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arieswritez · 1 day

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puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

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gutterfuuck · 2 days

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thinkin abt u and ur best friend mark…

cw: somno, pervy mark, drunk reader, mdni

bff!mark who gets touchy when you’re out and about, his hands always finding their way on your shoulder, thigh, neck. of course, he was protecting you! he had to keep you safe from all of the other bad men, it was what best friends were for, right?

bff!mark who forgets to return your pajamas from the night before, hoping that you would eventually forget about them too, so he could continue sniffing at your clothes, his mouth hanging open while he fucks his fist.

bff!mark who apologises for the weird mark that stained the seat of your pajama shorts, swearing up and down that he knew how bad it looked and that he had no idea how it had gotten there. best friends don’t lie to each other, after all.

bff!mark who lets you get just a little bit more tipsy than you should be; helping you swallow down yet another drink even after you had insisted that it was to be your last.

bff!mark who damn near almost has to carry you across campus on his back, your high heels in his hand as not to lose them, he knew that they were your favourite.

bff!mark who holds your door open for you, watching as you stumbled into your home, tripping over nothing, resting on your bed.

bff!mark who doesn’t have a problem with sleeping over in your room for the night, you were his best friend.

bff!mark who starts to strip you naked, trying his best to avert his eyes from your body while he attempted to change your clothes for you, not being able to resist looking at your tits, your nipples pebbling up from the cold air.

bff!mark who’s hands start to roam your barely conscious body, pulling your pants down to your ankles to take you all in. he was just cleaning you up a little, changing you so you’d be clean for bed.

bff!mark who buried his face into your crotch, sniffing you like he had sniffed your clothes, his heart thumping as he debated whether he should taste your cunt, just one lick, one taste and he’ll be done…

bff!mark who has no idea what he’s doing, his tongue flicking against your clit mindlessly. you tasted so sweet to him, making out with your pussy, kissing your little nub lovingly.

bff!mark who is painfully hard, his cock straining against his pants as he palmed his clothed bulge, looking down on your sleeping body, knowing that he was violating you in your own bed, knowing that your roommate could walk in at any time and ruin his fun.

bff!mark who’s hands fully yank your pants past your ankles, leaving you completely nude, eating you up with his eyes.

bff!mark who apologises while he jerks off over your unconscious form, occasionally slowing down to rub his leaking tip all over your lips, guilt slowly slipping away as he lost himself in you,

“sorry… ‘m so sorry..” he says in between heavy breaths, the thought of you waking up in the morning and knowing none the wiser making him throb.

bff!mark who is scrambling to stuff his dick back into his pants as if he had never done anything wrong, searching his blank and flustered brain for an excuse as to why you were naked.

“i thought id clean you up”, “you threw up all over yourself”, “you trust your best friend right, y/n?”

and who are you to judge him?

bff!mark who watches you stand up clumsily, your tits bouncing as you walk over to your messy desk, pulling one of his shirts over your head. he had left it in your room some time ago, and you had been using it as a pajama top.

bff!mark who can’t stop himself from blurting out how good you looked, even with your makeup smudged and your hair in a mess. you smiled back, best friends were supposed to compliment you, no matter how pervy it came off as sometimes.

bff!mark who takes advantage of your drunken, sloppy state, his pockets almost bulging with panties you would never see again and would blame on the community dryer that you swore had eaten up your sweaty t-shirt, the same shirt that mark used as a pillowcase, falling asleep to your smell.

bff!mark who regrets not holding you down, covering your mouth with his hand and just using your body to get himself off, telling you how much he needed this and how much he wanted you.

bff!mark who tucks you into bed, waiting for you to fall back into a deep sleep before he’s fisting his cock with his hand again over you,

“you’re gonna take it- fuckkk, i’m gonna make you take m-me-“

he groans, mumbling to you as if you could hear him,

“g’na shove it in-inside… get you pregnant- hng..”

bff!mark who pumps his cock faster, chasing his approaching orgasm, body tensing up as he shot white ropes onto your sleeping face, hips stuttering as he carried on stroking his length, overstimulating himself to ride out this moment for longer.

bff!mark who pulls out his phone, taking picture after picture of the way his cum glazed your face and leaked down your cheek,

“y/n, i’m so sorry… sorry..”

he whispers sweetly, wiping the mess he made on your face away with the sleeve of his hoodie, planting kisses all over your face.

bff!mark who finds himself in his boxers, sneaking under the covers to sleep beside his best friend, a regular occurrence after you had drank for the night.

bff!mark who whispers goodnight into your unhearing ears, kissing your forehead and pulling you into his arms. you wouldn’t question it in the morning, as usual. you trusted your best friend, even when you woke up with mark’s dick pressed against your ass. it was just morning wood, it wasn’t on purpose. you trusted your best friend.

#mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #mark grayson smut #invincible #cnc somno #fem reader #somno k!nk #invincible x reader #dark blog #bff!mark grayson

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