bath onto your nose, typical mark behavior right there.
once he's all clean, both emotionally and physically for the night you help him out of the tub after getting yourself out first, trying and failing miserably not to stare at him. more like gawking but oh well that's his fault for looking like that okay.
he drys himself with the towel you gave him, wrapping it around his waist once he's done.
because of his earlier mischievousnes, you also had to change out of your wet pyjamas into new dry ones. his ass is not sorry about that, the annoying little smirk is proof.
the domesticity of it all however warms your heart, the way he's in nothing but a towel around his waist while you're in your pjs, brushing teeth together and giggling over dumb stuff, oh how you wish it could always be like this.
that little glint in his eyes is back again and you couldn't be more happy.
you even help him dry his hair with your trusty hairdryer, sitting him down on your bed as you work it skillfully through his soft hair which now smells like your shampoo, the blissful expression on his face is enough to make you melt right then and there. laughing when he shakes his head like a puppy, he's not beating the puppy boy allegations anytime soon. not that he minds as long as you're the one teasing him about it.
and he may or may not have a thing for you calling him that but you don't have to know that, well atleast yet.
he slips into a pair of sweatpants and boxers he left at your place awhile ago, picking you up easily and tackling you to your bed.
now it's his turn to return the affection, or well as sleepily as one can.
he kisses you like there's no tomorrow, like you're the only thing keeping him sane and alive, which wouldn't be too far from the truth.
good luck trying to tuck him in bed, he's so stubborn, "babe i'm not sleepy!" he says, he almost slept on your shoulder like a baby a minute ago. this fucker.
he's only doing this because he wants to spend more time with you, he still feels guilty, he knows he puts being a superhero over everything else, meaning he barely gets to send time with his beautiful partner.
however all those thoughts are out the window the second you trails kisses down his neck, his eyes flutter shut and he sighs, clearly pleased.
and when you do manage to tuck his ass in bed, a kiss to his forehead and countless "i love you's" are exchanged between you both, he rests his head on your chest and listens to your heartbeat, a firm reminder that you're here and all his to cherish.
he almost lets out a small moan when your nails gently scratch at his scalp and lightly at his nape, he loves when you play with his hair, nuzzling against your comfortable chest. he's in heaven.
soon enough he surrenders himself to sleep and to you, one last kiss right over where your heart is beating which belongs to him and him only, the action making your breath hitch and chest tighten with affection and before you know it, he's out like a light.
he's so grateful to have you. he knows he doesn't deserve you, eventhough you say otherwise but he'll be damned if he ever lets you go.
you're all his.
and he's all yours <3
and yes, he will drool all over your chest like a baby so good luck with that :3
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