CYBERPUNK 2077: Phantom Liberty (2023)

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤUGLY LOVEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Reader Part 1

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : Mark loves you. He loves you so much. But you don't. And yet you agree to go out with him. Maybe because no one else wants you. Maybe because you were lonely...

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You remember the first time Mark Grayson asked you on a date.

It was embarrassing.

Not for him, no. For you. Because he did it in the middle of the school hallway, right when you were already feeling like shit, surrounded by people who immediately turned to stare like this was some kind of rom-com moment. Like you were supposed to blush and giggle and say yes because Mark Grayson was the loser who somehow still managed to be well-liked.

And you? You weren’t special. Not in any way that mattered. You weren’t pretty enough to turn heads, not hot enough to make guys stumble over themselves. You weren’t the girl anyone fell in love with. So when Mark fucking Grayson—big smile, nervous hands, that stupid blue-and-yellow jacket—asked you out, you just blinked at him.

"Are you serious?" you had asked, voice flat.

His expression faltered for half a second before he recovered. "Yeah! I mean, I think you're really pretty, and, uh, I'd love to take you out. Like—dinner, movie, whatever you want."

You wanted to say no. You really did. But then you thought about it—about how the guy you actually liked barely knew you existed. How you were always the afterthought, the last pick, the option. No one was lining up to take you out. But here was Mark, all bright eyes and open hands, so eager, so desperate.

So you said yes.

Dating Mark was easy. And awful.

He was in love with you.

Not in a normal, lovesick puppy way. No, Mark was something else. He looked at you like you were air and he was drowning. He texted constantly, always wanting to know where you were, who you were with, if you were okay. He remembered everything you ever said—your favorite color, the way you hated cold weather, that one time you mentioned wanting to try some random Thai restaurant downtown. It was suffocating.

And the worst part? You liked it.

Not him, though. Just the way he needed you. The way he worshipped you.

You let him hold your hand even though his palms were always a little too warm. You let him kiss you even though he always lingered too long, like he was memorizing your lips, like he thought you’d disappear if he stopped. You let him call you pet names that made your skin crawl—"baby," "angel," "my girl."

You never called him anything but Mark.

Then, of course, came the worst part.

The superhero bullshit.

The time he told you, it was supposed to be some big moment.

He sat you down in his bedroom, looking at you with this nervous excitement, like he was about to give you the best news of your life. Then he told you.

"I'm Invincible."

You blinked. "...You're what?"

He grinned, all proud, like an idiot. "Invincible! You know, the new hero? Yellow suit?"

Oh. Oh, that was him?

The guy flying around looking like a blind bee?

Invincible. What a stupid fucking name.

You had so many questions. None of them were good.

"You're telling me you willingly wear that suit?" you said instead, voice dripping with disgust.

His smile faltered. "I—I mean, yeah, it's kind of cool, right?"

You stared at him. Stared at the boy you were dating, who was apparently running around in an ugly-ass yellow and blue suit with those stupid fucking goggles like he was actually blind.

"You look so dumb," you muttered.

His face fell. "Wait, what?"

"Yellow? Seriously? Who the fuck told you that looked good?"

"Babe—"

"And the goggles? Are you blind? No, actually, are you?"

He looked heartbroken. Like you had just kicked a puppy. It was honestly kind of funny. But then he smiled again, weaker, like he was trying to brush it off.

"You’re not... mad?" he asked hesitantly.

Oh. Right. That was what he was expecting, wasn’t it? Screaming, crying, breaking up because oh no, my boyfriend is a superhero, it’s too dangerous, I can’t handle it!

You just shrugged.

"Why would I be mad?" you said. "Not like I actually care what you do."

He just stared at you for a long time. Then he smiled.

Too wide. Too happy. Like you had said something perfect.

God, he was pathetic.

Mark loved you too much. And you let him.

Every date was his idea. You never asked. He was always the one picking you up, texting first, clinging to you like he was afraid you'd disappear.

You tested him constantly, just to see how much he could take.

Ignored his texts? He sent more.

Canceled a date? He rescheduled immediately.

Made fun of him? He laughed, like it was endearing.

You let him kiss you, let him touch you, but never too much. Just enough to keep him hooked. You never said "I love you." He said it all the time, and every time you just looked at him, blank, and let the silence stretch until he got uncomfortable and changed the subject.

And god, he never gave up.

He looked at you like you were the fucking moon. Like you hung the stars in his sky. Like he needed you just to breathe.

You hated it.

You loved it.

Because you could never have what you really wanted. No one had ever loved you like this before. So you let Mark do it.

Even if you could never love him back.

Mark never noticed when you looked at someone else.

Maybe because he didn’t want to notice.

Or maybe because, in his head, you were already his. Permanently. Like he had claimed you the second you said yes in that stupid high school hallway.

But you noticed.

You noticed him. The guy you actually wanted.

He was everything Mark wasn’t—cool, confident, effortlessly charming. When he walked into a room, people turned. Girls actually wanted him. They laughed at his jokes, flipped their hair when he talked, hung onto every word. He could have anyone he wanted.

But he didn’t want you.

That stung. Even though you knew it shouldn’t.

You had Mark. Mark, who worshipped the ground you walked on. Mark, who held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world. Mark, who would probably die if you asked him to.

And still, you wanted someone else.

You tried. For a while.

It happened on a random night—Mark was picking you up from class, his stupid yellow goggles shoved into his pocket, hair still messy from whatever dumb hero thing he had been doing earlier. He grinned at you, all excited like always.

"You hungry? We could get that ramen you liked."

You weren’t in the mood. Not for him. Not for his stupid, endless happiness.

But then you thought about it.

You thought about how it would feel if he—the one you actually wanted—looked at you like that. You thought about how you were being handed something most people dreamed of. Unconditional love. A boy who would do anything for you.

So you tried.

You smiled—tight, forced. Let Mark hold your hand as he walked with you. You let him talk, rambling on about some new villain he fought, how he was getting better at flying, how his dad was actually talking to him about superhero stuff now.

You nodded at the right times. Gave him a few mhms and oh, really? Like a normal girlfriend would.

But it didn’t last.

Because Mark wasn’t what you wanted.

And because you were fucked in the head.

It always came out of nowhere.

One second, you’d be fine. Barely tolerating him, but fine. The next, something small—something stupid—would set you off.

Like tonight.

You were sitting in his room, scrolling through your phone, only half-listening as he went on about his superhero bullshit again. And then he said something—some dumb, innocent comment.

"I know I’m not, like, the coolest guy around, but—I dunno, sometimes I wish you’d talk about me the way you talk about him."

Him.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned to face him. Mark looked nervous, like he regretted saying anything. Good.

"What?" Your voice was sharp.

Mark hesitated. "I—I mean, I know you think he’s, like, really handsome and—"

"Are you seriously bringing this up right now?"

He blinked. "I—"

"No, really, Mark, really? Jesus Christ, I can’t have one fucking conversation without you getting all insecure?"

Mark flinched. Like you had actually hit him.

And fuck, that only pissed you off more.

"You always do this," you spat, voice venomous. "Always. Acting like I’m the fucking bad guy when all I do is put up with your bullshit, your stupid works, your pathetic little—"

You stopped.

Because Mark was looking at you like a kicked dog.

Like he had just realized something awful.

And fuck.

You felt sick.

The guilt hit fast.

You pressed a hand to your forehead, exhaling sharply. "Fuck."

Mark swallowed. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Just—just shut up, okay?"

You didn’t want to hear him apologize. Not again. Not after this.

You weren’t a good person.

And Mark wasn’t good enough to fix that.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 2.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

━ HC superhuman strength in bed? what could go wrong? (18+)

( main!mark grayson x girl!human!reader )

HEADCANON: mark grayson showing off his strength in bed AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is something SOOOO different to what i usually do (write tim bradford fics from 'the rookie') but this idea has been so stuck in my mind i had to write about it! i'm up to the last episode of s3 wish me luck BAHAHA enjoy this headcanon and let me know how i went! am also open to any requests you guys have but just currently for main!mark/invincible please xoxo MDNI FOR THE SAKE OF YOUR OWN INNOCENCE!!

All that's been racing through my mind since watching the series is how strong Mark would be while in bed with you.

It's frightening and arousing just how much control it takes Mark to not physically hurt you when he has the absolute capability to do it. But you both know Mark would never dare to hurt you like that. Sure, his hands are big and strong but he's so careful with you.

Of course, he isn't abusive with his strength where you're left screaming in pain. Hell no, it's the type of strength a girl can only dream of when it comes to being manhandled and put in their place.

Mark, with his rough calloused hands gripping either side of your thighs as he eats you out. His hold on your thighs are too strong you couldn't close them even if you dared to try. In fact, he's so pussywhipped that he'll spread your soft flesh even further apart so he has more access to that pretty pussy, your bedroom light reflecting off the glistening of your juices as he takes a fleeting moment to pull back and admire his work.

And oh, will Mark enjoy every bit of your writhing as he takes nice, long strips from your dripping hole, through your folds and up to your clit where he'll flick and circle your overstimulated clit. Your pants, gasps and moans only fuel his neediness as he continues to eat you out.

"Fuck- Mark! 'S too much!" You moan out, your breath hitching in the process as your grip on your bedsheets tighten.

"You can take it, baby," He murmurs, only to then drag his tongue down from your clit and into your hole, thrusting his tongue deep inside of you as he tongue-fucks you. It's so good, too good that you cum so fucking hard from it.

But Mark isn't one to leave his girl waiting.

Because you won't even have finished orgasming when he pulls away and plunges a finger inside of you, his digit mixing in with the warmth of your walls and your juices that just tried to leak out of you. You'll choke, immediately melting into ecstasy as he makes 'come here' motions with his finger to reach that fleshy part of your g-spot.

The good thing about his strength? He can last for fucking hours. His stamina and endurance is incredible, especially when he's fucking you with his fingers.

Magic hands, they say...

Mark will milk out orgasm after orgasm from you until you're a crying mess. He can be a tease- some days he'll have three fingers inside of you, the next, only one. And you can't get away either, not when one of his hands is holding onto your waist, pushing you into the bed so you can't get away from his abuse on your pussy.

The best part, however, is when he fucks you.

You remember the first time you had sex together; you, naked, sitting on Mark's unclothed lap. And you're giggling while Mark was blabbering about how he was worried he was going to hurt you.

"Oh, Mark, you aren't gonna hurt me," You chuckled, your fingers tracing up to the nape of his neck.

Like walking on eggshells, Mark hovers over your waist as if touching you at all would leave bruises, "But...but what if I do? God, I'll feel so bad!"

And he wouldn't shut up, so, like any woman would do, you leaned down, your lips just grazing his ear as you whispered, "It's okay, I like it rough."

Mark hasn't looked back since that first day.

Especially not now that he can manhandle you in all sorts of different positions to his liking, his cock pounding into you like there's no tomorrow.

The good thing about his strength is you can be as much of a pillow princess as you want- he just does all the work for you.

Pinned up against a wall? Riding him mid-air or as he's carrying you to the bed? He just makes it so easy.

Even while you're riding him, he'll help make the rhythm you've started more rough and deep. He'll lift you up so effortlessly until your pussy is just coating his throbbing tip, and then he'll push you all the way down just in time for his thrust to meet up with you.

You can't help but let your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Mark also loves to fuck you when you're on all fours with your ass up, admiring how his cock fucks into your pussy so perfectly. He can get pretty lost in his strength too, the bed's probably broken, the walls might have cracked, and he's panting and groaning like a fucking animal too.

Beneath him, you're fucking shaking, letting out moans with each matching thrust as he sets a relentless pace, "Mark, please! So good, so- Mmh!" As he pushes your head into your pillows.

"Fuckin' taking it so well, aren't you?" He groans out, his hands gripping your ass so tightly that they'll bruise- along with that red handprint from when he slapped your ass not too long ago, "Gonna- holy shit, gonna cum, baby."

And as he should, it's been three hours since Mark started to begin to foreplay on you. As much as you love a man who can last as long as your boyfriend does, your pussy can't keep up with his superhuman strength.

Mark's empathetic to allows days for you to recover, knowing you won't be able to walk properly for the next few days.

Also, his aftercare is just as good as when he's fucking you senselessly.

Once he notices all the bruises on your thighs, he freaks out. He completely does a 180 in emotions and turns into the most softest boyfriend ever. He'll apologise profusely, pressing loving kisses everywhere on you and cuddle you close until you fall asleep.

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS S1 -> S2 Teaser: ↳ "It's Jinx now. Powder fell down a well."

JOHN BOYEGA as Fontaine They Cloned Tyrone (2023), dir. Juel Taylor

A.K.A. VI AND VANDER

i rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much

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